Okay, so today isn’t exactly Veterans Day. I know..I know. But, I was super busy and couldn’t post anything the day of. So here it is.

My family has a pretty deep history with the military. A history I am proud of. They were such brave men, and I admire them so much for the their service to this country. I love them deeply. Both of my grandpas served in the army. WWII. My late Grandpa on my father’s side left us with very little information and history. He was a POV (Prisoner of War) and so he wasn’t exactly chummy at the request for military stories. My grandpa on my mother’s side is a wonderfully humorous man…(still married to my grandmother by the way…some 60+ years or something like that…I lost count after the 50th anniversary).  . My late, Uncle Art was also in the military along with a handful of my other great uncles. And of course, there’s my dad. He served in the Air Force for 33 years and retired as a Senior Master Sgt. I thought I understood the ranking, but I guess I never truly grasped such a concept.. until I met a man who was in the Navy. A most wonderful, gracious, compassionate man that I am so glad I had the chance to talk to. He was a medic for the Navy, AND he has the same birthday as me…cool eh? but that’s besides the point. He shared the heart-wrenching stories and of the absolute blessings he’s experienced. I found myself with teary eyes as he shared his story with me. (But that’s a story for another time). Anyway… when I told him about my dad and his ranking, he smiled and shared how big of an accomplishment it was…and to have that ranking, he must’ve received so much respect and love from his colleagues. Hearing this man share this information with me, helped me appreciate the service my dad has provided to this country EVEN more. He was good at his job. Better than good, he was spectacular. He was always receiving awards for doing things, and my family and I would never find out until he had to lug the trophies home. He was humble to say the least. He was not only spectacular at his job, but I could tell he LOVED his job.

My father was drafted straight out of high school into Vietnam. Served his time…and then when into the Air Force Reserves. I don’t know a time (except for now), that he wasn’t in the military.

I remember when 911 happened and how much of  scare it brought my family and I. My dad being activated…the whole color coded terrorist alert system.

I have a sort of attachment to the military lifestyle. It makes me feel nostalgic…reminds me of my childhood days of going to family picnics, playing with the other airforce brats…putting on the airplane headphones that blocked all the sound out (when i didn’t want to listen to my mom). Being at airshows and thinking I was “the bomb” because I ALWAYS got the VIP tour of the plane…the tour that nobody else got. All the t-shirts me and my brothers and sister had of the Blue Angels. I loved watching those planes.

The year he retired, I made a photobook completely dedicated to him and the rest of the veterans of my family. So that one day my own kids would have something tangible to see about their family history. I wrote about what it was like for me growing up with a military dad, the parts that I enjoyed, and the parts that I didn’t enjoy. He was away often when I was a little girl, and I would draw pictures of him in planes with a little speech bubble above my head saying ” I miss you, daddy”. My mom says that there would be times when he’d get home and we’d cry because we thought he was a stranger… it would take us some time to remember…Oh, this is my dad…that’s right. I remember growing up playing on various military bases (just visiting), going to air shows. And then there’s the infamous story that me and my dad share with people. How big accident when the oxygen tank on his C-5 airplane fell on my head…it made a GINORMOUS bump by the way…Maybe that’s why my head is lumpy? hah. I have this heartfelt attachment to his army camo blanket…he doesn’t know it. That blanket has been the blanket we all used around the house. It’s worn out, worn thin, and it still keeps me warm no matter how cold it is. It’s what I like to call my “magical” blanket. I’ve decided to go out and buy my own…although, I’d much rather have my dad’s. It means a lot to me…not just because it’s his, but because he used it in Vietnam…when he was first issued it. So, I imagine him as a shivering, young 18 year old in Vietnam with that blanket and I like that I can keep warm in the same way he did with it. It’s over all theme touched on the fact that even though I have never been in the military, a party of me went with my dad where ever he traveled, where ever he served. Sadly, I’ve seen 2 flags folded (as happens as a soldier’s funeral), one for my grandpa, and one for my uncle. So, the photos expressed a bit of my vulnerability in knowing that it would inevitable to see yet another flag folded into a triangle. Whether it be my other grandfather, or my dad. And, how it has a true and real meaning to me to see that image.

So, to my dad, my grandfathers, uncle, and every other veteran out there…I say, “Thank You.” You are appreciated, admired, and loved.  But also to the family members of veterans, because it can be difficult for them as well sometimes. Thank You to my mother for being the beautiful woman that she is, for being strong when my dad was away.

Watch this video…it’ll touch your heart.

When I asked my dad if he could write something about what it meant to him to be a veteran, he referred me to this essay by Dan Mouer.

Enjoy!

And Here are some images from the photobook:

Front Cover

When I asked my dad if he could write something about what it meant to him to be a veteran, he referred me to this essay by Dan Mouer