Vets Day parade

When a young freshman was dropped off for the first time at Yale University by his dad, he got a sudden change in perspective. It had nothing to do with going to college. 

He remembers that moment with his father every time he watches a Veterans Day parade.

"This week I will do what I’ve done every year since I moved to Dallas. I’ll stand on Main Street and watch the bittersweet march of veterans young and old. I’ll bring along some tissues, since I know that I’ll end up blubbering — probably when the survivors of World War II start to pass me by. That’s the war my father served in, toward its end . . .

"I’ll never forget when my dad dropped me off for the first time at Yale. I hadn’t even visited the place, and now I was thoroughly nervous about living there in those Gothic dorms. For petty, silly reasons. I imagined that I’d look foolish to the “rich kids” whom I’d room with. I only had $50 a month in spending money. My clothes were garish and shabby by “preppy” standards. As I nattered on about all this, Dad wiped the sweat from his brow. (A burly letter carrier, he’d been schlepping all my stuff.) Here’s what he said: “When I was your age, I was sitting on a troop ship, puking through North Atlantic storms, on the way to serve in Germany.”

That put things in perspective."