True story: as a kid, I walked to school every day. Four times, actually. To school in the morning. Home for lunch. Back to school. Home in the afternoon. We figured one time that we were about 1 block short of the distance being a mile.
In the morning, Dad would walk with us. That was way cool. I remember talking to him and asking all kinds of questions. He was really, really smart.
My walks to school would have started in about 1963. Not quite 20 years after D Day. It was still a reasonably fresh memory.
Dad arrived in Normandy by glider in the early morning hours of June 6. As part of the elite 82nd Airborne Division, he helped to liberate the town of St. Mere Eglise, the first town liberated in France on D Day. Like most WWII vets, he didn't brag about his service. He did the job he was told to do, came home, went to college, etc. etc. However, because of serious war injuries (broken back, broken legs, broken hip), Dad always had a bit of WWII with him.
Anyway, as we would walk, I would complain that I was: 1) tired, 2) bored, 3) tired, 4) no one else had to walk to school, 5) tired and 6) why did I have to go to school anyway? Dad would tell me that when he was just a little older than I was (12 years to be exact) he was fighting the Germans and did I think he ever got tired? Or bored? And he had to carry a backpack that weighed 400 pounds and sometimes he would carry his buddy's because his buddy lost both his legs and his arms and had to pull himself along by his chin. Did I think his buddy ever complained?
So, today was hot. But, in honor of my dad and his armless, legless buddy, I did not complain. Could be because I was in my air conditioned car. But, it could be because I learned my lesson while walking to school with my dad.
Not likely.
This story is even better when I would complain about being cold, then I got the Battle of the Bulge version.
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