Jazzman

Today as I walked out to get the mail, I saw my neighbor who has just returned from Iraq. His second 6-month tour in a year and a half. It was good to see him return home safe. His wife and three children have had the burden of running the home without him and I can only imagine how it must feel to be them and wonder every day if he will make it home safe. He is usually a real happy-go-lucky kinda guy, never in a bad or down mood. When I saw him and talked to him today, he seemed as though he had changed. He was real somber and down. He told me about how many times he was shot at, how many times his military escort team had fended off attacks, found and disarmed bombs that would have killed him. He told me about young solders that he had known that would escort him when out of the US compound, and how many of them had been killed and will not be coming home to their families. He talked about the real heroes in Iraq are the young solders that are not much older than his own sons. All I could do was listen and tell him that it’s great that he made it back home for his family. I’ll see my neighbor a lot more, cutting the grass, working on the house and the yard like we always do. I hope he can leave the horrible memories behind, but never having seen war myself, I can’t even come close to imagining what he has to deal with.

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So, next time I get into a low mood and think about my problems, I’ll try to remember the lesson in “perspective” I learned today, at my friends expense.

cloudy

That is very thoughtful Jazzman and thought provoking. I love the subject of perception. It is a very interesting and powerful thing. I have this poster by Scott Mulder - it has a quote on it about perception, how we are always on the edge of it. Anyway this reminded me of my absolute favorite poem in the world - it is called Absence, and it was written by Ruth Mary Packard.

Absence
(Ruth Mary Packard)

Your face is strange to me, my dear
Stranger than a stranger's face;
It's like a place I've known and loved
And dreamed of -
And when I see it once again
It's not as I remembered.

What is it I have traced upon my memory?
It's not the finished aspect of your face as seen by Mr. Blynn,
It's not the raw description they would give the Board of Missing men:
Brown hair, straight nose, blue eyes, brown hat - not that;

It's the current of your mind that I remember,
The sudden way you smiled and drew it in again,
The fear that blew across your eyes that day upon the pier,
The way your coat flapped,
The way your back looked in the rain and wind.

cloudy

crap - i'm too late to edit - that's Scott Mutter, not Mulder...

Pick-a-name

Thank you for this post........it struck me on many levels. I am sure I will be thinking about this more in the coming days.

You both sound lucky to have each other as neighbors! And seems you have both been through similar yet different trials. May God bless you both!