Several years ago Jacob and I went to DC for the day. It was a cool, rainy, sober day. Neither of us had ever been to the Vietnam Memorial and I don't think that we fully realised how affected we would be or how overwhelming and emotional the experience would be for us. It was as close to silence as I've ever known and even the skateboarders passing through the park seemed to act as though treading on sacred burial grounds. The only sound heard was that of a little boy, maybe five years old, who was walking with his father. He stopped and loudly stated, "Daddy, sumbuddy fergot dare prize." The father tried to quite his son but he continued, "But Daddy, it's a good prize and sumbuddy fergot it!" Jake and I looked down to see that a Veteran had left a Purple Heart. It broke through the sadness to think that a medal given in honor of great service to one's country was referred to, quite sweetly referred to, as a prize. It was the best part of our day.
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