November 11: Today I am thankful that I had such a wonderful relationship with my grandfather. He was a WWII veteran, though it wasn't something he often talked about. To me, he was the guy who played handball at the YMCA. He was the guy that picked me up at 6 a.m. on Saturday mornings to go get sprinkled doughnuts. He was the man I shared a birthday with, who always made sure it was my party, not his. He was the guy I was sitting in the canoe with when I caught my first big fish on Long Lake, Wisconsin. He was the man who sat in his ugly orange chair in the den to eat cherry ice cream and share his bowl with his pug, Beau. He was the person that was always there for my mom and my family after my parents' divorce. He was my biggest fan and the best joker.
I could never picture the "Santa Claus" that he was when I knew him, toting around a rifle on board a ship in the South Pacific. I couldn't imagine the man that wept openly when one his dogs died, holding out in one of the most dangerous naval war zones of WWII, watching his comrades and enemies fall. I couldn't imagine the man who drove a little diesel VW pick up truck, piloting a whole ship. All of which stands to remind us that the veterans of today will someday be someone's grandfather, and the war we are facing today will be distant memory for them, just as it was to my Pa. At least I hope so.
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