Happy Birthday Dad

Today is my father's 86th birthday. He's at that age where he is having senior moments. But he is quite a remarkable guy. He grew up poor in the depression without a father who died when my Dad was 2. He quit school at 16 to help support a family. Sixteen! How rough that must have been. Then he was drafted into the US Army at 19 and saw heavy combat in the European Theatre. He landed just after D Day as a replacement and later fought in the battle that decided the war in Europe--The Battle of the Bulge. Along the way he received a Bronze Star for Valor when the Bronze Star actually meant something. As a combat medic he was exposed to enemy fire while helping the wounded. He told me that he once carried a dying man on his back for a good 2 miles as the GI bled all over my father. After the war he had to stay on and administer shots to the returning GIs and also testify at a court martial.
He came home to Perth Amboy and lived a relatively quiet simple life characterized by his generosity for everyone who came his way. Something that was not lost on his children or his wife who was pretty generous herself. My mother passed away in February of 2009. My father is now a widower and just about all his friends have passed away or are feeble. But he is still rolling along. Last year about 54 years after the fact he was doubly honored. He received The Legion of Honor Medal, France's highest award for his service in World War II. He said it was the most nervous day of his life. And he was the hit of the award ceremony, correcting the presenter in regards to which Army outfit he served in. He also was named the Grand Marshal of the Perth Amboy Memorial Day parade where he gave a very lucid speech about the life of a combat medic in the infantry. My father is the epitome of his generation--men who sacrificed their collective lives for their country and family in a quiet way. The "greatest generation" as Tom Brokaw puts it. But it's always the little things that exemplify what love is. I'll never forget the day he taught me to ride a bike behind my house on a dirt road. Playing catch with the baseball, a ritual fathers engage in with their sons. Teachingme to play basketball. Does this sound sentimental or even mundane? It may. But the point is, I am extremely proud of my father. And as I get older I am just starting to grasp how hard life really was for him and his contemporaries and also, how much they've seen in their time on earth.

So Happy Birthday Dad and thanks for everything!