Changing Views on the Military: Some Interesting Perspectives

Every night, I sing two songs to Gabrielle when I rock her to sleep. One is Jim Henson's wonderful "The Rainbow Connection" (this is a standing tradition ... it was a "special song" for both Emily and Ariel as well) and the other is a song I heard often as a child from my dad's Makem and Clancy album, Eric Bogle's "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda".  

Something about this song always resonated with me, I'm not sure why, and I certainly didn't know as a child that it was about war, specifically The Battle of Gallipoli in World War I. I just think it's a beautiful song that has a lullaby quality that seems to work well for The Gabs.

I am always looking for suggestions for writing pieces, and one of my best friends threw this one at me:

Maybe a piece about serving in the military now vs. our grandparents'/great grandparents'? Like how those serve view it and how those on the outside view it?

It hit me how the outlook on those who serve has changed so very much.

If my history teachers knew what they were talking about, those who served were lionized during World Wars I and II and even the conflict in Korea. It was only with the political polarization of the Vietnam debacle and the unnecessary deaths of so many for a war that could not be won, really, that the military got something of a bad name. Soldiers were spit on and yelled at and disrespected when they returned, and there is still so much ugliness and bad feelings on both sides, veterans and civilians alike.

I don't think it's any accident that Eric Bogle wrote an anti-war song about fallen and severely injured World War I veterans in 1971, when America was so divided in terms of the military. There was a pervasive feeling that everyone who fought in World War I and World War II was a hero because the reasons were clearly noble; it was different with Vietnam.

With the 9/11 terrorist attacks, though, suddenly members of the military were respected, admired, and given accolades for the sacrifices made. (I am well aware that I am skipping a lot of military conflicts here ... I was either a child or too caught up in acquiring Guess jeans and Banana Republic t-shirts to pay attention to the Cold War or the first Gulf War or anything else I'm leaving out...realizing that I have a lot of history to catch up on).

Some of my friends joined the military after 9/11. Emily's father was in the U.S. Army prior to 9/11, and even though we weren't on the best of terms at the time, I remember that he called me that day, and I remember his voice shaking as he wanted to make sure that Emily and I were okay.

My friend who suggested this piece is married to a military man. She texts and messages me on Facebook often when she is frustrated and angry and scared. I don't always know what to say, and I haven't been the best or most supportive friend to her the past year when she's needed it because I've had my own crap to deal with, but I am writing this piece for her.

When I asked for input on both my personal Facebook page and the page for this blog (please follow if you're not already ... it would make me very happy to get over 200 followers on Facebook), I got some interesting responses. I figured I'd share those (anonymously, of course) and open this up for conversation, either regarding the initial question that my friend asked or the feedback I got from others.

From a fairly recent high school graduate who is now serving:

Please don't write it solely based on the wives left behind - that's all I ask. It's like everything I read is about the wife and kids missing dad and husband - well there are a lot of females here with me, a lot of kids missing mom, and a lot of husbands feeling the same way while there wives are shipping out.. Just saying (-:

From the father of a former member of the military (who's now a cop ... clearly my friend's son likes to keep his father on his toes ;-):

There's no immediate support or community for parents of regular army soldiers. Their child is fighting half a world away and the Rear Detachment and Family Readiness Groups are at the base on the other side of the continent. There was a practice of never going to visit another family without calling first. If your soldier is KIA you get a visit from two members of the Rear Detachment and the first you know that they are coming is when you hear the car doors closing out in your driveway. You (I) go very, very still when a car door closes outside, walk to the window and then start breathing again.

From the wife of a former (I think) military man:

I thankfully didn't have children when my husband traveled so I didn't have to explain why he wasn't there every day, or move Christmas on the calendar or sleep in their beds when they woke up crying each night; but I heard all those stories. I do remember looking at the clock each night and if he got home even 5 minutes late I knew he'd be on a plane the next day. I remember dreading the phone ringing because it would be him saying he was being sent someplace else and wouldn't be home when he said he would. And yes, I had them show up at my door once, just once, because I let right into them after I picked myself up off the floor and could finally answer it (they had come from a 'function' and decided to just stop in and check on me!). I wanted to watch the news each night, but then hated every minute of it because maybe he was in that country or maybe he wasn't, it never helped because I didn't know where he was!!! Oh I could go on and on and he only traveled for three years!!

So this piece went in a different direction than I'd planned, but I think getting the different perspectives is very interesting and worthy of conversation.  Please comment, either in the blog comments or on Facebook.

And a special thank you to those of you who shared your thoughts so I could include them here.  I appreciate it more than you know.

And a special salute from me, a mother and wife and teacher, living free in New Hampshire because of you, to all who are serving, have served, or will serve.

Recognizing Sacrifice or Eating Cheeseburgers?

Today is Memorial Day, and when I woke up I was happy that Jeff and Ari are home with me today.

Jeff and I had a conversation about a pervasive lack of understanding about Memorial Day and Veterans Day (he explained the difference quite succinctly for him) and I'll be honest, the two days have always sort of blended together for me.

It is disconcerting that Memorial Day is known more for cookouts and barbecues, for a day off from work, for it being okay to wear white (according to my mother, anyway ... I never really got that one), for attending parades, and for going to the cemetery to put flowers on headstones because you only think to do it on Veterans Day and Memorial Day.

My maternal grandfather was one of the first people on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day (he carried equipment) and my paternal grandfather was a member of the Navy stationed in the South Pacific.  Both my father and step-father were in the Army.  Emily's father is in the U.S. Army and has spent a great deal of time in Afghanistan.  Jeff's father was in Vietnam.

My family is historically a military family, yet I didn't really know the difference between the holidays honoring the those who've served in very different ways.

My husband suggested that I write a post about sacrifice, so I am; I'm writing about why it is so hard for most people to appreciate, or even understand, sacrifice directly.

I mean, if people truly understood the sacrifice inherent in Memorial Day, would they be pounding cheeseburgers in white attire chatting with others about what a treat it is to have an extra day off from work or school?

My conclusion is the sacrifice makes people uncomfortable. It's either that or the conclusion that people don't care about fallen military personnel, so I'm going with the discomfort.

I never considered joining the military because I was "college-bound".  The same is true for my brother and, I assume, for Jeff as well.  The Marines actually wanted  my sister for their band (she plays the oboe) and, almost ten years later, wanted Emily for the same reason (she plays the bassoon).  So, yeah, kind of ironic that the two members of my immediate family that have come closest to joining the military had to do with the fact that they play rather obscure musical instruments.

Think about this question: what is the last sacrifice you made?

I'm having a hard time thinking of mine, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with not eating the last Oreo in the package even though I REALLY wanted it because I know Oreos are Ari's favorite.

That's kind of small in the great scheme of things.

I think the concept of sacrifice makes people uncomfortable. We look at people making sacrifices, military personnel or anyone, and it makes us feel kind of small.

I always loved teaching John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men because I could actually get kids thinking about sacrifice and whether it was **spoiler ahead** right or wrong that George shot Lennie before the angry mob could reach him, whether George's action was done out of love for Lennie or to just get himself freed of an albatross around his neck that he couldn't escape.  George made Lennie comfortable and talked to him about their dream farm before shooting him quietly and humanely; if Curley and his mob had gotten to Lennie first, there would have been torture and ugliness.  It doesn't change the fact that George took a human life, and I suspect that George thought about that sacrifice every day for the rest of his life (if he was real and not a character in a work of fiction, of course).

Why do you think sacrifice makes so many people uncomfortable? (Or am I totally off base here?)

NOTE: I actually wrote about the difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day back in 2009.  It's a pretty decent piece, so if you want to read it, it's right here.