This may be out of topic, but 11/11/ is a time that needs to be recognized. Not only for the end of World War I, but also in rememberance of those who came before in all conflicts that this country has fought. I always call me dad on this day to say 'thank you'. 11/11...for all those that have served on this board I offer a whole hearted thank you.
WHAT IS A VET?
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service a missing limb, a jagged
scar, a certain look in the eye. Others may carry the evidence inside
them a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg -
or perhaps another sort of inner steel the soul's ally forged in the
refinery of adversity. Except in parades, however, the men and women
who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem. You can't tell a
vet just by looking.
What is a vet?
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating
two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run
out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep
sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't
come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has
saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang
members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals
with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass
him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now
and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who
wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the
nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who
offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country,
and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice
theirs.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he
is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the
finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just
lean over and say "Thank You." That's all most people need, and in most
cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded
or were awarded.
Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".
He was my father, a man whose departure has left a pair of shoes that I can't fill by half.
He was my friend. He watched my back when I was watching his.
He was the high school classmate whose body was never recovered.
He was everybody's dad back in the 50's, and we were all proud of them.
He was the nameless Lieutenant who wiped the spit of demonstrators off his clean uniform.
He is my brother, my cousin, my uncle. He was our grandfathers as well as our fathers. And he was at times afraid, but he did his duty in spite of his fear, because he thought we had something worth fighting for.
