【正文】
the page next to his articles each morning. And all three are probably the only kids at their schools who can find Iraq on a map. Now that war has interrupted the flow of our , my only contact with my husband is via his articles in the Boston Herald9, a newspaper he has served for a decade. In an odd way, those articles written for thousands provide a more intimate connection to my husband than the s he wrote to me. I think it39。s because, from a distance, it39。s somehow easier for him to reveal himself to strangers than to the woman who aches for him. In the end, when friends ask, Is it worth it? I can answer yes. He, like other reporters from other countries, is presenting us with the truth. Each time we turn on our radios, click on our televisions, flip open our newspapers, we overlook the risks reporters take to bring us the news. We fet that a camera and tape recorder do not defend against bullets and land mines10. Perhaps it never occurred to us, as we watched how the battle was going on, that someone stayed behind to film it. It has often been said that journalists write the first drafts of history. In one of our last correspondences, I told him about my friends39。 ments. He responded with his usual eloquence11, I39。m not here to fight the war, just to report on the fighting. So when my friends ask, I tell them it wasn39。t a matter of letting him go or making him stay. My husband just does what his career asks him to do.