I took college students to Normady. In the graveyard, I caught sight of one
of my Moorpark College guys with a girl on each arm, chucking and jiving as they
entered the sacred place. It made my angry and I started to make my way
to say something to them. But, in the process, I looked down at the graves all
those 18 year old boys caught up there in the agonies of war, and
realized that they were not fighting for truth, justice and the American
way, they were fighting for the right of carefree 18 year-olds to have two girls in their arms, to flirt and think about the sunshine and their futures without the
oppression of old men and women with empires and profits on their agendas.
Later I saw each of the students standing alone at a grave in their quiet thoughts about the other 18 year-olds who lay there.
They
were so young, those who fell at Normandy.
It is the duty of the
civilized to record their histories for knowledge sake, and to make art
to continually open our hearts.
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