Uncle Bubbie eases back in his in porch chair to the chirping of song birds and the first rays of the morning sun warming his face. It’s a good day to be alive in America. Breathing deep, clean air fills his lungs a feeling of melancholy filters out the new sun. This wondrous feeling is a feeling that Casey Sheehan will never feel. He lost is life in the hot hell hole of Iraq. Bubbie thinks fondly of his own son.
Casey's mother, Cindy, is now being chastised for her grieving. How heartless these Bushians can be. The stupidity of it all leaves me speechless…
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