I would have liked my first post to TDHv2.0 to be about something profound and memorable. Instead, it's 0230 on a cold Chicago morning and I have an hour of work to do before I can hit the rack... until a cab shows up at 0500 to take me to the airport

Ugh.

Anyway, as foggy as my brain is this dark morning, one light does shine clear: I'm thankful.

I'm thankful that my classmates Hartley and Marco and Chad and Chris and Charlie and Ralph and Jim and Harry and Ben and so many others are still out there on the front lines, leading the troops and driving the ships and killing the bad guys 'way over there so I don't have to pick 'em off from my own damned rooftop. I'm thankful for the grunts and the squids and the coasties and the GIs and even the damned air-conditioned zoomies who fight this ugly little war every day with sand in their boots and their eyes and lots of other places where the sun don't shine because the body armor keeps it out, along with any friggin' hint of fresh air.

And I stand in mute, solemn awe of Tom and Matt and Kevin and Jim and Charlie and Bob and Bill and Pat and Buddy and Terri and Dave and Frank and Kylan and Mike and Jonas and Darrin and Ron and Ken and the other Bill and the other Ron and John and Scott and the thousands of others I didn't know whose bloody sacrament bought me the right to sit here in my comfy jammies without fear. I should die half so meaningful a death.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.