Introductions

I live in the suburbs of Seattle, one of the most liberal cities in the nation. Home of "Baghdad Jim" McDermott. Largest city in a state that decided that it was just too much to expect voters to actually show up at a polling place, show identification, and prove that they were eligible to vote before casting their ballots. Instead, we went to an all-mail system. The argument was that it would save a few bucks. And, no, it won't increase voter fraud - what on earth would make you think that? There have been times when I've been sorely tempted to pull up stakes and move to the heartland - maybe one of those "flyover states" like Oklahoma - but I was born in Washington, dang it, I grew up here, and I happen to like the scenery enough that I refuse to concede the Pacific Northwest as a lost cause.

I was born in 1952 - toward the end of the famous baby boom. Went to high school during the late 60's. Graduated in 1970. At the time, there was a war going on in Southeast Asia, and a draft lottery to decide who got to go and fight it. In case you don't remember that, or haven't read about it in your history books, each year they selected all 365 days of the year at random. (Sorry, I don't remember how they handled February 29 - maybe there were 366 pieces of paper in the drum.) If your 19th birthday was one of the first 120 or so dates to be drawn, you might as well start packing your bags for basic training unless you had a deferment of some kind. If your birthday was one of the last 120 or so dates to be drawn, you could take a deep breath and start making plans for college or a career. If you were in between, well, it depended on what the force requirements were that year.

The year I turned 18, my birthday came up #26 in the lottery. I figured the chances were it would be a high number the next year when it really mattered to me. Nope - my draft number was 24. I'd already got the letter in the mail and passed my draft physical when something unexpected happened: the rules were changed for the "4G" classification. "4G" was what used to be called the "sole surviving son" deferment. The year I would have been drafted, it was expanded such that anyone who had lost a member of their immediate family in military service was exempted. You see, my brother was a Marine Corps aviator. He flew with the Black Knights, who were based at El Toro Marine Air Base in Southern California. He was killed in 1965 when his F4 Phantom went down one night somewhere between Yuma, AZ, and the China Lake Naval Ordinance Test Range. He was 26 years old, he had just made Captain, and he was my hero - in the way that only a 26-year-old brother can be to a 13-year-old kid. If I could have followed in his footsteps, I would have enlisted in a heartbeat - but I was terribly nearsighted and there was no chance of any kind of flight duty. So, since I couldn't serve where I wanted to serve (remember, I was only 19 at the time), I took the 4G deferment and went on with my life. But I still have a soft spot in my heart for the Corps, and the sight of a Marine in full dress can still choke me up. "No better friend, no worse enemy." No better fighting force has ever walked the face of this planet. God bless 'em.

In the last half-century, I've lived a pretty typical middle-class American life. I've bought and sold houses and cars. I've had times when I made a fair amount of money and times when I've lost a fair amount. Tried to build a business and failed. Tried to build another and succeeded. Screwed up a first marriage, but made a second one work for over 20 years and counting. Raised kids who have now made me a grandfather. Done things I'm proud of and things I'd rather not remember. Fortunately, I can honestly say there have been more of the former. I've lived in Washington State all my life, but I've traveled extensively on business, and at last count have been in 45 of the 50 states with a few foreign countries thrown in for good measure. I believe in God, and I believe in the existence of evil. I believe that there is an ultimate standard of right and wrong - it isn't merely what society decides it is at any given moment in history. And I believe that the Founding Fathers were pretty smart guys.

So why, at this point in my life, did I decide to speak out?

My frustration has been building for a long time, but the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's back was the series of hearings early this week when General Petreus made his report to Congress about the "troop surge" in Iraq. The sight of a decorated four-star General, who has given 35 years of his life to the service of our country, forced to sit quietly while the committee members pontificated, and pontificated, and pontificated some more - most of the comments carefully calculated to imply, without stating it explicitly, that they thought the General was a lying S.O.B. and they weren't about to believe anything he said no matter what it was - kindled a level of outrage in me that I haven't felt before. Whether anybody ever reads this or not, there are things I have to get off my chest.

I can't promise that I'll be updating this blog on anything remotely resembling a regular schedule. I have no idea how long it will take to get it out of my system (maybe never). But hang with me, and we'll see where this takes us. Thanks for listening.