Starhill solidarity

Well, that's hard prose to follow. So here's a postscript; Friday, I delivered a grave side eulogy for an Aunt who was a Women's Naval Core officer in WW2. As such, she had two young sailors there as honor guard, to fold the flag and play 'Taps'. They were so young, ...babies really. It broke my heart that they were leaving for Iraq next Tuesday but volunteered on a rotating basis to do these burials. I just fought tears watching them...one Hispanic, one black... a symbol of this nation. And sadly of a time when no one knows who or where to fight... or die. I'd walk barefoot from here (Dallas) to Seattle if I thought I could prevent one death. I've written about my neighbor who is Texas Nat'l Guard, now gone for years in rotating exile, his wife having left him, his children practically strangers (the youngest one did not know him). But let's not forget last week's memorable line from First Lady Laura Bush: "No one suffers more than the President and I do".

Thanks, Mr Dreher. It got me smiling. My family threw me a party before I left last time. My godmother, a smug recent Air Nat'l Guard retiree, gave me a child's bucket and pail, filled with necessities. On it was affixed a tag saying, "Have fun playing in the Sandbox!"
That's really what you have to do. Just keep celebrating God's great world and the gift of life. Especially when you can't control it. After all, who by worrying can add a single day to their life? Thanks for the inspiration of the day, Mr Dreher. Means a lot to me.

Rod, this is a truly eloquent and moving post, and I have only two things to say. One is that your brother-in-law, sister and family will be in my daily prayers. The other is less solemn, but no less serious: have you ever considered writing fiction, specifically fiction set in the part of the world you grew up in? I never read anything you write about your time growing up in Louisiana without thinking this. The image you paint in "Crunchy Cons" of Weyanoke will probably linger long after I've forgotten just who started the Craftsman architectural movement, and now a place with the almost-impossibly poetic name "Starhill" can be added to the image of the shabby-genteel yet solidly real place you've never lived in but see as your ideal of home. I hope you'll at least consider the possibility of setting some of these jewels of memory into some type of a story, someday.

Wow, that was a wonderful read, I enjoyed hearing about your family and the emotional memories. May Mike serve and know that his family will be safe and come home to them soon! God Bless!