I lost my father just days after his 74 birthday almost 13 years ago. Rarely do I go a day without thinking of or talking to him. Never do I miss a Veterans Day without thanking him. Even as a little girl, I would rush down the steps in the morning on Veterans Day to thank him, my daddy, for his service. I was proud of him then and I’m proud of him now. Last year, I posted this (reblogged) tribute to my father.
As a veteran, a man, and a father, he taught me about giving thanks for all I have, beginning with the freedoms I enjoy that others do not.
I know my freedom wasn’t and isn’t free, and for that, I thank all the men and women, and their families for their service. May God bless you all.
A Veteran’s Legacy
He was a boy once, taught to ride ponies by his mama.
He had only one sister, no brothers, and a father who wasn’t present.
He was a boy who couldn’t breathe, lungs constricted by asthma.
He worked odd jobs to help support the family.
He was a boy who played saxophone and clarinet well.
He struggled in classes and was told he wasn’t bright.
He was a boy when he left school, not yet graduated, not yet 18.
He left school on the promise of a high school diploma.
He was too young to sign the papers.
He asked his mother for consent; she conceded, her only son would serve.
He was skinny, runt-like, at only 109 pounds, but they would take him.
He would play in the band and be trained as a medic.
He would serve in the name of his family, his friends…
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