It was late August, when leaves have turned their darkest green and hang heavy from the trees, spent, dusty, all but lifeless. Each year this island swells with oppressive salt air humidity and summer residents who press the limits of capacity, of parking, of patience. The single-lane, shoulderless roads crowd, ever more treacherous, with yet more cars, cyclists, and pedestrians. It's the season of my hibernation, as I long for September and the world to turn quiet again.
That year, however, I was tucked in an old old barn with eleven strangers, studying instrument making. I would spend six intensive days on that lush farmland as we gradually shaped instrument bodies, carefully shaved tuning pegs, and rummaged through scraps of exotic wood for just the right detail. The workshop, originally scheduled for five days, had been expanded to six, and even at that we worked fourteen-hour days, racing the clock to completion. Our rushed, anxious looks at one another regularly said we doubted we'd finish. Workbenches were still strewn with disassembled elements on the day Lieutenant John Ferris came home from Afghanistan.
I didn't know John; knew his parents by reputation only. I knew that his father was an optometrist and that his mother had once hired electrician friends of mine. She'd had them sink dozens of posts with power outlets behind the trees outside her husband's office. She intended, they told me, to flood the third of an acre of evergreens with fairy lights at Christmastime. That was all I knew of them. That, and that John was their only child.
To mark his return, formidably large flags had been hung vertically across the main road, taut on wires strung from telephone poles and trees. The biggest I'd ever seen so close to ground level, they cast deep shadows with their daunting size at regular intervals along the road. Passing under the shade of one into sunlight was a disorienting experience.
All of us, especially we few local to the area, were torn between guilt and the clock, wanting to go to the town center to pay our respects as the lieutenant made his passage there. We worked on, pushing it farther back or forward in our minds, depending on our connections to the family. But a little past noon, all our focus turned his way as we heard the Coast Guard cutters, on that sunny, hot afternoon, incongruously blow their fog horns. John was crossing the water and almost home.
The whole town went silent. We didn't hear distant voices, or even a car engine passing by. No human sound in the midst of a busy late summer day.
Some of us bent our heads over our work again, softly sanding wood or cautiously stretching water-soaked skins over the bodies of our incipient instruments. About ten minutes later we heard motors. Spontaneously and silently, everyone put down their tools. We turned toward the road, half a mile from where we worked, a dozen strangers uniquely connected in a moment not our own, yet now all of ours. The motors drew nearer and must have reached the center of town, because the church bells began to toll, slow and respectful.
I heard later how even the most stoic and stone-faced islanders wept openly as solemn young men took down the massive yellow ribbon they'd hung atop the school when John deployed. Tears ran in rivulets down the faces of hard-bitten old-timers, who hadn't known a boy to come home from war this way in decades. A few were heard to sob out loud.
From the barn, we heard John's motorcade continue around the turn and down toward us. I knew their route, and followed it in my mind, listening as they slowed at the curves and picked up modest speed on the few straightaways. They reached the T in the road and turned away toward higher ground, on toward the Catholic cemetery. Amazing how far you can hear when humans quit making so much noise. We lowered our eyes and said whatever prayers we knew in whatever beliefs we followed until the sound of the motors faded completely. It took a very long time.
Our workshop leader, William, a young gentleman farmer and musician with remarkable poise, asked if people felt the need for a few words about John. He responded to our nods by quietly gathering himself, then offered up a kind of prayer for the slain, a kind of remembrance of a man who was a stranger to us all, a kind of imprecation against war. A few of us wiped away tears. We were quiet a moment, gathering ourselves back into the world at hand. We thanked William, and slowly wandered around recovering our tools and gradually evolving instruments.
Traffic moved on the main road again. Life was returning to whatever normal would be now. In time, one of the passage boats and a section of main road would be named after Lieutenant John Ferris, age 20, killed in Afghanistan. Nearly two years later the landscape is still dotted with hand-made signs saying “We love you, John!” adorned with unlikely big hearts and exclamation marks. I salute the signs as I drive by, paying my respects to a total stranger for all he was denied: life, maturity, his own family yet to be. John's lost future always brings into sharp focus every loss of those we're sure we can't live without. What had been fundamental to life gets skived away, and we are diminished by its loss; what had been cardinal is surrendered, until it feels like more and more of our lives are moot; there to be lost; waiting lessons in how to survive without. So bullets fired in the ragged mountains of Afghanistan find their target in all of us a world away.
Our goal for Netroots for the TroopsTM 2011 is $100,000.0 (cash or in-kind donations)
NFTT's primary function is the purchasing and assembling of Care Packages at Netroots Nation to be mailed to American Military serving in war zones. However, the needs of our military families and veterans at home are also a NFTT priority. As llbear et al. have shown, far too often veterans and their families end up caught between a need and red tape. As we raise funds this year remember that your donation will be helping on multiple levels. Our deployed sons and daughter will know they have not been forgotten. Military families will know that they are not alone. Veterans at home will receive needed help.
We realize that you would like to donate something tangible to go inside the packages that will be mailed to the troops. Unfortunately, accepting in-kind donations from individuals is not practical in terms of storage and handling of the items. We will only be accepting corporate donations or cash from YOU to purchase items for the care packages this year.
Here’s how YOU can help:
1. Please contact TexDem if you know someone who might be helpful in securing the corporate in-kind donations. Just leave him a message through the dkos message system. To help you think of companies who could donate products, see below for a list of potential items. Put your thinking caps on and let us hear from you. It takes time to get through the corporate processes so we need to hear from you ASAP!
2. We are accepting cash from individuals and -beg- ask that you DONATE HERE to contribute to this worthy cause. Your donation will enable us to purchase the things that we are unable to obtain through corporate donations, and will help to pay the costs of shipping them to our troops.
3. Sign up for a diary! Don’t worry---we’ve made it easy for you. We’ve got a template set up, and all you need to do is add a small introduction. You can tell us why you are donating or share a story of someone you know who has served or is serving. You can post some favorite pootie and woozel photos. Or how about some gardening photos? We love them! Recipes? We're ready to cook. A list of the top ten guitarists of all time? We'll listen. An homage to your favorite Sci-Fi/Fantasy writer? (Terry Pratchett is one of mine.) We'll be reading. We want you to have fun while raising money for our troops and their families. Just drop Onomastic/Ono a message through the dkos message system to get the template and on the schedule.
4. Do you know a service member who would like to receive a care package? Email a request to: info@netrootsforthetroops.com before May 31, 2011. Please include all of the following information. Unfortunately we will not be able to process any incomplete requests:
Rank:
Last name:
First name:
APO Address Line 1:
APO Address Line 2:
APO Address Zip:
If you know of a Military Unit that would like to receive care packages please include Unit and contact information by May 15, 2011.
5. Write letters to be included in the packages! If you need some ideas, rbutters wrote an excellent diary with tips on how to write letters to troops and why it’s so important to them.
6. Help us assemble the packages in Minneapolis. It's fun! More information will be forthcoming for those of you who are going to be in Minneapolis and would like to help there.
7. Please consider joining the NFTT FaceBook Group. Invite your FaceBook and non-FaceBook friends.
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The goal for 2011 is 600 Care Packages assembled in Minneapolis, that equates to approximately $100,000.00. Again this was decided upon after seeing we could assemble 300 in 45 minutes in Pittsburgh. Those boxes had a retail value of approximately $210.00. The items we'll be sending will be comparable to what was sent last year. However, that list is subject to modification based on suggestions, request and needs. Btw, check out the NFTT website.
The following list contains some of the things we have included in packages. Please let us know if you know someone who might be helpful in securing these corporate in-kind donations. (Please DO NOT send these items yourself! We have no way to accept them. Instead, your cash donation is the very best way to help make this happen on the ground in Minneapolis.)
- Baby wipes
- Mechanix gloves
- LED flashlights
- Gel shoe insoles
- Goop Cleaning Gel
- Powdered energy drinks
- Gel energy food packets
- DVDs and CDs
- Letters to the soldiers
- More suggestions coming soon
The NFTT diaries are a way for the Daily Kos community to support the troops in Afghanistan and Iraq and their families. We send them packages of items they might not otherwise receive through the normal military process but that they find useful. This is a non-political diary. While we understand there are differing views on the wars and the warriors, the site gives plenty of opportunity to express those views elsewhere. Furthermore, we would hope that users do not engage with those that attempt to hijack or otherwise disrupt these diaries.
We appreciate your understanding and support. Thanks!
Netroots For The TroopsTM is a project of Netroots for the Troops, Inc., a Virginia non-profit corporation. Netroots For The TroopsTM raises money for the assembly, mailing and delivery of care packages to American military in war zones, and to provide assistance to military families in the United States. Netroots For The Troops, Inc. is a 501(c)3 tax-exempt organization.