Mr. Nick

Tonight I met an 85 year old man while hanging out with my family waiting for the fireworks to start. His name was 'Nick.' I didn't feel right calling him Nick. I felt like I should call him 'Mr.' But Nick was the name he gave.

I met Nick because I was wearing this shirt I have that says "Reagan/Bush 84." Its a t-shirt that looks just like one of the shirts that would have been used during the campaign of 1984. I'm a big fan of Ronald Reagan, and when I saw the shirt for sale on the Internet I just had to get it. Its sorta silly, sure, but people like making statements about their political views, and I'm no different.

A number of people said things to me tonight because of the shirt... Nice things, like "Hey, I like your shirt." I'm sure there are people who didn't like the shirt, and they didn't say anything. That's good. I'm not looking for a fight!

So anyway, there was a man sitting just behind my family, called me over. "Hey you man," he said, motioning for me. "I just wanted to say that I like your shirt!" I went over to the man sitting in his chair and knelt down to talk to him. We got to talking, not about politics, but about other stuff. He saw me running around with my girls catching lighting bugs and I suppose he just wanted to chat. He mentioned that he had very recently lost his wife of 58 years, a loss that I can't imagine. It must feel like losing a piece of yourself.

He asked me how long I had been married.

"To my wife?" I asked (a very silly question, but I didn't understand what he said at first).

"No! To your boyfriend! Of course your wife," he laughed.

"9 years"

He told me he was 85 years old.

"Were you in the war?"

"Yep, World War II," he said.

Now here's the part that really said something about this man, Nick, and his entire generation. They really were The Greatest Generation. Good, humble people. These people never felt like they were owed anything. They didn't demand that the government give them money. They didn't demand unearned respect. They didn't complain. They didn't brag.

He didn't mention much about the war, so I asked him, "Where were you in the war?"

"Normandy. D-Day."

D-DAY! Wow. I am in the presence of a living piece of history, and proof that The United States is the greatest country in the world.

"Wow! D-Day?"

"Yep, I was in the third wave..."

He went on to describe how he watched the first and second wave of boats mowed down by German fire. He said it was an indescribable and horrific thing, and his voice quivered a bit. I can't imagine. From there, somehow, we talked about The Great Depression. He described growing up in New York City and literally having no food to eat.


I don't want to go to war. I don't want to live through an economic depression. But I do think that somehow, some which way, generations after The Greatest lack something. We lack respect and humility. If I was in the third wave of D-Day, and lived to tell about it, I would brag to anyone who would listen.

I tucked my daughter Reagan into bed tonight. She asked who that man was and I told her that he was Mr. Nick, and because of his generation we a very bad man named Hitler didn't save the world. I told her that there was an evil man who wanted to take over the world and kill a lot of people.

Reagan asked, bleary eyed and tired, "Did God make Hitler bad?"

"I don't think so, Reagan. I think God made Hitler and Hitler chose to be bad."

"Well, I choose to be nice," Reagan said, drifting off.

"That's good, Reagan. So do I. Sometimes I'm not nice, but I want to be."

Mr. Nick was awesome. His is a generation that we are losing fast, in many ways.