Dad

My Dad was in World War II. He passed away in August 2001, and before and after, I pondered that defining time in his life. I pondered it after 9/11, when people suddenly became super patriots, flags everywhere, spouting off about subjects they knew next to nothing about, emotions overtaking what sense they may or may not have had in the first place.

I read an excerpt from a book that sounds like it asks some good questions, and has some interesting things to say, called Homeland. In it, it questions why people react the way they do to defining events.

I love and appreciate America, but I also feel many actions we do can and has been wrong. We that live here should always question what's going on. If that makes me a troublemaker, then so be it.

My Dad loved America too, laying his life on the line many times during WWII. He came back quietly as most men did, no parades, no fanfare. He didn't fly a flag either, but neither did he get angry over it. He just went on with life. But one thing he always taught me not by empty words but by his example, is that you do what you can, you work hard, and you DO ask questions.