So why share his story? Because every soldier has a name, every name has a story, and every story matters. My hope is to remind us of the sacrifices made for our freedom, and the importance of caring for our veterans long after the battles end. My grandfather was 78 years old when he died, 45 years after Iwo Jima, but the war never truly left him.

I used to live recklessly. I drank, smoked pot, was very promiscuous, drank more, smoked more pot, and so on. There were times I would wake up the next day and not remember how I got home until I looked out the door and saw my car parked outside and realized I drove home drunk and/or stoned again. If I went out, I had only one purpose, and that was to get wasted. 

As I’m getting ready to drop off my second child at college, I started to reflect on my college career, and man, did I have a lot of fun. You really have to work hard to earn a 1.2 GPA, which I did my freshman year. Okay, not really “work hard” at all… but let’s just say, I had a lot of fun. On a serious (and sometimes funny) note, here are the life lessons I passed on to my kids:

And that, friends, is just the first half of my year. Doug almost dies. I’m without a job. I almost died. So yeah, trying to be healthy? Nearly killed us. (Kidding... kind of.)

I swore this year’s back-to-school would be different. I have three kids—one in high school, one in middle school, and one starting kindergarten, so I’ve done this a few times. I thought I would cry dropping off my last baby girl to kindergarten, but alas, no tears were to be had. Instead, I was full of frustration and exasperation. 

This fall, I’ll be moving our oldest daughter into a house with five of her friends for her junior year of college, dropping our son off at a dorm for his freshman year, and helping our youngest pick out her outfit for the first day of middle school.