Protest

I couldn’t go to Washington today. My 23 year old son drove down instead. Like David Warlick I would have gotten a hotel room and had an early morning flight. I would have relished the feeling of returning to my youth. Oh how sad… this awful cycle repeating itself. I’m proud of my son for carrying on the heritage and for at least listening politely when I ask him to be careful, not to take too many risks. How lucky I am to have him, freshly graduated from college, moving to New York City, working hard to make his own future. My heart aches for the mothers who have lost their children in this terrible war. I hold mine tight to me… while hoping he and his generation will be better caretakers than those of us who held signs, got arrested, chanted loudly, supported our troops, opposed our leadership and momentarily made a difference…