Allow me a moment to give my dad a small tribute. Here he is in 1943, age 22. He was behind enemy lines much of the time, held bridges, got strafed, was yelled at by General Patton, captured Nazis by himself ("Hanenburg, NOW what are you up to?") freed prisoners from concentration camps, and watched many friends die.
He looks like my brothers and my sons. Here I see a strong man. Honest, intelligent and determined. All of these years he has encouraged me and had my back.
Now at age 94, his body is becoming feeble. It is so hard to see. But don't worry, dad, I've got your back. I love you.
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