Mule Skinner

I am not the author but wanted to share with you guys and gals

Get Out The Kleenex


I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college
kids racing around with longneck beers and sizzling platters.

Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely
"military:" clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look that comes with pride.

Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this very booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East. That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back to this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn he would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking about him until he returned home to me.

I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better? Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these thoughts, high pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.

"I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an idiot! I can't believe he is even in office. You do know, he stole the
election."

I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an endless tirade running down our president. I thought about the last night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me chills.

Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent people they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you know."

My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.

"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the military
budget at the expense of our social security and education. And, you know what else? We're just asking for another 9-ll. I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."

Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom? Do they even know what "freedom" is?

I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each other dejectedly, listening to the women talking.

"Well, I, for one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train professional baby killers we call a military."

Professional baby killers? I thought about what a wonderful father my husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our children again.

That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one voice will answer on behalf of our military, and let her pride in our troops be known.

Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with them, I smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway around the world defending your right to say rotten things about him."

"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of my business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY husband, and all the other fine American men and women who put their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to complain. Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions cheapen it."

I must have been louder that I meant to be, because the manager came over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I replied. Then turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of your
meal."

As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked up their check and scurried away.

After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."

With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what you did."

As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too, were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers. I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day.

Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their pride in our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just maybe, the two women who were railing against our country, would pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers, and the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.

As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference. Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own. It will simply say, "Thank You!"

To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the protected will never know. GOD BLESS AMERICA!

dctoner

Be proud of your self most people need a reminder of what freedom means, and most of us aren't brave enough to get up and tell them.

You handled your self well and your husband will be proud.

I know I need a reminder every once in a while.

Thank you husband for me for all he is doing.

And may he be safe and return soon.


Wade

BigBlue

Talk about a lucky guy to have a woman like that.

Thank you mam. I salute you. I know how hard it is to stand up for something when everyone around you is putting it down. But thank you for doing so.

I pary to god that your husband is safe and to return home shortly. God bless you and your husband mam. Thank you.

More Power

Know matter what you think or how you feel about what goes on in our country you must remember many people have died so we can have a choice. Thankyou for taking a stand because as you well know freedom isn't free. God bless you and your family.

firestorm

I too, need a reminder at times. A reminder of what I have, what I take for granted, and why I do what I do.
I'd seen this peom before, and felt it applied to the fallen men and women of our military.

“A Tribute to Fallen Firefighters”

Another day, another call,
Firemen hurried one and all.
They geared up and moved out, no time to spare;
As sirens pierced through the afternoon air.


It was a duty, a calling, their passion, their way,
To save the public from their darkest days.
Out of habit they work without fear, without fret;
Now this hero is one we'll never forget.

I wonder if he reflected on the hope his life gave,
On this day when it was only God who could save.
To the soul mates I hug you and join you in your tears;
On this day when reality has overcome your fears.
But know he'll be with you in spirit, in love,
He'll be watching and guiding from high above.

To the children, though this grief may now seem too great,
Know that your daddy has a heroes fate.
Know he'll still be there in every possible way;
Let his memory bring you joy each and every day.

To the parents be proud that this man was your son,
Look back on his life, and cherish what he's done.
Think of all the lives that he has touched;
Take comfort in the fact that he loves you so much.

To the siblings, grandparents, grandchildren, friends,
To aunts, uncles and cousins that he loved to the end;
Know that his life was not taken in vain.
Let pride in all he's done take the place of your pain.

To his "brothers and sisters" who shared in that calling,
Don't feel guilt or regret as your tears are falling;
But feel honor and appreciation for all that you do,
Stand strong, stand together, let that strength help you through.

To God with who these men have now gone;
Know that recollections of these lives on Earth will live on.
Please bring peace to hearts that are suffering today;
As they wonder how to go on, please show them the way.

And to the fireman whose life has been lost,
Know that we recognize your work and its cost.
Thank you for all who you've helped and you've saved;
For the time and the love, and the life that you gave.

dsljunkie

Its been a long time since something Ive read has given me chills. Thank you mam for honoring all the brave men and women that fight so hard for our country.
I have 3 people that I am extremely close to that are proudly serving our country as we speak, 1 of which is my brother, another is his wife, and the third is a very close friend of many years.
People who do not have ones they are close to in the military have no idea what kind of emotions float around on a daily basis and it makes me sick that they take it for granted . For the sake of this story I will not go on but I will say again, thank you and God Bless America.
Scott

natstayl

His mom died of gangrene when he was 6 years old, she was 28. She stabbed her leg on a rusty nail in a fence plank in the mtns of NC in 1930 fifty miles from the nearest doctor. His dad “loaned” his three sons to different farmers in the community and in his despair, the dad began drinking and moving from town to town doing odd jobs for room and board.
This son who became my father-in-law joined the Navy in 1942 and made a career of being a sailor. He saw action in four conflicts; WWll, The Bay of Pigs, Korea and in Kuwait. He hated war but would fight to the death to keep America free. Early in the conflict in Iraq, our flag was stolen from the end of our driveway five times by protesting college kids who wanted them to burn during anti-war demonstrations. When the newspaper ran the stories, and each time he heard someone blame our president or protest a war, he was quick to say, “Feel free to leave at anytime” and “Freedom isn’t free. Just visit any national cemetery.” He lost buddies in WWll and because he knew first-hand some cultures hate Jews and Americans, he refused to shop products made within those borders. We lost Dad last August. I miss his stories and salute him, along with all the others who chose to go instead of flee. Nat