My dad used to call himself a Great American Patriot. As in, if we were driving through his old neighborhoods in St. Louis Park (Minnesota), he would say, "this is where a Great American Patriot used to ride his bike", or "this is where a Great American Patriot used to go to grade school".
Which would be confusing, because we (our family, my mom and me, maybe my brothers) would be looking at a vacant lot. And then my dad would explain that the school had since been torn down, but it was still a "shrine".
When I was a kid, growing up, I was entertained by these stories, but I was also constantly reminded that, indeed, my dad WAS a patriot. He served in the Navy during WWII, he was a welder on aircraft carriers, and was in Pearl Harbor on that fateful day.
But more than that- he loved America, and truly believed in what it means to love our country.
Which brings me to today's post (long story, forgive me). Growing up in my house, I am also a Great American Patriot, and very patriotic. Yesterday, Scott and I were about to leave the house on errands, and Scott told me there was something outside that I was going to love. I said, was it Grommitt? (our neighbor's cute puppy) He said, no, but that it was great. And this was it:
This is on the front porch of our neighbor's house. I couldn't read the smaller print, and when Scott read it to me, he got choked up. He's a patriot, too.
No more words necessary. Just glad that Tim has made it home, and grateful for his service for all of our freedom.
I miss you, Dad - thanks for teaching me to love America.