I went on a brief tour of the cobblestoned streets of Wilmington, allowing myself the guilty pleasure of being a tourist, and I went with two people very dear to me. We missed the showers that morning and were able to tour the Battleship North Carolina. The huge gun turret was open, and I was able to climb up into it.
It was cramped, claustrophobic, and all I could think of was the men of that greatest generation huddled inside in the South Pacific heat and humidity, launching volley after volley. Then something occurred to me---the noise! I mean, dear God, the NOISE of this huge gun that was used to shoot down airplanes, I couldn't get over it.
I think the problem with the world, and with myself included, is that we mistake the white noise of prattles and whines of everyday with the NOISE that is the call to something important, the call to make a difference.
Makes me wonder what could be said about me when I'm gone? Will anything echo behind me?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment