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4/20/08

Sitting in a motel room in Waltham, Massachusetts watching the Phillies play the Mets on Espn… it’s the night before the Boston Marathon and I’m trying not to engage mentally with the challenge the morning holds… I’m thinking about a man I met a few days ago... a Vietnam vet who took great issue with a song of mine… he told me about his experience coming home after “getting shot at for four years”. He told me about flying into San Francisco where he was spit upon and called “baby killer”.  The anger was still visceral, and as he told the story I could see that the wound was as fresh as it was deep. We talked for a while, heart to heart, warrior to troubadour. I answered his questions as well as I could, explaining my positions, not pushing too hard but not backing down either. I marveled at the courtesy and respect he showed me, though he clearly came at these issues from a different place. I tried to show him the same respect.  I told him that although I had been, and remain, opposed to what our leaders have asked our military to do in Iraq, I’d come to see the current situation like this: A house is burning and we need to determine the cause of the fire. But regardless of whether it was started by arson, lightning, or faulty wiring, our sons and daughters are running into the flames trying to put that fire out. I told the vet that I would continue to speak and to sing against war, because we all must tell the truth as we’re given to see it. But my truth also included the idea that we need to honor the courage, dedication, and, yes, love, of those who are asked to risk their lives for our nation. The vet shook my hand and paid me one of the greatest honors I’ve ever known. He said, “I wish I’d  known you forty years ago”.

(c) John Flynn, All rights reserved