As The Sparks Fly Upward

 T-minus 18 days, and here’s what’s on my mind.

 When a soldier tells someone that he/she is going to Iraq, the response generally seems to fall into one of four categories:

1) THE “OVERWHELMING SYMPATHY” RESPONSE, in which the other party looks at the deployee as if he has just revealed a diagnosis of terminal cancer. This is, in my experience, the most common response, and clearly comes from a special place in the heart of a good person. Often the domain of mothers, grandparents, and many other kindly, caring folk. It frequently leads to awkwardness from those who may have previously been friendly with the deployee, but now are just not sure what to say.

2) THE DENIAL RESPONSE, a kind of uneasy, tentative “that’s no big deal, right?” kind of vibe. Usually comes from the deployee’s loved ones–those who cannot bear the thought of hearing that name on the local news a few months down the road. Again, often leads to some awkwardness and uneasy silences. Notably, this has (mostly) been my own response to the news that I would be going.

3) THE “BIG WHOOP” RESPONSE, a tepid “so what?” type of reaction, usually from someone who has already done their time in the sand, often  two or three times over. Pretty well-justified in these folks, and, to be perfectly honest, of #1 through #3, I find this response the easiest to deal with–not much required on my end (except to shutup already).

But there is, I believe, a better way:

4) THE “HEALTHY, WELL-ADAPTED” RESPONSE has come from about one-third of the people I’ve been in contact with, and goes something like this:

ME: blah blah blah Iraq blah blah rupard.org blah blah
HEALTHY, WELL-ADAPTED LISTENER: I’m sorry to hear that you are going; we’re going to miss you around here while you are gone. Is there anything I can do to help you out?
ME: No, but it is nice of you to ask.
H.W-A.L.: Well, I will keep you in my prayers.

You can also cut out the offer for assistance in the above example–not at all essential. The simple act of  acknowledging the deployee’s circumstance goes a long way, at least for me. In fact, I think this principle applies pretty broadly to bad news, including the aforementioned cancer diagnosis. Most of us don’t want people to feel sorry for us; everyone has their “bag of troubles” and I truly would not want anyone fretting over my admittedly puny portion of  the world’s hardship. But it’s always nice  to hear the sincere, well-wishing words of others, and any prayer offered on my behalf will always be gratefully accepted by me.

One last note: my intention here is to comment on a phenomenon I have noted, rather than to tell people how to behave around me for the next few weeks. In reality, none of the above four responses are bothersome to me (though if I were a resident of Berkeley, California, I might have experienced a response #5, which may not have been as pleasant). All of the above reactions are good-hearted, and I am a firm believer that good intentions pave the road to heaven at least as much as the highway to that other place.