Plucky Letters to US soldiers in Iraq

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Dear Rob,

I feel kind of sorry for Jessica Lynch. Not just because she got ambushed and run over by a truck, although getting ambushed and run over by trucks is on nobody’s list of fun things to do in the desert. Still, it might be even worse having everyone call you a war hero when you know full well you’re just not very good at following directions. And what can she do about it now? When she tells Larry King she’s not the hero of her story, he just chuckles knowingly into the camera as if to say, “Look at that, America. Isn’t she just the cutest little war hero you ever saw?”

I mean, think about it. What can you do if nobody will believe you when you tell them you’re not that great?

Personally, I’ve never had that problem. People tend to agree with me when I make self-deprecating remarks. Just the other day I was in the dressing room at Kohl’s department store trying on a pair of Capri pants and I asked a fellow shopper if they made my legs look too skinny. She looked me over and said, “I really don’t think its because of the pants.”
I politely refrained from saying, “Oh yeah? Well that skirt you’ve got on makes your ass look like an industrial concrete mixer.”

The point here is not so much that transparently envious fat women are allowed to hurt my feelings in Kohl’s dressing rooms, but that people watching Larry King Live would believe me if I denied being a hero. If I were a guest on Larry King Live people would probably call in to ask just who the hell I think I am.

Unlike me, poor Jessica Lynch is unable to convince people she’s an incompetent troublemaker. It’s a catch-22 situation. If she goes on TV and tells everyone she’s not the hero she’s cracked up to be, they think she’s just trying to look modest. And what’s she doing going on Larry King Live if she doesn’t think she deserves the attention? On the other hand, saying nothing is liable to get her accused of not wanting to tell the true story. Her fellow soldiers would think she doesn’t want to give any credit to the actual heroes who rescued her. She’s damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t.

If you ask me, Jessica’s dilemma is mostly due to her photogenic cuteness. Larry King probably wouldn’t have given her the time of day if she’d been an ugly jarheaded guy with missing teeth. Also, she’s much too sweet for her own good. It’s hard to convince people not to like you while being nice, cute and polite. Thus, my advice to Jessica Lynch is that she should arrange to have a disfiguring accident during the commission of a heinous crime of some sort. Perhaps she could get her nose bitten off by a pit bull while attempting to burglarize an orphanage.



Speaking of heroic deeds, Rudy just left to take Dylan shopping for an archery bow. Taking Dylan into a sporting goods store is somewhat like taking a gay priest into a strip club: he’s not likely to be interested in the merchandise. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sneaks away to hang out at the bookstore or the arcade until Rudy’s done selecting an appropriate weapon for him.

Rudy, however, has decided that he can convey his great love of archery to the next generation. The fact that last Saturday was the first time Rudy’s gone to the archery range in three years is irrelevant and in no way indicates a lack of dedication to his chosen form of outdoor recreation. On the way out the door Dylan gave me a beseeching look of sheer desperation, a look that said, “Please don’t make me go to the sports store with a geeky archery fanatic!” I shot back a look of my own, “Sorry, kid. Nothing I can do.”

Much Love,
--Mom