Some observations

Over at Shipwrecked in South Carolina, there was a series of observations. I made some observations of my own, which I think need to be made in response.

I can't speak for anyone else. I can only speak for me.

I stayed up many nights, praying for my dad's safety, praying that he wouldn't have to use the gun I saw him practicing with. I woke up in the middle of the night, knowing something was wrong, but with no chance of finding out what. I crocheted on a blanket for him through sleepless nights until my fingers were numb.

I wake up in the morning and thank God that my dad is here again, in body at least. I write to my representatives, knowing that my parents taught me the responsibility of citizens to be part of the governance of this country.

I go to work with a splitting headache because my leave was exhausted 2 months ago, with constant travel to visit with my mother who has been doing her work plus keeping my dad's business going while he was deployed.

I don't wear a t-shirt, unless I found it secondhand because I have no idea under what conditions that shirt was made - what child was kept at work 18 hours to make it. Besides, my tax refund went to care packages, so I'm not going to spend money on a shirt I can only wear 2 days a week.

I, like most Americans, do not have a maid, nor am I likely to get one any day soon. After I get home, I'll have to find the energy to pick up the living room, make dinner, wash my hair, and suck up and soldier on.

My cell phone is a treasured connection, full of possibility. Perhaps today, I'll hear from him, or maybe he'll answer an email.

I hear that soldiers are being "extended" and rage at the radio until my husband turns it off.

I worry when a friend writes that his ship will be leaving soon, and they expect to be sent later in the year to the sandbox.

I am angry because my dad's loyalty and service are being abused.

I criticize my government when the wounded are housed with rats and other vermin after they've come home. I criticize my government when my dad is given the wrong body armor. I criticize my government when billions disappear with no accounting while soldiers are sent unsafe equipment. Damned right, I criticize my government.

I criticize my government when it ignores the commission it created and puts even more lives at risk. I criticize my government because my dad put his life on the line for me not to live in a tyranny, and because there is more than one way to live bravely. My dad helped to teach me that words tend to solve more than fists.

I criticize my government when I learn that they are employing torture. Guilty? Innocent? The waterboard doesn't know the difference.

I do not and will not joke about the war. I said goodbye to my father, the taste of bile still in my mouth, because there was no time to brush my teeth after I vomited from worry.

I hear his voice from half the world away, and can't feel at peace, even in a bustling farmer's market - right between jars of apple butter and handsewn aprons.

Despite my heartbreak, I smile bravely, knowing he takes strength from his family.

I am on call. No matter what I am doing, it stops if the cell phone rings. And I smile, because he can hear the difference.

I know the world is a better place because of him. I know that when he is here, he treats people, often people who have little money. I have known him to treat people for nothing. I pray that my government will leave enough of him to allow him to continue to improve the world.

And feel free to link, email, or whatever. I don't want the lies to stand unanswered.

Catching up again

On Saturday, I went to the rally on the National Mall and was reminded of why I don't often go to large rallies or marches. Yes, I was there, but no, I couldn't understand the speeches being relayed over the speakers. I sat up the night before, making signs. And I brought art supplies to enhance them as needed. It was loud and while I was glad that I was there to be counted as opposed to the current stupidity, I was also glad when we headed off to the National Museum of the American Indian for lunch, and had to leave our signs outside.

I enjoyed a number of the homemade signs, even as I thought some of them didn't precisely speak to what I was trying to say. Okay, I admit it: I've asked why my dad is being sent where the Bush twins aren't, but "Surge the Twins" doesn't send the message I want sent. I don't want anyone to be sent in a "surge", unless it's relief workers who will actually work *with* Iraqis to (*gasp!*) rebuild their country. I did like the one my husband pointed out, though: "Give Peace a Chance! Nothing Else Has Worked..." One that did speak my truth was "The 'Decider' does not speak for MY God." That one was from a church group from Kentucky, I think. And a little kid had a wonderful sign reading, "It's okay to be upset. It's not okay to be mean." Amen.

I didn't make a sign with one of the most apropos quotes from The Princess Bride, though I did think about it: "You've made one of the Classic Blunders! The most well-known is this: Never get involved in a land war in Asia!" The quote I did feature on a sign is from one of my favorite bits of Isaiah: "Nation shall not lift up sword against nation. Neither shall they learn war anymore." I know my signs got photographed a couple times, before the Smithsonian got them. (I really wish they'd made separate buckets for the handmade signs and the mass-printed ones. Some of those signs were real works of folk art that I'd love to see preserved.)

Although it was pretty neat to be there, it also had an aftermath. Yesterday, my muscles weren't cooperating, and the headache started. I've spent the last couple days pretty much recovering from the headache. Meh. I think I'll be aiming at smaller stuff for a long while.

As for the blanket, it is coming along well. Over in my links, there's one titled "Blanket Squares" that leads to the flickr page of photos of the squares. Wow. Over 40 now, and almost all of them edged, plus some joined together. And I found the square that had gone missing, yippee! (It had decided to hide among the balls of yarn.) I've been putting more together, and edging the ones I have. Wow.