I'd rather fight some mighty wave with honor in supreme command;
and fill at last a well earned grave, than die in ease upon the sand.

I'd rather drive where sea storms blow, and be the ship that always failed to make the port where it would go, than be the ship that never sailed.

a) What do you think of this way of making a living?
b) Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)

When others began to stare, it changed his mind none, for he had earned the right; he had carried the soldier's gun. With his shaky right hand, he applied it to his chest, stood as straight as he was able, his pride for Nation was above the rest.

He had crawled through the mud, on his belly so cold, to protect Old Glory, while she flew so bold. Each star and each stripe waved forever in his mind, and his wheelchair carried the results, of a long ago land mine. But he mustered the strength, from a place the others would never understand, for he still traveled with the nightmares, of the battles he fought. While the others remained seated, it was he that was in awe.