By Jim Daly, Crosswalk
Some time ago I found myself in Washington D.C. attending a series of meetings. After spending the entire day and evening inside several buildings, I was eager for some fresh air. What followed would be a night I’d never forget.
The shadow of Vietnam veteran Bud Moore of Fort Lauderdale, Florida is seen on the Vietnam Memorial wall, which pays tribute to servicemen killed in the Vietnam War, on Veterans Day November 11, 2010 in Washington, DC. Veterans Day honors those who served in the military. Moore served in Quang Tri from 1968-1969. AFP PHOTO/Mandel NGAN (Photo credit should read MANDEL NGAN/AFP/Getty Images)
With me in Washington that evening was my friend, Roger Sherrard. Roger is a constitutional attorney and a dear man, now serving as principal at Sherrard McGonagle Tizzano, in the state of Washington.
It was 11 P.M. and I spontaneously asked Roger if he’d be interested in joining me for a run on the National Mall, that beautiful and open expanse of land that connects the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial, bordered by the Smithsonian museums and punctuated by the Washington Monument in the middle. He readily agreed.
The night was crisp and the moon was full. It’s always inspiring to see such historic sites in our capital, but especially so when they’re backlit and deserted. We ran east to west, from the Capitol dome down toward the towering carved marble statue of Abraham Lincoln, our nation’s 16th president. I was thoroughly enjoying the outing when out of the corner of my right eye I caught a glimpse of the Vietnam Memorial, which is recessed into the hillside.
“Let’s run over there,” I suggested, pointing in the direction of the two black gabbro walls. I had never visited the memorial. My brother, Mike, had served in Vietnam, and thankfully came home uninjured. The way returning veterans were treated always bothered me. I had long wanted to pay tribute to the sacrifice of so many by visiting that reflective spot.
Hearing my suggestion, Roger at first didn’t respond. Instead, he just stopped in his tracks, bowing his head, and shuffling from side to side.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
”I can’t do it,” he replied. “I just can’t go over there.”
The ultimate sacrifice
In the moonlight of the mall, tears began to fall from my friend’s eyes.
Read the full article by Jim Daly from Crosswalk.
