Today’s post isn’t my usual “Food for Thought” about RV life, campgrounds, or the next turn down a scenic road. I hope you’ll stay with me just the same, because sometimes the road we’re meant to take isn’t the one we planned—it’s the one that asks us to pause, reflect, and share what truly matters.
This morning, I woke up thinking about Memorial Day. It’s still a few weeks away, but for some of us, it never really leaves. It lingers quietly in the background, showing up in moments when the world slows down just enough for memory to step in.
I carry something with me. Not something you can see, but something that has weight all the same. It’s a sense of duty… and a burden for the brothers and sisters I served alongside who never made it home from Vietnam War. Over the years, my body has taken on more metal than the medals I once wore with pride on my uniform. Funny how life works that way.
So why today?
Truth is, that burden is always there. But today… today feels different.
Today, I sit watching my granddaughter, Tiara, graduate from Navy Bootcamp as an E3 Seaman Sailor. And I’ll tell you something honest—it’s hard to put into words what that moment feels like. Pride doesn’t quite cover it. Gratitude doesn’t either. It’s something deeper.
I watched my wife wrap her arms around Tiara, tears falling freely, and that image is one I’ll carry with me for the rest of my days. It wasn’t just a hug. It was love, pride, worry, hope—all wrapped together in one moment that said more than words ever could.
And Tiara isn’t the first.
Her brother Jordan answered the call six years ago. Tyler, our grandson, chose the Air Force ten years ago. Our sons have walked that same path—Lucas in the Army, Nicholas in the Marine Corps and later the Army, Rob in the Air Force, and Danny, who served and retired from the Marine Corps alongside his wife Sandra, who also served and retired.
That’s a lot of service in one family. And a lot of pride.
But if I’m being honest with you, it’s also a lot of prayer.
My one prayer—for each of them—has always been the same. That they would never carry the burden I do. That they wouldn’t have to wrestle with things beyond their control. That they would come home not just in body, but in spirit.
When Sandra, Danny, and Nicholas served in Iraq and Afghanistan, I prayed harder than I ever have in my life. They came home, and for that I will always be grateful. But coming home isn’t always the end of the journey. Sandra and Danny may look whole, but both are 100% disabled. Nicholas, like so many of us, has had to find his way in a world that doesn’t always understand what we carry. He, too, is 100% disabled.
These are sacrifices that don’t always make headlines. But they are real. And they are lasting.
And yet, even knowing all of this… the next generation still steps forward.
That says something about who they are. About who we are.
My wife and I couldn’t be more proud.
When I first became a Marine, I never thought about death. Not once. I was young, focused, and ready to serve. But life has a way of changing you. There came a time when my only prayer was simple—I just wanted to see the sunrise one more time.
Even now, all these years later, there are nights when sleep doesn’t come easy.
Some things stay with you.
If you believe in God, I would ask you—quietly, sincerely—to say a prayer. Not just for our grandchildren, but for all who serve… and for the families who stand behind them.
Because behind every uniform is a family that carries the weight in their own way.
I’ll admit something else to you. As I write this, the pride I feel for our children and grandchildren is finding its way out… not in words, but in tears. And if you know me, you know that’s not something I show often.
But some moments deserve it.
The Vietnam War alone claimed approximately 2,450,000 lives between 1954 and 1975. And that’s just one chapter in a long history of sacrifice. Since then, there have been others—conflicts and wars where brave men and women answered the call… and not all of them came home.
As Memorial Day approaches, I ask one simple thing.
Say a prayer.
For the families who lost someone they love.
For those who came home carrying more than they expected.
And for those who continue to step forward, knowing the cost… and choosing to serve anyway.
Sometimes the most important journeys aren’t the ones we take in an RV down a winding road.
Sometimes… they’re the ones that bring us back to what truly matters.
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