12:31 PM |
I was in the post office today, picking up a package from Norma, when the man ahead of me in line was mailing a bag of charcoal. Huh? I caught a bit of the conversation which went something like this:
You know how it is in the mountains. There's some firewood, and I asked him what he uses to start the fires. He said that he scavenges whatever he can get, some scraps of pressure-treated wood and so on. Well, I don't want him breathing that stuff, particularly when it's burning. I told him I couldn't send the liquid, but I would send him a bag of charcoal. Don't worry, he said, they'll light it with diesel fuel.
Then it dawned on me. The mountains were in a war zone. I asked him if his son (I assumed) was in Iraq or Afghanistan. Afghanistan, he said. As he turned to leave I told him to thank him for his service. I will, the man said. My son always says that to military men (and women), and shakes their hands. His father is a Navy SEAL.
After the man left, Norma said to me that his other son was killed in Afghanistan. And they sent this son to the exact same place.
You know how it is in the mountains. There's some firewood, and I asked him what he uses to start the fires. He said that he scavenges whatever he can get, some scraps of pressure-treated wood and so on. Well, I don't want him breathing that stuff, particularly when it's burning. I told him I couldn't send the liquid, but I would send him a bag of charcoal. Don't worry, he said, they'll light it with diesel fuel.
Then it dawned on me. The mountains were in a war zone. I asked him if his son (I assumed) was in Iraq or Afghanistan. Afghanistan, he said. As he turned to leave I told him to thank him for his service. I will, the man said. My son always says that to military men (and women), and shakes their hands. His father is a Navy SEAL.
