I’m just here relaxing in West Virginia — I figured out the grill — and had a phone interview, which I totally didn’t expect. I’ve got (two) in-face interviews on Tuesday next week. I’m looking forward to it!

(I’m on my third Cider of the day, I wasn’t expecting to have a phone interview…).

I’ve been fortunate enough to come across a few episodes of Ken Burns’ PBS WWII documentary - “The War”, from the points of view of the populations of four towns which sent their young to fight and, often, to die. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a WWII documentary quite like this one — not just in terms of length (eight hundred + minutes) — but just in terms of sheer emotional impact.

There was an episode the other night. A guy from Connecticut was out in Italy - Anzio, actually. He kept telling his family, in the letters he sent home, that “everything was fine.” There was no danger. He was having a great time. In reality, he was being shot at, bombed, and eventually was killed during the breakout from Anzio. Sixty years later, his younger brother and sister are sitting against the black drop talking to the camera, “He said everything was fine. So why’s he dead?” and you could see that no matter how many years had passed, how old and wise they got, they still remembered that their older brother, whom they’d trusted, had told them he was fine and would be coming home and he’d lied to them and he was long since dead and gone and they still felt cheated: by life, by the war, by their brother. Even though they’d no doubt accepted that he was lying to them in an effort to protect them, they still felt that pain. I couldn’t help but cry.

If you missed it, The War has a very quick DVD release: it comes out tomorrow. I’ll be adding it to my Netflix queue once Netflix gets its head out of its ass and lists it.