As I pull into Oak Harbor, my thoughts are pulled towards the Naval air station located here. Long ago, just after I was born, Dad left home to serve in the Vietnam War.

It was just Mom and I, alone on Whidbey Island. Her strength during those times is something I never appreciated until now. Same with Dad’s courage. These are the things rattling around in my brain as I sit at the Veteran’s memorial near the waterfront.

This trip, and the pictures I share, have stirred emotions in more people than just myself. An Uncle that I’ve met only once in my life sends me a message. He shares with me about our genealogy, my Grandpa ( that I never met) who fought in France during World War I.

A Great Uncle I didn’t know I had that was in the second World War and spent three years on the island of Rabaul in New Guinea after the War involved with war crime trials of some of the Japanese.

I take in my birth town on a winter’s day, sitting on the waterfront in a sunny day.

I am learning who I am by seeing where I came from.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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