My grandfather served in World War II. When he came home he attended Hampton Institute (still the real HU), married my grandmother (a nurse) and had three sons. My grandfather purchased a home in
I realize now that there was so much I did not know about my grandfather who passed away in 2003. I don’t recall having conversations with him about what it was like being a black man serving in the war. I never asked him how he felt protecting a country that denied his youngest son (my father) access to the nearest bathroom because they were black. I never asked him what it was like being raised in
I say all of this because sometimes I regret my youthful understanding of things. Often times in the moment, appreciation takes a backseat to the trivial. One summer when I was about 12, my Grandfather took me over to
But look what I carry in my memory. I have no idea what else was more important than spending a summer day with Granddaddy. I have been taught to understand that time is both limited and fleeting. I have learned to appreciate the man who loved my grandmother through cancer, taught his sons to be men in a segregated South, and prayed for me when I had no idea what it took for him to be there for all of us.
I encourage ya'll to take a moment to think of those who have and currently serve in wars they may or may not believe in.
See You In Seven