The government's prohibition against photographing flag-draped coffins of the Iraq War dead bothers me greatly, both as a journalist and as a veteran.

Beyond being blatant government censorship for political reasons, the prohibition is itself naked pro-war propaganda, regardless of how the Pentagon or the present administration wants to clothe it. The only reason for the censorship is to prevent such images from generating emotional responses that may lead us to question the cost of this war. Anti-war sentiments be damned; men and women who die in service to their country deserve more honor and recognition than to have their sacrifices hidden away in fear they might cause Americans to ask politicians if this war is worth it.

Trying to make ‘real world’ sense of the Iraq war experience

Susie has three apples costing six cents each. Johnnie has two oranges costing ten cents. What is the total cost for their purchase of both apples and oranges?

“Mommy, can you check my answers to see if they’re right?” Matthew asked.

Simple third grade word problems designed to practice multiplication and addition in real world scenarios seemed challenging for me tonight. I did OK in school, but math was never a favorite subject of mine. Thankfully, most problems usually made sense, at least conceptually. I could understand and appreciate the reason for the exercises because there was a real-world connection. There were always a few word problems, however, that seemed incomprehensible and unsolvable using the information given. It always seemed like there was a key piece of information missing. You know the ones: “If a train leaves Chicago at 7:14am traveling at 58 miles per hour...”

A CH-46 helicopter lands near a field hospital and mortuary unit at an American base in Iraq. RIH photo/Sherri Snively

I was pleased that my eight-year-old son zipped through the page of simple word problems with ease, and I recalled my own childhood word problem homework. I got lost in my own thoughts, remembering word problems from years ago and then musing on recent ones. Matthew shook my shoulder and with just a little whine of urgency said, “Mommmeee, check my work.”

The candles flickered a warm, inviting glow in the dusk gathering around the makeshift memorial shrine: the boots, the American flag, the small sign with the body count. I looked but turned away. I couldn’t go there. Not right then. I was tired. I was hungry. Maybe later.