If you haven't been to Syracuse to see the traveling Vietnam Memorial War, do it.

And do it now because it will only be around until this afternoon. A parade is planned for 10 a.m. and a memorial service is planned for 12:30 p.m.

There will be speakers, color guards, a 21-gun salute and a flyover, among other things.

It's just off Ind. 13 on the south side of Syracuse behind the big limestone church.

Just look for the crowd.

The wall is impressive.

I must admit I underwent a bit of a paradigm shift when I saw the wall.

I went to Syracuse Wednesday afternoon for the official opening and ribbon-cutting ceremony.

I figured, I'd be there for a few minutes to get a photo and be on my way.

I ended up staying for a while.

I looked at the wall. I touched it. I ran my index finger over several of the names that are inscribed on it.

I was awestruck by the sheer size of it. It's more than 400 feet long. Each name is only a couple inches long and a half-inch high.

I always knew that more than 58,000 Americans lost their lives in Vietnam, but seeing the wall really drove that home.

The wall quantifies the human tragedy.

So many names. Name after name after name after name. Common names. Unusual names. Ethnic names. Strange names.

Most of the dead were teenagers. My son turns 18 this month. I thought about him.

I thought about the thousands of young men whose names are on the wall. I wondered what the world missed by losing them.

How many would have gone on to become great men? How many would have made significant great contributions to society? How many would have had families? How many would have loved and been loved?

The answer is obvious.

It's all of them.

I overheard Vietnam veterans talking about this battle or that battle, this valley or that valley, this buddy or that buddy who did or didn't make it home.

I know why they call it the moving wall. Ostensibly, because they move it from town to town. But the more important movement - the real movement - is in the soul of the viewer.

The wall moves you.

You can't look at those thousands and thousands of names without reflection and introspection.

I was just 17 when the war ended. Too young to be drafted. Lucky me.

When I saw Vietnam veterans poring over the wall looking for the names of their fallen buddies, I felt almost ashamed that they had to give so much and I didn't.

Then I felt embarrassed about the way some Vietnam veterans were treated by their own countrymen when they returned home.

I mentioned the latter sentiment to one of the veterans I spoke to. He was from Syracuse.

"It wasn't so bad in the small towns," he said. "That was mostly big city stuff."

I was glad to hear that.

The wall makes you think about the brutality of war. It illustrates the cost in human terms.

And - especially as it relates to Vietnam - it makes you wonder why.

Why was it necessary for those young men to die? Could it have been avoided? Did the politicians running the government at the time do all in their power to minimize the loss?

Those questions have been rattling around in the minds of Vietnam veterans for decades.

They are questions that can never be adequately answered.

But maybe, in some small way, the wall can help heal the emotional wounds that some veterans suffer.

Go see the wall.

Take your children. Explain to them why all those names are on the wall. Explain to them who those people were. Don't let them forget the loathsome consequences of war.

There is an inscription above the center panel. It says, "The price of freedom is written on the wall."

In Vietnam, 58,229 people paid the ultimate price - made the ultimate sacrifice for their country.

It is because of this that their names are inscribed on the wall.

To visit the wall is to remember and honor them and all other veterans, living or dead, who gave so much for this country.

To visit the wall is to examine your own sense of patriotism and honor.

Go see the wall. [[In-content Ad]]