Monday, May 28, 2012


Though there are certainly other times I think about him, I always think about Mike on Memorial Day.

While other people are planning bar-b-ques and running in races and celebrating a day off work, I reflect on the sacrifices of all the men and women like Mike.

The tributes on TV take me back to the church full of uniforms and youth.  To the words said about this man who died fighting in a war that had nothing to do with him.  To the haunting notes of Taps, and the way that a 21 gun salute can bring grown men to their knees.


To me, he was just a kid, one of the best friends of my youngest brother in law.

They moved down to San Diego with another friend, just a few miles from where we were.  He tried the college route, but wasn't in love with it. He wanted more. He wanted a path.

Joined the Army.  Became a medic.

Flew halfway across the world to get into a Blackhawk helicopter that fateful day and become a hero.

He'll always be young, he'll always be 22, he'll always be a kid to me.

He'll forever be a hero.

Thank you, Mike.


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