Picked up the Sunday S.F. Chronicle and nowhere in the two-page spread was my photo ... .

This is as it should be, I guess. When the photographer called on Friday afternoon to tell me that the editor wanted to use my photo (and it was then that I reminded him to have the editor look at the blog entry of 3/15/2007), it was all over. The decision to use other subjects was made and I (probably rightly) ended up on the cutting room floor.

It feels right. I would have felt hypocritical at best, and compromised at worst.

I really must watch the complete Ken Burns series when it airs next week, so that I can begin to put away some of the long-held anger, finally, lest it move through me to the next generation. There is surely too much of that already in the world. My children and grandchildren will need to process the wars of their generation, and come to terms with their roles in it, or lack thereof.

There's still work to do. This afternoon I'll attend the meeting of black leaders who are coming together to discuss the issue of illegal immigration.

And I'm still not sure of my position. I have a lot of listening to do -- this one will haunt me in days to come; I'm certain of it.