He'd just gotten up ... Dad worked nights and woke up about the time we got home from school ... in fact many days David and I were the reason he didn't finish his sleep.
He looked at me long and hard sitting at one end of the table and me at the other.
"How bout them Dawgs?" he replies sipping coffee.
"Seriously Dad," I protests. "Tell me."
"I don't want to talk about that stuff," he answers with a snap.
I'd learned a long time ago when the snap in his voice appears to keep my mouth shut so we sit in silence.
Standing, he pulls things from the refrigerator to make dinner. Mom's at work so Dad does the cooking ... and he loves it!
Mom gets home at 6:00 and David, Angi and I are expected to be at the kitchen table for family dinner ... and we eat, talk, laugh and are lectured about life ... at least I'm often lectured because I'm the one mostly in trouble.
"Here," Dad says handing me a $5 bill.
"Go to Crosby's and get one pound of hamburger meat. Ground Chuck ... not hamburger meat! Make sure he grounds it."
I ride my bike to the little store and Mr. Crosby grounds the chuck.
Returning to an aroma filled kitchen, Dad says "Sit down Son."
Laying the ground chuck on the counter, registering the snap in his voice, I sit at one end of the table and he at the other.
Sighing heavily, he wipes his eyes, clears his throat and says, "There is nothing good about War. It's best to forget them."
.
And my Daddy starts crying.
I sit frozen in fear.
Wiping his eyes he stands again, walks to me and puts his hand on my shoulder.
"Why don't you help me cook?"
Five decades later, I love to cook ... passionately hate War ... and have no hesitancy whatsoever to cry.
Happy Veterans Day Dad.
For what it's worth.
