By Joseph F. Rajkovacz

Editor’s note: This piece, which rant on our program as part of the Friday Rants series, was first published as part of the Midwest Voices series in The Kansas City Star on Jan. 14, 2007.

On the evening of Sept. 11, 2001, my family sat at our supper table. Conversation concerned the day's events. Quietly, I'd glance at my son John. I knew events of that day would profoundly reverberate in my "little boy's" life.

John was a typical Midwestern boy. He watched and played football. He helped neighbors with farm chores. He became an Eagle Scout.

At his high school graduation, he had already enlisted. During the ceremony, each graduate's future plans were announced. John was alone in entering military service.

The summer after graduation is called the "endless summer." I suppose it's because the future is beckoning with promise, time to savor new freedoms and spend time with friends. One week after graduation, John left for basic training.

Our family accompanied him to the recruitment office. Goodbyes were said and hugs exchanged. All my girls' eyes were wet with tears. I briefly met my son's gaze. I detected uncertainty and perhaps the wish I'd turn back time and take him home.

Nothing more irrevocably signifies the passage from child to adulthood than a young person entering the service of our country. As the recruiter took John away, I knew the "little boy" we'd raised would never grace our home the same way.

That evening at our farmhouse, everyone found their own quiet space. I sat on the deck watching the sunset. Around me were reminders of John -- his first bike, the fields and woods we hunted. His best friend slowly drove by, the passenger seat uncharacteristically empty.

I began to weep. My tears were from a profound understanding shared by many previous generations of parents; my time to say goodbye to childhood had arrived.

My two daughters shared a bedroom. I issued an edict that John's room was to remain untouched. Twenty-four hours later, my son's childhood possessions were packed away, his room claimed.

After John completed basic training and schooling, he left the country of his birth. Asia and Europe are now the grounds he treads. He walks upon turf previously occupied by giants. A place where real heroes are born.

When I travel through airports and see members of the military passing through, I get goosebumps. They believe there are ideals greater than self. I am so proud of those in the service of our country. My "little boy" is part of a new "Greatest Generation."

Joe Rajkovacz is a lifelong trucker and member of the OOIDA Board of Directors who currently works at the association as a regulatory affairs specialist.