Dad
My Dad is 59 years old. He works as an air conditioning mechanic. He's probably the smartest person I know. In 1979 he fell 4 stories off a building hhe was doing structural iron work on, which was the precipitant event for us to move to Miami. Last year he had surgery to replace a bad hip. As a boy, the nuns at St. Vincent de Paul brow-beat him to the point where he's unconvinced of his own intelligence. At 18, he did the right thing and answered the post card ordering him to report for basic training. He spent the next several years driving a supply truck through Vietnam, and was at a base in Khe San when the Tet Offensive began.
He's working today, and to my knowlege he's never taken had the second Friday in November off in his working life. Neither have any of his brethren. This dawned on me as I walked through the aisles at my local HomeDepot, and I wondered how many of their hourly employees are veterans, though the on duty employees seemed too young to have done active duty in Vietnam. I wonder how many of the people driving deliveries and laboring were duty bound in service to thieir country at one time or another, who are hard at work today. Too bad I get the day off and they have to work. No one's ever shot at me.
Happy Veterans Day, Dad.
He's working today, and to my knowlege he's never taken had the second Friday in November off in his working life. Neither have any of his brethren. This dawned on me as I walked through the aisles at my local HomeDepot, and I wondered how many of their hourly employees are veterans, though the on duty employees seemed too young to have done active duty in Vietnam. I wonder how many of the people driving deliveries and laboring were duty bound in service to thieir country at one time or another, who are hard at work today. Too bad I get the day off and they have to work. No one's ever shot at me.
Happy Veterans Day, Dad.