I didn't want to write this column.

Once every two weeks I have the privilege of spreading my views across the bottom of this page. I try to write about relevant issues and ideas which I hold dear to my heart. Today, with sadness and regret, I write about the death of my friend Kip.

Ten days ago Kip Poremba, U.S. Marine Corps Reserves, was killed in Kuwait. He was loading supplies into a personnel carrier when a tractor trailer slammed into the vehicle, killing him and three other Marines. Kip was supposed to come home in a few weeks.

Our generation has been fortunate to have lived during a relatively peaceful time. Most of us know people in the military, but we haven't had to deal with our friends and family going off to war since Vietnam. Most Americans who served in Desert Storm will someday come home. When I said goodbye to Kip in January, I thought he would return safe and sound. Kip returned to America this week in a flag-draped coffin.

The odds were in favor of Kip surviving his tour of duty. But, his death has taught me that nothing is certain in war except for the unexpected. I realize that people die in wars, but losing a friend really drives the point home. It's easy to turn on CNN and watch "Stormin' Normin" gleefully pour over his glossy charts of Gulf War statistics. When someone you grew up with is a number on the causualty chart, you really understand the true cost of war.

Although I was never a big fan of our involvement in the Persian Gulf, I realize on a larger level that the war probably was inevitable. On a personal level, whatever benefits the world may have gained from Desert Storm pale in significance to the loss of my friend and everyone else who died in the war.

We may very well be on the way to a "new world order," but too many people on both sides lost their lives in the Gulf War. I would much rather pay $2 per gallon for gas than attend my friend's funeral on Thursday. I want to drink a few beers with Kip and talk about old times, not pay my final respects to him.

Recollections of old times are all I have left of Kip. Maybe someday his name will be chiseled on a monument to our fallen heroes, but the memories of our friendship will forever remain inscribed on my heart and mind.

Our friendship began with our common interest in the military. We both had big plans to attend the U.S. Naval Academy after high school, plans which eventually changed. Soon after high school Kip joined the Marine Reserves. His recruiting sergeant tried to sign up me up, but I was preparing for my freshman year at Penn State.

During breaks from college I would get together with Kip and some other mutual friends. A few years ago we spent a warm summer evening in Old Town, Alexandria, a historic village on the Virginia side of the Potomac River. That night a refreshing breeze blew across the water, a welcome change from the usual unbearably humid Virginia summer nights.

We sat on a dock, our legs dangling towards the water, watching the river currents swirl and shift. Under the stars that night we sipped Coors and talked about the beach, girls and the future. Our biggest worry was how to dispose of our beer cans without getting caught.

My two strongest memories of that night are the pettiness of our concerns and the amount of youthful vitality we possessed. We believed we could do anything and we were sure our lives would turn out just fine. Nothing could stop us. Hell, back then we didn't even know Kuwait existed.

Everything has changed now. When Kip died in Kuwait his dreams, ambitions and his precious life were destroyed. Dying at the age of 21 robbed him of the opportunity to live a complete life. I lost a good friend but Kip has lost everything.

Well, not really everything. Kip has attained the greatest degree of honor by laying down his life for his friends. Americans should recognize his bravery and willingness to protect our interests abroad. Kuwatis cannot repay Kip for the sacrifice he made to help liberate their country.

I'm sure Kip would much rather be alive than an honored dead man. In two days he will be laid to rest among the hills of Arlington National Cemetary, alongside thousands of other brave Americans. Although Arlington is quickly running out of burial space, our country continues to sacrifice many for the cause of freedom.

Kip and I went ice skating a few days before he shipped out to the Middle East. I figured he would find wintertime recreation at a premium in Saudi Arabia. While we were skating Kip joked that he was going to Saudi Arabia to get a suntan and play in the sand.

Kip really loved sand. He spent a lot of his free time surfing and roaming the beaches of Virginia and North Carolina. He welcomed the feeling of sand in his shoes. Kip died with the desert sand of Kuwait in his boots.

For Kip's family, friends and loved ones, only the sands of time can ease our loss. The pain will eventually diminish, but it will never go away completly.

Rest in peace my friend. I'll sure miss you.