Herschel Martin is my father.

Where does one start in writing about one's father? He is the person who brought you into this world. (And according to Bill Cosby, the man who can take you out of this world!) He worked tirelessly earning the money that let me eat, sleep in a warm bed, take vacations, drive, go to school and college. But these are not the things I wish to share with you.

My father was born in a small town in southwest Iowa. He grew up during the depression and World War II. He went to college at Northwest Missouri State during the Korean War. He joked one time that he moved home from college after graduation only to find a letter from his draft board waiting for him. He served in an engineering company doing something that I never quite figured out - stuff with maps and surveys - I don't know.

He has told me childhood stories of the scrap metal drives in his small town. This was to support the war effort. He has told me about his uncle, my great uncle who served on destroyer escorts during WWII. His ship was there at the invasion of North Africa and at Normandy. He told me about my uncle, who served as a doctor during WWII in Europe. He has had misty eyes talking about his high school classmates who never came home from Korea.

On our return trip from Israel in 2000, we left Tel Aviv early in the morning and landed in Chicago at dusk (Chicago time). As we landed, after being out of the country for some 11 days, he quietly said "It is fun going and taking the trips, but when I get home, every time I land back the states I say `Thank God I am an American.'" (His all time favorite song is 'God Bless the USA' by Lee Greenwood.)

My father has taught me a sense of pride and patriotism. Several years ago I went to visit my sister who, at the time, lived outside Washington DC. We visited the Lincoln Memorial, the Korean War Memorial, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and Arlington National Cemetery. Being there you get a sense of history, a sense of what it cost for the freedoms we have. My father, although not there physically, was there as I cried at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, at Arlington Cemetery, at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, at the Korean War Memorial. A year later when we took a family trip to DC, I drug our girls to all these sites. I pray they learned a little of my father's lessons.

We in this country are truly blessed. We live in a country that we often take for granted. We have a way of life that I think we have come to expect. These blessings are because of the sacrifice of others. The reason that the following words are used so much is because they have so much meaning. President Kennedy said "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." Many before us have answered the call and because of that, we live in a free country.

I guess my purpose of this essay is to say thank you to those who have answered the call before so I can live free in a free country. I wish to say thank you to my father for impressing on me a love for our country.

On the Fourth of July weekend, there will be small American flags on the graves of the veterans in our church cemetery. Take a moment, walk through the cemetery, see the flags, see the names of the men who served for us, and say thank you to them.