Peacemonger Mom

My son just enlisted in the military. I'm a peace activist. Why couldn't he have rebelled in some other way, like being republican?

Wednesday, May 23, 2007


My husband and I have long been non-religiously inclined, for want of a better term. I have never, ever been comfortable wearing my God beliefs on my sleeve, and not because I don't have them. My grandma was my most important church influence, and she wore gloves to church. White gloves. I'm just sayin'.

But "blessed." What a wonderful term. I was recently told, by a friend who is closer to me than I can comfortably say here, that she felt blessed to have been a part of something with me that was pretty big - and I have been blessed by various people in day to day life in ways that have left me breathless and teary eyed.

Every thing that I do that might even be closely considered to give me "good karma" or a nod from god, or anything else, I have specifically said in my nightly prayers I want to go to TB. I gave some money to a homeless woman? Send that karma to The Boy. I did good with this student, or I helped out an old lady with her groceries, going to her car? That karma belongs to The Boy. Not me. He needs it.

I can't grow a Victory Garden, y'all. And neither can you. Because no one has asked us to.

We aren't being asked to do shit in this war. We aren't being asked to carry a tax burden that would provide a Marine, or a soldier, with a better suit of body armor. We aren't being asked to send a package a month of phone cards, sun screen or body wipes.

Body wipes, people.

We aren't being asked to fart in the general direction of the troops. We are, if we are to follow the lead of the President and Commander in Chief, and, as of today, the spineless democrats, being asked to ignore them.

This is beyond the pale, people. We are going to ask the soldiers to go into harms way, and get their asses shot off, or their eyes, or their arms, legs, whatever, for the paltry sum that the government decides their limbs are worth?

What country am I living in? I thought we cherished, supported and loved our children. The troops are our children, you know - there certainly aren't any old, rich, guys out there fighting for the rights of the Iraqis - not in the way that the young people are being asked to. The ones fighting in Iraq and overseas are mostly all young, southern people, and the party sending them to fight is ostensibly the Party of Life.

Whose life? The life of my son? Apparently he has outlived his importance - he is no longer a fetus, thus, he is not worthy of their concern.

But when it comes time for him to go and fight their wars? Oh yeah - jump into that camo uniform, boy, and hit the beach! We'll sit here in the nice, air conditioned buildings, rooting you on.

But don't expect us to plant you a Victory Garden. We can't be bothered.

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