dennisw
07-30-2007, 23:25
I had lost touch with one of the guys who used to work for me. Wes was a young married man with two kids and it seemed like he just vanished, but about six months ago he called me to tell me he had joined the Army and was stationed in Hawaii. He said he was going to be deployed and I told him to let me know his address and I would send him some care packages. Well a month ago he sent me his address in Iraq.
In our town there are two post offices; the large one where mostly everyone goes which is incredibly slow and a smaller one which is embedded in a local realtor’s office. I always go to the smaller one as the gal who runs it is really friendly and the service is much faster and better. I went there the other day to send a package to Wes. As I stepped away from the counter to fill out the paper work, the receptionist for the realtor, an older gal of around 65 – 70, ask me what my shirt meant. Without realizing it, I had put on a shirt my son’s team made in Afghanistan. I smiled at her and said I did not remember what was on the back and she said “We ardently desire death, more then you desire life.” I told her his group was a little different and they came up with that in Afghanistan.
With a truly concerned look, she asked me how my wife and I handled him being in Afghanistan. I told her it was tough especially since his brother was also in Iraq. We talked about it. I told her I was concerned about their safety and how my older son sometimes could not eat or sleep after he killed someone. After a while, I realized the post office had become very quiet; so quiet you could hear a pin drop. There were around 5 or 6 people going through the motions of placing stamps on their letters or writing addresses. However, it was like the old EF Hutton commercial, they were all intently listening. The gal who runs the post office was actually resting her elbows on the counter with her chin on her hands listening to every word of our conversation.
I felt a little self conscious and finished my business and left. I was perplexed as I drove home. Then it dawned on me.
I read somewhere a veteran who after coming back from the war said America isn’t at war. The men and women fighting the war and their families are the only ones at war. I realized that the folks in the post office probably had never spoken to someone who was fighting overseas or to a family member of one and it was the first time they had heard something about the war that did not come through a slick media machine. I guess I understand their interest and curiosity, but I wonder if they will ever really understand the sacrifice so many are making. Probably not.
In our town there are two post offices; the large one where mostly everyone goes which is incredibly slow and a smaller one which is embedded in a local realtor’s office. I always go to the smaller one as the gal who runs it is really friendly and the service is much faster and better. I went there the other day to send a package to Wes. As I stepped away from the counter to fill out the paper work, the receptionist for the realtor, an older gal of around 65 – 70, ask me what my shirt meant. Without realizing it, I had put on a shirt my son’s team made in Afghanistan. I smiled at her and said I did not remember what was on the back and she said “We ardently desire death, more then you desire life.” I told her his group was a little different and they came up with that in Afghanistan.
With a truly concerned look, she asked me how my wife and I handled him being in Afghanistan. I told her it was tough especially since his brother was also in Iraq. We talked about it. I told her I was concerned about their safety and how my older son sometimes could not eat or sleep after he killed someone. After a while, I realized the post office had become very quiet; so quiet you could hear a pin drop. There were around 5 or 6 people going through the motions of placing stamps on their letters or writing addresses. However, it was like the old EF Hutton commercial, they were all intently listening. The gal who runs the post office was actually resting her elbows on the counter with her chin on her hands listening to every word of our conversation.
I felt a little self conscious and finished my business and left. I was perplexed as I drove home. Then it dawned on me.
I read somewhere a veteran who after coming back from the war said America isn’t at war. The men and women fighting the war and their families are the only ones at war. I realized that the folks in the post office probably had never spoken to someone who was fighting overseas or to a family member of one and it was the first time they had heard something about the war that did not come through a slick media machine. I guess I understand their interest and curiosity, but I wonder if they will ever really understand the sacrifice so many are making. Probably not.