When Lesser Men Talk
Thinking of the stir that was created in me last night when I read some blogger’s comments about the troops and his opinion of our bravest and finest, kept me up late. It’s in the midnight hours that most mother’s of deployed soldiers do some of their best worrying and praying. I used to think it was due to the fact that the distractions of the day were calming and suddenly our minds and hands were left with nothing to do. That was a good theory when Mr. Hooah! was gone to Ft. Benning while Mike was first deployed. I have come to realize that, for me personally anyway, it’s because I know that as my day is ending his is beginning. It’s a funny assumption on my behalf because I know he pulls shifts all hours of the day. I got a call today from him, first one in a long time, he sounded tired, but considering it was after 1am there I am surprised he was still awake. I’m a mom. I can’t help it.
So, this stir that was caused within was a flash in the pan, and it’s because the words that were typed on that screen were baseless, senseless, tasteless, and gutless. They were typed out for one reason, and one reason alone — to attract attention and make some big splash. There is a huge difference when someone uses hyperbole as a tool to excite interest or drive home a point, but it’s another when someone uses a constant, heightened offensive tone to bring attention to himself. Ultimately I find comfort in reminding myself that it is not men like this who shape our world. The men who shape our world do not do it by provocatively stomping on the grave of men better than themselves. Instead men who shape this world respect those who defend them. Not only is it true that … “A Nation which forgets its defenders will itself be forgotten,” but I would say the same is true for the individual who thinks that a tantrum will bring him any notoriety and that using the graves of the fallen will accomplish that end for him.
When small men talk, big emotions are incited right away. They die out fast and stay cold, however. They may cause a rise in us by inflicting a flesh wound on a dearly held belief or value, but it’s like a flash burn — it hurts quickly, but the burn and wound are gone with no visible marks left behind. It’s like being bumped into and knocked down by a stranger. In the very moment it happens, it’s relevant and it may hurt. However, just moments later we are back up, dusted off and moving forward - soon that memory may even totally leave us without someone else to prompt it to the front of the mind.
This is much different from the stirring we feel when big men talk.
When big men talk we often feel a stirring in our hearts and minds. It’s often something that resonates within us as familiar and something with which we already agree, but we are still convicted — maybe just convicted to give more, do more, love more, or work harder. Big men stir the emotions, but it’s a deeper stirring that grows with time. There’s sometimes a wound that’s even created, but it’s a wound that is given as that of a faithful friend. It’s a relevant wound whose pain stays, but instead of causing a gaping and seeping wound it heals well — maybe leaving a scar just big enough to remind us of the wound and to help us be grateful for not having it any longer.
When my husband and son took their oaths to serve this Country as soldiers they spoke with voices that were loud, clear, decided and bold. Those words, that sound, that demeanor is what has stayed with me over the past 13-months and more. When I heard my husband lead a platoon of young soldiers in saying the Soldier’s Creed he was resolved, dedicated, and he was void of any fickle double-mindedness. That’s the man I hear. Hurtful words and hatefulness come and go like the wind or the trash that is blown about by its gusts. Strong, resolute, truthful, dedicated and bold words — words with substance and conviction, are what stay the storms and the tempest.
When the next flash in the pan hits I am vowing to stop and listen. I am not going to listen deeply to the small man who is seeking attention, but rather I will listen to the big men who are set to protect and defend us. I will listen to those who are my bread and butter of freedom. See, when they speak it matters. When they talk it’s not for attention. When they weep it’s not for drama. When they die it’s not in vain.
The most vocal imbeciles out there are one who never have and never will take an oath to defend this country.
And I say their opinions are not valid, as they cannot justify them.
As far as I know, I’ve never been released from my oath to defend the country, taken in June of l968. Although I’m honorably discharged, I never took an anti-oath or signed any paper renouncing my original oath, and, therefore, I am still bound by it.
Works for me. I’ll stick by it until my demise.
Chin up, mom — only those of us and the family’s know how hard it is.
“Illigitimi Non Carborundum” –Don’t let the bustards get you down.
All the best,
Al
Claire, that is exactly what I do. I listen. To the voices of my ancestors, to the voice of my father, my uncles, my sister, my niece, my husband and my son. It is those voices that carry weight with me. It is those voices that have the full knowledge whereof they speak. They deserve my attention, not that small man or the many like him.
Well said, Claire! Well said.
Al,
If your oath and commission are anything like that of the Army then not only is your oath never revoked but your commission is perpetual. Meaning, they can call you back anytime buddy. Remember that “honorable discharge” and “separated” does not mean “removed” thus you are not “local” to the military but you are “always” a part of the family. I’m sure that suits you just fine. It’s an honor to have you, Sir!
I’m linking to this. Beautiful.
Men want to look each other in the eye. Men like your husband and son do this by lifting up those around them , by standing tall and inspiring the same posture in others, and by upholding those too weak to stand on their own. Small men like that blogger lack the strength required to do thje same, and so instead of doing the best they can and relying on the strength of their brethren, they attempt to bring everyone else to their eye level by tearing them down. Good for you for not letting them do that to you.
I never took the oath the other men commenting here did. God did not bless me with a body fit to serve in that capacity. My regret for that is surpassed only by my gratitude to those who could and did and can and do. I’m sorry I can’t stand with you, but at least I can stand behind you.
Mr Hooah, thanks for the encouragement.
What you say is true — during Gulf War 1, I inquired as to sea duty with MSTS, and found out I was too, ahem, too elderly.
Age is not a factor,however. Should my Uncle Sugar knock on my door when I’m 80, I’ll be there to do whatever I can.
I assure you that I’m not the only one. When the chips are down, you can count on any veteran and their kin to do whatever is necessary for the good of the country.
Hooah!
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