Veterans Day; remembering heroes

November 11th is always a sad day when there's a war on. Portsmouth buried another hero Rhode Island National Guardsman, Michael Weidemann, just yesterday.

On Veterans Day, I think about my uncle Arthur, who never said much about his time in the silent service during WWII, except the occasional remark about sleeping in a bunk next to the torpedos. I tell our son Jack that story whenever we visit Battleship Cove.

Or my mom's first husband, Jack Milley, who won the Silver Star at the battle of Leyte Gulf and came back from the South Pacific sick. Married only a couple of years, my mom moved to NY to be with him in a Naval Hospital while he died.

Or my dad, who was 4F because of truly horrible varicose veins in his legs. He spent the war working in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, and one of his proudest mementos (he was not a vain man, but he had framed this) was a certificate from the Navy congratulating him on his contribution to the war effort.

But this year, I'm thinking about all the folks -- the young and the not so young, men and women -- all far away from home in a dangerous place. And all the families who have had to endure the knock on the door. And the ones who live in fear of that, every day.

This is not a time for politics. This is a time to honor.