You don't know me, often I don't get to say thank you. This had never happened to me before I moved to Texas. Since moving here though it's happened at least once a month, sometimes much more.
I've been alone, I've been in a large group, I've been with another old crusty NCO, but you don't know me.
I'm an old man in a young man's business. I'm weathered, rough around the edges, knuckle dragging dinosaur in a profession that hasn't changed in many ways from its inception in the Roman Legion. On the other hand as a social experiment nothing is the same as when I first put on the uniform, but you don't know me.
I swear too much, I'm more comfortable among other men of my ilk than eating alone in a crowd of strangers. I've spent 4 of the last 5 years away from my wife and our kids. It's my lot in life, and am so blessed to have a wife that understands my calling. My love of country. Dedication to the Ideal that is America, or my view of it anyway, Family, Duty, Honor, but you don't know me.
We'll probably never get to sit down and visit, but I want you to know how humbled I am by that meal you bought me. You don't know me, but you went out of your way to be kind. You don't know me, but you went out of your way to sacrifice your means to pick up a meal for me, or a group of us.
I'm so proud to wear the uniform, I have the best gig in the world, I work with men who'd I kill for, die for, live for. I won the lottery to be in Texas, to be part of a flying unit, each day is a blessing. You don't know me, you'll probably never read this, but on the slim chance you ever bought an old NCO a meal know it means the world to him. Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment