I saw this picture a couple weeks ago, and it has been haunting me ever since. It has been quite some time since I’ve had such a visceral reaction to a photograph, and i had hoped that time would calm me down. It hasn’t helped, and I’m afraid that this note will be so much uncontrolled, stream-of-consciousness rambling as to be nigh unreadable.
I’m sitting on the floor with you while I’m typing this. You’re sort of rolling and squirming around in your nearly-crawling way, and I’m thinking about this father in the picture, watching his daughter do the same thing just a couple years ago. I’m thinking of all the memories of you that I have already, and imagining three more years of them flooding back to this man as his daughter holds his hand in her tiny fist. I’m taking this picture as hard as every father should, thinking about what it would be like if I was standing in a row, waiting to depart for a dangerous country, and wondering if this was going to be the last time that I would ever hold you.
And I’m getting angry.
Angry that this man is being sent away from his family to one of the most dangerous places on earth. Angry that countless civilians have died. Angry that soldiers that I see on leave are acting like it is their last night on earth — because it might be. Angry that our soldiers are coming back broken, both physically and mentally, to a system that has no more resources to help them. Angry that they’re the lucky ones.
I’m angry that this “war” in Iraq has gone on for years with no true sign of ending. Angry that another one (in Afghanistan) is gearing up to be even more bloody. Angry that every member of Congress that voted for this war, every talking head and every citizen that supported it didn’t send their children or their family over in the first wave. Angry that the news isn’t legally required to begin each broadcast with “here’s the death toll from Iraq the wars” just so that we don’t forget, while we eat our warm food and drink our lattes. Angry that the civilians died because they had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and angry that our soldiers have died for NOTHING. They’re not defending us or our “way of life” (which at times is hardly worth defending anyway). They’re over there to “complete the mission,” though no one seems to know what that is anymore.
I am glad that we have soldiers. Several members of our family have given themselves in service to our country. Defense is a notable, noble thing. Offense, however . . . well, I’m trying to think of the last time a country was well-regarded in this world for taking the offensive against another sovereign nation. Were we attacked? Yes. Over eight years ago, by no one from Iraq, and an equal number of our soldiers have died since then. And civilians? Maybe 100 times over.
I’m angriest about the fact that Christians in this country aren’t angry. I’m angry that I sat in church with 800 other people and listened to a preacher talk about “blessing the soldiers as they went out on patrol” like they were some kind of sacred, holy Crusade, with not a word about blessing the Iraqi people or keeping them safe. I’m angry that that preacher wasn’t booed off the stage. I’m angry that my shirt which reads “God Bless America Everyone” gets so much attention, when it should instead get agreement. I’m angry that instead of reading the Bible and truly believing in the Words of Jesus, many have chosen to align themselves with a particular, secular political party that seems to have done nothing Godly in 20 years, and unquestionably followed the road that they’ve been told to follow. I would theorize that if you removed political affiliation from the equation, there is no Biblical way to defend this aggression. There is no way that an honest answer to the question “What Would Jesus Do?” would be “invade Iraq and Afghanistan and waste the lives of soldiers and civilians.” ***
Amos, Daddy might be out in left field right now, but it’s because I’m worried about you. I don’t know what kind of world you’re going to grow up into, and the way things are going, I’m afraid that you’ll be drafted to fight in some worthless conflict in 18 years. It’s entirely possible that this war has prevented a worse one. I don’t believe that, but it’s possible that my hippie anger is misguided, to say the least. But, no matter what, I hope that I can raise you to believe more strongly in the notion of “peacemongering,” that “turning the other cheek” isn’t just a trite saying, and that most importantly, you let the words of Jesus help you think for yourself.
Except about the OSU Buckeyes. They are the enemy.
Love, Daddy
*** This is the second time that I’ve said that, essentially, the lives of Americans who have died have been wasted. I believe that, especially since there has been no clear definition of why and with whom we are still “at war.” Perhaps there was an argument to be made that we “get” Saddam. Perhaps. But, even still . . . we got him. Why did any soldier die after that? I support the troops, and by that, I mean “I hope that every single last one of them returns home to their families healthy both mentally and physically.” And, since I’m throwing stones in a way that will already get me loads of hate, let me continue. Anyone who says “they support the troops” and doesn’t feel incredible anger at the fact that there are now mercenaries over there that are paid by the US government, and they are better compensated, better armed, and better protected than our own troops. (anyone remember the Hessians?)
