My grandfather, Calvin Luther Muldrow, fought in World War I. Although he died when I was young, I recall his stories about how he survived the Great War. I remember hearing how he spent weeks in a foxhole in the Alps, sick from the malaria that nearly killed him. He returned home bearing the helmet of a German soldier whom he’d dispatched in battle, as evidence of his experience.
I live with and care for my 100-year-old father, a WWII veteran who flew gliders in the fledgling glider program. He is still lucid, an avid The New Yorker reader, a Sudoku puzzler, a calm dog-whisperer man who maintains a wry sense of humor. He was livid on J6, and he is eager to stay alive long enough to vote this November. He has mentioned that he's glad his WWII mates are not around to see what has become of the America they all fought and sacrificed so much to preserve. He has read Mein Kampf in English, and is infuriated hearing tRump speaking directly from that text. God Help Us!
I live with and care for my 100-year-old father, a WWII veteran who flew gliders in the fledgling glider program. He is still lucid, an avid The New Yorker reader, a Sudoku puzzler, a calm dog-whisperer man who maintains a wry sense of humor. He was livid on J6, and he is eager to stay alive long enough to vote this November. He has mentioned that he's glad his WWII mates are not around to see what has become of the America they all fought and sacrificed so much to preserve. He has read Mein Kampf in English, and is infuriated hearing tRump speaking directly from that text. God Help Us!