Why the lady doth protest

I get the sense that some of you all might not understand why Brad, Carol, Gene, Trilight and others stood out for hours on the war anniversary. Truth is, I wasn't even sure. My best friend, Jason, asked that hard question when I had barely begun to recover from that difficult vigil, and I told him the truth. I didn't do it to change minds, I didn't do it to change anything. I did it for myself. It's a vigil I do once a year (and I'm convinced I'll do it next year as well) to mark the anniversary as a difficult tragedy.

What, you may ask, do I do the rest of the year? I build bridges. I find similiarites with people whom I should by my political beliefs detest. Everything I do is guided by that. That's why it's easy to be in a loving relationship with a man who's away at sniper school right now. Because our similiarites are greater than our differences. And because I trust that he is a good and loving person of high ethics and integrity. While I myself feel no need to go to sniper school, I don't have a desire to stop him. In fact I said, "Honey, when your peace activist girlfriend tells you to buy a new assault rifle and go to sniper school, it's time to think about it."
Okay, I know this horrifies some of you, but the man, who writes an outdoor (think huntin' fishin' shootin') column, was able to work my vigil into last Friday's edition with a little humor but dead serious intent. He's into building bridges, too.
So why I do it. Because I must. I must mark that day. And will continue to do so until there's no anniversary to mark. And I'll continue to be grateful to Jason and all of my friends who lovingly point out that it seems a little wonky. Because it is. But so's the war.