|
got this from my freeper sister in law, who will not think for herself, ever...
> Subject: An army wife speaks her mind.
> >
> > To all those who rallied in support of nation and the troops who are
> > defending her, I thought that you would appreciate this...
> >
> > I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you
> find
> > all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on every
> table,
> > shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college kids racing
> around
> > with longneck beers and sizzling platters.
> > Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my
> > glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no
> uniform
> > to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely
"military":
> > clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look that comes
> with
> > pride
> > Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my
> husband
> > usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this very
> booth,
> > talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East. That was when
he
> > made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back to this
> restaurant once
> > a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn he would treasure the
> > thought of me being here, thinking about him until he returned home to
> me. I
> > fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he
was
> at this
> > very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better? Were my
> letters
> > getting through to him?
> > As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female voices from the next
> booth
> > broke into my thoughts. "I don't know what Bush is
> > thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think that man would learn from
his
> old
> > man's mistakes. Good lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he
> > is even in office. You do know, he stole the election."
> > I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an
> > endless tirade running down our president. I thought about the last
> > night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just
> > returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of
> > him standing in our kitchen packing his
> > gas mask still gives me chills.
> > Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about
> > oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the oil
> > they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent
> > people they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you
> > know." My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could
> > still see how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day
> > he slipped it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now.
> > Probably his desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains"
> > with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.
> > "You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are
> > hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to
> > increase the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the
> > military budget at the expense of our social security and education.
> > And, you know what else? We're just asking for another 9-ll. I can't
> > say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."
> > Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched
> > gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of
> > brave men and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our
> > freedom? Do they even know what "freedom" is? I glanced at the table
> > where the young men were sitting, and
> > saw their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked
> > at each other dejectedly, listening to women talking. "Well, I, for
> > one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly
> > sick of our tax dollars going to train professional baby killers we
> > call a military."
> > Professional baby killers? I thought about what a wonderful father my
> > husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our
> > children again. That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally
> > reserved, pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never
> > realized I had. Tonight one voice will answer on behalf of our
> > military, and let her pride in our troops be known. Sliding out of my
> > booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth, placed my hands flat
> > on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with them, I smilingly
> > said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. You see, I'm
> > sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone? And, do you know why?
> > Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway around
> > the world defending your right to say rotten things about him." "Yes,
> > you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of my
> > business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I
> > will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president,
> > MY husband, and all the other fine American men and women who put
> > their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to
> > complain. Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your
> > actions cheapen it." I must have been louder that I meant to be,
> > because the manager came over to inquire if everything was all right.
> > "Yes, thank you," I replied. Then turning back to the women, I said,
> > "Enjoy the rest of your meal."
> > As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for
> > making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women
> > picked up their check and scurried away. After finishing my meal, and
> > while waiting for my check, the manager returned with a huge apple
> > cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those soldiers," he said. He also
> > smiled and said the ladies tried to pay for my dinner, but that
> > another couple had beaten them to it. When I asked who, the manager
> > said they had already left, but that the gentleman was a veteran, and
> > wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."
> > With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and
> > thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came
> > over and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am.
> > You know we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we
> > appreciate what you did." As I drove home, for the first time since
> > my husband's deployment, I didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was
> > filled with the warmth of other diners who stopped by my table, to
> > relate how they, too, were proud of my husband, and would keep him in
> > their prayers. I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next
day.
> Perhaps
> > they would look for more tangible ways to show their pride in our
> country,
> > and the military who protect her. And maybe, just maybe, the two women
> who
> > were railing against our country, would pause for a minute to
appreciate
> all the
> > freedom America offers, and the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.
> > As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference. Maybe
the
> > next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I live,
I
> will
> > proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own. It will
simply
> say,
> > "Thank You!"
> >
> > (*Lori Kimble is a 31 year old teacher and proud military wife. A
> > California native, Mrs. Kimble currently lives in Alabama)
> > To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the
> > protected will never know.
> >
> > GOD BLESS AMERICA!
She says in her opening line that we should not take our freedoms for granted, as they were not easily won; she cannot see that HER president is destroying those freedoms for all of us...
This made me puke; it rings of Hollywood scripting
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
