On Father's Day Susan and Dan and I stopped at a yard sale along the eastern frontage road south of Castle Rock. It was manned by three retired veterans.

The yard sale was a fundraiser. These men were part of the volunteer Honor Guard at the Fort Logan Military Cemetery. They made sure when a veteran was buried he was done so with the proper military ceremony.

They paid their own way to each one. The next day they had 3 funerals to attend. This yard sale was to help with their expenses.

I learned all this because we stopped and chatted with them, and I introduced my son, Dan. Dan's going to enter the Air Force Academy next week.

Like a lot of vets meeting someone just entering service, these guys had a lot to say to him. I watched as he listened.

I don't know which I was prouder of, Dan for the respectful way he accepted their words , or these men for the interest they took in this newest of recruits to their tribe. Dan is 19, the oldest of these three veterans was 85.

My dad was a vet. He was also a singer. He once told me the most nervous he ever got was before singing the National Anthem solo on Memorial Day. At the time I didn't really understand what he meant. I mean, the nation's song is a tough one to sing, but most nervous ever?

We found a couple of things to buy. I think the bill was about $7.25. I remembered the Honor Guard at my own dad's funeral, and the way I was presented with the flag, and the way I held that flag close to me the rest of the day, and I emptied my wallet and gave it to these guys, and felt I should have given more.

Afterwards, as we drove home, I asked Dan what he felt about meeting these veterans. He said he felt pressure to serve in a way that would do them proud.

And suddenly I understood why my Dad was so nervous singing solo on Memorial Day.

Happy Belated Father's Day, Dad. I miss you.