Veterans Day.

That makes you an AmeriStud, in my book. Please send a few shoutouts to the following guys:

Dr. George Wulff, MD. An Ob/Gyn back in St. Louis, he ran a field hospital during the war. My mothers father, Pops.

Frank "Bud" Schleicher. A grunt on the ground, took a bullet thru his lung, and almost died in his old blood in France. He wound up coming home with a nice scar, and later married my mother. The best stepfather a kid could want

Tom "Geno" Ackerly. Flew over 30 missions as a B24 pilot. GOt shot at a lot, dropped lots of bombs, and made the skies property of the Americans. Came back to the States, married Mrs. Geno, and gave me the best present of all, my future wife.

Thanks to all three-truly the epitome of "The Greatest Generation".

I have to write about George, Frank, and Tom.

Talk to you later!

I hope you're wearing a Buddy Poppy today. I am.

Do you know why we wear them? Disabled vets make them, we all know that. But why a poppy?

A Canadian military doctor wrote this poem about the horrific battle at Ypres in the spring of 1915 -- World War I -- the war to end all wars.... yeah, right.

This poem is one reason I wear my Buddy Poppy proudly -- and also why Veterans Day is a solemn, thoughtful and grievous day -- to me anyway.

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.