Call the PJs! That others may live…

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When’s the last time you volunteered to visit an “old folks home”, a nursing home, a rehab, a hospice? When I was a little kid my sister encouraged me to go to “Saint Joseph’s Home” up on 9th Avenue in my home town. I would ride my little bike there and bring a smile to the residents there. I was only, like, say, eight years old. They thought it was great. Some just couldn’t believe I was there for them, that I had to be mischievous. But they got over that.

On my last trip to one of our rehab/nursing homes, I saw the Pararescue patch that was handing outside the door of David. I immediately went in to thank him for his service. We had a good chat. The history of the PJs (Pararescue Jumpers), is wild. They are the only group in the entire Department of Defense that is dedicated solely to rescue. When the SEALs and Green Berets and the rest get in trouble, it’s the PJs who come to the rescue. I owe them, enough, I think, to get green feet tatted on my posterior (see the patch above) for having saved my ass (so to speak). But I haven’t done that.

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