I have an opinion on the present war, just as you probably have one.
Do you remember Vietnam? Are you old enough to remember? I remember. I was a child. Do you know what I remember? I remember watching a man in uniform spit upon. I remember a lot of angry people shouting. I didn't really understand what was going on. I wasn't really a part of it. I was an outside observer watching with child's eyes. I remember the man wiping the spit off and walking away. I remember being upset because the people were so mean to this man. It wasn't until years later that I understood. The understanding didn't change anything. Angry people were rude because they disagreed with a policy that this one man did not make. He did what he was told. He went where he was told. He was a member of the military. He put his life on the line. He probably had friends that died and had friends that were hurt. He probably had all sorts of health problems as a result. And this is what he came home to. He came home to disrespect. And when I understood this, I felt shame that the people of my country would treat their own youth thusly. I remember.
My grandfather was a pacifist. He grew up during WWI, fought in WWII. He didn't really have much of a choice. My other grandfather also fought in that war, but on the opposite side. There is death and pain on both sides. Opa showed me both sides. War is a sad and angry thing. Many people are affected. Many people are touched. It is not always as cut and dry as it appears. Both sides lose something. The ripples flow out in all directions. My views are shaded by his.
I overheard someone making a comment. "Hey, he signed up for it. If he didn't want to lose his leg, he shouldn't have signed up." I was angry. All I could think was this. He is disconnected from it. He doesn't know anyone involved. If he did, he would not have voiced such a comment. Do you know someone in the middle of this? I do. I fall asleep at night to the sounds of my over active imagination each time he is sent away. Every pause in the day, I taste dust. I can not help it. While he is gone, I hold my breath. And when he returns, I slowly exhale and give thanks. I do not want my son to be spit upon when he comes home from a tour. I don't want him to bear the brunt of anger for following orders handed down from above. I don't want to hear that it was his choice to join the military. Do you know that there are many reasons why our youth choose to serve? Have you ever asked one, why? It is not so black and white. You can be as angry as you want to be. All I ask is that you put your anger where it belongs, not on our young people putting their lives on the line.
Have you lost someone who touched your life? I have. He took me to my senior dance in high school. He was a childhood friend. He didn't think it was right that I shouldn't go, that no one in my school had asked me, so he says to me, "I'll take you" and he did. I remember that act of friendship. His helicopter was shot down over Afghanistan at the start of all this mess. He left behind a wife and two children. He left ripples. I will always remember.
I have an opinion on the present war. My opinion is this. It makes no difference whether I believe it to be right or wrong. It makes no difference what "side" I am on. People are dying on all sides. The fact is our children are there. Our youth. They need to know we'll be here for them. I want my son to know that I love him and that I miss him and that I think about him. I want him to come home safe. And I will always, always support him, regardless of anyone else's opinion.