…dedicated to our family members who’ve served…

“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” -Cynthia Ozick

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Mike’s family


PFC Raymond G. Belschner   |   US ARMY 1941-1945   |   Heavy Machine Gunner   |  WWII   |   stationed in France & Germany   |   Injured at the Battle of Saint Lô   |   Mike’s paternal grandfather

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SGT Daniel R. Belschner  |   USMC 1967-1971   |   M60 Machine Gun Operator   |  Vietnam War  |   stationed in Northern Vietnam and Quantico, Virginia   |   Injured: Vietnam, 1967   |   Mike’s paternal uncle (not pictured)

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A1C Edward Glaser  |   USAF 1948-1951   |   stationed in Casablanca & Morocco   |   Mike’s maternal grandfather

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Bobbi’s Family


SN William R. Whitfill   |  US Navy  1952 – 1956   |   machinist   |   Korean War   |   stationed at the San Diego Naval Base and Okinawa, Japan   |   Bobbi’s maternal grandfather

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A1C Kimberly A. Whitfill   |   USAF 1978 -1980   |   Air Passenger Specialist   |   stationed at Little Rock AFB, Arkansas   |   Bobbi’s mom

Sidenote… isn’t my mom a babe and a half?! If only a blog entry could whistle…

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LtCol Robert F. Sheridan   |   USMC 1955 – ~1975   |   Recon Officer   |   Vietnam War, Silver Star Recipient   |   stationed in Northern Vietnam, Quantico, Virginia & Camp Lejeune, North Carolina   |   Injured: Vietnam, 1967   |   paternal grandfather  |  (not pictured)

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SSG Kevin Sheridan  |  US ARMY ~1980 – ~1995   |   Signal   |   Kosovo War   |   stationed at Fort Ritchie, Maryland   |   Bobbi’s paternal uncle

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TSgt Michael F. Sheridan  |   USAF 1978 – 2000   |   Combat Controller   |   Korea, Thailand, Laos, Japan   |   stationed at Little Rock AFB, Arkansas ; Elmendorf AFB, Alaska ; and McChord AFB, Washington   |   Bobbi’s dad

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And just for fun…  me 🙂  |  US ARNG   |   2000 – 2006

On the right… me with my battle buddy Kelsi O’KEEEEFEEEEE!!!!! We were Private Too Cool and PFC Oh So Cool. I assure you, it was quite funny at the time. 🙂

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I leave you with a Facebook entry that my dad re-posted by Dirty Jobs host Mike Rowe:

The United States Marine Corps is 238 years old today, and last night, I helped them celebrate in San Francisco the same way I do every year. I attended their annual ball, ate a piece of their birthday cake, and assisted them with the important work of closing down the bar.

In between, there was dinner and dancing and all the stuff you might expect to find at a formal ball. There were speeches and toasts. There were songs. And there were tributes of courage and sacrifice so unimaginable, you can only shake your head and marvel at the character of some. I met the oldest Marine present – 95 – and drank a beer with the youngest – 21. I swapped some jokes with a Lance Corporal that I can’t repeat. (To anyone.) And I chatted with some Gold Star parents, who spoke proudly and movingly about the sons and daughters they lost.

For me, the whole affair is just so damn humbling. A kid with two purple hearts and three tours of combat comes up to me and says, “Holy cow, Mike, how did you ever do all those Dirty Jobs? What was the worst one?” A sniper with stories that would haunt your dreams listens wide-eyed as I answer his questions about crab fishing on the Bering Sea. And a combat medic who has saved more lives than he can remember wants to talk to me about his F-150.

It’s the same thing every year, and every year I’m surprised all over again. These Marines seem completely unimpressed with their own acts of valor. Their modesty and their courage seem to exist in parts both enormous and equal. They’d rather talk about other things. About sports. About movies. About the world in general. About the things they fight for. Anything but themselves. Which of course, makes them all the more magnificent.

Really – what can you say about people like that?

For now, I’ll go with Happy Birthday. Maybe next year I’ll come up with something more insightful. Semper Fi, Marines, and thanks.

And of course, a very Happy Veterans Day, to all who serve.

Mike Rowe

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Thank you.


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