During World War II, my Dad was in the Army, stationed in the
Philippines. Six months before the war ended, he (and many of his comrades) came down with yellow jaundice and spent a little more than a year in the hospital. At one point and while he was still in the hospital (actually, on 9/24/45), one of his friends did this pencil sketch of my Dad. My Dad, in turn, sent it to his Mom who had it hanging on her wall in her dining room. After Grandma died, my Dad got the sketch back. Against my Dad's better judgment, my Mom hung it her sewing room. And now I have it. And yes, he was this good looking.
I miss you Daddy. Thank you for everything. For the sacrifices for your family and your country. For the pain you suffered for years. For your love. For your patience (five daughters/one bathroom . . . the man was a saint). And for your kindness and gentleness.
May we never forget the sacrifices made by so many in order to keep us safe and secure.
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