Letter to my Veteran friends

First, thank you.

Second, sorry I didn't get to this yesterday.

Now, back to the thanks. I am the son of a retired Lt. Col. from the U.S. Army. I am quite proud of my father. My grandfather served in the Army as well in WWII. I am also quite proud of him. They both have seen things that I will never have to see, done things I will never have to do.

Friends of mine have been in all branches of the military and several friends are still serving. Most are over in Iraq, some in Afghanistan. They are great Americans for doing what they do. I think of them often in gratitude and try to express that when I'm thinking about it.

As much as things have changed in this country, especially now living in a post-911 world I still don't think about my personal security. It's not just because I have my head in the sand or because I'm busy with my work or my family. I sat this morning (now Thursday) adding this paragraph because I was trying to think about why I don't think about our security.

Then it hit me. We have a military of volunteers who signed up for this job. They've been volunteering since we arrived on the northeast coast of this country. We fight long and hard for what we believe in and our military always gets it done. As a result, I have a subconscious sense of peace about living here. I don't need to be surrounded by armed defenders or have tanks rolling the streets to know I'm safe and secure (barring the occasional nut job). Our military takes care of business.

While I completely love history, I don't know as much as I should about the wars of my father and grandfather. Certainly not as much as I would like to know. I do know my grandfather chose to join. He wasn't drafted or pressured into joining. There was no draft. He chose to join and he served with honor. He is a hero.

Sometimes, I sit and daydream about what it must have been like in the U.S. during that time. Yes, there were liberals and conservatives. But the overall sentiment was different about our wonderful nation. There must have been, for the struggles of the Great Depression past us, such optimism about where the U.S. was headed.

My father joined, knowing he would likely end up drafted anyway. He stil made the choice to join rather than hope the draft missed him. He chose to join. He served for 20 years, loved it and retired. He's a hero.

When any of you made the choice to join the military, there was likely the thought somewhere in the back of your mind the possibility you may end up in some type of battle. Yet you still chose to join.

You, who have served so bravely - whether in battle, a hospital, or in another capacity - are due a gratitude by this nation beyond what you are given. One day out of 365 to honor you is the least we can do.

Thank you for doing what you do. It still stirs my heart when I pass you in the airport. I have no idea whether you are headed home from the 'sandbox' or if you are on your way over there. There isn't enough time when I am at the airport to speak with every serviceman and woman I see, but I try to take a moment and say thank you to some of them as I travel.

Thank you. You rock!