My father was a marine. My favorite picture of my dad is one of him in his Dress Blues. He looks so proud in that picture and like someone you can be proud of. He was stationed out of Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Though I don’t know many of the details, I do know that he was in Guantanamo, Cuba during the Cuban Missile Crisis. I heard many stories about his days as a Marine. See my dad loved to tell stories. As a kid, and as an adult, I heard them many, many, many times. More of his stories dealt with his downtime rather than any active duty or actual service. So, I don’t have much to go by other than the fact that he enjoyed spending time with his fellow Marines and they gave him a nickname of suicide… not because he was nuts or did insane stuff in the field. But because he would take a shot of everything on the bar at one time. I think I heard that story the most. Growing up, I enjoyed the stories my dad would tell to a point. Into my teenage years, they got a little stale and I tended to stop listening. I still heard him tell the stories to anyone who would listen, and they never changed.

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