The males in my family, going way back, more often than not served in the military, when called. I think my brother and I are the only ones that joined up without having been asked or needed or duty bound, but there was plenty of asking through the centuries.
There are Revolutionary war type. Four greats great grandpa T-Bolt was rounded up by the French and he walked to Moscow with Napoleon. Lots of relatives in upstate New York fought in the Civil War. One grandpa was too old to join up in WWII, but he did anyway and ran a PX the whole time. His sons, uncle and dad, joined up rather than be drafted.
All these people joined the military, served the time and came home, to later die, or be destined to die, in their beds. They came back home, lived their lives. Most often long ones.
All accept the grandpa you see below. Just him. Forever 22. Frozen in EGA amber. He enjoyed working in a greenhouse in Michigan as a civilian, he managed to help bring my mother into being, and he died at Peleliu with other Marines. Three things. Just three things. Defining a whole short life.
Coulda done worse.
Slow start...
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Spent the morning blogging about cool old rocket-ship-looking Thunderbirds.
More later.
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3 minutes ago
1 comment:
Hand, Salute! Ready, Two! May he rest in peace.
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