I never served in the military, and while that served to create a never-really-resolved tension between me and my too-often-gung-ho-World-War-II-father, I always celebrated soldiers. It was the morons who sent them into battle for things that weren't worth dying for that I couldn't abide... and still can't. Had my draft number not been ridiculously high, I would have been called to go to Vietnam, and while I certainly could have volunteered, I didn't. I still haven't quite become reconciled with that decision. But, while I sometimes question whether I'm worthy to attend our town's Memorial Day Parade—a true celebration of those who serve and those who paid the ultimate price for their service—I make it a point to be there. I wave to the veterans, from those commemorating the Civil War to the men and women who toiled in Iraq and Afghanistan. They're all true heroes, and worthy of a salute, albeit a metaphorical one from this observer who wasn't "over there."