WORDS
When our plane landed at the San Bernadino airport upon returning from that “conflict overseas” they held us on board for a briefing. The gate leading out to transportation was a short walking distance away. There we could start our journey home.
A crowd of war protesters stood just outside,
and we were to ignore them. There had been violence on occasion. "Don’t return
from a war zone to die in America."
They just yelled at us. I remember “warmonger” and, most of
all “baby killer.” Know what? Didn’t bother me. I was so glad to feel the soil
of my native country under my fee that they could have called me Nazi (maybe
they did) and I would have walked on by. I did.
Know what really bothers me, though? What makes my heart
ache and my soul cry?
It’s not when I hear the words “sucker-loser.” I’m beyond caring.
It’s when I realize that those calling me a sucker-loser include some whom I thought, ten years ago, were decent, caring, compassionate friends. People whom I would have trusted to care for an aging parent. People who believed in America. People who supported the rule of law. People who revered the U.S. Constitution. People who respected a peaceful transfer of government. People who didn’t think that making America great would necessitate the overthrowing of every great attribute she had ever shown. People who cared about the “least of those among us.”
Somewhere and somehow they turned. They now hate everything
I’ve learned to love since that plane touched down so many years ago.
That’s what made me take my Honorable Discharge from the
wall and hide it away.
No comments:
Post a Comment