More than the Ultimate Sacrifice

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With Veteran's Day just past, I am sure everyone has been thinking bits and pieces about patriotism, Veteran's and most certainly, Iraq.

A few days ago, I posted my thoughts on today's younger veteran's, young people who put their lives on hold to defend our freedom and our right to pursue our dreams and lives.

What about the young people, who not only put their lives on hold, but in defending all we hold dear, the forever altered their course of life. What about the soldier's that come back missing a leg, an arm, their vision or even their way of life as we know it? Their lives will never be the same, they have to change their dreams and their passions, they have to adjust to life with no paticular glory, just as someone who "served their country."

We talk about death, those that die for us, but what of those who have to let part of their lives die? They come back to a changed life, is that not even more painful than death itself? Living daily with a reminder of the sacrifice they made for others, with no return?

Even those who were not physically wounded, on the outside remain passive and calm, but inwardly bearing the wounds of someone who has seen and caused death. Someone who has smelled the acrid scent of burnt flesh and heard the cries of screaming children. Wounds not visible to anyone except those who bear them also.

Where is our thanks? Thanks for those who will never know life to be the same, all for sake of freedom.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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