A few years back, as I was sitting with a family preparing for a funeral service, a thought took hold with regard to our opinions and perceptions of “old people.”

When I was visiting with these folks and reminiscing about their uncle, they produced a picture of him in his Army uniform- young, bright-eyed, handsome, full of vim and vigor. It was the same person who now had encountered the inexorable process of aging and had finally run out of gas.

I guess it made me think about how easily we can dismiss the elderly as one-dimensional burdens, as “used up,” having done their thing and run their course, with nothing more to contribute, no stories to tell, just waiting to die.

The thing is that when we don’t make the effort, all we see is the broken down, worn out versions of people who were every bit as vital and vibrant as us. They were young once, too. We are often oblivious to the people they used to be and in important ways continued to be.

Which isn’t to say that some folks haven’t lead more interesting lives than others. This particular gentleman was a paratrooper with the Army 17th Airborne Division in Europe during WWII. That in itself deserves a closer look. Except I guess he never talked about his war experience. Why is that, by the way? Are they sworn to secrecy, too humble to toot their own horns, or the memories too painful to recount?

Anyway, I had an epiphany of sorts, made a connection I had sort of made before. But for some reason it had never coalesced until these arrangements were in process. I sensed the continuity- that this man who had succumbed to the aging process was the same man who jumped out of airplanes in enemy territory, walked everywhere, knew the taxonomy of the trees and bushes around his house, built brick walls, wielded a chainsaw, ate kale, taught himself how to play the guitar, taught the younger generations about life, and let wasps land on his arms.

What we see in nursing homes and other “care” facilities are only snippets of bigger pictures and often fuller lives that we can only begin to appreciate through the photo collages displayed at the calling hours, or the stories shared among family and friends.

The graveside service for this man included military honors- a flag-draped casket, Taps, the folding of the flag and presentation of it to next of kin with the words, “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.” This gets me every time. You can hear a pin drop. Such a fitting tribute.

Although, I have to admit to cringing a bit when he said, “On behalf of the President of the United States…”  Talk about cheapening the moment.

Like Trump cared. Or that I considered him our President.

What do you have against the U.S.? Is it our system of governance, or our seeming hubris? Do you hate us because we claim an affinity for democratic ideals, or because we come across as braggards and show-offs and we have our fingers in too many pies? Would it matter to you that, if you were to ask the average American on the street, many would say that they have nothing against Russia and Russians and they just want to get along, or be left alone so they can navigate their lives, which are challenging enough without having to worry about World War III?

Your foray into Ukraine is revealing your cold-heartedness, your disregard for human life. The world isn’t seeing much else. We’re not seeing nor are impressed by your willingness to undertake such a war effort. All most of us see is your lack of humanity. We see a grossly selfish, easily bruised man living in the past trying to save face, trying to stay in power, trying to hold onto his opulent and ostentatious lifestyle while the people he ”leads” are becoming increasingly isolated and struggling in the dark to get by.

One thing to keep in mind, Vlad: if you are trying to take advantage of our “softness” and unwillingness to respond to your aggression, you must also understand that ultimately our response will lead to destruction on a scale that leaves no one unscathed. If you survive such a cataclysm, you will have accomplished your objective of bringing America to its knees, but at the cost of bringing the rest of the world along with us.

You aren’t a genius, as your stooge Donald recently gushed. You’re not smart in a helpful way. You’re just diabolical. You are applying yourself in the wrong direction. You put a lot of effort into anticipating any and all eventualities like sanctions and even the groundswell of anti-war sentiment. You’re a master of misdirection, of twisting words and spreading disinformation. Your bread and butter is being ruthless, acting apart from a conscience. So, congrats on all that, you empty-souled, beady-eyed little man.

We should be beyond tired of suffering the consequences of a microscopic minority’s delusions and twisted aspirations. You want to go to war, Vlad? Suit up and go fight it yourself.

What’s your problem, Tom? Did you beg Gisele to let you have one more season, or did you tell her “Here’s how it’s gonna be?” Do you need the money, for some reason? Do you just miss the adulation, or joining the fray with the guys?

Did the prospect of having to find something else to do with your life just scare the shit out of you? Are you avoiding having to be a husband and father? What the hell is wrong with you?

Turns out you’re just another ego monster. Another moth to the flame. A one-trick pony.

There is a growing feeling of excess to your success. Like, enough already. There’s more to life than football.

How scarred are you? It must be a curse—always driven to have to prove yourself. It feels like the pendulum is swinging from adulation to sympathy.

Monstrous, depraved, barbaric. Putin is probably digging all the “love” being tossed his way. By love I mean hate.

There is no earthly reason to let this continue, except that Putin has reached the point of no return, and his instability and isolation could lead to a cataclysmic decision to employ nuclear weapons.

He’s aching for us to commit, then he’s really gonna let the shit fly. How do we put a stop to this?

What he’s doing now is depraved and cruel, and apparently a typical Russian tactic. He’s trying to bring Ukraine to its knees by attacking civilians—hospitals, residential neighborhoods. He’s trying to get NATO involved, because he has a whole other level of weaponry he’s just aching to show off. It seems he doesn’t care if he takes the rest of the world down with him. We can only hope there is a widespread dereliction of duty in the Russian ranks, and a groundswell of anger among the Russian people themselves. If they can get accurate information.

What is wrong with Russia, anyway? It’s always been a country that lives like it’s in a deep funk, like it’s suffering from a deep depression, like every day is overcast and rainy and cold. They’ve raised cheating to a dark art form. Government officials, other elites, and some athletes live large, while the rest of the citizens get crumbs from the table, though maybe that’s not an entirely accurate perception. It must be difficult to live in a country that spends a disproportionate share of revenue and effort on disinformation, on keeping its citizens in the dark and in line, and fending off outside influence.

Why can’t we all just work together? Why wouldn’t that work? We don’t all have to live under the same flag, under the same system of governance, but there must be a baseline of understanding regarding treatment of citizens and relating with other nations that reflects respect and a willingness to leave each other alone. There’s enough food and other necessities for everyone if we cooperate.

I guess we’re not built for harmony. We’re built for looking out for #1, and insisting that our way is the highway. Why is it our tendency to be selfish and prideful? Naïve questions, I know. But why is there always somebody with a grudge who’s in it for themselves in such a blatantly evil way?

Putin is a cartoonish villain who’s also deadly dangerous. Why are self-determination and freedom such threats to him?

The current MLB lockout couldn’t concern me less. The travails of players couldn’t concern me less.

Owners are business people, players are whining employees, even as the current minimum salary is $570,500. The players’ griping is always predictable, and always hits a sour note. They’re concerned about being treated well, always wanting what they consider to be their fair share of profits because, after all, they’re the reason people pay ever more exorbitant sums to come to the ballpark and watch grown men play a game.

The trend is always more and upward when it comes to salaries, which seems unsustainable and, somehow, cheapens the product. It’s difficult to conjure up even a bit of sympathy. It’s not a pastime, it’s just a business.

They can stay locked out all summer long. I won’t miss it a bit. My days of being an uncynical fan are long over.

For the first time in two years, I walked maskless through the hardware store the other day. I felt an urge to celebrate, which I did, modestly and imperceptibly, by attempting to walk with a lighter step and a bit of a smile on my face.

And yet… the shadow of false alarms past still looms.

Mask mandates are going away—in churches, in grocery stores, still not in hospitals and doctors’ offices (which maybe should tell us something?). The CDC, it seems, has kowtowed to public opinion and loosened guidelines, but there is this lingering feeling that things could yet again go south.

Speaking of which, I need to go to Gettysburg. I miss the place.

We can read books. Some of us have studied history, relatively recent history, enough to recognize recurring patterns. But apparently we still have a blind spot for tyrants.

We have one now. He has helped himself to inflicting misery on people who have not asked for it, who do not deserve it, and who are the unfortunate fall guys in this tyrant’s real plan—destroying the U.S. and all who prefer democracy to authoritarianism or kleptocracy, or whatever buzz words are currently in vogue.

It’s remarkable how someone can become possessed of such singular animosity and drive. Putin has played the long game, stayed focused and motivated and angry. He must really hate us here in America. He’s counting on us being lazy and soft and having no appetite for a fight. And he may be right, but perhaps not for the reasons he thinks. What can happen when we take the time to read our history is that lessons are learned, an abhorrence of war takes hold. A recognition dawns that war exacts too high a cost to keep thinking of it as a viable option.

Sadly, the hawks on all sides will most likely win the day. This may be where we still are.

But forcing a minority view on the masses will eventually backfire, even if it takes a while and great suffering unfolds in the interim. Putin’s motives are a substantial distance from honorable. He needs to understand that there is a price to be paid for avenging personal grudges and fossilized visions at the expense of senseless chaos and upheaval, and murder.

The poison has taken hold in him. He is too far gone now. Eventually he will be stopped, and the questions become when and how, and who.

In the fog and haze of awaking from sleep, my mind is unfocused, and for a few blissful seconds there are no thoughts of The Thing, the looming thing that elbows its way into my consciousness each morning now. While I awaken to warmth and quiet and lights that work, the people of Ukraine are living in hellish confusion and deprivation, their homes left behind or taken away from them, their families uprooted and facing the prospect of having to navigate life in unfamiliar places, if they’re lucky enough to have been taken in by someone in Poland or elsewhere.

It is always there now, a constant aggravation and ache, and I’m always wondering what will happen next, how far this is going to go, how much things are going to deteriorate, how much of the devious plotting and planning Putin will be able to implement. Such an investment in evil.

People of faith and people who are just at the end of their rope, whether faithful or not, might by now be imploring, “Come, Lord Jesus.” But what are the chances of that happening? We’re always waiting for deliverance. Always fucking waiting.

We can keep praying and hoping, but we best not hold our breath.

Real losses, real tragedy, vicious attacks on civilians and another nuclear power plant. And the world is standing by, watching, claiming unity but afraid to take any next step that looks too aggressive, for fear of what Putin would do next. Sanctions, shmanctions.

All the media attention to Russian efforts getting bogged down, the kindness of Ukrainians toward captured Russian troops, confusion and low morale among invading troops, running low on fuel and food—it’s all in the service of trying to keep world morale up, trying to hint at a glimmer of hope that the Russian effort is destined to stall, that Putin is getting more than he anticipated in the way of resistance.

But the reality is that Russia won’t fail. They’re claiming more territory every day, and in a ruthless, scorched earth manner. Ukraine will be in ruins, Russia will have achieved its objective, I guess, and then we will have to ask, “What next? Moldova?”

Where and how does this end? Are we at the beginning of a long slog, or is there something in the wings that will bring a cease fire? My money is on the former.

The interview with a young woman who had survived some harrowing moments somewhere near Kyiv was heartbreaking and touched on something I and probably many others have been feeling lately. Through her tears, she ended up saying something like “… blue sky, just look up and appreciate the blue sky…” It was riveting. It hit home. The news reporter was probably fighting the instinct to give her a hug.

The cruelty of this, the sheer inhumanity of it. Haven’t we had enough of this?

And another thing… everybody over here seems to be worried about us poor Americans and the price we’re paying at the pump. My word, if sanctions work and we’re cutting off cash flow by reducing demand for gas, then maybe we should consider this a piece of the sacrifice we can make. We need to have skin in this game, too, so if bearing the burden of high fuel costs can be a way to do that, then so be it. It’s truly the least we can do.

Think of all that Putin has stolen from the people—their homes, their livelihoods, their routines. Their loved ones. Irreversible, unrecoverable, ghastly losses of all that is familiar and at one time perhaps taken for granted. The feeling of being uprooted from home and never returning. And the fear, the constant, gut-wrenching fear.

Vladimir Putin is a monster. It would be a remarkable thing if Russian troops came to the same conclusion.