When I was 10, I went with my grandmother to visit my great aunt in Silver Springs, Maryland. Her husband, my Uncle Joe, was a Marine who served during World War II and had seen some of the toughest fighting in the Pacific.

He took us the visit the Marine Monument, of course, and we also visited Arlington National Cemetery. Even or especially at that age I understood it was a sacred place, a feeling that only intensified when we visited the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier: a fallen soldier, so the inscription read, “known only to God.”

I needn’t say more. You can make up your own mind what you think about Donald Trump hijacking a wreath-laying ceremony at Arlington as a campaign event, and of the thumbs up and foolish grin he flashed when the cameras were on him at the end of the ceremony.

Peter Scotto

South Hadley