Thank You

 I've been thinking about my dad a lot this past few weeks. 

His 101st birthday falls on Thanksgiving Day. One week after that is the anniversary of his death last year.

He lived long. I hope he felt that it was a mostly good life. The first two decades, though, were difficult. The  Great Depression colored his life as an adolescent and teenager. 

He didn't say much about those years, except to comment that he didn't much like beans. His family consumed a lot of those during the Depression.

Then again, I never asked him about life during the 1930s, the Dust Bowl years. I wish I had. One doesn't get a real sense of historical events unless you hear people's stories. Especially when it comes directly from someone's lips to your ears.

I did hear first-hand accounts of his time fighting overseas during World War II. 

He saw fierce combat; saw his best friend killed next to him on the battlefield. German troops captured him and others in his group. They were nearly executed, but then spent several months in a German POW camp. Not a fun experience.

But he did what he had to do. All of his life he just did what he had to do without complaint. At least I never heard him complain.

As I face an uncertain world, I will strive to draw on his strength, to do what I have to do without complaining (much, anyway). 

Lend me your strength, your resolve, your conviction, Dad.

And I will do what I must do.

Thanks.