[Rhodes22-list] Food for Thought

[Alex Bell]

Paul,

Thanks for posting this. Living in North Carolina, we are not far from
Cherry Point Marine Air Station, New River Air Station and Camp Lejune.
We see these young men going about their lives, serving in the Marine
Corps and both Pamela and I have been affected by our interaction with
these young people. We noted with pride just how well mannered and
pleasant folks are. They come from all walks of life, but they meld into
people with a purpose, a cause and pride in themselves and their
country.

One recurring observation I have made about thse troopers. They're so
young. I was born older than these guys seem to be. 

Alex

Paul Grandholm wrote:
> 
> > My Heart On The Line
> > By Frank Schaeffer
> >
> > Before my son became a Marine, I never thought much
> > about who was defending me. Now when I read of the war
> > on terrorism or the coming conflict in Iraq, it cuts
> > to my heart. When I see a picture of a member of our
> > military who has been killed, I read his or her name
> > very carefully. Sometimes I cry.
> >
> > In 1999, when the barrel-chested Marine recruiter
> > showed up in dress blues and bedazzled my son John, I
> > did not stand in the way. John was headstrong, and he
> > seemed to understand these stern, clean men with
> > straight backs and flawless uniforms. I did not. I
> > live on the Volvo-driving, higher education-worshiping
> > North Shore of Boston. I write novels for a living. I
> > have never served in the military.
> >
> > It had been hard enough sending my two older children
> > off to Georgetown and New York University. John's
> > enlisting was unexpected, so deeply unsettling. I did
> > not relish the prospect of answering the question "So
> > where is John going to college?" from the parents who
> > were itching to tell me all about how their son or
> > daughter was going to Harvard. At the private high
> > school John attended, no other students were going
> > into the military.
> >
> > "But aren't the Marines terribly Southern?" asked one
> > perplexed mother while standing next to me at the
> > brunch following graduation. "What a waste, he was
> > such a good student," said another parent. One parent
> > (a professor at a nearby and rather famous university)
> > spoke up at a school meeting and suggested that the
> > school should "carefully evaluate what went wrong."
> >
> > When John graduated from three months of boot camp on
> > Parris Island, 3,000 parents and friends were on the
> > parade deck stands. We parents and our Marines not
> > only were of many races but also were representative
> > of many economic classes. Many were poor. Some arrived
> > crammed in the backs of pickups, others by bus. John
> > told me that a lot of parents could not afford the
> > trip.
> >
> > We in the audience were white and Native American. We
> > were Hispanic, Arab and African American and Asian. We
> > were former Marines wearing the scars of battle, or at
> > least baseball caps emblazoned with battles' names. We
> > were Southern whites from Nashville and skinheads from
> > New Jersey, black kids from Cleveland wearing ghetto
> > rags and white ex-cons with ham-hock forearms defaced
> > by jail house tattoos. We would not have been mistaken
> > for the educated and well-heeled parents gathered on
> > the lawns of John's private school a half-year before.
> >
> > After graduation one new Marine told John, "Before I
> > was a Marine, if I had ever seen you on my block I
> > would've probably killed you just because you were
> > standing there." This was a serious statement from one
> > of John's good friends, an African American ex-gang
> > member from Detroit who, as John said, "would die for
> > me now, just like I'd die for him."
> >
> > My son has connected me to my country in a way that I
> > was too selfish and insular to experience before. I
> > feel closer to the waitress at our local diner than to
> > some of my oldest friends. She has two sons in the
> > Corps. They are facing the same dangers as my boy.
> > When the guy who fixes my car asks me how John is
> > doing, I know he means it. His younger brother is in
> > the Navy.
> >  Why were I and the other parents at my son's private
> > school so surprised by his choice? During World War
> > II, the sons and daughters of the most powerful and
> > educated families did their bit. If the immorality of
> > the Vietnam War was the only reason those lucky enough
> > to go to college dodged the draft, why did we not
> > encourage our children to volunteer for military
> > service once that war was done?
> >
> > Have we wealthy and educated Americans all become
> > pacifists? Is the world a safe place? Or have we just
> > gotten used to having somebody else defend us? What is
> > the future of our democracy when the sons and
> > daughters of the janitors at our elite universities
> > are far more likely to be put in harm's way than are
> > any of the students whose dorms their parents clean?
> >
> > I feel shame because it took my son's joining the
> > Marine Corps to make me take notice of who is
> > defending me. I feel hope because perhaps my son is
> > part of a future "greatest generation." As the storm
> > clouds of war gather, at least I know that I can look
> > the men and women in uniform in the eye. My son is one
> > of them. He is the best I have to offer. He is my
> > heart.
> >
> > Frank Schaeffer is a writer. His latest book,
> > co-written with his son,
> > Marine Cpl. John Schaeffer, is "Keeping Faith: A
> > Father-Son Story About Love and the United States
> > Marine Corps."
> 
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