Your story is good testimony, and actually reminded me of @Diane, one of my earliest e-friends, who also replied to this post. If you don’t know Diane, you should check her out. She writes from a perspective I sense you’d relate to.

Thanks for the kind words, too.

And I’m glad you like the theme. It’s nothing close to as dazzling as your blog, but it’s at least cleaner than the last mess I was using. (But to be clear - I really like this guy’s design. He’s a college student from Romania, and one to watch.)

Tracy Rosens last blog post..…a new dawn, a new morning, a new chance… (podcast included)

Thanks for taking the time.

Clay

I spent my first few years as a Marine brat; my father was a Captain, he flew off off carriers. He left the USMC with a sad heart as ‘Nam intensified–he loved the Marines, he loved to fly, but he could not in good conscience fight in that particular war. A few months before he died, crippled from multiple strokes, he wrote a letter to the POTUS offering to take a mothballed A-4 Skyhawk and fly directly into any worthy target that might harbor Al Quaeda.

Two stories reflecting on the USMC:

My father was by no means a pacifist. After he left, one of his buddies Chuck (the only adult I could call by his first name) came to visit. He flew choppers (and was not so good at it, my father would jest).

Chuck brought my brother and I two toy aircraft carriers, marvelous structures with all kinds of moving parts. I asked Chuck why he kept going back to Viet Nam.

I was too young to know not to ask the question, and Chuck was too kind to tell me so. He treated us like men. My Dad would have whomped me had he heard me ask.

Chuck paused, then seemed to drift away. He told me (and I was about 9 years old) about the ones he left behind. His job was to pick up the wounded (and, I reckon, the dead, but he spared me that much). Under fire. And he felt he had to keep going back to get men who needed picking up.

And one day Chuck stayed back too long, and was KIA.

I miss Chuck.

The second story reflects on the values of the USMC, and one reason my Dad was so proud to wear the uniform. Dad showed up in full uniform in the August, 1963, March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, led by Dr. King. Organizers saw him, and placed him in the front line of the parade.

My Dad loved the idea that a military man had the right to be a free thinker in a democratic society; indeed, it was his aim to keep that kind of society, which is why he planned to make a career out of it.

“Where else in the world can an inner-city poor boy get a chance to fly a million dollar machine?”

Indeed.

Michael Doyles last blog post..Big Ideas: "One Living Filament"

Both of my parents were WWII veterans; my husband served in the Navy during Viet Nam. As a peace marcher, and later as a mother, I was and am anti-war. But I have never been, never could be, anti-soldier.

dianes last blog post..Dancing Queen