It seems as if each and every one gets harder—harder to lose more family and friends, harder to find reasons, harder to believe they’ll come back home soon, and certainly harder to accept.
It may be because every man is one more brother gone in my eyes.
My oldest brother, Michael, is 31. He is a graduate student and has two kids and a wonderful partner. He is not politically active, has no criminal record, loves hanging out with friends and adores his children, like most of the men here. He has a great sense of humor, is highly creative and deeply supportive of his family and wife.
I imagine Michael, Liz, Owen and Dylan waking to US Marines in the middle of the night that break down their door and barge into their home, shooting real bullets, yelling orders at everyone, telling my brother to “Shut up!”, jamming a M-16 in his gut when he speaks up in outrage. Wreaking havoc in what was sound sleep and sacred safety, terrorizing their children and robbing them in an instant of much more than physical possession.
It may be because every man is one more brother gone in my eyes.
My oldest brother, Michael, is 31. He is a graduate student and has two kids and a wonderful partner. He is not politically active, has no criminal record, loves hanging out with friends and adores his children, like most of the men here. He has a great sense of humor, is highly creative and deeply supportive of his family and wife.
I imagine Michael, Liz, Owen and Dylan waking to US Marines in the middle of the night that break down their door and barge into their home, shooting real bullets, yelling orders at everyone, telling my brother to “Shut up!”, jamming a M-16 in his gut when he speaks up in outrage. Wreaking havoc in what was sound sleep and sacred safety, terrorizing their children and robbing them in an instant of much more than physical possession.