Perhaps it's because I've been following MoonDanzer's blog (purely as a way of re-assuring myself that the entire American population isn't slavishly following Bush in his awful obsession with war) recently, but my mind has (of late) sometimes turned to the subject of war.
Tony Blair's departure last week also gave me more pause for thought, as he is forever associated in my mind with the decision to deploy troops in Iraq. As a child, I was brought up to believe in the idea of the 'just' war. No war was more just, we were told, than the one against fascism. That was a moment in history when our cousins across the water stood (eventually) squarely behind, beside and in-front of us to defeat the most evil force mankind had hitherto ever seen.
When I think of the heroic sacrifices made by millions of American families to help keep Europe and Asia free of fascism, one image inevitably comes to mind - that of the US troops raising the Stars and Stripes atop Iwo Jima. It's apparently the most printed picture of all time, so it's little wonder that it's ingrained in my mind.
Just a few weeks ago, I saw a group of tourists trying to erect a parasol. As they struggled, gamefully and not entirely unsuccessfully, I couldn't resist taking a snapshot of their attempts.
The contrast between the tired and heroic soldiers, and the family out on a nice day trip in Cheshire, couldn't be more marked. Sometimes, we can easily forget how our cosy, middle-class lives have been shaped by the sacrifices of those who have gone before. Those sacrifices are still being made, even if the wars they are made in are not always as just and right as we are sometimes led by our political masters to believe. It's a particular pleasure that there are blogs such as MoonDanzer's that remind us of this.
