Walking to Remember

I used to run. A lot. Not fast, but a lot. One day, I climbed a set of stairs and realized that my running days would be few and far between. So then, as life will tend to teach you, I learned that it was ok to walk. I have been walking for several years- sometimes for health, sometimes for a size 10 jean, sometimes to re-connect with old friends who also walked (often watching from the sidelines while I ran). But then I found Beth and Military Missions and Steps to Honor and now I walk to remember. Although I don't know as many soldiers, police officers and firefighters as she does, I hope that in doing this, I will meet more. Until then, please forgive me for what may seem like trivial blog posts - honoring the family or the famous. It is my hope and my prayer that this will bring so many more names and stories into my life, just as Beth does with her posts everyday. So, here goes with day 1: 3 miles

Mile 1 is and always will be for my husband, Capt. Neal Miller. A veteran of 2 tours to the Middle East and currently home, serving as Chief Husband, he serves this country because it's what he wants to do. He joined the Army when he was 17, opting out of ROTC and moving up through the ranks at a steady pace. He is modest about his service and dedicated to the greater good. And I am dedicated to him.
Mile 2 is for my father, a retired warrant officer and veteran of the Vietnam War. He served in the Big Red 1 during his deployment and was going to remain in the regular Army - but y'know that's sort of hard on the family life. So, in order to be able to continue serving our country, he joined the National Guard. Thus, I am not an Army brat. But he did set the standard for men in my life: he's honest, hardworking, and believes in what America stands for. He knows that nothing worth having comes easily - so I've chosen a picture of him receiving an award. Heaven knows he's earned it.
Mile 3 is for my grandfather, Elmer "Red" Halcomb. He was a WWII veteran and served our country at the Battle of the Bulge. I looked high and low for a picture of him in uniform, but this is how I remember him anyway. One of the greatest memories I have of him is going to the local VFW on Friday nights and playing pull-tab lottery tickets until the table was littered with scraps and the men had told a hundred stories. He loved the Army, he loved his Army buddies, and he flew a flag outside of his house until the day he died. He loved this country.