hated it, when first I heard of it. I hated that they would dig us a trench in the ground; they would erect a black wall. That would be our memorial. "How like the war," I thought. "How pointless." And so, I took no interest in the Vietnam Memorial. Later, I heard that they would cast a bronze statue of the soldiers. "At least," I thought, "people will know what we looked like."

On the day of the dedication of the memorial, I happened to be channel surfing, and chanced to come upon the ceremonies. I watched for a while. One thing I had to admit: Our military may not know how to mount an operation, but they do liturgy better than the Catholic Church, and it has the power to move one. The mass display of flags, the precision close-order drill to doleful drums, the lone trumpet crying out "Taps," and the sudden 'crack' of the guns, these can still reach us. I found myself crying. I do not say "I cried"; I found myself crying. I cannot quite describe the experience. So I did what any sane man would do under the circumstances: I changed the channel. And for 15 years, I thought no more about the memorial, or the war, for that matter.