Stayin’ alive on the 4th of July
I wrote the following post back in 2011 when my son, Rob, was deployed to Afghanistan.
Today, I am privileged to be working with soldiers who recently returned from Afghanistan. Their stories are chilling — young men who know the horrors of war and are trying to make sense of it all.
As we celebrate our nation’s birthday, I hope that
all of us remember our service members and their families.
The ones who are still deployed, still in danger, the ones who are struggling, and the many who are wounded warriors.
Think for a moment about the ones who did not return. Think about their families and take a moment for gratitude.
Send those families some love.
July 4, 2011
I wonder what Rob and the other Marines will be doing on this day when we celebrate our nation’s independence and freedom. How many patrols will he be out on today? Will he be in a humvee or on foot?
Just exactly how hot will it be? I think about these things as we go to the 100 degree mark here and my house is 87 degrees inside tonight even with A/C , I’m hot. I imagine he would smile if he heard me complain, especially since I don’t have to strap on 80 pounds of gear to begin the day and think of air conditioning as some distant luxury.
I wonder how he feels about us celebrating the 4th with fireworks while everyday there I imagine he sees and hears deadly “fireworks” as a normal thing. I imagine he doesn’t have time to think about much except staying alive.
Remember that old John Travolta song? Rob was always great at dancing when he heard Saturday Night Fever “Staying Alive,” waving his hand across his body just like Travolta. And now he’s “stayin alive,” watching out for IEDs and “bad guys.”
I think he’d think it was cool if he knew I was participating in a Cross Fit class in the morning dedicated to him… all organized by his beautiful wife and his thoughtful sister-in-law.
I wonder what he’d say if he knew we’d be making our annual trek to the high school grounds at 6 p.m., where families sit on blankets and play Frisbee, and we all watch skydivers jump out of planes and land triumphantly right in front of us. My husband and I will be in our folding chairs on the front row as usual, having a picnic of roasted eggplant, fresh cucumbers from my garden in a Greek salad, fresh peaches and a glass of red wine.
We’ll hear the band play the National Anthem
and we’ll stand and put our hands over our hearts.
When the sun dies down, we’ll wait for the first cascade of bursting white lights and we’ll hear the loud blasts, and see the spectacular firework display from the comfort of our own blankets as it cools off and the the smoke will be everywhere afterwards in the starry night.
Rob doesn’t wonder about any of this ’cause he’s just stayin’ alive.
I love you, Robbo.
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