Thanks to ALL who serve.

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December 7, 1941. A kid is awakened by the sound of gunfire and his neighbor hammering on the door. He runs out and finds himself in the middle of a nightmare. Instead of running for cover, he runs over to man a 50 calibre anti-aircraft machine gun. His claim is that he doesn't know if he hit anything, but, "I shot at every Jap plane I saw." Two hours later, after the last plane was out of sight, he was ordered to leave his post and seek medical attention. He had 21 shrapnel wounds, including a bullet that went through his foot and an arm that he couldn't feel. He never thought of himself as a hero, he said he was just a kid that got really mad one day. That was Lt. John Finn, who was the first World War 2 soldier to receive the Medal of Honor. He passed away last Thursday, May 27th, at the age of 100.
This is the day we remember and celebrate the lives of those who watch over us. The ones who rush in as we rush out. The people in uniform who stand between us and those who would destroy our way of life. And as we celebrate with family and friends, we, of course should take a pause and think of those who are carrying a pager they hope won't go off, just one day. Those in uniforms, either soldier or ER nurse or any emergency personel.
Also, the unsung hero. Those people we don't notice. I have stated many times that I've never met a fireman I didn't like, then I met J.H. No, I'm not going to sit here on THIS day and talk bad about someone with whom I could never find enough common ground with to enjoy a friendship. But none the less, regardless of how we feel about each other, I know in my heart that if someone pages him and tells him that Gary's house is on fire, he will show up as soon as he can and will work as hard as he can to put that fire out. I know he will spit tobacco juice all over my lawn, but I sure will be glad to see him. He is also the guy who will give blood at any and all opportunities, without question or hesitation. And it also occurred to me, what if....... Say that someone decides that the company I work for has made enough money, in war torn countries and wants to do something about it. Make a statement. Who will be the first to know? Would it be the people we hardly notice that greet us as we scan our badges and walk through the front doors? How about that little blond at the back gate? Would that 5 foot tall, 90 pound lady, when faced with "a nightmare", become as Lt. John Finn and say, "I was just doing what they pay me for."