Monday, May 26, 2008

Lest we forget...

I'm a military brat. My dad was a Navy pilot and flight instructor during the 60s. I spent a lot of time in Pensacola, Florida and Kingston, Rhode Island. I learned how to pack and move a house in 2 days. I learned how to make friends and just as quickly, leave them. I learned that sometimes, people never come back.

My most impressionable memory was of one of my father's friends and colleagues. He was a young man, gung-ho... virile, masculine, funny and always had something for us kids... He was the epitome of what my very young mind thought a man should be.

The last time I saw him he had just gotten a motorcycle. I remember that he pulled up into the driveway gunning the engine and grinning like a lunatic... he was so happy with his new toy.

Before my mom died I asked her about him. She knew exactly who I was talking about. Some people stay with you. He went to Vietnam in 1965 and never made it home. I wish I could remember his name. I do, however, remember his spirit.

To him, and to so many others, thank you.

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