Eleven years ago I had the opportunity to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. I was one of thousands who silently shuffled along the imposing monument - mesmerized by the endless columns of former lives etched upon it. Some visitors pencil-rubbed onto paper the names of loved ones inscribed into the stone. Others sat on benches, stoically reflecting on what stood before them. Many came bearing small mementos to leave on the walkway.
Nestled among the flowers and the stuffed animals and the candles was a small, wood-framed photograph of a young serviceman in his dress uniform. Attached to the frame was this simple, hand-written poem:
I never knew you.
You died before I was born.
I will never forget you.
I was given your name.
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