I know everybody is posting the same thing; have fun today, but remember what Memorial Day is all about, so you can skip this if you want. I won't hold it against you.
Back in 1967 my uncle was killed in the line of duty. I never got to meet him, so I can't say anything about him. I know he was a pretty big guy, he was the youngest sibling in the family, and I don't believe he was married all that long. Thanks to the power of the Internet, I can see that was killed by some kind of mortar or rocket fire. I'm not exactly sure I wanted to know that.
I do know that my mom and he were close. I think she looked out for him when he moved to the Big City. It must have been a big change coming from a (very) small town in Upper Michigan to Chicago, so I'm sure he was happy to have the help. Also, like many others, he was drafted. If I remember correctly he left school for a short time, and that's when he was picked up. That's about all I know. My mom doesn't like to talk about it much, not that I can blame her, and I don't try to bring it up. I'm also pretty sure he is the reason my mom would always come up with some reason why I couldn't join the Air Force whenever I brought it up as a kid. Again, I can't blame her for that.
So, here's to you uncle Jim. Thanks for all you did for our country.
Now, you, go enjoy your beer, brats and hamburgers. I need to finish work and figure out what I'm going to eat later.