One of the Few, the Proud...

Me:  He really said that to you?

My Husband:  Yeah.  He asked me if I had ever killed anyone.  

Me:  What did you do?

My Husband:  I just shook my head.  Told him it was a screwed up thing to do.

It's just not what you talk about.  It's just not what you say.  Why didn't this guy get it?  This guy has romanticized being a Marine.  One of the few.  One of the proud.  He wishes he were one.  That's why he'd say something that stupid, that thoughtless, that  foolish.  

A Marine.  

My husband is a Marine.  Proud.  Tall.  One of the few.  Stood guard on the Panama Canal.  Veteran of the first Gulf War.  Fought.  Protected.  Saved.  

He and his Marine buddies get together every few years.  Share news on Facebook.  Rejoice.  Reflect.  Recalling the memories.  It's difficult to keep pace with the conversations.  The jargon. The nicknames.  The camaraderie. It's unspoken and almost impenetrable.  You can tell they survived together, risked together, grew into men together.  It's an honor to be in their company.  To know that dedication.  That bravery.  That truth.  

I'm so proud of my husband.  His honor.  His courage.  He risked his life for our country, our freedoms, our virtues.  

Just don't ever, ever, ever asked if he has killed anyone.  It's a really screwed up thing to do.  

Happy Marine Corps birthday!  (yesterday)

And, Happy Veteran's Day!  

Today, more than ever, I honor you...