I am a story teller. I came here to write about this place, but that issuddenly not what I am doing. I cried here at your wall today, but I don't know a single person on it.Every time I see a name that reminds me of one I know, I twitch. I doknow people who were there. I do know how easily things could bereversed. And I don't know what I'd do without these people. So, I guess Ineed to thank you for them. I am only 21. I do not remember the war when it was happening. I did notlearn about it in school. To see these men and women with their shirts andflags shakes me. Seeing the things people have left here shakes me. Apicture of Jimi Hendrix, a bottle of Seagrams 7, a pack of cigarettes havereduced me to tears. I wonder if you watch us, if you see this. If you'd like to say thank you forthese gifts. I wonder if we mourn for you or for ourselves. I came here recently before dawn, and it was empty. The wind wasknocking over your flowers, and squirrels were playing on top of yourblack ledge. I stood at the apex of a wall, I guess at the apex of a war; andit started to pour. I just stood there. I live near here so I visit often now. Thank you for giving me something tounderstand...or to try to; these days, there is very little I understand. I cangive you nothing but these words. But I promise I'll bring my kids here one day, make them remember,make it somehow more than just another story. From the VietNam Veterans' Memorial Wall Page

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