This is hallowed ground--the burial place of many tens of thousands of American who died for our country, for our freedom. I walked over Memorial Bridge. The majestic Lincoln Memorial sits at the D.C. end of the bridge.
Walking in to Virginia, the Potomac flowing beneath you, you’re approaching our nation’s most famous cemetery. Robert E. Lee’s home, with its neo-classical columns crowns a hill in front of you. Half way down the hill is the grave of John Kennedy and the eternal flame. Below that is a grand entrance, and immediately in front of you is the road. Statues and memorials line the road. Cars file by with traffic flowing on to a Virginia highway leading to the Pentagon less than a mile away. Other traffic brings tourists and family members to the cemetery.
After paying my respects to those who gave so much, I was picked up by a friend from graduate school and her husband. He is a retired army major. He served in Iraq during the initial invasion. Before that he served in the Gulf War and Afghanistan. He was all a military man should be: clean cut, solid, handsome, confident, calm.
We went to Georgetown and pondered the problems of the world.
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