My country tis of thee

When my son RJ was 3 he used to say he wanted to be in the Ash-nal Gar. After I figured out that he was saying National Guard I was quited proud of him. We had good talks about what he wanted to be when he grew up and army was at the top of his list. I know most little boys have some fascination with military in general and I suppose it has something to do with the equipment, machine guns and tanks, but he was persistent in his 3 year old dream and I thought it was a good one.

His dad did not. Early in our marriage he spent about 6 years in the U.S. Air Force. He did not like it. His parents didn't like it either. He joined because we got married young and didn't have much in the way of education or experience to support our quickly growing family. It was the late 1980's and the Cold War was over. Our country seemed secure on the world front. We felt safe as a nation. Uncle Sam had captivating commercials on television encouraging young men to "Be all that you can be." It looked like a good life, fun even. Plus, we wanted to travel and the military looked like the ticket to anywhere. So he joined and we got sent to South Dakota (which I had to look up on the map because who ever talks about South Dakota?). But that's another story.

Rocky did his time in the military but he never liked it. It was an adventure at first but he quickly bored with his work, he was a bomb loader, and tired of the constant rules. He longed to be free, to grow his hair and wear what he wanted and call in sick if he needed to. He couldn't wait to get out.

Then Desert Storm hit. We were so shocked that our country was going to war. It seemed surreal, impossible. But it was real. People all around us were sent over seas. We crossed our fingers and thanked God that Rocky was a bomb loader. Loaders generally stay out of combat zones. They don't have to be on the front lines. I was so grateful that such a random designation a few years ago could very likely have saved his life. Or at least save us a lot of fear and worry. We knew quite a few people who had to go and even my brother-in-law was sent to Germany with the National Guard. We realized how naive and comfortable we had been before Desert Storm, that anything could happen in this tumultuous world and put our family at risk.

Desert Storm passed with no great threat to our family, but Rocky had decided he was definitely leaving the military at the first chance he got. I was torn over this, we had a good life. A nice house, mini-van, medical coverage, friends. It was a life that had taken years to build and I wasn't ready to give it up. Rocky's parents agreed with him, they wanted him out as soon as possible. It was a hard time in our marriage and probably the beginning of the end, but that's another story too.

By the time RJ was playing army and dreaming of being a soldier Rocky and I were divorced and he had left the Air Force. But I had left the military world unscathed and had fond memories of our years with my husband in uniform. The military was honorable, exciting and promising. I had seen young people come in with nothing but a high school education and leave with training, experience and money for college. I had seen men and women that had been in for years who had built a career, family and made a very good living. They retired at 40 with all those things and still were young enough to go out and make an even better life. They had seen the world. Some had seen the war. I saw nothing wrong with that and if my son wanted to join the armed forces I backed him 100 percent. I even envisioned him graduating from OCS or coming home handsome in his uniform, young and strong, his future secure.

This morning, on front page of the Anchorage Daily News, was a picture of a little girl kissing a monument with her daddy's name on it. Her daddy that is never coming home. I read the name of her and her father. I thought for a minute that he was from my hometown. I nearly cried. After a little research I found that he was not who I thought he was and I don't know him.. But I thought it was the third young person from our town to be lost to this terrible war. I come from a very small town. We've lost two young men and it has shaken up their friends and families. It has shaken me up.

Thousands have died in this war. Every time I see another front page news story with pictures of promising young men and women in uniform pronounced dead I feel sick. I have children, I see them in those pictures. I imagine their mothers, husbands, wives, fathers. I am infuriated. I ask the question, why? Why are we sending our young people to die? I don't understand! I watch the press releases with President Bush talking about national security and terrorism. I look for some sign of accountability on his face. I see none. I see a half smirk. His answers are generic, not thoughtful or conclusive. Congress seems only half interested in this disaster. I am sickened because I know loss. I understand the pain of the soul of someone you love being taken from this earth. I know how it feels to miss them. To celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, milestones and wish they could be there to be a part of it.

I believe in patriotism. My father was an army man. He was proud to have served his country. We knew this about him and when he died we buried him at Ft. Richardson. They played taps and handed the folded flag to my mom, saluted her, fired the rifles. I'll never, ever forget how it felt to hear that mournful song. To have to get up and walk away and see his casket there, waiting to be put in his final resting place. The feeling that I was leaving him. I wanted to go back and tell him to GET UP, DON'T BE DEAD, COME HOME WITH US. MY husband had to pull me to the car and I felt like I failed my dad somehow. It was the most empty I have ever felt in my life, the finality of him really being gone, never coming back. Never coming home.

I feel that over and over again when I see those kids on the front page. I wonder if President Bush knows that feeling. His daughter just got married. It was a million dollar wedding. She lives a charmed life. She won't go to Iraq. He won't hear the gun salute and watch them put her in the ground. He'll most likely see grandkids be born, watch them grow.

I love my country. I hate what we are doing. I want answers for all the dead, the wounded. Real answers. I want our President to look me in the eye and tell me once and for all WHY we are engaged in this war. Not broad generalizations about security and blah blah. Real down to earth answers that make sense of this. What is worth sending people to their early graves? What?

RJ, a teenager now, no longer talks of joining the National Guard. I'm glad. I'm very glad.