If Cindy "the idiot pawn of the Left" Sheehan's America is so worthless---not worth dying for---why the freak is she still here?

And if her view of America---not worth dying for---is representative of the Left (and the way they embrace her suggests that it IS), how can we think to give an ounce of credibility to their claims of patriotic motivation for their dissent? Is this the feeling---not worth dying for---of heroes and patriots, or of cowards and traitors?

A pox and everlasting shame be upon her. She is not worthy of her son.  I hope he is not allowed to look upon the scene she is making in his honor and at his expense. 

Nevertheless, I am sure this hope is in vain. Somewhere, I'm sure, Casey Sheehan is weeping.  Not at his own death, but at how his mother's grief has encouraged those who murdered him.

He is weeping over how his grown-old-but-not-grown-up hippie mother, the rare specimen among thousands of other grieving families, is aiding and abetting the cause of terror.

Listen carefully.  His voice is on the wind.

Why can't you be proud of me, mom?

Why can't you be proud of what I did, what I believed in, the cause for which I gave my life?  Why are you blaming my commander-in-chief?  Why not affix the blame, if you must lay blame, upon the incarnate devils who killed me?  They are the ones responsible for my death.  I volunteered for this, dear mother.  I knew what I was getting into, and I considered it worth any price, even my own life.

Why are you turning my sacrifice into a political playing card for anti-American fools who will never 'move on' from their hateful agenda, who love seeing the Iraq death toll---miniscule compared to earlier wars'---inch up every day, who would like nothing better than to see America retreat in dishonorable defeat, just so that they can say, We told you so?  Is that was passes for patriotism to your evil masters---gloating over their own country's discomfiture?  Not in my book, mom, and not on my watch. 

Why do you reject and belittle my sacrifice, and the sacrifice of my comrades present and past who have watered the tree of liberty with their own blood?  Not worth dying for?  Do you know how much that hurts, mom?  Why do you turn your understandable grief into actual hatred of the United States?  Do you so hate our liberty, our nation, our interests abroad in securing our nation and liberty, that my life outweighs it in your eyes? Is my life that meaningless to you?

Why do you not understand, mom, that some things are worth dying for, this nation being high on that list?

The transitory pain I felt as my body was rendered unfit for my spirit to inhabit is as nothing compared to the continual pain I feel now as you encourage, with your myopic shenanigans, the very monsters who killed me.   What do you seek to accomplish by your wailing?  Can you not see that if you succeed, you will make my death all the more meaningless as the terrorists rejoice in the American defeat?  For whom are you working, mother?

Why have you allowed your grief to blind you to the truth, and to bind you to the enemy? 

The explosion and shrapnel were forgotten as soon as I stepped into the realm of lights.  Why can't you be happy for me?  Why can't you understand we will be together again?

Why, mom, why?

Do not grieve so.  Politics aside, I am here, mom, and I am fine. Let me go, and let it go.

She is not worthy of her son.  It's a horrible thing to say, I know.  But every day it becomes more evidently true.

© 2005 Michael Christenson - 8/17/05

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