Veterans Day

Today is (was) Veterans Day, this is a direct kin to Memorial day. Today is not the day we mourn those who have been lost while in the service to our country. Today is the day we lift those men and women who decided to put their very lives on the line for their own, their fellow man, the constitution and humanity in general. We do not make people do this anymore. Those days are long past, the volunteers who come from the veins of America represent the very best of humans. To some the military is seen and doing violence and evil things to other humans. In reality, these men and women would rather not! These men and women (and their families would much rather collect their pay and do nothing more than live the life of a soldier, sailor, airman or marine. They are on the wall 24/7. We who have served know that the men and women who followed us are now taking out places and that there will be those who follow them and take their turn.

These are real people. Real people who have to do some very tough things to just make the grade to be IN the military. They hone their skills so they do not have to use them. They train and sweat and hurt and bleed in this training and share that burden with their new family. Some of us did these things and worked and sweat and toiled for nothing more than a stint in Europe or somewhere else in the world. The costs were not high for most of us, the trials of war did not come for us. It’s part of my personal shame. I much rather would have had to fight to save the children and their future. These men and women go and do these things with their brothers and sisters and they know that they have to or they will let their brothers and sisters down. Only when they are sure that those around them can carry the load, will they stand down. They have to be injured, incapacitated or killed to not feel the urge to go.

We have a group of men and women who have been answering the call. They answer the call when a huge majority of their countrymen will not, the masses don’t really care and haven’t for some time because they know that there are those who will answer for them. This like other holidays is a change to get off work and head out to somewhere and burn hot dogs and guzzle beer. I cherish the fact that there are still a few young veterans who will share their lives with me. I want to thank every veteran from the past, those serving today and those who are in the breech to serve. I salute you!

The damned sneaky things…

After almost two years, I finally got out the 80 GB ipod that my son bought and shipped home. We were supposed to put all of his music on it and then have it shipped it over to him in Iraq. Well, that never happened, he was killed before we could get that done. I looked at it once when it arrived and after his death I couldn’t even open the box, it sat in my room in his things. It’s been here collecting dust. My wife finally convinced me that it should be being used and that it was discussed among the family that it should be mine. I got the thing out, its lovely, all black face with a chrome back with my son’s nickname “Pokey” etched into the top. It’s something that I probably would never have bought for myself. He knew all about these things and he bought a pretty top end model.

My wife got the box out and left it out for me to get and use on a trip up to Kansas. I just left it alone for the last few days. Tonight, I got the thing out and started reading and downloading the program that makes it work. I opened the sealed plastic packaging inside the box to get to the rest of the accessories. The more things that I opened the worse that I felt until everything was opened, charging, and music ready to be placed into the thing.. I’m now so damned sad and depressed that I don’t have the will do to anything more with it right now.

Damn I hate this.

Say a prayer for Snickers.. and ourselves

Today while I was at work, my father who lives in a town nearby sent an email that caught me off guard. I am an animal person and have been for quite sometime, big animals little animals all sort of animals. Animals have always given me a sense of well-being and peace as in my opinion they have much better lives than we “superior” animals do. They live for the day in most cases but maybe a season is about as far as they prepare for. They do not really have the same kind of hate and destructive nature as the human counterparts that they have to share their world with.

Snickers was a cute mixed breed dog (mainly German wire hair) that my dad had become owner of because some great human dumped him as a puppy out in what they considered the country. I’m not sure why morons dump animals like this other than they can convince themselves that they will live some happy life somewhere as a wild animal. They aren’t usually that damn stupid, they do this because for a great part of the world and America, everything is disposable if it doesn’t make the person ecstatically happy at that moment. This dog helped my dad recover from ill health the way most dogs do, this dog just was there when he was needed and you could just feel his concern. My daughter’s dog did the same for me during those dark days of February and the months following. Roofus the Rat terrier was there for me and I love that silly dog for just being there. He knew that something was wrong, he never did anything but be there when I needed him.

My father’s email described that Snickers had gotten away and went “visiting” as some dogs tend to do. He did not return when he should have, the calling, the looking for him, my dad just couldn’t find him. The next morning snickers was on the back porch and had been mortally wounded by someone. He had made it home mortally wounded and was there to be with my father when his injuries finally took him from this world. I opened the email to a picture of my dad holding Snickers when he was just a pup and this message;

“I hope you people will bear with me while I try to get over our recent loss. Last Wednesday we lost our best buddy to an unknown neighborhood squabble. We had a young German Shorthair that was the smartest critter I have ever known. He wasn’t taught to be wary of strangers and seemed to like everything he met, man or beast. He went “visiting” last Tuesday evening and didn’t come back home as usual. We searched and called but he did not return that evening. Early the next morning we found him at the back door with a terrible injury and was almost dead. It appears that he had been stuck with a pitchfork in his right side taking two tines in the side near his heart. He lingered for a short while and then passed away. We had no idea that we were disliked so much but I won’t inquire around just yet because I may not be able to be calm. Say a prayer for “Snickers” for he was a good dog.”

My heart instantly broke for my dad because I have lost some really good pets in the past, it was not until I typed my reply that it hit me what I had written, I typed that “at least he made it home to those who loved him the most before he died” . I read that and the last couple of years of feelings came flooding back to me..and really upset me. I had to go outside for a while and recover. The guy I was working with probably thought I’d lost my mind. It shouldn’t have effected me that way and it caught me completely off guard. The loss of the my son and all the other brave men and women in the combat zones and especially the troops this last week have just made me feel a little helpless in being able to do anything to help. Now this cute little dog’s death, which meant nothing to anyone but a select few has really brought these feelings to my heart. So as my dad said in the last line of his message.. Say a prayer for Snickers, and while you’re at it, say a prayer for all of us stuck in a world where so few others really care for us.

Red River 44

Sunday September 13, 2009 I had the honor of being at the funeral and the memorial dedication for the crew of “Red River 44”. This was a crew of a CH47 “Chinook” that was lost in 2008. I went for several reasons but the most urgent was to support the crew’s families and the unit as they were forced to said good bye to their loved ones one more time. While I think we all think about our lost loved ones, saying good bye is one of the tougher things. I wanted to make something right with my self and with one of the members of the crew. When Michael Thompson came home, I felt that I didn’t live up to my end of the bargain. I had failed this fine young man and he deserved to have each and every American close enough to be there. I couldn’t do it that day, I had planned to be there for him and his family and I just couldn’t muster the courage to be there and feel the things I felt when my son came home to the same Airpark. There were just to many similarities and too soon for me. I have felt bad about this for sometime. I am not very sure how I will handle things like this for the KIA’s from here on out, but they and their families deserve all the support from the few Americans who do actually care and understand about them and why they do what they do.

I had planned to ride the motorcycle down to this event but the weather had been totally against this idea from the previous days of torrential rain. I hoped that the weather would clear at least enough time to get down to Dallas for the event and I could wait it out for the rest of the day if I had to get back. I awoke at ten till four in the morning and it was stone quiet! I was ready to get the bike gear out and head down. Within seconds though, the rain started beating the top of the house.. It would be a car trip after all. The drive down to Grand Prairie was really bad and marginally unsafe in spots for a car, let alone a bike like mine with someone who really is a tad rusty with wet weather on two to begin with.

I got to the airfield just as the sun was getting up enough to see. The rain was still falling. I followed the group who was walking towards the hangar. I stood there and look around a bit and then noticed that there were actually quite a few motorcycles over near the maintenance shop. I slogged over to the shop and met with a couple of the Oklahoma Patriot Guard folks who I knew and then finally got to meet Mr. Kory Thompson. I was really looking forward to this for some time. It was so nice to meet and feel the genuine warmth and support another man who has been forced to feel so many horrible things of the same degree as I had. I feel the support from the other guys and appreciate it greatly. I hope none of them misunderstand this. I mean no disrespect to them at all. This is just different. Being a gold star parent is something that places you in both (depending on the moment) a glass box and a deserted island. I can be in a huge group of people and feel completely alone at times. For once in the last couple of years, I was with someone who made me feel less alone.

I got to meet Cpl Thompson’s squad leader and CO and we gathered for the Patriot Guard briefing and it was very emotional for all of them. They led the unit off to war, escorted the 7 fallen soldiers when they came home and they led the unit home when they returned home from Iraq. These folks really feel these losses personally. They are some of the few people who have not abandoned the fallen or the families of the fallen. They never fail to ask if we need something or to include us in whatever they happen to be doing. More than that, they show enough respect to ASK the families what they think, what they feel and general give a damn about what goes on in our lives.

Since a few of us were in cars, it made more sense to ride the busses that were provided to get from the base over to the Dallas National Cemetery, the roads were deeply flooded and the local law enforcement got the route changed a bit to keep the bikes safely out of most of the deep water.. not ALL however. It was still a feat of complete love of duty that got this escort mission pulled off successfully. We got to the cemetery and I joined the line with the rest of the PGR and stood in what amounts to a line of support behind the families. The rain continued to fall in waves, the cemetery had gotten tents up for the families and dignitaries and they got out of most of it. The cemetery crew really did a fine job this day. I got in place and as we waited for the ceremony to begin, I started noticing a few of the sights. This being a national cemetery there are a lot of headstones. We were in the military section of the cemetery and the rows and rows of granite markers really made this event more somber for me.

The event was a very proper and military affair with the ceremony the flag presentations, the 21-gun salute, Taps and the piper. I felt like this was the most important place for me to be at that time. This crew will forever be together in a common grave with their brothers, a single marker bearing their names. Seven men, who all paid the ultimate price together. They left their families, but they did not leave them alone, the one thing that I have learned is that even though I have lost my son, I have gained entry into a special family who will never fail me as I do everything in my power to never fail them again.

RIP Red River 44
CPT Robert Vallejo
CWO Brady J. Rudolf
CWO 2 Corry Edwards
Sgt Major Julio Ordonez
Staff Sgt Luke Mason
SGT Daniel Eshbaugh
CPL Michael E. Thompson

You will never be forgotten..

My First Mission with the Patriot Guard

I read the short notice announcement board on the PGR board on Friday afternoon. The family of US Navy Viet Nam Veteran Aviation Machinist Mate 3rd Class Johnny Maness had requested that the PGR attend and stand for him at his funeral the next day ( Saturday the 5th). This was short notice for everyone and the information was placed on the Oklahoma PGR board and I thought about it for a while and honestly did not know if I could actually do this. The fact that this was such short notice and that this veteran deserved all we could give him, I decided that I would go and see if I could help out.

I left the house at around 7:30. The air was nice and cool and there was no wind to speak of. My bike was topped off and it was very nice to get out there in the breeze and get some alone time on the beast. I pulled into Comanche at about 8:45 and saw that there was already one bike and a pickup truck there in front of the church. We talked a bit and I help them set up the flag line in front of the church. We got that done in short order. The gentleman who was driving the pick up was the same fellow who came to our home to set up the escort for my son when he came home, He has a lot of experience setting these things up and I admire him a lot for the strength and dedication that it takes to be able to do what it is that he does.

We got the flag line set up and moved our bikes across the road to a parking lot out of the way of the limos and the hearse. I should add that it was quite an emotional moment when the hearse showed up and unloaded the flag draped coffin. I have seen too many of these things in the last couple of years and it doesn’t seem to get any easier. We drifted back across the street to the parking lot where a few more riders had arrived. We talked a bit and the ride captain made the announcement about who it was that we where there stand for and what the events of the day would be. We gathered at the flag line again in the front of the chapel and the family and friends filed by and into the chapel. When they were all inside, we broke down the flag line and moved our bikes into position to escort them to the cemetery.

When their services were over we all moved back to the bikes, geared up and prepared to move out to the cemetery. We were escorted by a local police cruiser which blocked traffic at the first intersection as we made the left and headed down the road toward the cemetery of this little town. We arrived in moments and we all moved to the circle and tool our places. There were enough men and women there to completely fill the circle. The young sailors had taken their place at the flag draped coffin and when the Preacher had finished his short speech, they began the work of rendering honors, folding the flag and presented it to the family. I knew that the playing of taps was next and that moment is where I became fully aware of the sounds that I had heard at Micheal’s funeral. The sounds of utter despair and grief were pretty upsetting to me. I think it would have really been worse had this been a young KIA like Micheal.

I was on auto-pilot during Micheal’s services, I could have been a bit of shock or just plain old fatigue. I was so intent on keeping my family protected and watching over them that I honestly do not remember all that was said, I remember the 21 gun salute and taps being played. I don’t remember much other than the sounds of sorrow from the people in the crowd, this brought that flooding back. It made me feel very bad for what the family was going through at that moment.

As soon as the service was over, I helped secure the flags from the circle and load them into the waiting truck. As soon as we had finished, the cemetery was practically empty. I talked to the ride captain and one other rider, thanked them for allowing me to be a part of this and then rode home.. the ride home seemed to take a lot longer.

RIP Aviation Machinist Mate 3rd Class Johnny Maness.. You will be missed

Thomas Curley = Inhuman Scumbag

Well I saw the story yesterday about the marine who was killed in Afghanistan. Lance Cpl. Joshua M. Bernard was killed 8.14.09 after being struck by an RPG. He was a like the rest of our KIA’s with one exception. The Associated Press had a couple of embedded reporters with the Marines that day. The Marines were ambushed and during the attack, this young Marine went down. The Reporter sat there and took pictures of this young mortally wounded young man. I’m sure there were plenty of other things to take pictures of at that time. But instead, this woman took pictures of this dying Marine. The story of betrayal does not really enter there. I’m sure that there have been literally thousands of pictures taken in combat of dieing or dead troops. They were of course usually never released because these pictures were taken by military people and controlled by the military or at least people with souls.

Enter one of the most evil people on the planet and whom I now place up there with other horrid animals disguised as humans. Thomas Curley, AP’s president and chief executive officer. This man made the decision to release these photos of this young man in the final moments of his life. The story goes on to describe the corpman / medic’s attempts to save this young Marine. The whole issue was dropped in Curley’s lap. The AP talked to the Father of this Marine and in no certain terms was the family wanting the photos of their Son’s last moments broadcast across the world. The family’s wishes were trumped and completely ignored by Curley who fell back on the old standard that these vermin use in times like these. “The Associated Press reported in a story about deliberations about that photo that “after a period of reflection,” the news service decided “to make public an image that conveys the grimness of war and the sacrifice of young men and women fighting it.”

Defense Secretary Robert Gates took this case on personally and called this scumbag Curley and pretty much begged him to reconsider the family’s wishes for their son’s death photos to remain unpublished. The Secretary was politely told matter of fact wise to mind his own business. I am mortified as a Parent of a fallen soldier. It is not enough that these people have lost their son, now some evil scumbag wants to profit off of the gory pictures of their dieing son. I for one would simply remove all access to the military to the AP or anyone remotely connected to them. I would label the AP as a company who aids terrorism and toss every one of these parasites into federal prisons (ahead of all the poor little terrorists in Gitmo). If any reporters happened to be found in combat areas, they should be targeted as “terror operatives” and killed outright. The videos and pictures of these kills should be instantly transmitted to Thomas Curley’s cell with a message telling him that the military has deliberated on this and they decided to make a public image that conveys the grimness of being a terror supporting scum sucking ass clown.

The guilt of getting on with life;

I’m not even sure if guilt is the right world. It seems that there are a lot of issues for me and my whole family as it relates to the death of Micheal. There is the strange fact of certain phases my life and time have just stopped. Time as it relates to my sons loss is stuck! The topic causes pain and maybe that’s why the time is frozen there. Maybe to move past this time is so difficult because it means moving on when he cannot. My wife and I escaped the other night and went out for coffee. We talked about lots of stuff and basically caught up with each other. It sounds like it would be easy to stay completely in touch as we both live in the same house and share everything as we always have. I really don’t think it’s that easy and I can only speak for myself and my own observations of people.

When I got the news about Micheal, a big part of my world was instantly and forever damaged and probably damaged beyond repair as it relates to several things. The 800 pound gorilla in the room when you send your son off to war is that no matter how much you try and convince yourself and each other and no matter how you try and shrug it off, your son may not come home from this. Not everyone does you know. I guess it’s a part of that “it’s always the other guy” aspect of everyone’s world. The numbers are overwhelmingly with your loved one coming home safe and at least mostly sound. You try to put on that brave face and send them off with a big hug and a smile and send them off to hostile places with that nagging feeling that something bad could happen. It did happen. It happened to Micheal. When it happens all you have are those feelings that no matter how much you hoped, now matter how much prayed, no matter what could have happened. The worst did happen and no one out there can change that.

Speaking personally since that day in February, I have bunkered down a lot, sealed myself away from the whole world to some degree with the hurt and the angst. I make small little raids on the real world, testing the waters, checking the stability of the whole thing. I think for me and probably my oldest son, we cannot get past this without feeling as if getting on without Micheal is in at least a small part abandoning him to a certain degree. I cannot seem to let go of him to the degree that will allow me to come out of the self imposed bunker. I need to, but how to do that without the feeling of leaving a member of the team behind is something that I do not know how to do.

So where are we now? It all depends on the day and the mood. It all depends on what sights, sounds, smells and feelings that happen to you today. I guess, that getting on a bit more means that you do not dwell on Micheal every moment of every single day. The problem is when I drop my guard and am just living some “new normal” day when something triggers the feelings that lie just below the surface. They are there and I really do not have much control over them. I think that as a man is one of the main problems. Men like to feel like the control their world and their path and way. Will I ever? I’m not sure.

“Wow! Is that your Son?”

I get this asked now and then where I work. And I see it coming almost every time. Right above my desk, on the window that overlooks the truck shop is a 5X7 picture of Micheal in his military gear with his weapon slung across his chest. In the picture he is smiling ear to ear as he is in almost every picture he is in. I have people in and out of the office all the time. We share the office (or they share with us) with a truck rental and maintenance facility. There are always drivers and salesmen and various others coming through. I cannot take the picture down. I would not take the picture down. I can exactly put a black ribbon around the picture either. I do get a little uneasy after having to explain that we lost my son in February of 08. It’s a little embarrassing really for both parties I’m sure. They see this good looking young man who is alive as alive can be in the picture. They seem to be drawn to the picture. They see a tough, 101st Airborne trooper who seems invincible. When I have to tell them that he was killed, they don’t really know what to say. And for a few seconds it’s just almost agonizing. They then have to quickly tear off in another direction. I guess it is almost unfair to them. What can I do? I won’t hide the pictures but cannot place a huge warning label over it either.

I encountered another problem personally that crept up and hit me right upside the head. There are photos all over the place on my computers and home of Micheal when he was in the service and out and about in Iraq and with is Military brothers here and there all over the world. There are very few of them before this time in his life. There are rare glimpses of him as a child anywhere but the big box of scattered family photos and albums in the closets at home. I have not looked at the photos, I am a little ashamed to admit that I fear the photos. Not the photos themselves, but the feelings of pain and despair that the photos will almost assuredly bring to me. I had an internet acquaintance ask for a few photos of Micheal through out his life. I cannot even go into the closet and get the box out. I cannot share those for now I guess.

I cannot speak for the rest of my family but I know that over the last holiday season, that we glossed right over the whole previous twenty years of family Christmas’. We didn’t even crack open any of the old. Well worn and traveled family boxes of holidays past. The old trinkets, the hand made ornaments from the children, the various decorations that we all enjoyed to open and spill throughout the house and share with each other. Now, there are for me too many jagged, sharp edged memories in those boxes of when we were “whole” as a family. Those boxes are still out there waiting, Those memories are laying there waiting for me. Someday I will be forced to open the boxes of old holidays and let them out…

A great and chance meeting:

Saturday I had decided to drive up to Northern OKC to pick up a old awesome Kirby vacuum that I bought for $25.00 off and ad on Craigslist. On the way back, I decided to stop in Purcell. OK and have a quick lunch. As I was nearing the counter to order those damned addictive McChicken Sandwiches, I noticed the local paper with the Patriot Guard logos all over the front of it. It seemed that the Oklahoma Chapter was having their annual get together there that day. There was a local policeman standing in line so I asked him where this place was. It urns out that the place was less that a mile from there. Cool!  I ate my addicting Chicken Sandwiches and read further about the event. There was a parade there earlier in the day that I missed, but the activities after the parade were just about to get started. The paper also showed the grand marshal who was WW2 101^st Paratrooper Jake McNiece. A veterans, veteran who survived four combat jumps into “Fortress Europa” I finished lunch and drove to the site of the event and as I approached the building a car stopped at the front door and as the car door opened, I saw an old gentleman wearing a WW2 era paratrooper uniform, getting out of the car. I walked up and shook his hand and told him what an honor it was to meet him. The next thing he asked was if I wanted to carry some books into the building.. I told him again that it would be an honor. So I carried the box of books into the building and began to walk around and see the sights. I saw Mr.McNiece sitting at a table resting and walked up to shake his hand again, we talked a bit and I told him of my son and his love of being with the 101^st Airborne. We talked a bit more but I realized that I was probably taking up too much of his time and moved away so others there could visit with this great bit of American history.

http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~kinfolkkorner/MILITARY/PEARLHARBOR/mcniece.html

I walked around the hall looking at the pictures and the items up for bid in the silent auction, I looked at the beautiful chopper that was made in honor of  fallen 3^rd Infantry Division’s Cody Carver. The bike is awesome and you can tell that there is nothing but respect and love that went into the making of that machine.

http://www.texasironmagazine.com/codycarver.htm

I wandered down the hallways to the two vendor rooms and there were a few folks selling items for motorcycle riders, Patriot Guard gear and Military mementos like patches and buttons. At one of the tables I noticed a couple whom were wearing riding gear and matching t-shirts with picture of their son and dates of the day they lost him in Iraq. He was Navy Petty Officer 3^rd class Doyle W. Bollinger who was a Sea Bee who lost his life 6/6/2003 in Iraq. I introduced myself and offered my condolences to them and told them about my son. The strange thing is that I could really feel the same pain from them that I feel at times like this. The wife made the comment that I was still pretty fresh at this and I agreed but told her that I could tell that this doesn’t get easier, just a little easier to deal with. I thanked them for talking with me and moved off to see more of the things there. It was nice to meet these people, but the changing of emotional gears was wearing me out.

I walked into the next room and had breathed deep enough a few times to recover and done my best to get my mind off that for the time being. I noticed a lady selling and sewing patches on vests for the biker folks there, I looked at the patches on the different boards and came to one that made me a little angry. There are various traditions in bike clubs from the outlaws to the club racers folks. In the hobby of motorcycle riding, you are going to lose friends. It’s inevitable and a fact of life when running on two wheels down tracks, trails and the highways. These friends are sometimes remembered with memorial patches or even painted names on the bikes themselves. There was a patch there bearing a headstone that said “ In memory of all you dead fucks”. Just reading that took the wind right out of me and I had to leave the area before I got mad. Getting mad would not have been respectful at the venue, but the patch should really never be in a place for a group that does what this club does. In your own little motorcycle clan, hanging out and the club house or on a private run somewhere fine. I get the intent and in another venue, it could be humorous. In an event for a group that escorts these military men and women coming home to be laid to rest and their families, its just rather crude. I do not say this like I’m saying anyone did this on purpose. I do think however that they did not put a lot of thought into the people who would be there that day.

The 2nd Memorial Day:

The second Memorial Day has come and gone. This was the second Memorial day without Micheal. It’s kind of strange that I have always taken the time to remember the reason for this day. Most of this comes from being a military brat raised by a military man and being a veteran myself. The day has always been honored. I can definitely say that it is more important now for obvious reasons. I so see that there are more and more people out there trying to remind people that this is not all about weenie roasts and getting drunk, sunburned and then passing out in the lake somewhere.

May is probably my toughest month next to December. May 17^th is Micheal’s birthday and then the same month is Memorial Day weekend. We spent last years ceremonies with my fathers VFW group in Gainesville TX. We were still pretty numb last year and really its just a blip in the memory banks. This year’s ceremony was a little more memorable for me. The old soldiers from the VFW put on a short ceremony that really describes what the whole day is about. A few of the VFW senior members take turns speaking and placing flowers or other items on small monument there. My dad is one of these. This year he got a bit choked up when he was speaking.

There are two gold star mothers that attend the ceremony. One of them lost a son in Vietnam and of course my wife Angelia. They are there as a real symbol of the toll that American families pay along with their soldiers who are lost in wars around the world in service to their countries.  The fallen pay the ultimate price, the families pay a different fee and far too many people in this country don’t even pay attention.

We had some special guests at our home this year. Three of Micheal’s unit members came down from Ft Campbell to spend the weekend with us and to visit my son’s grave. They are all great folks to be around of course one of them I only now am finding out or remembering that a few days after Micheal was killed was “blown up” in Iraq. This is a term that I have heard several of the men I have met use. They use it as a “matter of fact” and common every day term like we use common terms like “the flu” or “sick day”. It did bother me a lot that one of Micheal’s friends and one of the men who I talked to and who wrote to comfort me is now home but probably permanently damaged. He just seemed very quiet and a little pale when I came home from work and greeted them. He just seemed a little out of sorts. Not completely out of it, but there was something just not right. I was a bit ashamed that I didn’t know.

This fine young man was working as the gunner in a Humvee when they were attacked by an IED. The blast caused a brain injury that he is still working with and probably will for some time. The good news out of this is that he is getting some marvelous help and if there is one thing that doesn’t get reported enough are the fine things that the military is doing these days with these men. We owe these fine men everything and it is America’s duty to do everything they can to make these men right again or as damn close as they can get them and take care of them as they took care of us!

These men are welcomed in my home any day and all hours of any day, they have free room and board if they ever need it. I forever owe them for the things that they do, and what they will continue to do.  I don’t think they are ever taken care of enough.