My Father Called Me A Zero In Front Of Officers Until The Colonel Asked For My Call Sign

as any other person. The man who entered that Starbucks wore a polo shirt that sagged at the shoulders and khakis with a slight wrinkle at the knee. Without the uniform, without the stars and the machinery of deference that had followed him through every room he had occupied for thirty years, he looked like what he was.

An aging man who had missed something continue reading …