As many of you, I have a long line of veterans in my family: grandfather, father, husband, son. They served at home, on far away shores, on the sea, the land, the air. They wore uniforms of the Air Force, Army, Navy and even the Sea Bees.
Last year in this column I honored my son as it is also his birthday (Happy Birthday, Chad).
Today, I thank all veterans everywhere, but making it personal makes it more meaningful to me. Today I honor my husband. Thank you, Gary, for serving. Thank you for putting yourself in harms way in the jungles of Vietnam while I slept warm and safe in my bed. Thank you for eating rations when I dined on steak and sipped fresh tea. Thank you for sleepless nights and anxious days, for standing duty, for marching in mud and swatting strange bugs and avoiding poisonous reptiles. Thank you for lying all those months in a foreign hospital bed bleeding and without family. Thank you, Gary, for my freedom. Freedom to walk in my yard and gardens; to communicate with anyone on my computer or cell or walk across the yard and speak with my neighbor. Thank you for fighting for my freedom to say whatever I choose whenever I choose. I can go to the library or bookstore and get just about anything I can think of to read. My clothing today is my choice. I can wear a T-shirt that is insulting and degrading or one that is uplifting and thought provocative. I CAN CHOOSE because you chose to serve. Thank you for your sacrifice and service to your country. And, most of all thank you for coming home. I love you.
Gary touring Queen Mary