![Veterans Day: A Thank You Note Offering
This is my veteran. The man on the left is my paternal grandfather. [The bean pole on his lap is Dad. His only child.] Pa, as we called him, served in the Pacific theater in WWII. I know because he liked to give us coins from all the places he’d been. I still have them. A communications soldier. I’m sure what I imagine - him carrying the equipment and trailing line across the jungle - is inaccurate. But in my mind, that’s how I’ll picture his service. He returned home to do more labor for his country. I know because my father would tell us about his father’s glory days as an able-bodied worker for Southern Bell, setting telephone poles up and down the sides of the Blue Ridge mountains. A baseball player. [He was invited to join the minor leagues and later offered a scholarship to play at Oglethorpe University. What use did he have for school? His family needed him to put food on the table. It was called providing, back then.] Strong. Can you tell? Take a look at that right arm. He was no sissy. He passed away in 2000. Hard to believe that it’s been almost a decade. He lived. He served. He worked hard. He raised a son. He loved his wife. He loved the Lord. He was tall. He had a warm lap and a kind smile. He was a good man. We miss him. Today, I’ll remember him a little longer. It’s all I know to do. To thank him. To thank him because I can’t possibly thank them all. But I do. I thank them for believing in this great country. For keeping me safe. And loving this place enough to leave it behind for dark and dreary jungles, beaches, forests, fields, deserts, caves. In the name of liberty and freedom and independence.
Sincerely,
Sally B.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ksyt5ut9Ov1qa44x0o1_500.jpg)
Veterans Day: A Thank You Note Offering
This is my veteran. The man on the left is my paternal grandfather. [The bean pole on his lap is Dad. His only child.] Pa, as we called him, served in the Pacific theater in WWII. I know because he liked to give us coins from all the places he’d been. I still have them. A communications soldier. I’m sure what I imagine - him carrying the equipment and trailing line across the jungle - is inaccurate. But in my mind, that’s how I’ll picture his service. He returned home to do more labor for his country. I know because my father would tell us about his father’s glory days as an able-bodied worker for Southern Bell, setting telephone poles up and down the sides of the Blue Ridge mountains. A baseball player. [He was invited to join the minor leagues and later offered a scholarship to play at Oglethorpe University. What use did he have for school? His family needed him to put food on the table. It was called providing, back then.] Strong. Can you tell? Take a look at that right arm. He was no sissy. He passed away in 2000. Hard to believe that it’s been almost a decade. He lived. He served. He worked hard. He raised a son. He loved his wife. He loved the Lord. He was tall. He had a warm lap and a kind smile. He was a good man. We miss him. Today, I’ll remember him a little longer. It’s all I know to do. To thank him. To thank him because I can’t possibly thank them all. But I do. I thank them for believing in this great country. For keeping me safe. And loving this place enough to leave it behind for dark and dreary jungles, beaches, forests, fields, deserts, caves. In the name of liberty and freedom and independence.
Sincerely,
Sally B.
