Freedom

I stay out of political discussions regarding this war. I have many emotions and feelings regarding what we're doing in Iraq, and they have been magnified greatly over the past seven months based on my family's very personal connection to one serving there. Tonight, I had the experience of describing to my daughter why her class observed a moment of silence...why the flags were flown today at half-staff...and when she asked me why some people would be so awful to do what they did to people who didn't do anything to them, I didn't have an answer. But then, my sweet girl responded:

"That's what my daddy's over in Iraq for isn't it? He's trying to protect people who don't have anyone to protect them from the bad people." Before I had a chance to answer, she said, "I hope my daddy know how good he is and how much I'm sure those people and kids in Iraq need him and his friends. I hope they get their freedom soon".

And isn't that what it's all about? I know there are lots of people in this country who oppose what's going on regarding our involvement in the Middle East, but I wish people could understand that when they fail to support the sailors' and soldiers' missions that they are actually failing to support the troops. You can't have it both ways.

In 1964, my daddy returned from two years in the Army in Germany. His tour had ended and he left Munich two weeks before his batallion reported to Vietnam. He landed at JFK Airport (back in the day when you actually walked from the plane across the tarmac to the terminal) and walking in his uniform, thrilled to be back on American soil, he felt something hit him. And then something else. And then something else. It was rotten tomatoes. And rotten potatoes. And corn cobs. And rotten melons. He walked through it, all of it pelting him, protestors spitting at him, calling him a murderer, a liar, and a coward. He said nothing. He held his head high and walked through it. He's only told me about it once, and not since then, but I know it damaged him. How could it not? How could that not scar someone?

I wish people who are not in the position of the military family could walk a mile in our shoes. I wish protestors could experience not holding their babies, their little children for 6,7,9, 12,15 months...or more. I wish they could live the life we live, not because I don't think they shouldn't protest, but perhaps they would change their tone. Perhaps they would know the pain we feel, perhaps they would understand the sacrifice we make...but I support them. My husband supports them, because he fights for them. His guys fight for them, and our family sacrifices for them. I just hope they can truly appreciate it, and appreciate the freedom they have to do so.

I'll never forget the searing fear and pain I felt on this day seven years ago. I remember so clearly the attitude of Americans was to get the bastards at any cost. But when that doesn't happen as quickly or as swiftly as we all would like, we bail.

Anyway...we need your support. The servicemen and women need your support--in every form. The families need your love and your help. After all, we're just doing our jobs.