Real men don't cry! Yet, tears rolled down my cheeks last night. Nothing - absolutely nothing - brings me to tears quicker than our American soldiers. I am sorry for the loss of every person, every adult, every child and even animals. But, I don't cry . . . except for our soldiers.
Last night, the quiet dignity, grace and barely-contained-rage of Khizr Kahn from Charlottesville brought me to tears, as he remembered the brave death of his 27-year-old son in Iraq, a Muslim Army Captain who laid down his life for his Christian troops. I felt his pain, I felt his rage . . . and I cried.
The powerful emotional tug was not surprising. That it occurred during a partisan attack was both surprising and disturbing to me. My unrelenting cynicism of partisan blathering just melted away. With sunrise, my brain has now silenced my heart, and I can feel the cynicism returning . . . thankfully.
Thank you, Mr. Khan! Thank you for sacrificing your son for us! Thank you for your powerful speech last night. But, I never want to hear it again!
Last night, the quiet dignity, grace and barely-contained-rage of Khizr Kahn from Charlottesville brought me to tears, as he remembered the brave death of his 27-year-old son in Iraq, a Muslim Army Captain who laid down his life for his Christian troops. I felt his pain, I felt his rage . . . and I cried.
The powerful emotional tug was not surprising. That it occurred during a partisan attack was both surprising and disturbing to me. My unrelenting cynicism of partisan blathering just melted away. With sunrise, my brain has now silenced my heart, and I can feel the cynicism returning . . . thankfully.
Thank you, Mr. Khan! Thank you for sacrificing your son for us! Thank you for your powerful speech last night. But, I never want to hear it again!
