December 7th, 1941 was my father’s 15th birthday. He was out in the park across from his house playing football with his neighborhood buddies when his mother called him in. He wasn’t happy that his play was being interrupted, but you didn’t mess with my grandmother.

She had the radio turned on, and that’s when he learned that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. He was horrified. He tried to sign up for duty the next day, but they refused him because he was obviously too young.

For two years he waited and waited while his father taught him all about the Founding Fathers and the Constitution. At 17, still supposedly too young, he applied again. This time he was accepted into the Navy. By the time he left the Navy he was Captain of his ship. And the Navy paid for his college education.

To this day he is the most patriotic man I know. And July 4th means everything to him because it’s one of the days that means so much to our country in the scheme of things. So we’ll grill out and we’ll watch fireworks and we’ll talk about what this date really means. And it means the world to him. And he taught that to his kids.

Happy 4th, everyone!