Let me tell you a tale of a couple of young fellas I know. The first, Bill, was one of 12 kids -- 9 of them boys. They were farmers. The locals were not happy that the brothers were all home from the war. So Bill upped into the Navy. He spent most of his enlistment floating around the Pacific. Some of the time was spent in hostile waters, like around Guadalcanal. Eventually, he returned stateside to finish his hitch in California.

The other fella, Bill, was a kid from Lansing, Michigan. He got a call from his Uncle Sam and entered the Army. After some training in Kentucky, he was sent to the Pacific Theater, too. He was a tank commander in the battle for Luzon in the Philippine Islands. It was a bloody month-long battle. He spent the time after VJ Day and before his discharge in Hawaii. Asked why he never took his wife to Hawaii, he just replies that he's "been there already."

Navy Bill (my father-in-law) chats openly about his days in service; Army Bill (my dad) remains reticent about his days in green.

I mention these fellas tonight because we have just returned from my daughter's school, where a Memorial Day church service was held. All members of the military, past and present, were called to the front of the church where we could properly honor them. I would guess there were 25 or 30 patriots standing up there.

Then, they got a bit of a surprise: a microphone. They were asked to give their names, their branch of the service and whatever else they wanted to mention.

These men have, in their day, faced bullets, rockets, Kamikazes, torpedoes, snipers and land mines. Still, the microphone caused them a good deal of anxiety. But, troopers that they are, each made it through.

Then, like a receiving line, they stood as every student in the school lined up to shake each one's hand. It was quite a moment.

I am very proud of the Bills in my life. So much so, in fact, that our firstborn is also a Bill.

Remember what Memorial Day is really about. Enjoy the BBQ, but think about those who made it possible.