A local boy died in Afghanistan earlier this month. He was hardly a boy anymore. He was a man. I remember his photo, in the local paper, from back when he was in high school. He was just a kid. How could he grow up and go off to war and die? His remains came home today, escorted, with a mix of fierce protective pride, love and sadness. I did not know Cody, but his tragic death permeated my reclusiveness. I went to honor his sacrifice and family. When young people die, it's like stomping flowers.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
I went and saw my old friend--Waldo Lake. I can't be alone all the time, here in this house. I do love my cats. But getting out is a ... -
I made it back to Waldo. Monday I took five cats from Gills Landing colony to be fixed and tested at the Salem clinic. All five, four gi... -
Our weather is far from August normal lately. After the brief heat wave, it went to predicted extreme rain, which didn't happen, but mi...
No comments:
Post a Comment