This shot really took off on Flickr, making Explore at #206, my all-time best Explore ranking. I have the painter’s light and poet’s sky of northern New Mexico to thank for this shot, taken roadside on the way back from a super weekend filled with music and friends in Red River.

Josh Weathers and the True Endeavors opened the show and set the bar HIGH. What a great, high-energy band, and Weathers’ voice is incredible.

Paul Thorn and his band rose to the challenge and delivered a blistering set made all the more perfect by the Kessler Theater’s superb sound system. All together it was a fabulous night of live music no one who attended will soon forget.

Ribs and brisket from Lockhart Smokehouse in the Bishop Arts District, Oak Cliff (Dallas).

Cheese and onion enchilada dinner from Nueva Casita (formerly known as Casita Dominguez) in Dallas.

The Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge is one of three Santiago Calatrava-designed bridges being built over the Trinity River in Dallas, Texas (USA) as part of the Trinity River Project.

Construction on the bridge began in spring 2007 with the steel being manufactured in an Italian steel factory often used by Calatrava to manufacture his designs. The factory made the steel for his Athens stadium. Upon completion, it will connect Spur 366 (Woodall Rodgers Freeway) in downtown to Singleton Boulevard in west Dallas. The cable-stayed bridge is to cost $93 million, its total length will be 1,870 feet (570 m) with a main-span of 1,197 feet (365 m), and an apex-height of 400 feet (122 m).

On Saturday, June 26, 2010, the signature, 40-story center-support-arch was topped-off with a central curved span, providing an additional feature to the Dallas skyline, as it can now be seen from many miles away from several directions.

The bridge was officially lit in a special ceremony conducted by the City of Dallas and Mayor Mike Rawlings.

I walk a crooked road to get where I am going
To get where I am going I must walk a crooked road
And only when I’m looking back I see the straight and narrow
I see the straight and narrow when I walk a crooked road

I sing a lonesome song to anyone who’ll listen
To anyone who’ll listen I will sing my lonesome song
And when I hear you singing too, the sorrow sounds hopeful
the sorrow sounds so hopeful, when I sing my lonesome song

And a lonesome song will be my true companion
When all else has abandoned for singing of their own
And a lonesome song will fill my days with gladness
Make joy out of sadness when I sing my lonesome song to you

I love with all my heart, there is no way of stopping
I have no way of stopping I just love with all my heart
Through the broken and the beautiful, the bad news and the good news
The bad news and the good news is I love with all my heart

And a loving heart will be my true companion
When all else has abandoned for loving of their own
And a loving heart will fill my days with gladness
Make joy out of sadness when I bring this loving heart, to you

I long to be a happy man, in this life that I am given
In this life that I am given I long to be a happy man
And when the noise turns to stillness, I see I have the makings
I see I have the makings to be one happy man

And a happy man will be my true companion
When all else has abandoned for happy of their own
And a happy man will fill my days with gladness
Make joy out of sadness when I show this happy man

And a happy man will be my true companion
When all else has abandoned for happy of their own
And a happy man will fill my days with gladness
Make joy out of sadness when I show this happy man, to you

I walk a crooked road to get where I am going
To get where I am going I must walk a crooked road
And only when I’m looking back I see the straight and narrow
I see the straight and narrow when I walk a crooked road

Jeff Hensley: Was the Iraq war worth it?

Published: 30 December 2011 08:06 PM

Related

• As Iraq War ends, no parade for troops is imminent
• Tod Robberson: Iraqi factions seem hellbent on going to war
• Editorial: Iraq takes full ownership of its problems
• Last U.S. troops leave Iraq, ending war

“Was it worth it?” I was asked that question by an acquaintance the other day. Like that of most Americans, his attention has long been diverted toward more pressing issues — the economy, his job, his golf game. But the news stories surrounding the American withdrawal from Iraq reminded him that we have indeed been at war there for quite a while.

The problem is there are no easy answers. And it’s hard for me to separate my personal experience from the larger questions of America’s involvement there. My life has been inextricably tied to the fate of Iraq in ways both profound and subtle for a long time.

Twenty years ago, I was a young ensign when we first went to war with Saddam Hussein. I can’t remember if I had heard of Iraq before Desert Shield. But for the next 20 years, it became the focus of my military career. Early on, I flew combat sorties in support of the no-fly zone. Later, I helped train a generation of fighter pilots in aerial tactics dedicated to the same mission. After the 2003 invasion, I volunteered to return again — this time on the ground.

For one hellish year, I worked as a civil affairs officer in Baghdad. We desperately tried to rebuild a shattered country in the face of a brutal insurgency. I alternated between feelings of anger, frustration and fear: anger at the Iraqis, the insurgents, even my own civilian leadership; frustration over the lack of progress; fear that each time I went outside the wire my number might come up. It was the longest year of my life. When it was finally over, my enthusiasm for the military was gone. I returned to the States and quietly retired. I didn’t want a ceremony. I didn’t want a plaque. I just wanted out.

It has been almost five years since I last heard the sound of shots fired in anger or felt the pressure wave of an exploding mortar. Five years since I last saluted friends headed home in a box. Five years since I last asked myself that haunting question — was it worth it? The answer is as elusive for me now as it was back then.

From the very beginning of Operation Iraqi Freedom, I disagreed with the decision to go in. But that was a decision for policymakers, not those of us in uniform. So I soldiered on and left the debate to politicians. Still, on a personal level, I struggled with the morality of our cause.

For six months of training and 12 months with boots on the ground, I poured my heart into the mission. It took a heavy toll on my personal life. From half a world away, I watched helplessly as my marriage fell apart. For the most part, my kids forgot who I was. The constant stress of combat eventually sapped what joy I had and left me in a dark place. Of course, my personal losses pale when I think of what this war cost others.

Soon after we arrived in the country, my close friend was ripped apart by an explosively formed penetrator, or EFP. He had been on his way back to the forward operating base after completing a civil affairs mission in Abu Ghraib. He was a good man and didn’t deserve to die that way. Neither did the four other soldiers who were killed alongside him.

When I think of his death, my heart fills with rage. I feel hatred for the faceless enemy who detonated the device, hatred for the men who sent us there, hatred for the God who let it happen. In that instant, I am positive this war wasn’t worth it. No way.

But after a few moments, my anger subsides, and I remember that my friend died in service to the country he loved. I take comfort in my belief that the decision to send us wasn’t capricious or ill-considered. It may have been the wrong call, but it was made with noble intent. Finally, I remind myself that bad things sometimes happen to good people, but life isn’t defined by these events. This is apparent when I recall the lifelong bond I share with my brothers-in-arms — a bond forged during that terrible year. It is a bond of love, respect and the fiercest kind of loyalty. Even if we never meet again, I will always consider them my closest friends. Was it worth it? When I think of the love I have for these brave souls, I think maybe it was.

I realize my story is not unique. It is one of millions, each belonging to another Iraq veteran and each filled with its own special sorrow. No one comes through war unscathed. I imagine most of us are deeply moved by the poignancy of our withdrawal after so many years. I also suspect many of us privately question whether the war in Iraq was worth the costs. Maybe historians will tell us one day.

For now, it is what it is. I’m proud of our service, and I honor the sacrifices made by my fellow warriors. Was it worth it? I still don’t know. I’m not even sure I care anymore.

I’ve made my peace with it. Now it’s time to move on.

Jeff Hensley, who spent 20 years on active duty and as a selected reservist, lives in Frisco and is a spokesman for Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America. He will graduate with a master’s in counseling next year and plans to work with veterans. His email address is

nickel1963@yahoo.com.

Traveling Man, 2nd place in Flickr group DFW’s Pic of the Week

Wide Open Spaces, 3rd place in the Flickr group Nature Rules December contest

Austin Skyline, 2nd place in Flickr group Planet Earth Our Home’s December contest for “Architecture Reflections on Water” contest

Brooklyn Bridge, New York City, 2nd place in Flickr group Planet Earth Our Home’s December contest for “Bridges over Water”

Bruce Robison and Kelly Willis’s Christmas show once again did the trick for me, catapulting me into full-on Christmas-spirit gear. This year’s show was at the Kessler Theater, where my companion Lisa and I were privileged to be able to spend a few minutes visiting with Bruce and Kelly backstage after the show.