When I was a boy, I was given plastic army men. I arranged them in the sandbox behind our house, and I killed them. I voiced their commands and made the sounds of their suffering. I imagined their war — and I controlled it. But I lost those magical powers as a Marine in Iraq.
It was my good fortune to have Benjamin Busch as a visiting writer to Dog Ears Books in 2010. Those who missed him this past summer will catch up with him, I'm sure, as this talented essayist makes his mark.