Little boys with guns grow into soldiers.
My brother enlisted the other day. My mom is a combination of furious and heart broken. I don't think when she was buttoning up his shirts when he was little, tying a tie around his neck when he was going to middle school dances, that he was going to be carrying a gun across the chest, that that neck might have a bullet in it one day. I hate to be gruesome but that's the reality of the situation. That's in every Tim O'Brien work I've ever read.
There is no Red Badge of Courage. Didn't he read the book? There is no parade when you come home, just empty streets. And any streets that aren't empty are filled with fools, fools who don't appreciate, fools who don't understand, fools who don't see you're just getting home from defending them or whatever because they never cared enough to notice you had left.
I come from a liberal family. That much can be sure. But my grandpa served, both of my great grandpas, my soon to me step-father served. I get it. But this is my brother. My brother who never went to school. My brother who smoked pot and got fired from every job he ever showed up to. My brother who quit every move after he began it. My brother.
And I hope he cleans up. I hope he becomes a good man. Lord knows I hope he survives. He used to hit me. He's bipolar. He used to spit in my face and threaten me. I was afraid of him. Still am. But we've moved past that. I just haven't forgotten. He's not innocent. I can see him hurting somebody. I see a violent streak in him. What I don't see is him in a uniform.
Nonetheless he has still come a long way. Maybe he'll do well. But still. I'm sitting here, doing what I do. Being the "Golden Child" or whatever. The Alberta Einstein as my mom likes to call it. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, knowing full well that I make mistakes every day. I slip up. God I am so imperfect here and everywhere I take my feet. And yes, I said take my feet because I think if I followed them rather than pulled them along I would avoid a lot of puddles and sticky situations.
So if I'm the Golden Child, and I make mistakes, my brother will too. He always did the things we weren't supposed to. He was always the reckless one. He always had to get bailed out. What is he putting himself in now? Because the big difference is, when he sees that he is in trouble there is no family to bail him out. I believe in him as much as I believe in any person. But I believe in him as a human being, as my brother, as a man, not a super hero.
My brother is not a super hero. Nobody is. So it frustrates me to think that he is supposed to be protecting these people sitting here in the computer lab with me. The fools, the freshman, giggling like idiots, playing music during quiet hours, laughing over stupid jokes. My brother is protecting people who have the luxury of giggling and laughing, whispering back and forth, laughing mid shout. They're practically screaming with laughter. And my brother is protecting them? My brother is sweating and bleeding and aching and getting the shit beat out of him for them?
There might be some glory in saving somebody, but just anybody? I love my brother. We've got some bad blood between us but I wouldn't put him on the front line of a battle. I'm going to wish him luck. I'm going to hope he learns more than I feel like I am not learning in the classroom but I can't help but think that every time I see an idiot, every time I see somebody smoking pot, drinking, throwing her/his life away, I'm not going to think, hey why is my brother fighting for the land of this person? Maybe a lot of the stuff the Army does is more offensive than defensive, I'm a liberal and the first one to admit it, but the point is, why is my brother fighting when this person isn't even trying to live a decent life?
I guess I'm going to be a little resentful to see it from the other way now. Family is family and I don't know if I would want to give up my brother for the lives of a lot of these rude, selfish, and unambitious people I see on a daily basis. I understand that my brother never had it all together but he was trying, he was making headway, now what if a bullet finds him before home does?
There is no Red Badge of Courage. Didn't he read the book? There is no parade when you come home, just empty streets. And any streets that aren't empty are filled with fools, fools who don't appreciate, fools who don't understand, fools who don't see you're just getting home from defending them or whatever because they never cared enough to notice you had left.
I come from a liberal family. That much can be sure. But my grandpa served, both of my great grandpas, my soon to me step-father served. I get it. But this is my brother. My brother who never went to school. My brother who smoked pot and got fired from every job he ever showed up to. My brother who quit every move after he began it. My brother.
And I hope he cleans up. I hope he becomes a good man. Lord knows I hope he survives. He used to hit me. He's bipolar. He used to spit in my face and threaten me. I was afraid of him. Still am. But we've moved past that. I just haven't forgotten. He's not innocent. I can see him hurting somebody. I see a violent streak in him. What I don't see is him in a uniform.
Nonetheless he has still come a long way. Maybe he'll do well. But still. I'm sitting here, doing what I do. Being the "Golden Child" or whatever. The Alberta Einstein as my mom likes to call it. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do, knowing full well that I make mistakes every day. I slip up. God I am so imperfect here and everywhere I take my feet. And yes, I said take my feet because I think if I followed them rather than pulled them along I would avoid a lot of puddles and sticky situations.
So if I'm the Golden Child, and I make mistakes, my brother will too. He always did the things we weren't supposed to. He was always the reckless one. He always had to get bailed out. What is he putting himself in now? Because the big difference is, when he sees that he is in trouble there is no family to bail him out. I believe in him as much as I believe in any person. But I believe in him as a human being, as my brother, as a man, not a super hero.
My brother is not a super hero. Nobody is. So it frustrates me to think that he is supposed to be protecting these people sitting here in the computer lab with me. The fools, the freshman, giggling like idiots, playing music during quiet hours, laughing over stupid jokes. My brother is protecting people who have the luxury of giggling and laughing, whispering back and forth, laughing mid shout. They're practically screaming with laughter. And my brother is protecting them? My brother is sweating and bleeding and aching and getting the shit beat out of him for them?
There might be some glory in saving somebody, but just anybody? I love my brother. We've got some bad blood between us but I wouldn't put him on the front line of a battle. I'm going to wish him luck. I'm going to hope he learns more than I feel like I am not learning in the classroom but I can't help but think that every time I see an idiot, every time I see somebody smoking pot, drinking, throwing her/his life away, I'm not going to think, hey why is my brother fighting for the land of this person? Maybe a lot of the stuff the Army does is more offensive than defensive, I'm a liberal and the first one to admit it, but the point is, why is my brother fighting when this person isn't even trying to live a decent life?
I guess I'm going to be a little resentful to see it from the other way now. Family is family and I don't know if I would want to give up my brother for the lives of a lot of these rude, selfish, and unambitious people I see on a daily basis. I understand that my brother never had it all together but he was trying, he was making headway, now what if a bullet finds him before home does?