It’s been a minute since I’ve graced these pages. I won’t weigh you down with the reasons why. Let’s just revel in the fact that I’ve dusted my digital self off, and I’m looking forward to getting back on a more predictable ranting schedule.
My father served his country during World War 2. Growing up, every now and then, I’d get bits and pieces of stories about those days ‘over there’. Those years in Europe were the first and only time he stepped foot outside of the U.S. and based on some of the stories (that he didn’t think I was paying attention to) between him and a couple of his mates, the battlefield wasn’t the only place those boys from South Jersey saw action.
My father was proud of his service, and he enjoyed the Army – but not enough to go along with my fleeting desire to sign the dotted line back in the early 80s. (I sometimes wonder what life would have been like if I chose military green over Syracuse Orange. Perhaps that’s a story for another day.)
My sense of honor, respect and discipline (a trait the requires constant maintenance) are among the many things I owe to Sergeant McCullough.
I know he’s up there keeping an eye on things.
Happy Veteran’s Day Daddy!