Today in the United States we celebrate a national holiday, Memorial Day, to honor those who have fought for our country and its Constitution.

I thought to re-post one of my Memorial Day posts from last year, Hospital ship Haven in Nagasaki, Japan, 1945 about my father and his World War II experiences. Highly recommended, in any case.

Instead a shorter and slightly newer story was presented to me last night at a party that a friend held for her father’s 85th birthday. He spoke for a few minutes, vigorous and alert, about his life.

He said that he was really only 61 years old. Why?

Because he came to America in 1949 – 61 years ago – after surviving Auschwitz. Here he built a life for himself and his family.

His life, and his love of his adopted country, is its own memorial. And a small reminder of what is best about America.