The things I like about this building — the way the tower reminds me of a Spanish mission, the nice landscaping and flowers in front, the music and dancing that happens inside on a Saturday evening — seem almost insignificant when I consider the reason for its existence. There is a haunting mural on the side depicting soldiers pouring out the door with rifles and bayonets, wading into the ocean. I think of words like courage and sacrifice and the incongruity of peace and killing. I think of a soldier being shot in Ottawa and being held tenderly by strangers as he dies. I realize I don’t know anything.