One Tin Soldier

And since it's on my mind . . .

A recruiter called my house the other day.

I let the phone ring. I let the machine pick up.

I looked at the phone and thought, "You can't have him." Not for a war I don't believe in. Probably not for any war, but especially not this one.

He/she did not leave a message. For this I was relieved. It saved me from feeling guilty for deleting it before my newly eighteen year old son heard it.

That's probably the wrong attitude for a woman who's married to an ex-Marine whose father and stepfather both served multiple tours in Vietnam (he has every right to be proud of them and of his own service as well). But he probably shouldn't have married a woman with mixed feelings about war, violence and guns on her best days. A latent Quaker. A reformed flower child raised by not so reformed hippies who taught her all the verses of One Tin Soldier before she was four.

I know the high school has to let the recruiters have access to the student records in order for them to receive government monies, but it doesn't mean I have to make it easy for them to access him at home. If my kid is interested in serving in the military, he'll seek them out on his own when he's ready. Nobody's going to flash sign up dollars at him while he's vulnerable, if I can help it.

Fortunately, for the sake of my peace of mind, he's not. His mind is on playing music, studying graphic arts and computers, and making movies. I guess all those Peter Paul and Mary Lullabies I sang him while I was breastfeeding him paid off. Thanks for the suggestion, Mom.