I remember when I was young, also on a family trip, visiting DC & the Vietnam wall. The instant I saw it, the fomer abstract (to me) concept of war, became ever so clear. It was a very powerful turning point in my life.

That Wall is powerful.

Mine is from my college years, when I was in England. I walked by the Victoria and Albert Museum, and noticed the stone walls were all pockmarked. Hahaha, those British, letting their buildings get all falling-down. Then I noticed a little plaque. I walked over, put my hand against the wall, leaned in. The exact wording was lost to me, but the essence was that the walls had been damaged during the Blitzkreig, and they had never been repaired as a testimonial to the losses of that time. I looked, and my hand was in a pockmark — a shell-mark — twice as wide as my fingerspread. The shiver that passed through me ran down my entire body. It’s a moment that will always stay with me.

Wow.

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