At left is an unfinished landscape study I started this weekend. It's from a photo I took in Devils Den at Gettysburg National Historic Park. Devils Den is a spooky place. To me, those large rock or boulder formations speak as crude monuments to those who struggled there and as head stones to those who fell there.

There's some irony in my choosing to paint this particular subject this weekend. Yesterday I found out that one of my college roommates had passed away. Rick was also a rugby teammate and a good friend who left me with many great stories (some to be told and some not). He was only 43 years old. I know that his wife and young children will never completely get over it.

I can't help but recall other unfinished lives that have touched me; schoolmates, dear friends and even my mother. The grim attrition of life does not allow for all of us to attain a ripe old age and to accomplish all that we hoped. As we grow older, sometimes we can't help but look at each other and wonder, "Who's next?" Eventually the rhythm of daily life resumes and we forget about the question, until the next is struck down. Then we cope as best we can.

So too do I think of those soldiers who stood in ranks and wondered, "Who's next?" How did they cope when life's grim attrition gets compressed into 3 or 4 years of war and you lose friends in the span of minutes, not years? For the student of history, you will inevitably stumble across war in your studies. I think it will mean more to you if you can keep this simple theme in mind when you do.

Here's another bit of advice for you. Quite a few years ago, when another friend succumbed to the very same illness, I made a pledge. Simply put: Never pass on the opportunity to see an old friend. It's so easy to say, "I just don't have the time." Try not to, because you probably do have the time.

Rick, you were one fun, crazy, tough SOB and, at times, a royal pain in my ass. I'm really going to miss you.