Our Son?

“We can’t let any more of our sons and daughters die in a needless war.”

Have you have you ever noticed how people who never played a down of football say things like “we won a hard fought game last Saturday?” If that bothers an athlete can your imagine how  I feel when I hear someone railing about “our sons” in Iraq or Afghanistan? My first response is always the same: “And what is your son’s name and where is he serving?”

Unlike those armchair quarterbacks of geopolitics my youngest son is currently about 5 miles from the Pakistani border with the 10th Mountain Division. His job is dangerous and has taken him half a world away from his wife, four year old daughter, and 10 month old son. Three years ago he was commanding convoys in Iraq and risking his life nearly every day. Now he is back in a foreign environment following the orders of his Commander in Chief.

Regardless of one’s particular political viewpoint I would recommend what my son used to tell his mom when he was in Middle School. Before you open your mouth about “our sons” it would be wise to take a chill pill. War is an ugly thing that we relegate to our young men and women to handle while we sit in the stands grumbling about how we would do it.

Hopefully, we will learn the lessons of Viet Nam and treat these young men and women differently as they return home. In the coming days I will post a couple of parables based on those I have known personally that have actually been in the game. Until then, try cheering for them and perhaps even patting one that has returned on the back with a “thanks.”