I could point out that my parents were married on January 15, 1944 and I was born February 11, 1945 -- a quickie honeymoon as my father was quickly moving the Pacific Theater of WW2. He was in Manila when I was born, working for a Civil Affairs Unit that was trying to help a military/civilian hospital that had too many casualties and not enough doctors, nurses, medicine, good water, and other things.

I could point out that they had three other kids and that my father was killed in a construction accident when I was five. I could point out that my mother carried on alone, doing all in her power to raise three boys and girl "up right." I could point out that she saw all four graduate from college and one (me) receive an MS from a pretty good university. That she did everything in her power to give us an education in music, in literature, in math, in life in general even to the point of endangering her own health.

I could point out that she sweated out her husband, two brothers and three brothers-in-law being in the military during WW2 and then being handed the dirty stick of her three sons all going into active duty within 24 hours of each other -- and two would serve in Vietnam and another on the Korean DMZ.

But I won't.