This article was posted yesterday by Ben Stein in the The American Spectator but I just stumbled across it this morning. It is a short but memorable piece…well worth citing a day late.
Here’s an excerpt:
Here I am in my swimming pool in Beverly Hills, lazily swimming laps back and forth at midnight. I can see the stars above my palm trees and cedars. The dogs are loping around the back yard sniffing for squirrels. My wife is upstairs drinking the Cuervo Gold or whatever it is.
I am thinking about a conversation I had a couple of hours ago with my pal Phil DeMuth. He said that basically, what we had to realize was that our freedom, our prosperity, our opportunity, our rule of law, came from 19 year olds carrying around M-16’s. He was quoting from a fine book called Grunts.
This idea is burning like wildfire in my brain. Here we all are, living like kings, living like maharajahs, and what’s keeping us alive? Kids from small towns in Pennsylvania and Iowa and Wyoming and the Central Valley of California. And their parents and their wives and their kids, many of them now widows and orphans. I saw about a thousand of those wives and kids over Memorial Day weekend in Crystal City, Virginia, at the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS) event. If I had to pick the finest people I have ever met in my life, it would be the wives — widows — and kids — orphans — and Moms and Dads and husbands of those superstars. You cannot imagine the looks of pride and pain on their faces. Blessed of God, is all I can say.