Pride

I had the most excellent encounter in the grocery store checkout line yesterday evening. I had just gotten off work. My work clothes are just jeans and a t-shirt, but we wear Freebirds hats and I have several pins on mine. Well the older man standing in front of me told me that he liked my hat. I told him thank you, that it was my work hat. He spoke very slowly and carefully, and I thought he might be disabled. Then he began to speak to me, and it might've been god himself. He told me that when he got back from Nam he rode all over the country on his motorcycle, not unlike someone else's plans for after the war. He told me he got a pin from everywhere he stopped and filled up three hats. Until they ran over him, he says. Then he told me about his rank in the military, and that he led two missions while in Viet Nam. The first time he went in with 50 men and came back with 48. The second time he went in with 50 men and came back with 50 men. As I'm listening to this my respect level for this man is shooting through the roof. Then he tells me it takes a strong man to shoot another man in the face. Quite sobering. He then told me of his motorcycle wreck. Broke both his legs, and by the way he was talking and his movements I suspected there was some brain damage. And then he told me that the only thing he really missed was gainful employment. Getting up and going to work every morning. Because one day you might just wake up with no legs.
Then he looks me square in the face and says very simply,
"So you wear that hat with pride."
And then he smiled at me.
I am near tears at this point. He's going through his wallet, paying for his beer. He turns to me before he leaves, and says again, looking me straight in the eyes,
"You wear that hat with pride. And God bless you sweetheart."
"No, Sir...God bless You."