I think it was 1967 when my dad, Jon P. Scott, went to Vietnam. That means that before I was born in 1972, all the members of my family had already sacrificed, knowingly or unknowingly, quite a bit.
There was Dad, of course, a member of the Air Force who spent his tour in Vietnam driving transport trucks, which were often a target of the enemy because of the important things they carried. He risked life and limb nearly every day doing his job and serving his country.
My mom, Rogene, was pregnant, raising one preschooler to-be on her own. She gave birth while my dad was serving his country and then parented both Tara and Jay alone for the better part of a year. As a mom of two boys similar in age difference to my sister and brother, I know how very, very difficult this would have been for her. It's important to note she was around 24 years old at this point. I front a lot like I'm some tough girl — believe me, I have NOTHING on Rogene Scott.
My sister, Tara, at the very wee age of 2, saw her daddy go off to war. Anyone who's ever seen a little girl with her father knows how hard this must have been for her.
And Jay, my brother, didn't meet our dad until he was 8 months old. I try to imagine Wilder or Hunter not meeting Jerry until then ...
And they all sacrificed these things because my dad felt the importance of serving his country, even at the risk of losing his life. So today, Memorial Day, I just want to recognize the things that they all sacrificed. It's easy 40-something years later to gloss over these facts and think, "Oh, that was all a long time ago ..." But it shaped our family, both then and even now, I think. And, as that lucky third child born in 1972 oblivious to it all, I just want to tell my Pop, sister, brother and my much-missed Mama how much I love them.
