Not really about baking

This cake will go to the family of this kid, sent to Iraq by men with no capacity for learning, wisdom, or regret. It is a damned sad maddening story. I never met him but there's only two or three degrees of separation between him and me (he was the foster brother of the friend of a friend of mine's son, but I have met the friend of the son, so count that out on your fingers); it's the closest I've come to someone who's died there.

My friend went to the funeral, and stopped to thank one of the 70 person motorcycle honor guard (she said they were scruffy looking, but she's very brave and gracious), and said "You must be getting tired of doing this–almost 4,000 funerals now."

"Oh no," he said. "Only about 3,600."

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3 Responses to Not really about baking

  1. Morgat says:

    oh my. "only about 3,600". oh my. (Gone to flowers every one — When will we ever learn? When will we ever learn…)

  2. Aubrey says:

    This reminds me of one of the closing shots from 'All Quiet On The Western Front': rows and rows of white crosses flooding the screen, superimposed on German soldiers marching to the Front. Finally, one turns and looks into the camera, his face a mixture of youth, confusion and fear.
    The numbers can be numbing.

  3. Lauri says:

    Oh god.This hurts.And, I know it hurts me much less than someone who has lost a loved one. Sigh.

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