I remember when the Marines drafted my uncle for the Vietnam war. He was a teenager, and he thought I was a motormouth five-year-old.
Our family traveled to Paris Island South Carolina to watch him, graduate. They made him a man, and he was so handsome in his uniform as he took us on tour.
My family baked cookies and filled boxes with a taste of home. He shared with other soldiers who never received anything. We even sent a decorated Christmas tree.
One day he called on the radio to home, and they taught me how to say over for my uncle to talk back to me. The conversation was recorded. I was no longer that bratty kid, and he said it was so good to hear my voice. He was grateful for his family.
We still have many abroad, don’t forget them, they are our family too. A Patriot isn’t racist. We love our country.