I was sitting
alone
in one of those
loud,
casual
steakhouses
that you find all over
the country.
You know the type
a bucket of peanuts
on every table,
shells littering the floor,
and a bunch of
perky college kids
racing around with
longneck beers and
sizzling platters.
Taking a sip
of my iced tea,
I studied the crowd
over the rim of my glass.
My gaze lingered
on a group enjoying
their meal.
They wore
no uniform
to identify their
branch of service,
but they were
definitely
"military:"
clean shaven,
cropped haircut,
and that
"squared away"
look that comes with
pride.
Smiling sadly,
I glanced across my table
to the empty seat
where my husband
usually sat.
It had only been
a few months
since we sat
in this very booth,
talking about his
upcoming deployment
to the Middle East,
That was when
he made me
promise
to get a sitter
for the kids,
come back
to this restaurant
once a month
and treat myself
to a nice steak.
In turn
he would
treasure
the thought
of me
being here,
thinking about
him
until
he
returned home
to me.
I fingered
the little flag pin
I constantly wear
and wondered
where he was
at this very
moment,
Was he safe
and warm?
Was his cold
any better?
Were my letters
getting through
to him?
As I pondered
these thoughts,
a high pitched female
voices
from the next booth
broke into
my thoughts.

"I don't know what
Bush
is thinking about.
Invading Iraq.
You'd think that man
would learn from his
old man's mistakes.
Good lord.
What an idiot!
I can't believe
he is even
in office.
You do know,
he stole the election."
I cut into my steak
and tried to
ignore them,
as they began
an endless tirade
running down
our president.
I thought
about
the last night
I spent
with my husband,
as he prepared
to deploy.
He had just
returned
from getting his
smallpox
and
anthrax shots.
The image
of him standing
in our kitchen packing
his gas mask
still gives me chills.
Once again
the women's voices
invaded my thoughts.

"It is all about
oil,
you know.
Our soldiers
will go in and
rape and steal
all the oil,
they can in
the name of
"freedom".
Hmph!
I wonder how many
innocent people
they'll kill without
giving it a thought?
It's pure greed,
you know".

My chest tightened
as I stared at
my wedding ring.
I could still see
how handsome
my husband
looked in his
"mess dress"
the day
he slipped
it on my finger.
I wondered
what he was
wearing now?
Probably his
desert uniform,
affectionately dubbed
"coffee stains"
with a heavy
bulletproof vest
over it.

"You know,
we should just leave
Iraq alone.
I don't think
they are hiding
any weapons.
In fact,
I bet it's all
a big act
just to increase the
President's popularity.
That's all it is,
padding the
military budget
at the expense of our
social security
and education.
And,
you know what else?
We're just asking
for another 9-ll.
I can't say when
it happens again
that we didn't
deserve it."

Their words
brought to mind
the war protesters
I had watched
gathering outside
our base.
Did no one appreciate
the sacrifice of
brave men and women,
who leave their homes
and family to ensure
our freedom?
Do they even know what
"freedom"
is?
I glanced at the
table where the young men
were sitting,
and saw their
courageous faces
change.
They had stopped eating
and looked
at each other
dejectedly,
listening
to the women talking.

"Well,
I, for one,
think it's just
deplorable
to invade Iraq,
and I am certainly
sick of our
tax dollars
going
to train
professional baby killers
we call a military."

Professional baby killers?
I thought about
what
a wonderful father
my husband is,
and of how long
it would be before
he
would see our
children again.
That's it!

Indignation
rose up
inside me.
Normally reserved,
pride in my husband
gave me a brassy boldness
I never
realized
I had.
Tonight
one voice
will answer
on behalf
of our military,
and let her
pride
in our troops
be known.
Sliding
out of my booth,
I walked around
to the adjoining booth,
and placed my hands
flat on their table.
Lowering myself
to eye level
with them,
I smilingly said
"I couldn't help
overhearing
your conversation.
You see,
I'm sitting here
trying to enjoy my dinner
alone.
And,
do you know
why?
Because my husband,
whom I love
with all my heart,
is halfway
around the world
defending your right
to say
rotten things
about him."
"Yes,
you have the
right
to your opinion,
and what you think is
none of my business.
However,
what you say in
public
is something else,
and I will not
sit by and
listen to you
ridicule

MY country,

MY president,

MY husband,

and all the other fine

American men and women

who put their lives

on the line,

just so you

can have the

"freedom"

to complain.
Freedom is an expensive commodity,
ladies.
Don't
let your actions
cheapen it."

louder
than I meant to be,
because the manager
came over to
inquire if
everything
was a all right.
"Yes, thank you,"
I replied.
Then
turning back
to the women,
I said,
"Enjoy the rest
of your meal."

As I returned
to my booth
applause
broke out.
I was embarrassed
for making a scene,
and went back to
my half-eaten steak.
The women
picked up their check
and scurried away.
After finishing
my meal,
and while waiting
for my check,
the manager
returned
with a huge
apple cobbler ala mode.
"Compliments of those soldiers,"
he said.
He also smiled
and said
the ladies
tried to pay
for my dinner,
but that another couple
had beaten them to it.

When I asked
"who",
the manager said
"they had already left,
but that the
gentleman was a veteran,
and wanted to take care
of the wife of
"one of our boys."
With a lump
in my throat,
I gratefully turned
to the soldiers
and said
thank you,
for the cobbler.
Grinning from
ear to ear,
they came over
and surrounded
the booth.
"We just wanted to
thank you,
ma'am.
You know
we can't get into
confrontations
with civilians,
so we appreciate
what you did."
As I drove home,
for the first time
since my husband's deployment,
I didn't feel
quite so alone.
My heart was filled
with the warmth
of the other diners
who stopped
by my table,
to relate
how they,
too,
were proud of my husband,
and would keep him
in their prayers.
I knew their
flags
would fly
a little higher
the next day.
Perhaps they would
look for more
tangible ways
to show their pride
in our country,
and the military
who protect her
And maybe,
just maybe,
the two women who were
railing against
our country,
would pause
for a minute to
appreciate
all the
freedom
America
offers,
and the price
it pays
to maintain
it's freedom.
As for me,
I have learned
that one voice
CAN make a difference.
Maybe
the next time protesters
gather outside the
gates of the base
where I live,
I will
proudly stand
on the
opposite side
with a sign
of my own.
It will simply say,
"Thank You!"

* * * * (Lori Kimble
is a 31 year old teacher
and proud military wife.
A California native,
currently lives in Alabama.)* * * *

To those who fought for our nation:
Freedom
has a flavor the protected
will never know.

GOD BLESS AMERICA!

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