This is my cousin. He's in Afghanistan.
I don't know what all to think about the wars in the Middle East. I don't blog about politics.
But I do know that I never--ever--thought, when we were kids, that we'd grow up and have people our own age to worry about overseas. Even Vietnam was too far away from us, not in time but in reality. The veterans we knew were all old men. Those who served or died were our grandfathers, great-grandfathers--not brothers, cousins, friends, and kids who used to go around pretending they were Gomez Addams.
"No, Mrs. Crawford, I don't think the war has been sent as a punishment for sin. I think it is the price humanity must pay for some blessing--some advance great enough to be worth the price--which we may not live to see but which our children's children will inherit."
"If Jerry is killed will you feel so fine about it?" demanded Norman, who had been saying things like that all his life and never could be made to see any reason why he shouldn't. "Now, never mind kicking me in the shins, Ellen. I want to see if Parson meant what he said or if it was just a pulpit frill."
Mr. Meredith's face quivered. He had had a terrible hour alone in his study on the night Jem and Jerry had gone to town. But he answered quietly.
"Whatever I felt, it could not alter my belief--my assurance that a country whose sons are ready to lay down their lives in her defence will win a new vision because of their sacrifice." --L.M. Montgomery, Rilla of Ingleside