I have mentioned from time to time that I write only when something is nagging at me, when the writing of it is the only way to begin to cleanse my soul in some capacity. I tend to write also about people in my life. My neighbors, my friends, work colleagues, and family. Many times, it's the random interactions with some of these people that bring me out of my immersed progressive bubble and connect me to a thought or an item that is attracting a "normal" person's attention. Looking back through my diaries, I realize I do it quite a lot - my conversation with my Iraqi friend... A random conversation with a fellow football fan - stuff like that.
I had another of those moments last night, based on a brief conversation with a neighbor and friend. Let's call him John. John, almost 24 hours later, has taken me to a sense of profound helplessness and frustration. Follow me and I'll tell the story.
I have to give you a bit of context, if for no other reason than that it makes for better reading (at least I think so).
John is a neighbor and friend. He's more of a friend of Mr. RenaRF's, however. They are the GUYS in the neighborhood. Each has a much-babied and rarely-driven classic car. They are both remarkably similar in temperament - sometimes annoyingly so. I'm sure you know people like both of them - easy-going and quick to laugh and to make others laugh. So much so, in fact, that often it's difficult to have a serious conversation when the other party refuses to be serious. Although I can't explicitly speak for John, I imagine his marriage is very similar to mine - both he and Mr. RenaRF are married to educated, opinionated, get-things-done women. We don't suffer their nature long when it gets in the way of things that need to be done.
At any rate, when John's over here, it's like laid-back jokiness squared. Somehow the two of them together (John and Mr. RenaRF) create an effect that is more than simply twice what it would be normally. I had just returned from the store yesterday at about 8pm EST and I heard John's voice coming from Mr. RenaRF's basement office and studio. Not long after, their voices grew as they came up the stairs to where I was. John made a joke that now escapes me about my serious demeanor (remember - this was less than an hour before Bush's speech), saying something along the lines of that I looked like someone had killed my cat. I told him that "asshole" was going to be giving his speech soon about sending more troops into Iraq and that it was worse than anything I could imagine.
John's demeanor changed. I'll paraphrase below what he said next, but it's pretty close:
"You know, I read a story in the paper the other day that almost made me cry. I'm not going to cry now, so don't worry, but I'll tell you - I read about a soldier in Iraq who found himself in a cover situation with a live hand grenade on his chest. His buddies were all aorund him. He didn't have time to get rid of it, so he looked at them and then just rolled over on top of it. He saved all their lives.
That stuff gets to me."
John relating the story was remarkable in that he's rarely that serious. It was obvious to me, however, that the story stuck with him and bothered him.
John said his goodbyes, I watched the speech with Mr. RenaRF, and then went to bed relatively early to rest up for what was going to be a long day of work today.
So fast-forward almost 24 hours to about 20 minutes ago (6:30pm EST). I've finally gotten home and have turned on CNN. Shortly after sitting down on the couch, I see a short story about how a Marine, a Corporal Dunham, was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for saving the lives of his fellow soldiers in Iraq. I wondered about John's story from the previous night and whether or not the soldier from his story was Corporal Dunham. I did a little Googling - I'm pretty confident that John's soldier is the soldier from this article:
WASHINGTON -- A young Marine from upstate New York who fell on a grenade in Iraq to save his comrades was honored Thursday in a solemn ceremony at the White House, where President Bush presented his parents with the prestigious Medal of Honor.
Marine Cpl. Jason Dunham of Scio, N.Y., saved at least two lives by acting quickly during a struggle with an insurgent near the Syrian border.
"On a dusty road in western Iraq, Corporal Dunham gave his own life so that the men under his command might live," the president said. "This morning it's my privilege to recognize Corporal Dunham's devotion to the Corps and country."
This got me thinking about all the talk about the "surge" I heard while listening to CNN on Sirius as I drove from here to there to there again today. The vast majority of the feedback from average Americans was against the surge. But one stood out, and I'll have to paraphrase:
"3,000 lives isn't nearly as a high a price as we should be willing to pay for our freedom."
This person was absolutely in favor of the "surge" and used phrases like "cut and run" and referred to Democrats as "pansies".
One of the most ridiculous and oft-repeated Administration lines on the justification to continue the bloodshed in Iraq was wordsmithed and regurgitated by Bush himself in his speech last night:
In these dangerous times, the United States is blessed to have extraordinary and selfless men and women willing to step forward and defend us. These young Americans understand that our cause in Iraq is noble and necessary -- and that the advance of freedom is the calling of our time. They serve far from their families, who make the quiet sacrifices of lonely holidays and empty chairs at the dinner table. They have watched their comrades give their lives to ensure our liberty. We mourn the loss of every fallen American -- and we owe it to them to build a future worthy of their sacrifice.
A new twist on the decidedly ludicrous argument that we have to have more soldiers die to ensure that the ones who have already died didn't do so in vain.
I heard a lot in that speech last night. What it sounded to me was like a lot of "ifs". IF Maliki does this and IF there's enough time without substantial violence and IF our soldiers can clear and hold and IF IF IF... I say this without a hint of humor: It was a very iffy speech. It sounds to me like Bush is staking the lives of these soldiers, both the ones who are already there and the ones he intends to send, on a veritable "perfect storm" of success. So many of the factors that could create this rare perfect storm are utterly outside of America's control, and most of those factors have yielded nothing but death and destruction when put to the test in the past.
And it occurred to me that somewhere, right now, another Corporal Dunham is living his life. Maybe he's Guard or Reserve and is at this very moment at the dinner table with his family, not yet bound for Iraq. Maybe he's on one of our military bases preparing to deploy. Maybe he's already in Iraq, on patrol or resting before another patrol. I don't know where he is or who he is, but I know absolutely that there's another Corporal Dunham out there and he's going to be sent to Iraq and he's going to be a good person and a good American who loves his fellow soldiers and he's going to give his life so that his friends can live. He'll be blown to pieces in front of their eyes, shipped home in a flag-draped coffin, mourned by his family, and awarded a posthumous medal.
As if that could make up for his tragic and unnecessary death.
I find myself increasingly disconnected from any sense of goodness in this country. I don't understand the type of people who are willing to gamble another Corporal Dunham or 1,000 Corporal Dunhams or even 10,000 Corporal Dunhams. What sense does it make to say that the next Corporal Dunham's death is right and just because he died to honor the memory of those who died before him?
What kind of people believe this?