Forget about posterity. Writing is about here and now. Some of my friends would take issue with what I’m about to say, but writing is, or can be, a form of therapy.
Yes, World War II vets had it hard, but they also had it easy compared to most, if not all, generations to come before or after. Sure, their war was long and tough, but their homecoming was, and still is, unmatched. A popular war, or more like a war with a clear purpose and victory, will do that, but in many ways, World War II veterans are the beneficiaries of failure.
Our recent move has been particularly hard because we went from being close to a military community to living in a civilian population. We have no access to any military services or to military spouses who can relate to what I am going through. But I found acknowledging the feeling of loss as a great start and an opportunity for me to focus on finding a way to get over this “grief”.
...we have an example of history repeating itself—or at least rhyming. No, not the history that Trump and his ilk espouse. That one is full of ignorance, even if it’s an ignorance that, one assumes, helps them sleep. It’s a history so filled with lies that one has to assume, as the saying goes, that they want to be doomed to repeat it.
It wasn’t so much that, but rather the book itself spoke of hidden currents in Europe. It exposed the lie that during WWII it was only the Germans who had carried out race-based atrocities and any non-German collaborators were long dealt with, when this was not the case. In France and elsewhere there was a collective guilt that had not been properly dealt with. It’s amazing how some people can voice something already in your mind—something that hadn’t yet been formulated into a thought—and almost rearrange your worldview.
My favorite movie is Good Will Hunting. I saw it for the first time shortly after the movie was released in January of 1998. I was 16 years old and found myself enjoying everything about the movie; pretty soon I was able to quote whole scenes much to the delight (and shortly annoyance) of my friends and family.
In April, I visited the 9/11 Memorial and Museum. It was not my first visit, and I’m sure it will not be the last one. I visited with a group of fellow writers, and we took the subway down. Even though I live in the Bronx, I had not taken the subway in quite some time, a year or more. I simply had no need. Where I was living at the time, driving became more important than using the subway.
Where am I now? I am twenty-four years old, in a nonsensical Balkan country, wondering, what’s next? In the upcoming months, I’ll be with my girlfriend on some beach in South America, getting ready to come back to the states and then moving into an average sized apartment with her, only to go to a butt-fuck Middle Eastern country again to make a little bit of cash.
Recently a friend of mine took his own life and joined the ever growing number of veterans who take their lives daily. I wrote this in his remembrance, due to the fact I’ve been so down on life and constantly have thought of my own personal battles and thinking about taking my own life because of what I’ve perceived as failures and shortcomings.
In January 2006, ABC reporter Bob Woodruff found himself in the wrong place and time in the Middle East. He was reporting from the hatch of an armored vehicle when a 125mm shell, also known as an IED, exploded. Mr. Woodruff and his cameraman were filming when it happened, which is quite possibly why they were attacked. Their bodies were sticking out of the vehicle like a sore thumb, which made for an easy target.
As a society, we have placed a premium on education. It is seen as transformative, able to elevate people out of difficult circumstances, and the catalyst for improvement in both individuals and communities. Today, in the United States, education is a fundamental quality-of-life issue. But the ways in which our culture discusses education are highly limited.