Each day brings more revelations of those affected, of those touched, of those involved, of those whose tears won’t stop. The tragedy in Newtown is, to be sure, one of the worst catastrophes that could possibly invade anyone’s life. Cataclysmic and horrendous. Are there any words that conjure up just how profound the pain really is?

Persons most affected, those far distant, those whose empathy stretches beyond any miles, the many who know, somehow deep in their hearts and souls, what agony those nearest must be enduring. It will not subside suddenly. It will not dissipate easily. It will not ease immediately.

Each seeks to find something that helps. Some salve, some balm, some relief, Oh, Please dear God.

Most American towns, that were of any size during the Second World War, offered mostly young men in the service of the country. Those towns and cities now have monuments and statues commemorating their contribution to fighting and sometimes dying in that war. Towns and cities in America honor the brave men and women who fight and die to preserve our freedom.

Parks and special commemorations mark the many who served and those who died. Our time seems to be scarred, however, with a new phenomenon. Will special markers be placed at those spots where our own have killed our own? This is no proud achievement, like those of earlier times. This is a form of insanity, disturbance, a heaviness on the land that we surely do not wish to celebrate. It