Tonight I sat on a blanket in the stadium infield watching this year's  fireworks show (Culver City high school,  CA). I shared oohs and aahs with the many neighborly strangers surrounding me. With them I enjoyed the show as spectacle. Since last year I read a couple books about the Indianapolis and others about the War generally. I'm catching up on my understanding of history. In addition to spectacle and beyond entertainment value, I thought of the people from the prior generation, embodied in each shining ember as it soared, exploded, and fell. It's late. Why didn't I think about them before?

Thank you.