Mar. 02, 2004 ~ Throwing things
It happened again. It was probably inevitable. Just couldn't resist turning on the TV and listening to one of the early morning shows. Do you do that? Listen to the TV from another room? Anyway, the words "breaking news from Iraq" caught my attention, like it or not, and I had to watch. I missed the actual story, but one image stays with me. The citizens were angry at Americans for, quote, "not doing more to protect them." People were throwing things at a soldier atop a military vehicle. He was turning to and fro, dodging the objects, gun raised. I have such mixed feelings about the whole situation in Iraq and our presence there, but that particular image made me angry. And disgusted. You don't want to know what I was actually thinking, but the word "ingrate" is one of the few I would actually write here. The man on that vehicle was an anonymous soldier.
Well.
Months ago, a picture of Soldier Boy and two of his fellow paratroopers made the cover of a military publication. That publication existed in both a printed and online format, and I had actually seen the online version and not recognized my own son. I do remember thinking that the handsome young man resembled my child, though. The thing is, he was mostly covered up by uniform and gear. A helmet, complete with chin strap, and military-issue glasses obscured most of his facial features. Still, I felt guilty about not knowing him right away. Until, that is, he and I were looking at some pictures from his time in Afghanistan, and he had a hard time recognizing himself in those photos. He said, "We all look alike when we're in uniform." And it's true, they do. If their faces are visible, it's easier to tell them apart. But when they are dressed for combat, distinguishing one from another is a real challenge.
What this means now is that whenever I see a soldier on TV, any soldier, those maternal feelings kick in and I feel like a mama lion. Yes, I know they are grown men and women and that they are strong, well-trained, and are quite able to protect and defend themselves. But as far as I'm concerned, in my heart and my gut, that anonymous soldier on TV is my baby. Unless it's a close-up, and it usually isn't, I usually can't tell them apart. So they are ALL my babies, every one of them. And when I saw that image on TV this morning, of those irate citizens throwing things at that soldier, adrenaline flowed. Most of you are parents, or you have beloved nieces and nephews, or other people you love. How would you feel if you saw an angry mob throwing things at your loved one?
I am trying not to hate them, the people who do this. Trying to remember that we see just glimpses of events, and these events are newsworthy because they are shocking or harsh or violent. Words learned years ago come to mind...
"Don't hate the black;
Don't hate the white.
If you get bit
just hate the bite."
I am trying to remember that. Hate the bite. Just hate the bite.
There's really nothing I can do to protect or defend our soldiers.
But some days, I swear... this mama lion would dearly love
to bite back.
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