This is a little long but I think it is worth the read: > My - TopicsExpress

This is a little long but I think it is worth the read: > My Heart is On the Line > By Frank Schaeffer > The Washington Post > > Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much about who was > defending me. Now when I read of the war on terrorism or the coming > conflict in Iraq, it cuts to my heart. When I see a picture of a > member of our military who has been killed, I read his or her name > very carefully. Sometimes I cry. > > > In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter showed up in dress > blues and bedazzled my son John, I did not stand in the way. John was > headstrong, and he seemed to understand these stern, clean men with > straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I live in the > Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping North Shore of Boston. I > write novels for a living. I have never served in the military. > > > It had been hard enough sending my two older children off to > Georgetown and New York University. Johns enlisting was unexpected, > so deeply unsettling. I did not relish the prospect of answering the > question, So where is John going to college? from the parents who > were itching to tell me all about how their son or daughter was going > to Harvard. At the private high school John attended, no other > students were going into the military. > > > But arent the Marines terribly Southern? asked one perplexed mother > while standing next to me at the brunch following graduation. What a > waste, he was such a good student, said another parent. One parent (a > professor at a nearby and rather famous university) spoke up at a > school meeting and suggested that the school should carefully > evaluate what went wrong. > > > When John graduated from three months of boot camp on Parris Island, > 3,000 parents and friends were on the parade deck stands. We parents > and our Marines not only were of many races but also were > representative of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived > crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John told me that a > lot of parents could not > afford the trip. > > > We in the audience were white and Native American. We were Hispanic, > Arab, and African American, and Asian. We were former Marines wearing > the scars of battle, or at least baseball caps emblazoned with > battles names. We were Southern whites from Nashville and skinheads > from New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto rags and > white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced by jailhouse tattoos. We > would not have been mistaken for the educated and well-heeled parents > gathered on the lawns of Johns private school a half-year before. > > > After graduation one new Marine told John, Before I was a Marine, if > I had ever seen you on my block I wouldve probably killed you just > because you were standing there. This was a serious statement from > one of Johns good friends, a black ex-gang member from Detroit who, > as John said, would die for me now, just like Id die for him. > > > My son has connected me to my country in a way that I was too selfish > and insular to experience before. I feel closer to the waitress at our > local diner than to some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the > Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy. When the guy who > fixes my car asks me how John is doing, I know he means it. His > younger brother is in the Navy. > > > Why were I and the other parents at my sons private school so > surprised by his choice? During World War II, the sons and daughters > of the most powerful and educated families did their bit. If the idea > of the immorality of the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky > enough to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not encourage our > children to volunteer for military > service once that war was done? > > > Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become pacifists? Is the > world a safe place? Or have we just gotten used to having somebody > else defend us? What is the future of our democracy when the sons and > daughters of the janitors at our elite universities are far more > likely to be put in harms way than are any of the students whose > dorms their parents clean? > > > I feel shame because it took my sons joining the Marine Corps to make > me take notice of who is defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my > son is part of a future greatest generation. As the storm clouds of > war gather, at least I know that I can look the men and women in > uniform in the eye. My son is one of them. He is the best I have to > offer. He is my heart.