Tender MEMORIAL DAY read, first posted on 9/11 6 years after the day New York was attacked.
I felt many, if not all readers would enjoy this and pass it along to friends. Sometimes another perspective is helpful in order to appreciate the GOOD which comes from the service our men and women at war give to a world in need of hope. How about a point of view from a Freedom loving Iraqi and equally freedom loving America soldier...
An Iraqi, a tired American Soldier and...A MUST READ!
Letter by Sergeant Grant L. Pratt III, 1st Cav. Baghdad, Sept. 2007
Sergeant Grant Pratt, III is on his second tour of duty in Iraq. He is a Platoon Sergeant with the 1s Cavalry and supervises 23 other medics and an aid station in one of the most dangerous neighborhoods of Baghdad. This letter home was sent September 11, 2007. In his own words he describes how one Iraqi has given him hope:
"Bury My Heart in the United States"
I wanted to take this opportunity to let everyone know of an experience I had here that really affected me.
I have wondered over the last seven months of my deployment if this war can be won militarily, or if there is any hope that this country can embrace a democratic government. In my eyes the people seem more intent on themselves and their contempt for other each other than making things work here.
With the things I have seen, experiences, and watching friends die I kind of believe that our endeavor here is pointless. I did not believe that there was a single Iraqi in this country that really cared if the violence stopped or that there were any that did not want to kill every American they see. Then I had something happen the other day that (did not change my mind necessarily) gave me some hope.
About a month ago an Iraqi came to my aid station; he is one of the Iraqis that works with us as an interpreter. His name is Sam and he is 20 years old. He came to my aid station with a severely broken and lacerated finger after it was shut in the 300 pound door of an armored vehicle. I spent about two hours cleaning his finger and suturing it, all the while making small talk. He continually told me how he wanted to come to America and join our Army so he could come back and do more for Iraq. He told me of how he loved Americans and all he wants is to become one.
I listened and talked with him until I was finished with my procedure and wished him well, and in my mind dismissed most of what he said as just words and never thought much else of it.
On September 9th it came across the radio that one of our vehicles had been hit by an explosion and we had one soldier killed, two wounded, as well as the interpreter that was with them. I put my gear on and went with the squadron commander to the hospital to check on our injured men.
It was quite a gruesome sight. First I saw my medic, who had minor wounds, then went to the young man who had served as the gunner. He had received blast wounds to the leg which had torn away a majority of his outer thigh. I then went to view the body of our fallen brother who died due to a head injury. We helped console the other members of the platoon as this was the second Soldier they had lost in five days. Overwhelmed by the experience, we walked in to see the interpreter, which turned out to be Sam.
Sam had suffered severe lacerations to the head, resulting in over 40 sutures and staples. He had a small skull fracture and a small brain hemorrhage. Despite his severe injuries he would only ask how the others were doing. He was covered in blood and in extreme pain and just wanted to be sure that the soldiers he was with were okay.
Once satisfied they would be taken care of, he took my commanders hand and said, "If I die please take my heart to the United States and bury it there." We assured him his injuries were not mortal and left him in the care of the doctors at the hospital and told him we would be back the next day to see him.
The next morning I received a call from the hospital telling me that Sam was going to be released to an Iraqi hospital, but that he did not want to go. He feared that because of his ethnic background that he would be denied treatment and sent away. I told them I would call back in a few minutes and that we would come and get him and continue his care at my aid station. After 20 minutes of talking to the commander and making arrangements, I called the hospital and told them we would be there shortly to pick him up when they informed me that they had already released him, and had given him money to get to the Iraqi hospital. Needless to say, we were a little upset.
We began searching the area around the hospital and could not locate Sam. We were worried that he would fall into the wrong hands as any Iraqi that works with the Americans are often killed because they are aiding the enemy.
Three hours later we got a call from the gate to our base that Sam was there. He had walked from the hospital to our base, about seven miles in flip flops and pajamas, despite fairly significant injuries. My medics brought him to the aid station and as we laid him on the bed I looked at him and said "You are a pretty tough guy." He grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes and said, "I knew if I got here you would take care of me, Sergeant."
Tears filled the corner of my eyes and I replied "You bet I will." He then said, "I had to get back here for two reasons. First the memorial service for Johnson (the soldier we had lost a few days prior) is tonight and I cannot miss that. We also have an important mission tomorrow and they need me." I informed him he would make it to the service, but would not be going on patrol anytime soon. He argued for a short time then agreed that it would be in his best interest to relax for a couple of weeks before going outside the wire, but still insisted his guys (the U.S. Soldiers from his platoon) needed him.
Later that night I sat two rows behind Sam as we paid tribute to our fallen brother and watched as he mourned and cried with the rest of us. I realized he is as committed as the rest of us and is considered a brother to us.
I just got done rechecking his wounds and talking with him. He still insists on going back out with his guys because they need him. He talked about his dreams of living in California some day. I have to say I admire this guy. He displays courage like no other Iraqi I have seen and in some ways made me think again of my views.
Despite what you see and hear on the news, there are Iraqis like Sam that are dedicated to seeing their country succeed. There may not be many, but some sacrifice along side us with a simple dream of their country being better off, or like Sam of being an American citizen. It gives me some hope that things will eventually work out here, and that someday Sam will be an American citizen, because he has earned that right.
Grant
Thank you for reading and sharing! MORE BLOG POSTS COMING from www.jmpratt.com and www.powerthink.com. James Pratt
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
LIFE AT DAYS "Bye Mom...Love You!"
A Little Boy, a Mom, and Me
I get story ideas wherever I am at the time; talking a walk, mowing the yard, and shopping at Day’s. So I wasn’t surprised to get my Mother’s Day Column while standing in line at my favorite family owned small town grocery, Day’s Market.
Jim the Bag Boy usually offers me something to write about, as he has with two memorable columns illuminating life and its pitfalls. I didn’t see the hard-working and totally delightful Down’s Syndrome adult yesterday. So… I wasn’t expecting another page of wholesome goodness to scroll itself across the right-brain screen of my mind; only temporarily devoid of action as I considered to buy or not to buy the Snickers bar tempting me to throw off my diet for one more day.
A story formed as a nine year-old boy ahead of me in line, counting pennies, nickels, and dimes to pay for what used to be “penny candy,” caused the voice of my Mom to speak to me the words of a card I found one year after her death.
I was in 1962 again and headed to Knolls Corner Market. I was on the three-speed bike with a playing card securely attached to the spokes of my back tire with a cloths pin. I had collected a quarter in pennies, nickels, and dimes, and knew it was enough for a Frostie Root Beer and a Butterfinger candy bar with a couple of Double Bubble Bubble Gum’s thrown in.
I was momentarily brought back to the present by the cashier saying, "Eleven more cents please," and watched the boy’s story unfold as he counted the change out just as millions of boys before him had at every grocery store in America.
I smiled, totally grateful for the time it was taking for the boy to carefully take each red cent from his small plastic sandwich bag.
See, I recently discovered a message my Mom had left for me to find after her death. She had put all my childhood report cards, photos, awards in a box, and in the “Baby Book” she knew I would open, there was the card; the words of her last message to me as penned by Marsha Newman:
“Bye Mom. Love you!”
I let you go alone to the store when you were only nine.
Your father said it was high time to let you go…
It was hard the first time. I knew you would come back,
An older boy full of talk about your grand adventure.
I knew you’d soon forget our world of popcorn and games,
Of peas porridge hot and peas porridge cold. Then one day,
You’d turn and say, “Bye Mom. Love You!”
And you’d be twenty years old.
And now our little world of games and finger play,
Has truly given way to other roads that never,
Quite lead home again. I comfort myself with knowledge,
That, although I don’t know where you’re going,
I do know where you’ve been.
On my knee.
Beside my bed in the dead of night.
And always close to my heart.
So when we must part, as inevitably we all must do…
The sweet good-bye you gave to me,
I now give back to you…
“Bye son…Love you!”
MOM
I miss you so much Mom! What can I do now but share that sentiment with others? God bless you now and forever!
James Michael Pratt, Author
MOM, The Woman Who Made Oatmeal Stick to My Ribs
www.jmpratt.com
I get story ideas wherever I am at the time; talking a walk, mowing the yard, and shopping at Day’s. So I wasn’t surprised to get my Mother’s Day Column while standing in line at my favorite family owned small town grocery, Day’s Market.
Jim the Bag Boy usually offers me something to write about, as he has with two memorable columns illuminating life and its pitfalls. I didn’t see the hard-working and totally delightful Down’s Syndrome adult yesterday. So… I wasn’t expecting another page of wholesome goodness to scroll itself across the right-brain screen of my mind; only temporarily devoid of action as I considered to buy or not to buy the Snickers bar tempting me to throw off my diet for one more day.
A story formed as a nine year-old boy ahead of me in line, counting pennies, nickels, and dimes to pay for what used to be “penny candy,” caused the voice of my Mom to speak to me the words of a card I found one year after her death.
I was in 1962 again and headed to Knolls Corner Market. I was on the three-speed bike with a playing card securely attached to the spokes of my back tire with a cloths pin. I had collected a quarter in pennies, nickels, and dimes, and knew it was enough for a Frostie Root Beer and a Butterfinger candy bar with a couple of Double Bubble Bubble Gum’s thrown in.
I was momentarily brought back to the present by the cashier saying, "Eleven more cents please," and watched the boy’s story unfold as he counted the change out just as millions of boys before him had at every grocery store in America.
I smiled, totally grateful for the time it was taking for the boy to carefully take each red cent from his small plastic sandwich bag.
See, I recently discovered a message my Mom had left for me to find after her death. She had put all my childhood report cards, photos, awards in a box, and in the “Baby Book” she knew I would open, there was the card; the words of her last message to me as penned by Marsha Newman:
“Bye Mom. Love you!”
I let you go alone to the store when you were only nine.
Your father said it was high time to let you go…
It was hard the first time. I knew you would come back,
An older boy full of talk about your grand adventure.
I knew you’d soon forget our world of popcorn and games,
Of peas porridge hot and peas porridge cold. Then one day,
You’d turn and say, “Bye Mom. Love You!”
And you’d be twenty years old.
And now our little world of games and finger play,
Has truly given way to other roads that never,
Quite lead home again. I comfort myself with knowledge,
That, although I don’t know where you’re going,
I do know where you’ve been.
On my knee.
Beside my bed in the dead of night.
And always close to my heart.
So when we must part, as inevitably we all must do…
The sweet good-bye you gave to me,
I now give back to you…
“Bye son…Love you!”
MOM
I miss you so much Mom! What can I do now but share that sentiment with others? God bless you now and forever!
James Michael Pratt, Author
MOM, The Woman Who Made Oatmeal Stick to My Ribs
www.jmpratt.com
Sunday, May 3, 2009
PANDEMICS, Fear, and You!
The Greatest Pandemic of All
A new strain of Swine Flu H1N1, in which thousands may become infected and die is the current world health headline. To put that in perspective 35,000 lives are taken annually in the United States by the common flu. All things being equal, the ending of life is tragic from whatever causes; illness, pandemic or not.
A “Pandemic” may be classed a noun describing an epidemic or widespread outbreak, or as an adjective describing a state of being. While the World Health Organization is definitely monitoring the threat level, now at 5 out of 6, the highest rating given, there is a state of being that causes more death-like symptoms among the living than any other outbreak known to man.It even kills…
HOPELESSNESS… is the surrender to chronic discouragement and depression. When you arrive at a hopeless state you have lost any inkling of healing physically, spiritually, morally, financially, and believe there is nothing left to “live” for.
DISCOURAGEMENT… is the precursor. Discouragement has many causes, and one size does not fit all. Life has dealt some strange and interesting hands to all of us. I’m an expert on discouragement, caused by varied experiences I never could have guessed would be mine to deal with; reversals in health, finances and economics, career, unexpected and sudden losses of family and friends, and other discouragements offered in a life-customized sort of way.
Some get discouraged rather easily in one department of living while another may seem impervious to the same negative details life throws at him or her.
There are issues with real and perceived discouragement triggers including:
Self-Esteem – Looks, Figure, Personal Talents
Wealth – Not Enough, Never Enough, None at All
Education – Affording, Maintaining, Learning Difficulties
Addictions – Drugs, Alcohol, Porn, Relationship, Lifestyle
DEPRESSION… is a cousin to hopelessness caused not only from some science confirmed in genetic studies but from chronic misdirected thinking, and focus upon negative life events past, present, or those perceived as future.
Mixing obsessive negativity with real biological disorders of mental and emotional kinds becomes a chronic cycle condemning one to see the darkness surrounding the stars at night rather than the majesty of the lights dispelling the darkness.
The antidote? It is said that... HOPE is the ingredient which makes life bearable. Man's hope may be born of great effort, trial, patience or from the luxury of a God-given gift of irrepressible positive energy I so admire in many.
Pliny the Elder said: “Hope is the pillar that holds up the world. Hope is the dream of a waking man.”
Indeed, without hope one risks the loss of health and life. It is the “hopeless” who pull the trigger ending so many lives. Murder-suicides are becoming epidemic; all “hopeless” related. Heart attacks linked to blocked arteries, are often blamed upon diet, but did you know stress and anxiety causes plaque buildup, creates hypertension, (HBP)and causes immune system breakdown? The correlation between stress and anxiety and linkage to other illnesses and pains of a hundred kinds is indisputable. (A topic for another day.)
I feel such empathy for those lost souls, and plead for those others to not give up; those with emotional ability to choose the “light” and goodness, and sounds, and sights of beauty available in a world also suffering its “Pandemics...” DO NOT GIVE UP! Keep seeking the light of hope, the laughter that innocent joys, and good humor, and simple pleasures of life brings.
I hope the reader knows that I am not pointing a finger at the sufferers of depression and hopelessness. I am just pointing out that HOPELESSNESS is a bigger killer than swine flu ever will be. It strikes every second of every hour, and lasts sometimes for years. It increases the chance of the immune system weakening, thereby becoming vulnerable to a myriad of physical ailments that the body could otherwise defend against.
The news of today; unemployment, wars, disasters, and now Swine Flu Pandemic; all real, all frightening, must not be allowed to take anchor in our lives as if we depended on the outcome of news to “fix” the problems. The scythe called “hopelessness” isn’t diminished by waiting for something “good” to happen, for our “lottery ticket” to be pulled a winner. These uncontrollable events cannot “fix” themselves through more reporting.
The answer?
More on HOPE and PANDEMIC cures in my next post.
James www.jmpratt.com
A new strain of Swine Flu H1N1, in which thousands may become infected and die is the current world health headline. To put that in perspective 35,000 lives are taken annually in the United States by the common flu. All things being equal, the ending of life is tragic from whatever causes; illness, pandemic or not.
A “Pandemic” may be classed a noun describing an epidemic or widespread outbreak, or as an adjective describing a state of being. While the World Health Organization is definitely monitoring the threat level, now at 5 out of 6, the highest rating given, there is a state of being that causes more death-like symptoms among the living than any other outbreak known to man.It even kills…
HOPELESSNESS… is the surrender to chronic discouragement and depression. When you arrive at a hopeless state you have lost any inkling of healing physically, spiritually, morally, financially, and believe there is nothing left to “live” for.
DISCOURAGEMENT… is the precursor. Discouragement has many causes, and one size does not fit all. Life has dealt some strange and interesting hands to all of us. I’m an expert on discouragement, caused by varied experiences I never could have guessed would be mine to deal with; reversals in health, finances and economics, career, unexpected and sudden losses of family and friends, and other discouragements offered in a life-customized sort of way.
Some get discouraged rather easily in one department of living while another may seem impervious to the same negative details life throws at him or her.
There are issues with real and perceived discouragement triggers including:
Self-Esteem – Looks, Figure, Personal Talents
Wealth – Not Enough, Never Enough, None at All
Education – Affording, Maintaining, Learning Difficulties
Addictions – Drugs, Alcohol, Porn, Relationship, Lifestyle
DEPRESSION… is a cousin to hopelessness caused not only from some science confirmed in genetic studies but from chronic misdirected thinking, and focus upon negative life events past, present, or those perceived as future.
Mixing obsessive negativity with real biological disorders of mental and emotional kinds becomes a chronic cycle condemning one to see the darkness surrounding the stars at night rather than the majesty of the lights dispelling the darkness.
The antidote? It is said that... HOPE is the ingredient which makes life bearable. Man's hope may be born of great effort, trial, patience or from the luxury of a God-given gift of irrepressible positive energy I so admire in many.
Pliny the Elder said: “Hope is the pillar that holds up the world. Hope is the dream of a waking man.”
Indeed, without hope one risks the loss of health and life. It is the “hopeless” who pull the trigger ending so many lives. Murder-suicides are becoming epidemic; all “hopeless” related. Heart attacks linked to blocked arteries, are often blamed upon diet, but did you know stress and anxiety causes plaque buildup, creates hypertension, (HBP)and causes immune system breakdown? The correlation between stress and anxiety and linkage to other illnesses and pains of a hundred kinds is indisputable. (A topic for another day.)
I feel such empathy for those lost souls, and plead for those others to not give up; those with emotional ability to choose the “light” and goodness, and sounds, and sights of beauty available in a world also suffering its “Pandemics...” DO NOT GIVE UP! Keep seeking the light of hope, the laughter that innocent joys, and good humor, and simple pleasures of life brings.
I hope the reader knows that I am not pointing a finger at the sufferers of depression and hopelessness. I am just pointing out that HOPELESSNESS is a bigger killer than swine flu ever will be. It strikes every second of every hour, and lasts sometimes for years. It increases the chance of the immune system weakening, thereby becoming vulnerable to a myriad of physical ailments that the body could otherwise defend against.
The news of today; unemployment, wars, disasters, and now Swine Flu Pandemic; all real, all frightening, must not be allowed to take anchor in our lives as if we depended on the outcome of news to “fix” the problems. The scythe called “hopelessness” isn’t diminished by waiting for something “good” to happen, for our “lottery ticket” to be pulled a winner. These uncontrollable events cannot “fix” themselves through more reporting.
The answer?
More on HOPE and PANDEMIC cures in my next post.
James www.jmpratt.com
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