My Grandfather was a glider infantryman in
WWII, an advisor in Korea, and lost one of his sons, my
uncle Gary Edwards, in Vietnam. I worked in his auto repair
station during high school and he flew his flag in front
daily. One day while I was sweeping the oil dry out of the
bays it began to sprinkle rain. He told me to go get the
flag and I said "gimme a second." He said,
"It is raining, go get the flag NOW." Well I
popped off my mouth about how he should cool it, it isn't
going to melt or some such typical teenage comment.
My grandfather is the toughest man I've ever
met. He explained once that he thought basic training was
some sort of country club during WWII, because he was used
to hard work anyway, and at home he didn't have indoor
toilets or hot running water! And when I said whatever it
was that I said to him, he turned deep crimson and I
thought, "God save me, he's going to kill me for
talking back." Instead tears welled up in his eyes and
he squeaked out "You don't understand what this family
has paid for the right to fly that flag." Then he
turned his back on me and went out and got the flag. I just
stood there feeling like the smallest person to ever live.
Those words cut me so deep. I wish the entire country could
have heard them.
[ I ] hope that this Nation might yet have enough people
who understand the cost of liberty to turn things around.
