Remembering my hero

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As I stood in front of the headstone that listed WWII, KO, and VN as his contributions to this country's freedom, I remembered a man I had admired and loved all my life.  He was born in 1908 in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  He entered the Army in 1928 when the armed forces, and the country, was segregated.  The paperwork left behind listed him as colored in the '30's, Negro in the 40's, and black in the 60's.   His country saw him as a second-class citizen, he gave his country first-class loyalty.  He knew freedom was not free and proudly served for 32 years.  He died an African-American at the beginning of this millenium.   On this Memorial Day, I want to thank you for the love you gave to country and to your family.  I miss you each and every day.  I love you, Dad.

Each of us has a hero.  Who's yours?  Share your story.