You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘War’ tag.

Our country is a mess, my friends, and no president can do much about it. The economy is what you believe. You wanted change? Start believing. Read the rest of this entry »

We all know the good girls and the men they travel with. I saw them this morning at the pet market and didn’t think anything of it. They were receiving instruction, yes, that is often the case; it is an education for them to be among people. Read the rest of this entry »

He says he has to release the tape in service to the truth. I think he means The Truth, but the truth is the story’s not his to tell. He’s embedded with us again, running tape while we clear this mosque again of insurgents and search it again for weapons. Read the rest of this entry »

Something so good and pure at the core of a man like my husband hardens to a bullet in the forge of an inhuman world. He might laugh at me for saying so. He doesn’t need me to sing his praise. Those who don’t know him will never admit his humility. Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve seen this movie fifty-nine times, but that’s not why it knows me. It’s set in a country that’s not my own, at a time I can only imagine. Mysterious things happen to families unlike families I know—still mysterious on a sixtieth viewing, though I know everything that will happen, and when, and every line. Read the rest of this entry »

I teach fifth grade, nothing complicated: slavery, ratios and proportions, why the good side always prevails in war. Half my students at the Army base are children of Second Cavalry, currently deployed; Read the rest of this entry »

They were torches to our matchsticks. They ate our city’s oxygen and everything else on the menu. In the early days of the occupation, we caught rare glimpses of them at the opera, the better cafes, at the racetrack calculating odds. Read the rest of this entry »

When the great wars began, hundreds of clans held sway over portions of the enormous land, each with its own gods and culture, totems, legends, marriage laws and methods of war. Read the rest of this entry »

The brain has a fuse. After years of threat and terror, the fuse blows, leaving a scar behind, a charred little plug of matter, once animated tissue. It can make a person mean. Read the rest of this entry »

The rabbi is on radio, telling the story every generation tells about itself. It was war, he says, and the papers didn’t reach our little town. Read the rest of this entry »

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The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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