Thanks Greta!

So I thought I was done blogging for the day and popped into Lifelong Knitter where Greta reminded me that it was Veteran's Day, and I didn't say anything about it.

I was so happy that the office was moved spontaneously to take our Marine pilot vet to lunch. I hope all veterans got a thanks, a hug, an acknowledgement from the people they served.

Greta's dad served in Korea - mine in WWII (I was a surprise baby, when they'd given up the idea of having kids). My late uncle served in Europe, my dad in the Pacific. My grandfather was a bona fide WWI hero - I hope to pry his medals out of my Dad so I can frame and display his Croix de Guerre and US medals. I've told the story of his funeral before - how the US gov't didn't send a soul to a decorated war hero's funeral, who died of war-related illness years later, but the French sent a full honor guard and dignitaries. Yes, we love the French in this family, we know real class when we see it. If you get some juvenile kick from dissing the French, please feel free to kiss my ass.

My husband was a Vietnam veteran who came home as rattled and disillusioned as John Kerry did. He just shut up about it and didn't talk about it until he was dying, and I realized that the psychic scars he carried had affected him through his entire adult life. He'd have been better off if he'd talked. We all would have been better off. The Swift Boat Assholes can also kiss my ass.

Okay, so happy Veteran's Day. I love you guys and gals and I don't want a single one of you in harm's way for any reason but absolute necessity, and then I want you armed with the best, protected by the best equipment and as safe as humanly possible when doing your duty. Getting sent into hostile territory in trucks "armored" with plywood is a frigging travesty, and we as civilians need to scream long and loud about this. So why aren't we?