Since the insurrection at the Capitol Building, I keep thinking about my Dad and wondering what he would have thought. Frank J. Pace, son of Italian immigrants, joined the National Guard at 19 and almost lost a leg during World War II. Then he volunteered to fight in Korea when his unit was called up.
He didn’t have to go; with two small children he was exempted. But Dad went because he loved his country and thought it was his duty. Left at home with two small sons, his wife Kathryn also sacrificed in service to that sense of duty.
My Dad was a Roosevelt Democrat. When Truman was elected against long odds, my Dad wept for joy. Later he would become a Reagan Democrat, in search of the patriotic unity he had experienced during the wars.
My Dad left the US Army Reserves as a Sergeant Major at mandatory retirement age. When he died suddenly soon afterwards, his army buddies made sure he was laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. His nation bestowed on him the same honors I had seen given to John Kennedy, a slain president. The ceremony was the same right down to the flag draped caisson and black riderless horse.