The Wall...

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I finally made it to the Vietnam Memorial Wall. My father fought in Vietnam as a United States Marine. I am very lucky to still have him around. I can't imagine growing up and not knowing him. Just seeing his name on a big somber black wall. He told me stories about helping the corpsmen zip up body bags with the obliterated remains of 18 and 19 year old boys who never had a chance to experience life. Dying kids calling out for their mothers in the throes of death. People come. Search. Recognize. Touch. Cry. Names are very powerful in the Hawaiian culture. In this particular circumstance. They are equally powerful in the American culture...

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