Old Photo's, Good Times and Laughter

The good looking guy in the photograph is my dad. He went to war and didn't come back. The things I know about him come from other people not from firsthand experience and that just blows. A daughter should not have to rely on distant memories from her father's childhood friends just to know her father. Thanks a lot, Vietnam. You can KMA!

I'm told he had a "different" sense of humour.....me, too. It is so hard to find people who share this kind of humour. I am fortunate to have two people in my life who get me, my daughter and my friend, Deb. I hope daddy had someone who got him. I can't imagine not having Rachael or Deb to laugh with over something totally inappropriate. Laughing is like eating for me, I can do it almost anytime and I'll bet daddy could, too.


One of his friends told me that daddy enjoyed a good time, a little too much (if you know what I mean). Any of my friends from days gone by would tell you the same thing about me. There was a time in my life when I didn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to party (if you know what I mean).....now I don't understand why anyone would want to. Thankfully, I outgrew all of that and I imagine that daddy would have, too.

I've also been told he was a bit of a ladies man. I'm not into girls, being one myself, but I can honestly say that a boyfriend (or husband) like mascara, is something I have not been without since I was 14 years old. I hope daddy had better luck with the opposite sex than I did as a young woman.

Just as I wanted to know how daddy lived, I wanted to know how he died. Mortally wounded in combat, as listed on the certificate of death just didn't cut it for me. I started asking questions. I was excited to learn there were a few books written with detailed accounts of the battle that took my daddy. One of them was made into a movie, "We Were Soldiers Once...And Young".

Daddy died in the Ia Drang Valley in Vietnam. I hope he died the minute the bullet hit him. The thought of him or any other young man lying on foreign soil slowly bleeding to death is too sad to think about. It's hard to make sense of it all so I don't even try. I just look at old photos and think of a smiling young man who liked to laugh while having a good time with the young ladies.