Mr. Speaker, tonight, I will read an article that was written by Joan Ryan, a columnist at the San Francisco Chronicle, that was in the newspaper on September 9, 2004. Joan was talking before a TV show, and she wrote an article about the…
Mr. Speaker, tonight, I will read an article that was written by Joan Ryan, a columnist at the San Francisco Chronicle, that was in the newspaper on September 9, 2004. Joan was talking before a TV show, and she wrote an article about the conversation she had with Dolores Kesterson, and these are Joan's words: ``Dolores Kesterson wanted to know if I had read about the father in Florida. Dolores's 29- year-old son, Erik, her only child, was killed almost 10 months ago when his Black Hawk helicopter crashed in Mosul during a firefight. He had been in Iraq just 8 days.
``She found out the ways parents always find out, a knock on their door. For her, it came around 8:25 the night of November 15 as she was washing her dinner dishes. A man and a woman from the Army stood in the doorway. They gently suggested she sit down. `This father in Florida,' she was telling me, `when the Marines came to the door to tell him his son had died, took a hammer to their van, poured gasoline into it, set it on fire and got in.' ''
Her face remained expressionless, but her eyes lifted to meet mine as if to say, do you get it? That is what it feels like.
Later, during the show, I saw a picture of Eric: good-looking, square-jawed, and smiling. But what I really saw on the screen was my own son, my own only child.
That is why we do not look too closely, I think, on those occasions when the names and photos of the dead appear in print. We do not want to get too close to that pain. That is why neighbors have been giving Kesterson a wide berth. They do not know what to say, but they also do not want to think too hard about what she has lost: not a soldier, but a boy, who once slept in footie pajamas, who waved at her from the merry-go-round, who liked her cooking more than any on Earth.
The only way to make this war at all tolerable is to allow it to be a televised blur of road-side bombings, insurgent militia and thick reports issued from Washington at regular enough intervals to keep the talking heads occupied on the Sunday morning shows.
When embedded reporters covered the start of this war, the big picture issues, namely, the shaky rationale for the war, were buried beneath the stories of individual military units. This is why embedding reporters was such a brilliant stroke. The unwavering focus on the grit and courage of the American soldiers made it nearly impossible to criticize the war publicly.
Now that those soldiers are dying, the lens has gone panoramic. The farther we stay from Erik Kesterson and Steven Bridges and Jimmy Arroyave and Arron Clark and Ken Ballard, the easier to imagine that this war is not a horrifying disaster.
The Bush administration is so determined to keep us from thinking about dead soldiers that it even will not allow photographs of flag- draped coffins being transported back to the United States. ``Maybe if everyone could see them, they would realize that they are somebody's children,'' one parent at the town hall meeting said, which is exactly the point. This administration would rather we not listen
too closely to Mark Crowley tell us that his 18-year-old son, just 10 months out of high school, was killed on patrol, or that his gunner, who weathered six hits to his machine gun, was killed when the seventh bullet went through his head.
It would rather we not listen to Cindy Sheehan holding her son's childhood Teddy bear, say that she sleeps only when she takes a pill, and even then, just 3 or 4 hours. ``It gets worse every day,'' she said Tuesday night. Her son, Casey, died in April.
All of our children have given their futures, and our futures, Kesterson satisfied, finally raising her hand to speak on camera toward the end of the show: ``There will be no grandchildren. These young men had so much more to give. They could have been great. They are not just wooden pieces pushed around a war table like a game.''
Somewhere, there is a mother hearing on the news that there have been casualties in Mosul or Fallujah or Baghdad. She prays, ``Please, don't let it be my child.'' Maybe this time it will not be, but it is always somebody's child.
The number of dead Americans in the Iraqi war passed the 1,000 mark this Tuesday, before the show's taping, and kept going. More knocks on the door, more gentle suggestions to sit down.
Mr. Speaker, there is a smarter, safer way for America to conduct itself in Iraq. The course the Bush administration currently has us on is not it.