Not an option in my book
I'm going to preface this post (where I may by virtue of my own opinion alienate others) by saying that I have the utmost respect for people who are in the military. My issue is with the people at the top of the decision making chain. Now on to the regularly scheduled blog:
The other day I was talking with my grandmother in-law (is that a term??) and we were discussing H's college fund. She asked if I would be devastated if he decided not to go to college. I replied that I actually don't believe college is the only option and that as long as he had a solid plan for the future--whether that be apprenticeship, trade school, etc.. I would be relieved. She then threw in the "or the military" statement.
To which I quickly said "not an option" which stunned her a bit.
"Well what if that's his wish, would you stop him?"
"There is not much I can do to physically stop him but I wouldn't give my approval and I would make darn sure that he realized the ramifications of what that decision could be on his life."
I think I shocked her into silence because the subject was dropped but its been swishing around my mind for the last few days and I wanted to sort it all out.
Both K and I have families with military pasts. His father and uncle were both in the service. My grandfather served in WWII and my father was in Vietnam. For my dad it was a painful experience for him and one he only recently will discuss in even minor detail. He was the only surviving member of his tank platoon. That's a lot to live with. He still has the shrapnel embedded in his body from the blast that killed everyone else and frequently sets off metal detectors. The idea that my father came this close to death is scary. That his death would have meant neither my brother nor I would exist and that my E and H would never have entered this world is sobering . That line of people could have been cut off...For what? I know he is not sure. He struggled to find an answer for that question for years and when he couldn't come up with one he tossed his purple heart in the trash. My mom fished it out later but its taken years to come to terms with for him.
There lies the reason that neither of my children will have my encouragement or blessing to enter the military. I actually think very highly of the type of people that do decide to join. Many of them have high ideals and truly want to be of service. Admiral qualities. My issue is that the people at the top don't always enter fights for the right reasons. There are not many reasons out there to put your life on the line but there are some. The problem when you join the military is that you give up the right to make that decision to someone else. When you risk your life you should be absolutely clear that you know the value of what you are risking it for. But Sometimes whose motives may not be as clear cut as they seem. I don't want to fight other peoples battles. I don't want to bury my children because someone will financially benefit from a power shift or because a leader is settling an old grudge.
Its almost like going out to a bar with a friend who gets obnoxiously drunk and starts shoving someone because they jealously want their boyfriend or something else they have. I may care for my friend but I'm not going to jump in and start beating people up because she is bullying others. She can give me a whole bunch of reasons why she hates that other person but really its about greed. As a friend its my job to reign her in, sit her down and sober her up and then get her to look at the situation in a different light. Now if she got jumped leaving a bar by random attackers of course I would help fight them off. The discretion is mine though and its important to never give up that personal power to judge for myself.
And so when the children are at the end of their high school years there will be no visits from the recruiter at our house, no one weekend a month off practicing for war during college, no armed forces academy or scholarship in the future. I hope they understand that there is too much to lose.

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