Page 142: "I'll Take Loved Ones for Priceless, Alex"

The soldier was quietly sobbing, and I felt powerless to help him.

I had seen him with his wife and little baby in the line beside me at the airport gate. The little girl looked to be no more than a couple weeks old. He was rocking her car carrier, a giant smile on his face as he stared down at her sweet face and raven dark hair. Going to see family for Thanksgiving, I thought.

About an hour later, I was sitting at the bar working on my laptop when the same soldier sat down next to me. I glanced up at him and he looked pale, his hands a bit shaky. He ordered a shot of tequila. "I ordinarily don't drink like this," he explained, "just have to settle my nerves. Hi, I'm Drew."

"Drew, I'm not your mama. Nice to meet you. Do what you have to do."

"Thank you, sir," he replied. I intended to pay for his drink - these people put their lives on the line for us, and buying their lunch or even tequila shot seems like the least we civilians can do. But I was too distracted and he was too fast. "Have a good day, sir," he said as he hastily left. I wanted to tell him that "sir is my father" but thought better of it. He looked like a kid, maybe a day past 21 if that.

Taking my seat on the plane, I was surprised to see the same soldier headed to the seat beside me. He sat down quietly, and I realized he was crying. No, more than crying, he was quietly sobbing, shaking from head to foot. Oh, his family wasn't traveling with him -- they had been there to tell him goodbye.

After a few minutes, I spoke up. "You okay, buddy? Saw your little baby with you; she is beautiful."

He looked up at me, his eyes red and his face grief-stricken. "I only got to see her for 4 days. She is 17 days old, and I couldn't leave to see her be born. I'm about to be deployed to Afghanistan for a year, and I couldn't leave my training. I just love that little baby and my wife so much… but I've got to do my duty and my job to provide for them. " He put his head down and his entire body was shaking. "I'm sorry, sir…"

I patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, son. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're about to make me cry."

I wanted to do something to help him, but nothing seemed to be the right answer. I quietly looked out the window and thought about how I missed my kids. I hadn't seen them in 3 days. The irony was profound.

After a few minutes, he looked up and recognized me, hastily wiping his eyes. "We meet again, sir."

For the next 3 hours, I did the one thing it seemed Drew needed -- listen. He had been in the army for almost a year. He knew that Afghanistan was a dangerous place and he made sure he saw and said goodbye to all his family back in Georgia, "just in case." He was okay with all of that, he said. And his wife had a strong support network, he told me. But his baby girl. "I...I am just not handling that very well. I started to go to pieces back there and I sure didn't want them to see that. I thought that shot of tequila might steady my nerves but it didn't work."

He went on to tell me why getting to Afghanistan was so important. A lot more money. $1100 more a month in "hazard duty." And, $175 more a month because he was away from his family.

$175. So. That is what your family is worth. Oh, I understand, the country is strapped for money already. We need to cut expenses, not increase them, across the board. We are in no position to pay these brave soldiers what their families are really worth: priceless.

I had the distinct impression that Drew was a young man who had grown up in a hurry. After landing in Dallas, he became quiet, and he quickly exited the plane without a word or a handshake. It seemed clear; he had said all the goodbyes he could for the day.

Us, thankful? You better believe it. For so many things. And thank you, Private Drew. We are the luckiest people in the history of the world. On this day of thinking about thanking, we should hug our loved ones with gusto and mean it like we never have before.