My dad served for 21 years before retiring. He missed birthdays and anniversaries and other family events. We often joked that if it was my birthday – it was a weekend he had drill.
He loved it – he hated it – he did it because he believed in this country, was willing to die for it, and served with honor. Just like his father did – though WWII and Korea. Just like G’s grandfather and grandpa did.
I have joked with people in the past that I have a uniform fetish. But really, I just have a lot of fucking respect for people who serve this country.
My dad. My grandpa. G’s grandfather. G’s grandpa. Hubman. Dana. TL. SB. And so many others who have not been mentioned in the past.
I respect them all for serving – for being willing to serve.
My dad and I were talking just recently about this. Too few are willing to serve while too many want us to pursue military objectives. When I hear things like this, I often speak out about what doing this means – to the person, to the family – and how much support we all have to give.
I admire all who serve.
I thank you all.
I know the sacrifices you make. I know the sacrifices your family makes. I know all that it means.
It is far from insignificant.
It is quite important.