I’m not that brave.  

Tomorrow is Memorial Day and it appears that mostly, its not even about
the soldiers who have died to defend the ideals of America, but a day to
eat a hotdog, (hopefully 3, with a little mustard and a little known secret I
discovered, cole-slaw, right on top), wearing pretty summer clothes, and
being excited that consistently warm weather is just about here.  That’s
been what Memorial Day has meant to me for like, ever.

But my favorite morning show, CBS’s Sunday Morning, had a segment
about soldiers who have had their faces blown to smithereens by
roadside bombs and the like.  Some get to have reconstructive surgery to
give them some semblance to a human being and to normalcy. In the
show the doctor uses an inscription he found on a 16th century Italian
cathedral: it is the divine right of man to appear human.

Geesh Louise! These young men go over there with the idea of fighting for
their country and some come back fighting with the idea of their right to
appear human.  To have a face that at least looks somewhat like what a
human face should look like.

I was horrified and did what I normally seem to do these days at any
touching story I hear: I cried a little.  For their plight a little cause that’s
the right thing to be crying about, but mostly at the realization that I am
just not that brave.

I could not actively be in a war.  I could not get up every morning
knowing I was going to spend my day trying to kill people.  People I don’t
know and people who have other people loving them and hoping that
they will come home in one piece.  I could not spend my time knowing
there are bombs everywhere and anywhere waiting to take if not my life,
then a limb or two, a face, my head, even just my favorite finger.  I really
want to keep them all, especially my favorite finger, well, especially my
face, or my limbs most of all.  No, I want all my stuff to stay right where it
is.  So, nope, can’t do it.  I’m a coward.  I don’t even like the pain of the
dentist, who has been drilling, excavating and taking my wisdom teeth
out one by one.  I cancel all the time because the anxiety of knowing
that the dentist is going to make me physically uncomfortable is
sometimes more than I can bear.  

I never even got into a fight growing up.  The thought of someone
inflicting pain on me kept me from making too many enemies.  I don’t
wanna be kicked, bitten, punched, slapped, unless, oh well, never mind.

I love this country, more now than ever.  Traveling abroad has shown me
honestly, that the United States, even with all its problems, is a pretty cool
place for a girl like me to live.  I don’t want to live and be aware of the
fact that I am a second hand citizen.  I don’t want to live in fear that if I
am raped, my family can stone me for my crime.  I don’t want my
beloved clitoris removed with, any instrument, dirty or clean.  I don’t
want to be forced into prostitution because there is no other possible way
of eating or feeding my family.  I do believe this country has more
opportunities that most places on Earth.  Friends who disagree, I’m glad
this is my essay and not a forum for you to tell me how wrong I am.

Still, I don’t want to fight with my life or limbs for these liberties.  I don’t
wanna give up my life to go defend it.  Is that incredibly selfish?  Maybe,
maybe not, but I just feel this way.  Sorry.  I’m scared of the idea of
knowing my job could very likely cause me death or disfigurement or
pain.  I’m really scared of that.

There are kids over there who have desired to defend this country and
they are over there with the best intentions.  They understand the risk
and are okay with it (though my best friend is sure that most of them
really do not understand the risk).  Its still amazing, courageous and awe-
inspiring to me, because at the very least, they’ve gotta know it could
just as well go wrong as it can go as they hope, with them coming home
in one piece to go on with their young lives.  I couldn’t do it and am kind
of glad that they can and do.

So this weekend, when I get my hands on a hotdog and burger and corn-
on-the-cob and ice cold lemonade/ iced tea and hopefully a piece of
chocolate cake, I promise that I am going to say a prayer of thanks to
those who made it possible for me to live in my self-centered little world,
here in Plainfield, NJ, USA, where I get to indulge in the luxury of
contemplating the coward that I am.

Thank you soldiers, and I am sorry that it has ever come to this….

Donniee Barnes,
One Damned Lucky American