Ashamed or Proud

There are days when I just miss my granddad so much. Its weird. And I get depressed. I am depressed. But not the same way I used to be. That or else I’d forgotten how this feels. The hole in the chest, trying to breathe around the pain. Maybe its because of Mike, maybe not. I don’t think so. Who knows? I could be in denial.

Its raining today. I just want to curl up inside it all and remember.

Maybe this is bothering me more than I want to admit. But I can’t describe it. I cna’t put it down to a certain thing that connects it all. My pain is never simple. I want to know what my grandfather did. Where did he go and what did he see? All I know is that he is a World War II Army veteran. I’ve seen one picture of him in uniform. I should have asked while he was here, while I had a chance. Now I’m trying to piece together his life. I want to know what kind of person he was growing up. I want to be able to be proud of him.

I don’t know why I’m proud even to begin with. But I am. I am so proud. I almost feel that I shouldn’t be proud of them. But my grandfather was in the Army. I don’t know what he did. But I want to. I’m proud of Mike too. I don’t understand completely what he’s doing, but thats ok. This country though, makes me feel like I shouldn’t be proud to be an American.

Honestly, I’m so frustrated. I want to know whats going on, so I can decide if I support the decisions of the government or not. But I don’t know. And I’m not sure what the best course of action is. And I’m almost ashamed that I’m proud of my grandfather and Mike.

But I think the whole conflict in Iraq is at an impasse. My first reaction to the kidnappings and demands is to pull out of Iraq. They want a tyrant or a lordship as their government, that is their problem. But the radical Muslims want to go to heaven. And the way they get there is by killing Americans. So I’m inclined to react in a defensive mode. The best defense is a strong offense (or is it vice versa?) Anyway, destroy them before they destroy us.

But leave well enough alone. If they don’t want us there, I think we should pull out. But then I hear these stories from returning soldiers. How the children are cheering as troops pull into the town. They are learning English in schools and….they want to be free. I almost wish there could be a gate of some sort. If you want to stay in Iraq with the Muslim government, like Sadam, stay. And if you want to be free of that type of government and you want to come to America or be democratic like America, then do that.

I guess my definition of freedom is kinda “different.” I think freedom is a lot in your head. You can decide to be free or you can decide to be locked up. sigh I hate defining freedom. But I feel that I’m free. I can say what I want. I can say something like Bush is an idiotic moron and not be arrested or stoned to death. Its my opinion and I’m free to say it. I can practice what ever religion I want – Christian, Muslim, Wiccan. I can write opinion essays and have them printed. Or I can print my own opinions. I can get together with a bunch of my friends and talk about whatever we want.

Maybe I’m not “free” in the fact that I have to pay taxes. But at least I know there are police and firemen who will rescue me if I need them. At least I know the military tries (ok weak, but go with me) to protect this country. The county legislature builds the roads, keeps them paved and clear of snow. I can go to a public school and get an education.

And maybe, I’m just thankful for what I have. I’m thankful my grandfather didn’t die in WWII. I’m thankful I met Mike (now he just better come home.) What I wish – I want to know if Danny’s sacrifice was worth it all. Was his death in support of something good, something worthwhile? When I hear stories of Americans being kidnapped and held hostage and even killed, it makes me so upset. When Iraqis talk about wanting their country back, I’m inclined to give it to them. Stop killing Americans and we’ll leave you alone. But then stories of Iraqi children celebrating an American arrival and people thanking the soldiers for being there come out. And then I’m proud again. Those Iraqis want the Americans to be there. They want the freedoms I have here. So give it to them.

I wish life could be that simple.

When it rains I dont mind
Let me stand here all night
Did she take her own life
Let me know she’s alright

And every time it rains
I feel her holding me
And everytime it rains
Are the angels crying

I’ll stay strong, I’ll be fine
Carry on with my life
I still stare at the sky
Pray for rain, all the time

Why’d you run? Did you hide
Why’d you leave, no good bye
When the clouds, take the sky
Does a soul, give you life?

And every time it rains
I feel her holding me
And everytime it rains
Are the angels crying
And every time it rains
I feel her holding me
And everytime it rains
All the angels cry for you

I’ll never be the same
I’ll never be the same
be the same
be the same
be the same

And every time it rains
I feel her holding me
And everytime it rains
Are the angels crying
And every time it rains
I feel her holding me
And everytime it rains
Are the angels crying

Rain Song ~ Cold