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Your late father reminds me a good bit of my late father. Mine enlisted in the navy, at age 17, just after Pearl Harbor. 17-year-olds don't often make the best decisions, and later on, when I was growing up, he never once told a "war story" or even talked about it, other than interesting technical points concerning seaplanes, how radios worked, flight school, and navigational methods useful in flying over lots of water in the South Pacific. Never took a single "veteran's benefit," wouldn't have anything to do with the VFW or American Legion. Later, during Vietnam, when I was old enough to get a draft number every year, he promised me two broken legs if I voluntarily enlisted in the military. (He wouldn't have actually done it; that was for rhetorical emphasis.) And he didn't stop with the idea that Roosevelt knew about Pearl Harbor in advance; he was convinced that Roosevelt, Churchill, et al had basically arranged it -- had pushed Japan into war. I'm pretty sure he was right.

Both he and my late mother had upbringings that were spectacularly disordered: no fathers on site, questionable behavior from their mothers, severe poverty. They made their mistakes with me and my siblings. But, considering where they came from, I think they did amazingly well, and I have nothing but gratitude, on balance. Sounds like that's your position, too.

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