"There must be a way to donate to the troops," said a 50 ish woman who with her husband often joins the vigil. "You being out here brings it to mind."
I recommended New Directions to her. Located in the Veterans Center in Los Angeles it was started by drug addicted and homeless Vietnam Vets and they help troubled soldiers with vital services such as drug addiction treatment, counseling, housing and job preparation.
If you too are considering making a donation, for more information, please visit their website at newdirectionsinc.org. Or Google "military family support," for numerous other options.
Last night's vigil received widespread support in horn honks, waves and thumbs up. One 30 ish man walked up, read the sign and firmly shook my hand and he asked, "How are you doing sir," with compassion in his voice. A bus driver began enthusiastically waving from 25 yards away and when he reached the vigil, blasted his horn.
But this was a remarkable vigil for another reason. "Grandpa," shouted a tiny voice and suddenly my little 5 year old grandson Cameron ran to me and gave me a big hug.
The vigil was joined for its last 25 minutes by my daughter-in-law Maria, Cameron and his baby sister, 2 year old Carina. When all the hugs and kisses finished, they sat down on the three foot tall red brick wall that abuts the sidewalk where the vigil is held.
At the height of the wall, immediately behind it is lush green grass and hydrangeas blooming in purple flowers as big as giant softballs and in this setting, they had a "picnic" as they ate their dinner and offered their kind words of support.
Their presence lifted my heart as the children laughed and played, their giggling and sheer joy lighting up that street corner and offering a moment of happiness to anyone who witnessed it.
"I know why you're here," said Cameron with a sparkle in his eyes. "Why am I here," I asked with a smile. "Because you remember all the soldiers that have been killed and all the people who have been killed in the wars," he answered.
Struck by his response, I asked Maria how he knew. "I explained it to him on the way over here," she replied. "And he remembered it."
Late in the vigil, Maria left briefly with Carina and while they were gone, a 30 ish couple slowly walked up, the husband pushing a black baby buggy as they warmly smiled at Cameron and me.
"May we see the baby," I asked. "Sure," the father replied his voice ringing with pride and they pulled back a pink blanket covering the buggy top.
Inside was an adorable 7 week old baby girl. We all leaned in to have a good look and when it was noted this infant was very well fed, her mother confirmed it while beaming ear to ear, thrilled to talk about her child.
In Iraq and Afghanistan, there are parents and children just like these lovely people only they unfortunately are trying to survive in a war zone, where food and medical supplies can be scarce and danger lurks around every corner or from overhead.
But as Cameron pointed out, the vigils are conducted to remember all of those who have been killed in the wars and I'll add, also with the hope the wars will be ended and that others can live as safely and comfortably and joyfully as we do here.
Dick
1 comment:
I have received several surreptitious signs of agreement from bus drivers, cab drivers, and passengers in private automobiles. One that comes to mind concerned the passenger, a lady, giving me a stealthy little thumbs-up. As the car made a right turn, the passenger window rolled down and the gentleman driver leaned in front of his lady passenger and said,"You should be ashamed of yourself." I regret to say that I was too disconcerted to respond as I later came to wish I had. I wish I had answered, "Please, come and explain that to me", or "Convince me ", or something that might have brought him and me together in conversation. But his choice of words and their delivery were so non-crude, non-shouted, non-threatening, and almost like a scolding mother, I was flabbergasted to silence. I hope he comes back some day.
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