Mr. Fisherman,
You were spot on. My days get screwed up a bit too - as the only survivor of my first WWII torpedo bomber squadron my memorial days approach 365.
When I go, as a DAV, to the VA hospital for treatment I always visit my Nam buddies, the ones I first knew as 19 and 20 year old kids back when they were whole. As I make my way through the wards, cluttered with artificial limbs and aids like toys strewn around a daycare center, and shake hands with those who still have them -- my Veteran's Day gets refreshed, and refreshed.
My silver star, purple heart, and other undeserved fruit salad are molding away in an old shoe box in the basement waiting for some garage sale, and I often wish for some way to cut each into little pieces - giving a piece to each of those who really earned them and are no longer here. Ray, your thoughts are greatly appreciated.
I fully understand our C-Brat home isn't the proper forum for this sort of thing, and as soon as you acknowledge reading this I'll delete.
Sorry, DaNag Bill, old friend.
Dusty