This is a painting of mine. The Marine is the great grandfather of my children. The young Marine is him in his bootcamp photo and the older gentleman is him in Dec 2007, a couple of months before his passing. The words to the painting are as follows: Faded Medals He's the politician that tries to hide a limp. Perhaps the teacher with the strange tattoo. The man in faded clothes that stands so straight and salutes all alone, at a parade. Or the one in a wheel chair at a corner street selling a paper. You never ask what happened, for your fear what might be said. Then you see them all together in a parade, there is no color in their group. Faded medals, empty stares and silent tears, for comrades that did fall. You've seen the flag, of white and black with a P.O.W. and still don't ask. Yet when this country calls, they will stand tall and answer with every breath. Their pride runs deep, patriotism their life. They are the ones the gave all to protect the same right, which others use to burn the flag they do so love. They are the ones that come back, in flag-draped coffins from distant lands. They served on the USS Cole, Lebanon, Vietnam so many times before. You have seen them, but ask not why, the distant glare or tearful eyes when Taps are played or rifles shot. They lay them now in rows, with stones of white, names forgotten. This is a Veteran, you need not ask, just know, they will always be there as others march against war, or burn the flag they so proudly served. A Veteran will always be there. www.josegacosta.com