Last week, during a trip to the Nation’s Capital, I
and some of my family – together with hundreds of other people – paid our
respects to America’s heroes with a visit to Arlington National Cemetery in
Virginia, on the other side of the Potomac River, across from The National Mall
in Washington, D.C.
Rows upon rows, in a seemingly endless
expression of the ultimate sacrifice.
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The National Mall holds reminders of other conflicts – more than any of us would like to see – yet they stand as a necessary tribute, lest we forget.
I’ve asked myself more than once why I feel such an attachment to these fallen men and women. Perhaps it is because it has been my good fortune not to have lost in battle my three ‘big brothers’ who were drafted into military service during World War II.