This picture sits on my piano. I don’t know his name or where he was from. I don’t know if he saw action or came home to tell his family about the friends he made and the world he saw. Did he write to a sweetheart? Did he come home to raise a family, rock grandbabies, and die an old man warm in his own bed?

What I know is that I found his portrait in this frame in a junk shop for a couple of dollars some years ago. Long abandoned, probably by family who were cleaning out grandma’s stuff after she passed.

I have a collection of old photos of strangers that I pick up here and there. They mostly live together in a box. I call them “the family” because, even though they’re not my family, they were someone’s.

I couldn’t stand to put him away though.

Instead, he has a place of honor, a reminder of all those soldiers, past and present, who served our country. Whether in wartime or in peace, voluntary or not, my hat is off to those who wore our uniform and served our country.

Freedom is not free. Our nation, celebrating 250 years, is a precious young experiment worth fighting for and protecting.

If you have served in our nation’s military, thank you.