Marines show up for a Marine’s kid who needs them

It’s clear why my dad liked to hang out at the Silver Pony in south Phoenix. It’s a box of a bar, with wood-paneled walls, a pool table and three beer taps (one Bud, two Bud Lite, his favorite).

Even at noon on Saturday, the bar is lined with what my dad called “real people.” He rode his horse, Gunner, here, tied up at the hitching post out back, and threw horseshoes.

It is where he celebrated his birthday. Not his actual birthday, but the Marine Corps’ birthday, on Nov. 10.

Capt. David John Bland retired from the Marine Corps in 1979 after 21 years of service.

Every year, he would buy a round of drinks. After he died in 1999, I took over. I miss him most this of year.

I used to come by myself. But in 2011, I wrote about it, and Marines started turning up.

Few people here remember my dad now. But when the bartender saw me, she started a tab.

The man at the end of the bar raised his glass: “Happy birthday, Marines!,” eliciting a call of “Oorah!”

A new Marine joined us. “Karina?” Jon Zich asked. He wore a red T-shirt with “1st Battalion, 7th Marines” on the back. I hugged him before he could say anything else. Jon served four years, including 1968-69 in Vietnam. He drove here 45 minutes from Fountain Hills.

One of my Marines, Mike Petrone, came in with his wife, Carrie, and I caught my breath. He’s had cancer and used a walker to get to me. He swears he’s on the mend.

“I couldn’t miss it,” Mike told me. He could have, but he didn’t.

I’ve never asked these men why they’re there. I know that when a Marine — or a Marine’s daughter — needs something, other Marines are there.

On this day every year, I need these Marines.