My Heart on the Line
Dec 5, 2015 00:21:13 #
Frank Schaeffer of the Washington Post
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was
defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict
in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our
military who has been killed, I read his or her name very carefully.
Sometimes I cry.
In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress
blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was
headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight
backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher
education-worshiping North Shore of Boston. I write novels for a living. I
have never served in the military.
It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown
and New York University. John's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply
unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So
where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell
me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private
high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.
"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" asked one perplexed mother
while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste,
he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at
a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and
suggested that the school should "carefully evaluate what went wrong."
When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island,
3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our
Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many
economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of
pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford
the trip.
We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic,
Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the
scars of battle, or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names.
We were Southern whites from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black
kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock
forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for
the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private
school a half-year before.
After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I
had ever seen you on my block I would've probably killed you just because
you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John's
good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would
die for me now, just like I'd die for him."
My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish
and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local
diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They
are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me
how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.
Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so
surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the
most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the
immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go
to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to
volunteer for military service once that war was done?
Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the
world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else
defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters
of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in
harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?
I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make
me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is
part of a future "greatest generation. "As the storm clouds of war gather,
at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My
son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. He is my heart.
=
Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was
defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming conflict
in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our
military who has been killed, I read his or her name very carefully.
Sometimes I cry.
In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress
blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was
headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with straight
backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the Volvo-driving, higher
education-worshiping North Shore of Boston. I write novels for a living. I
have never served in the military.
It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to Georgetown
and New York University. John's enlisting was unexpected, so deeply
unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the question, "So
where is John going to college?" from the parents who were itching to tell
me all about how their son or daughter was going to Harvard. At the private
high school John attended, no other students were going into the military.
"But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" asked one perplexed mother
while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. "What a waste,
he was such a good student," said another parent. One parent (a professor at
a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a school meeting and
suggested that the school should "carefully evaluate what went wrong."
When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island,
3000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents and our
Marines not only were of many races but also were representative of many
economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived crammed in the backs of
pickups, others by bus. John told me that a lot of parents could not afford
the trip.
We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic,
Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing the
scars of battle, or at least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names.
We were Southern whites from Nashville and skinheads from New Jersey, black
kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock
forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We would not have been mistaken for
the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on the lawns of John's private
school a half-year before.
After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I was a Marine, if I
had ever seen you on my block I would've probably killed you just because
you were standing there." This was a serious statement from one of John's
good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, as John said, "would
die for me now, just like I'd die for him."
My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish
and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our local
diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the Corps. They
are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who fixes my car asks me
how John is doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in the Navy.
Why were I and the other parents at my son's private school so
surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters of the
most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea of the
immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough to go
to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our children to
volunteer for military service once that war was done?
Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the
world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody else
defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and daughters
of the janitors at our elite universities are far more likely to be put in
harm's way than are any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?
I feel shame because it took my son's joining the Marine Corps to make
me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is
part of a future "greatest generation. "As the storm clouds of war gather,
at least I know that I can look the men and women in uniform in the eye. My
son is one of them. He is the best I have to offer. He is my heart.
=
Dec 5, 2015 01:03:52 #
Jakebrake wrote:
Frank Schaeffer of the Washington Post br br ... (show quote)
:thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup:
Dec 5, 2015 06:08:12 #
Well said, Jakebrake. As an Air Force retiree, the father of 2 veterans, and the son of a WWII Navy veteran, my take on serving in the military has always been from the other side. Proud of your son for choosing to serve his country. It took a lot of guts to make that decision.
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Dec 5, 2015 09:52:47 #
Well written article - maybe he can influence some of his "neighbors and friends" to realize what is going on in this country and what sacrifices are being paid to keep them in the life style they have come to expect. I pray his son makes it through without collecting the purple heart ---
Dec 6, 2015 08:23:54 #
Dec 6, 2015 09:38:44 #
I don't have a son. If I did, I wouldn't want to send him off to war. It would be far easier to go back to war myself than to send my son. I imagine how hard it was for God to send his son knowing what was going to happen to him.
Dec 6, 2015 09:47:16 #
My son was a U.S, Marine. Two brothers served in the Corps. I was Air Force as was another son. I am as proud of the Marines in my family as anyone can be. God Bless them all, yours and mine and everyone else's.
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Dec 6, 2015 10:20:32 #
I have been troubled for some time now about those since Vietnam who chose to not serve. I am troubled that so few sacrifice so much for the many. Our views in our country have changed about serving and doing your part to preserve freedom.
We have become self-centered to the extent that many still laugh at us for serving but that's OK. It is good to see one of the privileged change his view about serving.
I am glad that my son did not have to go to fight in another country but I am not happy about his reaction to serving in the military. My brothers are big into patriotism these days but neither of them served and in a way I am glad that I am the only one that had to go to Vietnam. I was not drafted but enlisted.
But what is important is that a least a few have learned to see things differently. I am also proud of this man's son even though I do not know them personally. It is my hope that this Marine stay safe and return to his family.
We have become self-centered to the extent that many still laugh at us for serving but that's OK. It is good to see one of the privileged change his view about serving.
I am glad that my son did not have to go to fight in another country but I am not happy about his reaction to serving in the military. My brothers are big into patriotism these days but neither of them served and in a way I am glad that I am the only one that had to go to Vietnam. I was not drafted but enlisted.
But what is important is that a least a few have learned to see things differently. I am also proud of this man's son even though I do not know them personally. It is my hope that this Marine stay safe and return to his family.
Dec 6, 2015 11:01:28 #
Something about the old saying, "walk a mile in my boots" that comes echoing through.
Too bad it had to happen this close to your heart before you could realize a few of life's really hard realities.
You will never see Arlington the same, and you will be a better person for having been here.
Too bad it had to happen this close to your heart before you could realize a few of life's really hard realities.
You will never see Arlington the same, and you will be a better person for having been here.
Dec 6, 2015 18:28:04 #
Dec 6, 2015 19:40:13 #
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Dec 6, 2015 20:47:39 #
Dec 6, 2015 21:52:47 #
Dec 7, 2015 01:04:09 #
:thumbup: :thumbup:
As a 20+ year veteran I stand proud of our younger generation of those who serve. They come forward to serve in the longest war our country has ever had. They also serve so that others may enjoy the freedoms we have. Mahalo to those who serve and also have served. I proudly salute you.
As a 20+ year veteran I stand proud of our younger generation of those who serve. They come forward to serve in the longest war our country has ever had. They also serve so that others may enjoy the freedoms we have. Mahalo to those who serve and also have served. I proudly salute you.
Dec 7, 2015 01:21:51 #
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