What It Means To Support Our Troops

No matter how we feel about the war in Iraq, most Americans share the same mantra when it comes to our men and women in uniform: We support our troops.

That may prove to be the only lesson we gleaned from Vietnam, but it is a crucial one, as central to our collective identity as shared DNA. Our troops didn't declare this war, but they are expected to wage it, and we understand the difference. Our support for them is steadfast. We just have a curious way of showing it sometimes, being humans and all.

Remember when the war started? You couldn't drive around the block without seeing one of those yellow magnetic ribbons stuck to a car or truck. But then, we found out those pesky magnets might damage the paint. Thieves were peeling them off in parking lots, too. Who needed the aggravation? These days, you can drive for miles and never see a single one of those magnets.

Some people write letters and send care packages to the troops, but most of us don't. It takes time to write, and shopping really can gobble up a lunch hour when you're scouting for the wants and needs of a soldier toiling in 117-degree heat, which was yesterday's forecast for Baghdad. There are limits to how much we're allowed to send, too, and then we have to drag ourselves to the post office and pay to ship it. Most of us don't even do that for people we know.

We also don't want to dwell on the war — "dwell" being defined as doing or saying anything that makes us feel guilty about how most of us mindlessly navigate a coast-to-coast Green Zone while our troops spend their every waking moment on red-hot alert for the relentless danger of their daily lives.

Besides, it's hard to think about something we feel helpless to fix.

Father Tom Fanta understands our desire to push this war out of our hearts and heads, but he also knows that's exactly where the realities of this war need to reside. He longs for a more mindful America, starting with his own congregation at St. Dominic's in Shaker Heights, Ohio, an affluent suburb of Cleveland.

Like so many accomplished suburbanites, they are bright, educated and privileged. They are good-hearted people blissfully unaware of the war, because they can be.

"War rarely touches a suburban church," he said. "We don't even think about the war most of the time. It's not like Norwalk, Ohio, where all my cousins live. They talk about 'the boys' all the time. They have a shrine in their church for those serving in the military. Their kids are going off to the war. Our kids are going off to college."

This is not to say his parishioners don't care. Most of them, he said, oppose the war in Iraq, yet they gave a returning soldier a standing ovation when Father Tom asked him to stand during mass.

Recently, the 46-year-old priest officiated a military wedding. He asked the four men in uniform how the public responded to them.

"Do they come up and thank you for your service?" he asked. "Do they ask how long you're home?'"

One of the young men shook his head. "No, most people just ignore us."

Father Tom has thought a lot about that conversation and about his old friend, Bob, who died recently at age 70. Bob was not a veteran, but throughout his adult life he made a point of thanking veterans for serving the country.

"Not just young people in uniform," he said. "If he found out someone had served in World War II, Bob would stand up from his chair and say, 'Thank you for serving our country.' It seemed like such a little thing, but you could tell it always mattered."

The longer this war drags on, the more likely we are to cross paths with men and women in uniform. Often, they're alone. If they're at an airport, chances are they're either coming from or heading to Iraq.

It can be unnerving to think about approaching total strangers to shake their hands and thank them for their sacrifice. But Father Tom said you only have to do it once to see why it matters.

Besides, it won't cost you anything in time or energy.

The surprise on their faces, though, just might break your heart.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… And His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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