He was 31. He was a weight lifter, and it showed. He loved kids, and he showed it. He had two adoring children, a beautiful wife, and an income approaching six figures.
His father was a Vietnam era vet, who tries to cover the loss of his son by fencing and farming. His mother was French, a gentle hospice worker with a heart big and bold. Few, however, until some years ago needed to knew how tough and hard a broken French heart could be.
On September 11, 2001, he told her "Mom, I have to do something." He didn't tell her he had that day picked up his enlistment papers.
"I've got two kids. I want to serve my country, but I don't want to leave the country," he told the National Guard recruiter.
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