Memorial Day

It’s funny. My Dad died in August 2002 suddenly after a routine shoulder surgery and the day in August goes by and I don’t think about it. But on Memorial Day weekend, I miss him. A lot. He served in the Korean War, a forgotten conflict every bit as ugly and damaging as Vietnam. Much of what he did in Korea he wouldn’t talk about, but he lived with nightmares and shrapnel in his legs. My Dad was a Marine, a drill instructor and a dedicated soldier. Even when he was a civilian, he worked on nuclear submarines at Mare Island shipyard in Vallejo, California for 39 years. His one true love was books and he taught me so much about history, politics and literature. There are so many days that I think “My Dad would love this book” and want to call him and tell him.
This weekend, as our Boy Scouts place flags on the graves of Veterans in Fortuna, I know he’d be so proud of us. We’ve continued the tradition of honoring those who served our country. And Dad, I vote at every election, even when I don’t want to. I wish you could have seen what awesome boys my sons have become. You would be so happy.