My Dad, God rest his soul, was 19 years old and fighting Nazis in the Ardennes Forest on Christmas Day, 1944 as a member of the 75th infantry "Always Get There Somehow."
On this day a German 88mm shell landed 4 feet in front of him. The shell did not explode because at that time the Nazis were often using armor piercing shells which required higher pressures to detonate...or maybe it was just a dud. Either way, my Dad did not dismiss that event as "luck" and appreciated the gift of Life that God had given him. He recalled that story to myself and my sister every Christmas Eve for two reasons.

To appreciate the service and sacrifice of those who wear the uniform of the United States and above all to appreciate the gift of Life, to never take it for granted because it can be taken away in an instant.

Always honor God so that your spirit is ready for death.


He attended weekly church services and instilled in me a belief in Jesus Christ as Lord.

I later abandoned this faith but upon reflection of my own life and my own mortality I returned to my roots and to my inspiration.

My Dad.

There are other paths in life, there other faiths...

but that is my story, his faith influences my own now....our parent's truly do impact our lives tremendously.