My favorite memory is when I was in, I think, fourth grade, and he came to my elementary school in full uniform with the hat and the medals and everything. My class was sitting in the library when he arrived; there were these great plate glass windows looking out toward the front door of the school so that we all saw him at once, like in a movie. For many kids he was the first soldier they had ever seen.
I jumped up and pointed, “That's my uncle! That's my uncle! He fights Vietnam!" The librarian tried to hush me but all the other kids were rising to stare as well. There were murmurs: Paul's uncle, Paul's uncle. Vietnam.
And then he came in and talked to us, and I was so proud I thought I would bust. He took questions too.
I don’t think I ever told him how important that moment was.