November 11th commemorates the signing of the cease fire that ended the fighting on the Western Front on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. A year after World War I ended, Armistice Day was established by President Woodrow Wilson to pay homage to the soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines who gave their lives in service of their country. In 1954, President Eisenhower changed the name to Veterans Day to honor all service men and women, to thank them for their bravery and their dedication to defending our freedom.

So today, I honor all of those brave individuals who have served, and I think about my dad. In fact, I think about him everyday as I stand to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I am humbled by the courage it must have taken to enlist in the Navy when he was only seventeen years old, to leave his family, and to travel around the world to fight for his country.

Sadly, I lost my dad to mesothelioma, a vicious lung cancer caused by exposure to asbestos. At Christmastime in 1995, Dad was a very young 71-year-old. Nine months later, he was gone. Fifty years after serving as ship’s electrician on the USS Salt Lake City, the war claimed my dad's life. To his dying day, he never regretted his service and he taught me to honor all who serve. I miss my dad everyday and I feel so blessed to be his daughter. He taught me to love and respect nature and to rejoice in each new season — its beauty, its weather, its harvest. He also taught me that age is just a number by marrying my mom when she was 21 and he was 35, by becoming a father when he was 45. I, in turn, didn’t get married until I was in my thirties; my husband is eight years younger than me. Most of all, Dad taught me to love the water — to fish and waterski and sail. He was so proud when I became the first woman on the Marquette University Sailing Team and I am so proud to share his lifelong passion for the sport.

Although I am adopted, I am blessed to have “inherited” my dad’s blue eyes and his curly hair, his simple faith and his gift for storytelling. I also inherited his WWII medals and scrapbooks that include the letters he wrote home to my grandparents. Although the letters have been physically altered (holes were cut into the paper by navy censors to remove information that may have revealed his ship's location), my dad's voice is clear and playful.

Everyday but especially today I say, thank you, Dad, from the bottom of my heart! I miss you and I love you. XO