Can you think of something you remember about your childhood? It can be a good thing or a bad thing.

I'll go ahead and tell you a memory of mine just to get things started.

7. Supposedly a lucky number, right?

In my case, 7 was the number of howitzers booming in the distance at night. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. I remember counting them before falling asleep. One after the other they go. That was our front line firing howitzers projectiles at the enemy beyond the wooded hills. For they were lobbing shells right back at us. The entire house shakes. It's pitch black. There are no night lights to see anything. All I know is that we are in some basement, hoping to survive the night. Eventually we fall asleep.

You see, I didn't choose to go to the front line of a battle . I was just a child. And I don't remember at what age I started to be aware of the war. And that front line...well, it came to us. Our house, our village, it became a part of the front line.

Now you might think that this was a long time ago in some far off country. Most likely a dive hole that you may have never heard of, and most certainly were never intending on visiting. And there you would be wrong. For this was all very recently.

As a child of Croatia that survived the Croatian War of Independence during the early 90's, I have the honor of being born into a fire. I didn't know it was a fire at the time. Just that there was this war and that some people who went off to fight that battle, never came back.

In all of that commotion, I remember my grandfather. He never went and slept in basements to increase his chances of survival. Maybe he was proud, or maybe he was just unafraid. Like a glacier, he remained in place against the tests of time. He continued to sleep in the old wooden house built by his father 100 years ago, because, as he put it, if he was going to die that night it might as well be in the comfort of his own bed.

I remember clearly that we were always on our own. Us villagers who worked and went to school in all of that unrest. We pushed through. What else was there to do? Something had to remain normal in all of that abnormality.

But we survived. When that ceasefire arrived, it was a weird day. The silence. I wasn't used to the silence. Imagine going to bed for 4 years listening to howitzers for a good portion of that time. And then the day comes when the howitzers lower their barrels and are driven away through the village. Were we celebrating? I don't remember.

Out of that experience Defend Freedom Daily was formed. The idea, the realization that freedom has to be stood up for, against the bullies, against evil. The idea that you and I are the connoisseurs of freedom. The Romans called it Libertas. Liberty. Some people say that freedom is earned. Maybe. But freedom is also defended. Without defending it, you've lost it. And then you have to earn it back.

To my great-grandfather who built my grandfather's house, who died during WWII when his son was 4, and to my father who died defending his family and village during the Croatian War. And above all, to God, the source of all Freedom. Libertas.