Thoughts on Veteran's Day and my luck

Ok, I normally don't really think of Veteran's Day.  I only know a couple veterans and the topic of what they did just doesn't come up.  It's reminding me of a realization I had this past summer that I am indeed one lucky American.
Here's the link, go read it. Tell me what you think.  If you have too much to do to click on one more thing, the essay is below...


I’m not that brave.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day and it appears that mostly, its not even about the soldiers who have died to defend the ideals of America, but a day to eat a hotdog, (hopefully 3, with a little mustard and a little known secret I discovered, cole-slaw, right on top), wearing pretty summer clothes, and being excited that consistently warm weather is just about here.  That’s been what Memorial Day has meant to me for like, ever.

But my favorite morning show, CBS’s Sunday Morning, had a segment about soldiers who have had their faces blown to smithereens by roadside bombs and the like.  Some get to have reconstructive surgery to give them some semblance to a human being and to normalcy. In the show the doctor uses an inscription he found on a 16th century Italian cathedral: it is the divine right of man to appear human.

Geesh Louise! These young men go over there with the idea of fighting for their country and some come back fighting with the idea of their right to appear human.  To have a face that at least looks somewhat like what a human face should look like.

I was horrified and did what I normally seem to do these days at any touching story I hear: I cried a little.  For their plight a little cause that’s the right thing to be crying about, but mostly at the realization that I am just not that brave.

I could not actively be in a war.  I could not get up every morning knowing I was going to spend my day trying to kill people.  People I don’t know and people who have other people loving them and hoping that they will come home in one piece.  I could not spend my time knowing there are bombs everywhere and anywhere waiting to take if not my life, then a limb or two, a face, my head, even just my favorite finger.  I really want to keep them all, especially my favorite finger, well, especially my face, or my limbs most of all.  No, I want all my stuff to stay right where it is.  So, nope, can’t do it.  I’m a coward.  I don’t even like the pain of the dentist, who has been drilling, excavating and taking my wisdom teeth out one by one.  I cancel all the time because the anxiety of knowing that the dentist is going to make me physically uncomfortable is sometimes more than I can bear.

I never even got into a fight growing up.  The thought of someone inflicting pain on me kept me from making too many enemies.  I don’t wanna be kicked, bitten, punched, slapped, unless, oh well, never mind.

I love this country, more now than ever.  Traveling abroad has shown me honestly, that the United States, even with all its problems, is a pretty cool place for a girl like me to live.  I don’t want to live and be aware of the fact that I am a secondclass citizen.  I don’t want to live in fear that if I am raped, my family can stone me for my crime.  I don’t want my beloved clitoris removed with, any instrument, dirty or clean.  I don’t want to be forced into prostitution because there is no other possible way of eating or feeding my family.  I do believe this country has more opportunities that most places on Earth.  Friends who disagree, I’m glad this is my essay and not a forum for you to tell me how wrong I am.

Still, I don’t want to fight with my life or limbs for these liberties.  I don’t wanna give up my life to go defend it.  Is that incredibly selfish?  Maybe, maybe not, but I just feel this way.  Sorry.  I’m scared of the idea of knowing my job could very likely cause me death or disfigurement or pain.  I’m really scared of that.

There are kids over there who have desired to defend this country and they are over there with the best intentions.  They understand the risk and are okay with it (though my best friend is sure that most of them really do not understand the risk).  Its still amazing, courageous and awe-inspiring to me, because at the very least, they’ve gotta know it could just as well go wrong as it can go as they hope, with them coming home in one piece to go on with their young lives.  I couldn’t do it and am kind of glad that they can and do.

So this weekend, when I get my hands on a hotdog and burger and corn-on-the-cob and ice cold lemonade/ iced tea and hopefully a piece of chocolate cake, I promise that I am going to say a prayer of thanks to those who made it possible for me to live in my self-centered little world, here in Plainfield, NJ, USA, where I get to indulge in the luxury of contemplating the coward that I am.

Thank you soldiers, and I am sorry that it has ever come to this….

Donniee Barnes,
One Damned Lucky American

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