W IIOEVER spends a raw, murky afternoon rambling about in the dingy old Prussian city of Breslan, and attempts to sleep a night at the Goldene Baum will be glad enough, under ordinary circumstances, to pursue his journey in the morning regardless of the many wonderful things that still remain to he seen. For myself, I have a natural repugnance to iron and zinc foundries, and do not care particularly for tin- shops, distilleries, cloth factories, or metallurgic- al establishments. My landlorda dapper little Jewwas never- theless very enthusiastic in his praise of Breslau, which he pronounced far superior to Paris in all the elegances and refinements of life, and quite equal to Berlin.
Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been killed, I read his or her name very carefully. Inwhen the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way.
John was headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight backs and flawless uniforms. I live on the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston. I write novels for a living.
I have never served in the military.
It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown and New York University. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question "So where is John going to college?
At the private high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.
One parent a professor at a nearby and rather famous university spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the school should "carefully evaluate what went wrong.
We parents and our Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many economic classes. Some arrived crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford the trip.
We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Southern whites from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. I feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to some of my oldest friends.
She has two sons in the Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it.
His younger brother is in the Navy. During World War II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to volunteer for military service once that war was done?
Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else defend us? I feel hope because perhaps my son is part of a future "greatest generation.
My son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. He is my heart. Frank Schaeffer is a writer. His latest book, co-written with his son, Marine Cpl. John Schaeffer, is "Keeping Faith: Posted on Nov 26,8:Custom Frank Schaeffer Essay “My son, the Marine” is a story written by a father and a son on their experiences as US marines.
However, the story lies more on the experiences of the son and the feelings of the father concerning his son in the marines. English Comp. II Writing Assignment 1 Rough Draft February 10, Melanie A. Tucker Dissecting “My Son the Marine” The story “My Son the Marine” Is written by Frank Schueffer.
The reason for this paper is to identify weather or no to author used logos ethos or pathos in the story. Letter to My Son by Lord Chesterfield Essay.
my son the marine Essay. English Comp. II Writing Assignment 1 Rough Draft February 10, Melanie A. Tucker Dissecting “My Son the Marine” The story “My Son the Marine” Is written by Frank Schueffer.
The reason for this paper is to identify weather or no to author used logos ethos or. My son is a Marine, and the Marines have taught him to love, at least given him voice to the speaking of love and showing of love to his mother. -Advertisement- Until recently, I could count on one hand the number of times my youngest child had told me he loves me.
English Comp. II Writing Assignment 1 Rough Draft February 10, Melanie A. Tucker Dissecting “My Son the Marine” The story “My Son the Marine” Is written by Frank leslutinsduphoenix.com reason for this paper is to identify weather or no to author used logos ethos or pathos in the story.
Nov 26, · Washington Post November 26, Pg. 29 My Heart On The Line By Frank Schaeffer Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart.
When I see a picture of a member of our military who has been killed, .