So many subjects to pick from today.It is Flag Day. This is the 238th birthday for the United States Army. Add to that, Sunday is Father’s Day. What to say?
Flag Day -- Yes our flag is flying. It proudly announces that we support and believe in the United States of America. The Flag represents how this country has grown from 13 states to 50. It represents those who have made this country strong. It represents the farmer, the banker, the steel worker, and the teacher. It represents the mothers and fathers. The sons and daughters. It represents the doctors and nurses, the store clerk and the corporate CEO. It represents the poor and the rich. The Flag represents each of us.
Flag Day -- Yes our Flag is flying.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU. HAPPY 238TH BIRTHDAY. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.
We should all be singing this song. For 238 years, the Army has been defending your right to fly the Flag. Defending not only our country and our freedoms, but the freedoms of countries around the world. So, Happy Birthday Army. Thank you
This leaves Father’s Day. I thought this picture of my dad was just the one for today. He was in the Army. In the Infantry. In World War II. This picture honors our Flag and the Army.
Dad was the father of four: a boy and three girls. He drove a truck. A semi back before power steering, air conditioned cabs or GPS. He did not have a cell phone. Not even a CB. Just him and the truck.
Dad loved to drive that truck. He drove for Merchant’s Freight out of Terre Haute, Indiana. Being the child of a truck driver was not easy. We never knew when dad would be home. He would be in and out of the house at odd times. And he slept day or night, depending on when he got home. Dad loved being a truck driver. I hated it.
It is hard to get to know someone that is never there. During the day, when we were awake, dad might be asleep. At night, when we were asleep, dad might be getting ready to take the next load. Dad wasn’t there for school programs. Dad didn’t go to church. Dad knew how to tell us to be quiet but did not know how to tell us that he loved us.
Dad did, occasionally, play games with us and we thought it was funny when he helped mom do dishes. Dad made sure he was home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. At least for part of the day. Dad --
As I write this and as I look back, I realize dad was not what I expected a dad to be. I don’t think I ever did anything right. There was always something just not quite good enough. But I also realize something else. He was - is - my dad, my father, and I love him. He provided for his family and, knowing how he grew up, I think he did the best he could. I also saw an entirely different man when he became a grandfather. I saw the love he had for them. I saw him finally able to let the love he kept in his heart come out.
My daddy died at the age of 57. I miss him.
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