"And I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free,
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me." - Lee Greenwood

I'm not sure why I'm thinking about the meaning of Memorial Day more this year than in past years, but I am. I may be thinking about family more this year because of the recent issues with my grandmother's health. I might still have the tracking down and elimination of Osama bin Laden. I might be thinking about the recent deaths of more American soldiers by terrorist acts in Afghanistan, which killed a young soldier that was stationed at an army base close to where I live now.

I don't think it matters all that much really, but I have a confession to make. Even though I'm a military kid, lived on air force bases most of my early life, and have met many people that have been in the military, I've never known anyone who went to war and didn't come back. I've heard stories, but I find it incredible that this isn't something I can personally identify with. One might have thought it would have been a common event but it wasn't.

But I've certainly met enough people who have been to war. I focus on my dad for now because he was in two wars. He went to Korea when he was only 17 years old. His dad signed a special waiver for him to enlist on his 17th birthday, and it was the first time he was separated from his identical twin brother. I don't really know how long he was there before he moved on to other places.

I do know how long he was in Vietnam, though. He left in early December 1969 and was back in the states in September 1970. He had pulled his arm out of the socket somehow and had to be sent back early. In all the years I knew my dad he almost never gave up any information on what he did or what he saw in these war torn areas, but he did once let slip an incident he was involved in, and I must have had this look of horror on a young face that he decided never to tell me anything else again. All I'll say is that it's amazing a man could see such a thing and still live a relatively normal life afterwards.

The image you see above is when my dad became the first recipient in New York state to receive two new medals that the state had created for its military veterans. You probably can't read the news story but I decided not to remove it from its glass enclosure so this is as good as it gets. In 2000 he was awarded both the Conspicuous Service Star and the Medal for Merit by David Coon, who was the state assemblyman for the area and a man my dad did volunteer work for.

It was a proud day for my family, and I think some of you have seen the image on the left side of my dad and I shaking hands right after he got the medals. They were the last two of many medals my dad got in the service; I can't tell you what most of the rest were, as my mother and I decided to have Dad buried in his uniform with all his medals attached. She kept the most recent two for his memory.

I don't think anyone really likes or wants war. Unfortunately, sometimes it's a necessary evil. It's the price of freedom; it's the price of trying to do the right thing. It's the price of protecting those things you believe in. And it's the honor and the calling of those who willingly take that risk upon themselves for their country.

Thanks to all of you, the great unknown to me but loved by someone. On this Memorial Day, once again I'm proud to be an American.