The best identity in the whole wide world

My dad fought in Burma during the Big War. He’d signed up when he was underage, right after Pearl Harbor, and ended up in the cavalry. There were, and still are, plenty of places where guys go in on animals, because of the terrain. During his service, he almost died of lockjaw after being shot in the foot (which had the unintended benefit of keeping him out of the awfulness in the Philippines), and then almost died more than once from crap he contracted while slogging through the jungles. At one point somebody assigned an author to follow his mortar squadron around Burma, and that guy was nice enough to write Dad up in his book (Marsmen of Burma).

Dad never talked about his service, until he was much older, and we started pulling stuff out of him. He never did veterans’ stuff, never told stories. That's how those guys were; they did what they were expected to, with a lot more humility than any of us are capable of. But my brother and I weaseled a bunch of stuff out of him on a trip to the Ozarks, and then another writer interviewed a ton of WW II vets and wrote yet another book, and my dad’s in that one too. So it was really surprising that he accepted an invitation to fly to DC with a bunch of other veterans in June 2010. It was a one-day affair, in and out, a hellishly long day for a bunch of guys in their 80’s and 90’s. But this he did. They were escorted to a variety of memorials in Washington, lots of pictures were taken, they got fed lunch, and they got delayed for three hours coming home because of weather.

Once back in Chicago, the reception was huge. Fire engines shot water cannons over their plane, and thousands of people were there to greet them, with music and flags and cheering. And this was the first time he’d ever done one of these.

My old man was born in 1924, the second oldest of ten kids. He left high school during sophomore year to help support the family. After the war, he married a most excellent chick, and together they raised five excellent kids. He was a fireman, he helped build the Mackinac Bridge, then he started multiple successful businesses, retired, got bored, took a night job, and six months later they put him in charge THERE, and he remained another nine years.

Everything I know about dealing with difficult people, and handling myself with respect, I learned from him. None of us ever got a job, bought a car, rented an apartment, sold a car, bought or sold a house, or did much of anything, without checking with him, because he would tell us all the angles. “Did you think of THIS?” If we ever got away with anything, it's only because he let us. He’s a human lie detector, and generous to a fault. If I have anything resembling decency and strength in me, it’s because of him and his most excellent chick

What’s this got to do with identity and access management? Not a damn thing.