Potluck.

Ya know I went to a potluck party on Saturday night. A bunch of us get together once a month have a little wine, a little food and read prose. The diversity of the crowd is fantastic. The oldest is a former ACLU publicist the youngest a brash 22 year old actor.

In any case, one of our regulars read a beautiful bit about riding her bike in Santa Monica near the monument. For those who don't know, at the Santa Monica Pier on the beach there are crosses placed for every soldier that has been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. It's been amazing to watch it grow over the last few years.

It's the quietest spot on the beach.

The woman finished her piece when our hostess announces that one of our group couldn't attend tonight, a close friend of his had been killed in Iraq on Thursday.

A man of 38 doing his 2nd tour, he was supposed to have been done with his commitment.

But he got recalled.

There was an a very deep moment in that room as we all took a moment in spontaneous silence to honor someone we had never met.

Last night, Memorial day, I didn't have any plans. So I decided to make a great steak, some asparagus and have a few beers and watch the ball game.

I really enjoyed every moment. I wished that even one soldier who I have never met could have come over.

Dave
Crackpotpress.com