Last night I had a dream about a friend that passed away last year. It got me thinking about how important my loved ones are to me. About how I want to remember everything I can about them. I decided I need to start writing down some of my memories of the people who shaped my life. I think I'll have to write their names down and put them in a hat to draw from at random.

Today I'm starting with my dad.

My dad was in the Vietnam war a few years before I was born. He brought back part of the war with him in the form of shrapnel in his back, next to his spine. As far as I know, it's still there. He also brought the war back home with him in other ways. To be honest, I don't know if his instincts have ever left combat mode. He did get better over the years, but when I was growing up, he seemed to frequently slip into moments of PTSD that no one, especially he, could understand or control. Those are the bad things. I like to focus on the good.

Some of my fondest memories of my dad, were his surprises. One time, he showed up at my grade school and signed me out of class, sighting a family emergency. I was called to the office, expecting the worst, thinking that maybe someone had died or our house had burned down. He and I walked to the car in silence, my heart racing. As we approached the car I looked at him curiously. He smiled and told me we were going fishing. Just me and him. Of all the company he could have requested, my father, the loner, wanted to take his youngest daughter fishing. -I love that memory.

The greatest thing about my dad, is that when he says he's going to do something, neither hell, nor high water will stop him. I grew up in an unstable household with unstable people who flaked out constantly. My dad was more reliable than an atomic clock. I've always known that no matter how much trouble I was in, now matter how bad something seemed, if I had the guts to face my father and ask for his help, he'd know what to do and he'd be brave about it. As long as my father wasn't scared, why should I be? This was especially the case when I discovered I was pregnant. Although I was happy, overjoyed even to be pregnant with Grace, I was scared shitless. My dad talked me through my pregnancy. We talked pretty much everyday. He always told me the same things. He told me that I was strong enough and smart enough to do whatever I needed to do. He told me that things would work out better than I could imagine, not because I deserved them to, nor because of God's deliverance, but rather because I had no choice. I had to make a better life for my daughter and myself. There were no other options. You see, to me, that was truly heroic. For a father to be brave enough to level with his daughter like that. I love that man.

Now let me tell you why my dad should be your hero. Like I mentioned earlier, he's a Vietnam veteran. He did not wait to be drafted. He enlisted. He took shrapnel not just once, but twice. For that they gave him two purple hearts. He also saved alot of lives. He was a field medic. For his courage in combat, he was given a bronze star with valor. I know he has other medals, but I don't remember the specifics of them. What I do know, is that he like all the other men and women that came home from the Vietnam conflict, were not treated with the respect that they deserved. I know I'm standing on a soapbox here, but seriously... we all owe a huge debt to our veterans.

Tomorrow is Veterans Day. We all know someone who has fought for this country, or fought for an ideal, or maybe they fought and really didn't even know why. The point is, they had the courage. They put their lives on the line. Maybe they even saved some lives in the process. Honor them. Thank them. Respect them.