Every spark of friendship and love will die without a home. Hear the soldier groan, “We’ll go at it alone.” – Arcade Fire
And as for modern observations, check out a couple of videos I took of planes over Moscow today (I’m uploading a couple of the really short ones, but they kept coming overhead for a while. I felt like a kid again.) You can hear the screaming start off in the distance, as the planes are spotted by the people in the next street over.
For some reason, this year, it’s especially hard for me to look at pictures of WWII. It’s hard to consider the reasons why we hang on to our military so dearly, on this day in particular. Over 25 million dead is more than a statistic, it’s a seismic wave.
“You were born for the saddle,” my grandfather once told me, after he saw me ride for the first time, in America. I will never forget his happiness on that day, the way he smiled as if I had handed him a present, and all I had done was emerge from behind a line of trees, on an Appaloosa or some mix thereof, and trot up toward him. And then he paused, and added, seemingly randomly – and I will never forget his words, or his eyes behind his glasses when he said it – “Remember when to hold on.”