<$BlogRSDUrl$>

My wildly entertaining letters to my son and other American Soldiers suffering in Iraq and elsewhere...posted in no particular chronological order.

Friday, June 02, 2006

Monday, March 20, 2006

Dear Army Guys,

This past weekend marked the 3rd anniversary of the auspicious launch of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Earlier in the week I noticed a letter to the editor published in the Bloomington Pantagraph beseeching the citizenry of our twin cities to join together in protest at a rally to be held Saturday in the city square. I couldn’t help but wonder what one might observe at such an event. After all, Bloomington-Normal is host to Illinois State University and Illinois Wesleyan University, not to mention the Illinois State Headquarters of the Special Olympics.

All manner of deranged idealistic mayhem could ensue.

Thus, being the intrepid adventurers that we are, Rudy and I decided to personally bear witness to the OIF anti-victory rally as an event of potentially historic proportions. I concocted a plan whereby we would park at a municipal garage at some distance and make our way on foot through the police barricades and crowd-control forces. I detailed my plan to Rudy and suggested we synchronize our cell phones just in case we became separated if serious rioting broke out.

I needn’t have worried about parking. We easily found a spot about 20 feet from the “rally,” which turned out to be a couple-dozen aging hippies with hastily scrawled posters and a Mr. Microphone™. The OIF protesters were a disappointing bunch and appeared to be more in need of Geritol™ than justice.

Based on what I saw just by looking around I’d have to conclude that the average Bloomington war protester is a 55-60 year old baby boomer with chronic orthopedic foot ailments- Birkenstock® footwear seemed to be de rigueur- along with a penchant for clothing made entirely of hemp macramé. I could hear Rudy muttering, “Die, boomer scum, die!” under his breath to amuse himself. I’ll bet we could have scored some kickass reefer in ten seconds flat had we been so inclined.

Based on the speeches I could barely hear over the Mr. Microphone™, I’d have to conclude that the average Bloomington war protester is also suffering early-onset dementia. Three of the four speakers Rudy and I stayed to hear couldn’t stay on topic for more than a sentence or two. One man, who identified himself as a Teamster, went on and on about Bloomington’s newly-constructed Cellular One™ Coliseum. Although he personally worked on its construction, it still “just wasn’t right” for reasons that remain obscure despite his speaking at great length on the subject. I can only conclude that he is somewhat troubled at not having had a chance to collect unemployment this winter. How that was relevant to an OIF anti-victory rally is anyone’s guess.

A platinum-haired Dolly Parton look-alike started her speech by telling us how the war has touched her PERSONALLY. Seems her friend’s cousin’s brother is- GASP- an actual soldier IN IRAQ. (I know; I could hardly believe it either. Who knew there were real-live brothers of friend’s cousins over there?!) Then she wandered off on a tangent about global warming. It was a little bit nippy out there on the courthouse lawn and so I thought about yelling, “Yeah, global warming! Bring it on Baby!” However, there was something about her husband’s glowering demeanor that shut me up. The last thing a girly-girl like me needs to do is pick a fight with a 300 lb man wearing a BUCK FUSH t-shirt. I could sense that Rudy was grateful for my restraint. It’s not smart to mess with the sort of person who goes around wearing the BUCK FUSH line of designer clothing.

There was a man wearing what appeared to be a Vietnam era 101st Airborne uniform standing off to the side with an American flag held aloft. Like Rudy and I, he kept his distance from the rally participants and merely observed from the sidelines. I gathered he was there to counter the anti-victory theme and I was looking forward to a break in the speeches when I might have a chance to thank him for his service to our country. Unfortunately the fourth speaker, a despicable man who failed to identify himself at all, started babbling about that morning’s news reports of an intensive air assault northwest of Baghdad. This unidentified speaker informed his listeners that this “air assault” (he performed dramatic finger quotes in the air at that point, which is no small feat when one is clutching a Mr. Microphone™ in one’s arthritic claw) was, in fact, nothing but a “couple of paper airplanes” sent to “crash and burn” for the greater glory of the Bush administration.

I happened to know that the air assault referred to was a 101st Airborne operation, so I looked to see how my Veteran hero might react. Just as the speaker sniped, “ ‘Air assault?’ More like ‘assault with dead batteries!’ ” my hero abruptly executed a perfect military about-face and stalked off across the lawn, flag held high aloft. As a ‘Band of Brothers Certificate of Appreciation’ recipient myself, I was also moved to depart in haste at that point. I was in serious danger of pitching a fit right there in the midst of everyone’s Constitutional Right to Free Speech. As Rudy and I were walking away a frumpy woman with unfortunate facial hair attempted to ask us to sign some kind of petition. Rudy told her, “No thanks, we’re capitalist members of the military-industrial complex.”

As for my worries about riot-control, there wasn’t a cop in sight. In fact, the most dramatic “police action” I witnessed involved one of the elderly protesters yelling, “Hey, that’s my car!” at a roving meter maid ticketing an ancient GM conversion van. So much for the Bloomington anti-victory movement: this little crowd might do better to worry about their next bowel movement instead.

Suffice it to say that Rudy and I, along with 99.9% of our fellow citizens, support you, our beloved troops, 100%.

Much Love,
--An Army Mom

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Counter
Kitchen Etc