Parenting advice for those left at home.
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Richard Hanlin is a North Beach landlord and the father of a paratrooper.
Somewhere there must be a parenting book with a section titled: "When Your Child Goes to War." In case one doesn't exist, I'll make a contribution. My credentials: Our son, Max, is an infantry officer with the Stryker Brigade in Mosul, Iraq, FOB (Forward Operating Base) Regular.
It might seem useful in the age of the Internet and cell phones to enjoy daily updates both personal and institutional. Yes and no. When the coalition announces that a soldier has been killed, the name is withheld for a couple of days. Which means that because you know where he is, his unit, the names of his officers and men, you end up hourly searching the Web for a name to go with the bad news.
Your mind jumps from imagined event to imagined event. A homecoming party at Malvina's in North Beach transforms itself into a funeral at Grace Cathedral, where Max went to grade school. When my son telephoned to tell me he'd crossed the Tigris River, I ended the call by reminding him (why, I'll never know) to floss his teeth. Which left me wondering if these would be my last words to him.