It shows my granddaughter, Cera, her father, Mark, and me, the old fart, at a reception honoring veterans at her middle school in Louisiana;before Katrina.

He's a vet of Desert Storm and I am vet of Vietnam.

I will always remember when she called and asked me to come. As I was still working, her mother, our daughter, attempted to discourage her. She didn't want her to be disappointed.

Her mother also knew that I avoided attending those kind of events because all of the memories that get stirred up in me.

Cera called, I can't even imagine the courage that it took to make that call. She explained what the occasion was. I listened to her saying that it was important for her if I would attend. It was my granddaughter calling and asking me - what could I do but accept.

I will be forever grateful for that invitation! It was the FIRST time that I felt that I was home at last.

I met heroes from Pearl Harbor, Iwo Jima, Tarawa, Korea; now bent with time's burden and bearing scars of wounds, both visible and invisible that will never heal. Vets from the 'Nam, Desert Storm, Iraqi Freedom. The last three were phony wars fought for a phony causes but those that fought and continue, each night, to fight it; are heroes and their grievous wounds are real enough to demand respect of those of us that went before.

These words were spoken by Army General James. G. Harbord, at the dedication of an American battle monument was built in Belleau Wood at the end of WWI. He was the commander of the Marines during the battle. "Now and then, a veteran ... will come here to live again the brave days of that distant June. Here will be raised the altars of patriotism; here will be renewed the vows of sacrifice and consecration to country. Hither will come our countrymen in hours of depression, and even of failure, and take new courage from this shrine of great deeds."