WIFE'S REQUEST
I was sitting alone
in one of those loud, casual steak
houses that you find all over the country.
You know the type--a bucket of peanuts
on every table,
shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college kids racing
around with long neck
beers and sizzling platters.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over
the rim of my glass.
My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal.
They wore no uniform to identify their branch of
service,
but they were definitely "military:" clean shaven, cropped
haircut, and that "squared away" look that comes
with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across
my table to the empty
seat where my husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this
very
booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East .
That was when he made me promise to get a
sitter for
the kids, come back to this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak.
In turn
he would treasure the thought of me being
here, thinking about him until he returned home .
I fingered
the little flag pin I constantly wear and
wondered where he was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm?
Was
his cold any better? Were my letters getting through to him?
As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched
female
voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.
"I don't know what Bush is thinking about.
Invading
Iraq . You'd think that man would learn from his old man's mistakes.
Good lord. What an idiot! I can't
believe he is even in office. You do know, he stole the election."
I cut into my steak and tried to
ignore them, as
they began an endless tirade running down our president.
I thought about the last night
I spent with my
husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax
shots.
The image of him standing
in our kitchen packing his
gas mask still gives me chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts.
"It
is all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will
go in Hmmm! and rape and steal all the oil they can in the name
of 'freedom' wonder how many innocent people they'll kill without giving it a thought?
It's pure greed, you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at
my wedding ring. I
could still see how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it
on my finger.
I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his
desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee
stains" with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't
think
they are hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase the president's popularity. That's all
it is, padding
the military budget at the expense of our social security and education.
And, you know what
else? We're just asking for another 911. I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind
the war protesters I had
watched gathering outside our base. Did no one even appreciate the sacrifice of brave
men and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom?
Do they even know what "freedom" is?
I glanced
at the table where the young men were
sitting, and saw their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and
looked at each other dejectedly, listening to the women talking.
"Well, I, for one, think it's just
deplorable to
invade Iraq, and I am certainly sick of our tax dollars
going to train professional baby-killers
we call a military."
Professional baby-killers? I thought about what a
wonderful father my husband is, and
of how long it would be before he would see our children again.
That's it! Indignation rose up inside
me. Normally
reserved, pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one
voice will answer on behalf of our military,
and let her pride in our troops be known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around
to the
adjoining booth and placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with them, smiling
I said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
You see, I'm sitting here trying to
enjoy my
dinner alone. And, do you know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart,
is halfway around the world defending
your right to say rotten things about him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what
you think is
none of my business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I will not sit by and listen to you ridicule
MY country, MY president, MY husband,
and all the other fine American men
and women who put their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom"
to complain.
Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies.
Don't let
your actions cheapen it."
I must have been louder than I meant
to be, because
the manager came over to inquire if everything was all right.
"Yes, thank you," I replied.
Then,
turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the
rest of your meal."
As I returned to my booth applause
broke out. I was
embarrassed for making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak.
The women picked up their check
and scurried away.
After finishing my meal, and
while waiting for my
check, the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode.
"Compliments of those soldiers,"
he said. He also
smiled and said the ladies tried to pay for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to
it.
When I asked who, the manager said they had already
left, but that the gentleman was a veteran,
and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned
to the
soldiers and thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over and surrounded the
booth.
"We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we
can't get into confrontations with civilians,
so we appreciate what you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my
husband's deployment, I didn't
feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the
warmth of the other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how
they, too, were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers.
I knew their flags would fly a little
higher the
next day.
Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to
show their pride in our country,
and the military who protect her.
And maybe, just maybe, the two women
who were
rallying against our country, would pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers, and
the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a
difference.
Maybe
the next time protesters gather outside the
gates of the base where I live, I will proudly stand on the opposite
side with a sign of my own.
It will simply say, "Thank You!"
To those who fought for our Nation:
Freedom has a
flavor the protected will never know.
GOD BLESS AMERICA !
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