Remembering wounds that never earned him a Purple Heart

In this photo, my father is younger than our son.

A postage-stamp sized photo of my father in his Navy uniform. On the back it says: guess Who? again.

He was serving off the coast of China when I was born and off Cuba when my brother Doug was born in a Virginia naval hospital.

His service never put him in battle, but it put him in Boulder where he met his love, paid for a college education, helped him buy his first home. The only military conflict he suffered was with his oldest son.

He came from nothing and so when he reached some success, it was natural for him to feel he owed the military everything, and he didn't understand why I would question the government, would protest war, would not conform.

In a strange way our relationship was a casualty of the things we honor and remember today. Though we got over it, it took way too long and the ensuing peace was far too short.

Today I remember and regret the shots fired and the wounds that never earned him a Purple Heart.