After reading Snooty Primadona's post about Memorial Day, I decided to add my two cents' worth.
My dad was a Marine in World War II. He had to get his parents sign his papers because he was only 17 years old when he went to join. This was in 1942, and even with a 12 inch plate in one of his legs as a result of a motor scooter accident when he was younger, my dad became a Marine. He was sent to boot camp and learned to shave without a blade in his razor, because Marines shaved everyday then...and Dad didn't really need to shave but about once a week. Then he got every childhood disease he'd never contracted back home in Oklahoma. It took him almost a year to graduate from boot camp. But he was a Marine.
My dad chose to be a point man because he always wanted to know what was happening. He told my husband stories about his experiences that he never shared with me. He was one of a handful of his platoon that survived more than one battle in the Pacific. I never knew this until many years after my dad passed away.
I learned to sing the Marine Corps Hymn as a tiny little girl...I could sing it today, and actually did sing along with the orchestra at the National Memorial Day Observance last night. I remembered my dad, my hero, the Marine.
The saying "once a Marine, always a Marine" was probably written about dad. Thank you, dad, for your service to our country and for the example you were to me of the meaning of patriotism, love of country and selflessness.
To all of the men and women who have served in the armed forces, I thank you. I thank all those unbelievably brave men and women who serve today. May you know that this Marine's daughter is grateful for your service.