I walked over to the front of the church where the display of boots worn by soldiers who had died in Iraq and Afghanistan were. A young reporter wanted to interview me to ask my reaction to the event and tried to sweeten the detail by adding "I'll make you look even prettier on tv.: But flattery got him no where and I smiled and declined his request. I felt terrible for the soldiers and their families. Photos of children that will never be held again by their dads and letters from friends about what they had lost and the void that was left were heartbreaking. But mostly what I saw in my mind were the pair of boots hanging from the rafters in my dad's workshop area. Dad had been in the Air Force and then in the Air Force Reserves. He loved it. He spent years as a Navigator on C130's. The weekly flight path was over our house and when my brother and I were young we would stand in the backyard and wave at the planes as they went overhead.