Another face in the crowd...

Working at the diner I get to see a lot of new people on a weekly basis. Here's a man I met today. This man's face demanded a photo be taken - all the crags and folds and experience written in there.

At 89 years old he looked great, the only problem I had with him is that both of us are hard of hearing. That made communication a bit stilted, but with the help of his daughter and granddaughter working as interpreters (on both our parts) we got by.

I'm ashamed to say it, but his name escapes me (if it was ever given to me) but like with many other older people I simply referred to him as "Dad".

For the record, Dad has a lot more going for him than a photogenic profile. He and his generation are the last of a hardy generation. They were the last group of Americans to mature before mass marketing ruled the airwaves, so thoroughly conquering our minds and laying siege to our pocketbooks.

Like many of his generation, Dad was forced to walk through history - though in his case it was an incredible literal walk. He was one of the tens of thousands of American forces in WWII captured by the Japanese and forced on what came to be known as the Bataan Death March, a forced march that ended up killing over 25% of those who attempted it. Following the march, along with innumerable others, he was put into a POW camp where he spent the next three years working as a coal miner for the Japanese.

There's not really much to say here beyond what's said. This is no clever essay or pointed speech. All it is is a picture - and in its way a celebration - of one man who traipsed through long life, fierce battles and remarkable bits of history in the twilight of his life.