Thank you, Jerry.
My Daddy was a WWII vet. He had a stroke at the age of 75 which started his long, slow decline to his death at 81. My shop is behind my parents home, so I was there every day. I remember so many times Daddy getting up out of his chair, grabbing his walker, and starting that slow shuffle down the hall towards their bathroom. I knew what was up, so I'd just fall in behind him with my finger in his back belt loop, walking with my legs apart as the poop dropped out his pants legs all the way. I helped him off with his britches, wiped him, cleaned him, dressed him, took the pants outside, turned 'em inside out so I could spray 'em off, wring 'em out and go put 'em in the washer, then clean the floor and mop. It was a daily routine, sometimes happening at the doctor's office, wherever. One might say he was blessed to have me around, but I'd rather think myself as being the blessed one to be able to help not only a vet, but a great father who was ALWAYS there for me (as was my wonderful mother), and who taught me so very much. I still feel like what I did for them both can never, ever be enough. I do so very much look forward to seeing them again. If blessings were money, I'd make Jeff Bezos look like a poor man.
By the way, a big thank you to all veterans. Another thing that can't be said enough.
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