How it all started...

We never dreamt our son would join the Navy. In a family of born travelers, he was the homebody. Hated to fly. Hated new situations.

But one day he came home and announced that he had decided to join the United States Navy. After we realized he really wasn't joking, we arranged a meeting with the recruiter that was poised to steal our 19 year old son away.

We were impressed. Persuasive but honest, the young Petty Officer that recruited our son gave us a good introduction to the Navy. And we needed to be introduced. Mr. Dasch is an immigrant, and I, Mrs. Dasch (I know, it's hysterical!), knew nothing about the Navy. In fact, other than some elderly uncles, noone in my family had ever been in the military at all.

We knew from Day One that although our son was joining, we were also in for a whole new education. Already, new vocabulary was cropping up. Like Petty Officer. And MEPS. And Seabees. And Ratings. And PIR.

And one word took on a whole new meaning: PRIDE. We never realized how proud it would make us feel to be the parents of a son who would be serving our country. Our son, a first generation American, was going to help keep the United States of America free and safe.

Navy Pride. Navy Proud. Yep - that's us!