Two Words On This Memorial Day: Thanks, Dad.

Okay, so maybe it's because of the ongoing wars in which we find ourselves still entangled, or maybe it's my ever-increasing age, or maybe it's just the oppressive heat, whatever, but I find myself feeling very sentimental, a little melancholy and missing my father this Memorial Day.

This photo sits front and center atop our living room mantle. I love this image of my Dad as a young buck, clearly full of proverbial piss and vinegar, standing in his you-got-a-problem-with-that David Caruso hands-on-hips stance. I'm particularly fond of the taped nose. My Dad was a pacifist, but could throw down with the best of them when need be... hence the taped nose. The only thing that would make this photo more perfect, more my father would be if there was a hand-rolled cigarette burning between his two fingers.

He went through a lot of shit over there during World War II so we all could maintain our freedoms over here. A lot of shit. And for that I will be forever grateful. I didn't get it way back then when he was still alive, but I get it now.

So, thank you Dad. Thank you for being brave. Thank you for being strong. Thank you for being a hero.