Ten years ago we were in DC and visited Arlington National Cemetery. It was a really heavy experience. Just so many tombstones. Rows and rows. Then there was Robert E. Lee's house, which has been turned into a museum and the slave quarters that they were in the process of refurbishing after years of sort of ignoring that part of his living quarters. Like they were buying into the myth that he didn't own people.
The noble Confederate.
What fucking ever.
One of the things that really struck me about the cemetery was the view. You could see the Pentagon and also the Congressional buildings from different parts of the grounds. Standing among the acres and acres of dead servicemen and women I wondered if those people in those buildings ever stepped outside and looked up. Looked to see what the price is for the decisions they make.
Watching the news last night and they were talking to an Israeli soldier who had been in the reserves and called back to active duty to fight. He was talking about the vast array of ages that were there. All of the different reservists who had been called back. Because Israel has mandatory service. Almost everyone serves at least two years in the military.
Brent and I have talked for years that we feel like some sort of mandatory service is actually a good thing. We'd both like to see there be other options than just military. Peace corps type things as well. Education services. But two years that everyone, EVERY.ONE. gives. I think it would help people feel more like they are part of a the country instead of just living in it. I think it would give people who have never lived outside of their own hometowns a broader view of the world and of people in general.
Brent also thought maybe military service, just that option, might not be a bad thing. That it would give people more of a perspective of what it means to serve. We talk about that all the time. That when those people in the buildings below Arlington call for "more troops" and "boots on the ground" the piece that gets forgotten is that those boots are filled with baby feet. And those troops are groups of our kids. If it was your kid, if it was you, you might think about it.
But then I remembered what we were watching that triggered the discussion. The Israeli soldier who was recalled from reservist back to active duty to fight. Almost everyone in Israel serves. And yet they are at war.
We just don't ever learn that war is death. If you are serving or if you are living where a bomb is detonated. If you are part of the terrorist organization or you are going to a concert and being taken hostage or gunned down in your home to spread terror. We do not seem to be able to comprehend that we are all just trying to live in this world and killing each other is the worst possible way to do that.
Ten years ago we stood in Arlington National Cemetery and saw the gravesites of men and women who have served our country from the Civil War to a funeral happening that day. Not all of them died in service, but all of them served and understood what it meant when some politician promised more boots on the ground.
Four years ago we stood on the east side of the Sandia mountains in front of a tree I had seen in my dreams the night before and spread some of my parent's ashes. It was a crisp Fall morning but clear and beautiful. I know I couldn't find the spot again if I tried. We hiked in and as soon as I saw the tree I knew it was the right one. As I said, I had seen it the night before in a dream. What looked like two trees growing from one trunk. Separate but rooted together.
At the base of that dual tree I took the bag that held both of their ashes and poured them out. I was a little nervous because I'm not sure that it's totally legal to do. And I didn't want to freak out anyone else hiking nearby because it was obvious what I was doing. Some people are really bothered by the thought of death and dying and a pile of ashes would spin them up.
It didn't stop me from doing what I was there to do, but it did make me a little cautious.
By now the wind and the snow and the rain and more wind will have spread those ashes further and wider and deeper than what I did. They are part of the mountain now. I'm also fairly certain that my niece and her family took their portion of the ashes up to the top of the mountain to spread so my parents are part of the whole east side. Where the sun touches first when the day starts. Where the rain and the snow are more likely to fall. Where the wind blows through the trees moving the branches in a way that sounds like whispering.
It's a peaceful place to be.
My dad served in the Army. He was in Germany right after WWII helping in reconstruction. One of the things I remember him talking about his time there was how poor everyone was. My dad was a depression era baby. He was the main breadwinner for his family from the time he was 12 due to an unreliable alcoholic father. He was reliably alcoholic, just not so good at the rest of it. My dad knew from poor. For him to say someone was poor that was saying a lot.
But the war, wars really they hadn't recovered from WWI before WWII got rolling, had wiped people out. The bombings destroyed entire cities. The constant fighting had made saving or creating impossible. All of the "extra" was put toward the war effort. And there wasn't a lot of extra to start with. So once it was all over, there was nothing there. And it took a long time to recover.
My dad died an old man far removed from his time in the military. He lived a full long life. Married his sweetheart when he got home. Had kids. Grandkids. Great grandkids. A good life. And he rests on the east side of the Sandias with the love of his life.
Out of view of the Pentagon or the Congressional buildings.
But he was still a pair of feet in those boots.
My father-in-law filled boots in Vietnam and decades later in Afghanistan.
My husband filled boots that were all over the world including supporting Gulf War One.
My family understands that it's feet that fills those boots. The feet of people who are loved. Who just want to live a full life.
I hope that the people in the shadow of Arlington consider what a long shadow it really casts.
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