Today is the day that I always miss my grandfather the most. I don't know why today and not what would have been his birthday or the day that is the anniversary of his death. Today is the day I always cry when I watch the veterans marching by, wishing my grampa could be marching with them, not that he would have, he tried not to talk about it at all if he could help it. Once in a great while, he might mention some little thing about "when I was in the service". Usually something about how the Italians didn't know what real ice cream was or how he was seasick the whole time he was on the ship going over. It wasn't until after he died, almost 13 years ago now, that we found out that not only had he been wounded in action, but that he had recieved a bronze star and cluster. We're still not sure what the circumstances were, like I said, he didn't talk about it. It wasn't until I was in high school and taking an honors history class that I found out what a real horror story the whole Italian front had been. About that time, I started to understand a little of what my grandfather had been through. Enough to get mad about the fact that you hear about Normandy and the Pacific, but somehow Italy always gets left out.

So here's to the memory of my grampa, John Stillman Mulherin.