Junto Boys

I'm leaving this afternoon for Europe. The rates are better this year than any summer I can remember.

I had to make the tough decision on whether or not I would visit France. Knowing that any trip to Europe could very well be my last one; I felt that I should go to Paris regardless of my current feelings toward the French. As a fan of art, I have always wanted to see the Louvre, and the rest of Paris is probably equally exciting. But I wasn't excited. I could feel this funny thing in my stomach and I began dread the whole trip.

My grandfather's brother is buried on the French-German border, a casualty of World War II. He was just a kid who was sent over there to defeat tyranny and oppression. We sent kids to defeat the same thing in Iraq and they too died. Maybe it was asking too much for the French to risk their lives, but they could gotten behind the U.N. resolutions and made a clear path for us. In fact, a unanimous backing of force by the U.N. could have prevented a war, because that unity could have forced Saddam to cooperate with the inspectors. Cooperation could have saved American and British lives.

I couldn't care less about Germany's politics. I am going to spend many a night in a biergarten. I suppose it's because only friends can hurt you. You can become friendly with a former enemy and maybe even form a relationship. But a selfish friend who turns away from you in a crisis doesn't deserve your help anymore. I can’t justify ten cents of my money helping the French economy.

So, I will skip France. I may some day wonder why my feelings were so strong, and I passed up the opportunity. If I ever regret missing the culture and history of a great city, I will have to remind myself that I was in no mood to enjoy it objectively.

I’ll be back with more blog on July 6th. If I find a cyber café, I may present some anecdotes before then.