Our Experiences at Eyes Wide Open in D.C.

We arrived in Washington on Thursday morning and went straight to the William Penn House, the Quaker hostel where we would be staying. After checking in, we took Rory to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, since we knew that it was going to be a busy weekend and we wanted to keep our promise to him to see the dinosaur bones. This was great fun and Rory was much impressed with the T-Rex, Triceratops, Stegosaurus, and Allosaurus bones. We also went through the gem room and saw the Hope Diamond, Marie Antoinette’s earrings and some other amazing jewels. After we left the museum, we decided to head over to the National Mall to see if the Eyes Wide Open display had been set up yet. As soon as we left the museum, a torrential downpour of rain began and we were all soaked. We tried standing under a tree for a while, but it wasn’t much bigger than Rob was and provided little actual shelter. We decided to make a break for the Military Families Speak Out (MFSO) tent.
When we arrived, we wandered through the rows of boots in the storm looking for Walters’s boots. His were stiff and brand new, with a laminated tag that read “Specialist Walter B. Howard, 35, Michigan”. Rob struggled to hold himself together and while he was visibly moved, he did not cry…yet. After staying there for a minute, to reflect and let the reality of the exhibit set in, we went to the tent that was being shared by MFSO, Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) and September 11th Families for a Peaceful Tomorrow. There we met Rosemary, the MFSO staffer who’d arranged our scholarship and basically made it possible for us to be there at all. We did our best to dry off and when the rain stopped, we went back to the hostel to rest.
That evening, we received a phone call from Nikki, another MFSO staffer who told us that the candle light vigil had been cancelled due to a tornado watch. Rob, Rory and I left to get dinner at Quiznos, about 7 blocks from the hostel. On the way back, the rains poured down again, and while we’d purchased an umbrella at this point, and a poncho for Rory, we were not prepared for the incredibly bad drainage in D.C. and had to navigate huge (3’ across) streams of water at every curb. It was very difficult for Rory and by the time we got back to the Penn House, we were all soaked to the knees or higher.
Friday morning began our legislative visits. We were supposed to be catching up with Deb Riegal, the new Michigan MFSO chapter coordinator, but we somehow missed each other and so Rob, Rory and I made our way to Sander Levin’s office on our own. In hindsight, I wish that this had been our last stop, because I was very nervous and a little thrown off by having to speak entirely on my own about our concerns about the war. Add in the fact that the legislative aide that we met with was very hostile to our cause and more than a little condescending, and it made for a rough visit. I think that I was the embodiment of the express “speak truth to power…even if your voice shakes” at this office. I stuck close to our talking points; even through I was trembling from the adrenaline and nerves. There was one point, though, when I really feel as if I “got him”. He’d told us that “well, we can’t possibly pull out, because if we do, it’ll be all-out civil war in Iraq!” About five minutes later, I asked him when he did think that we’d be able to leave. One of MFSO’s talking points was the fact that about half a dozen arbitrary milestones had been set for withdrawal, and yet, whenever we reached the specified point, the administration would just set a new milestone. My question to Sander Levin’s aide was simply this: when did he see us leaving? At what point would we finally bring the boys (and girls!) home? He stated that the only way he saw that happening soon was if the situation in Iraq devolved rapidly into civil war, to the point where there would be no reason for us to continue to stay and risk our service personnel’s lives. AHA! I got him!
I said “so what I hear you saying is two things: first, we can’t possibly leave because then civil war is going to break out. And yet, the only way we’ll leave is if civil war erupts. Why then, don’t we speed this up, save some lives, and pull them all out now?” There was nothing he could say to that. As overwhelmed and anxious as I was, Rob and I walked out of that visit feeling pretty good. I decided, however, that I will never vote for Sander Levin again. His willingness to hide behind the argument of “I didn’t vote for the war in the beginning” and yet do absolutely nothing to prevent future deaths is completely unacceptable to me.
We quickly walked across Capitol Hill to Debbie Stabenow’s office, where we met with her Legislative Aide for Military Affairs. He was absolutely wonderful! Very concerned, kind, and receptive. He asked thoughtful questions and expressed a strong (perhaps stronger than his boss) anti-war position. I was so pleased with his responses and involvement that I was better able to exert our positions naturally, confidently and effectively. We were strongly encouraged to make contact with Senator Stabenow when she was in Michigan, and to push her at the local level for a commitment to bringing the troops home now, and to taking care of them when they get here. We were assured that this local action would be met with favorable responses from the Senators office and staff. This had proven to be an exhausting endeavor and we decided to stop for lunch between our 2nd and 3rd visits. Somehow, Deb and her friend chose the same spot to have lunch that we did, and we were able to meet up with Liz, the D.C. chapter coordinator, who decided to come along, so finally we had “reinforcements” for our third visit, this time with Carl Levin’s office.
I have to say, Senator Levin’s office was perhaps the most intimidating, just because, as Rob put it, “he’s Carl FREAKIN’ Levin, man!” His aide was very polite and courteous…and completely detached and non-committal. He listened to our stories for about an hour. Rob and I talked about Walter, why he joined the military, and how the effects of his death reach far beyond the reported casualty statistics that are tracked by the government. Deb spoke eloquently about Secondary Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and how the children, spouses and parents of deployed personnel are also left with lasting mental heath issues and psychological scars. Liz told the Aide about her boyfriend, and how he was an M.P. in Iraq whose watchtower was set in the middle of a known chemical waste dump. When he questioned his C.O.’s about why the tower was put where it was, the answer they gave him was “because no Iraqi would think that we’d be stupid enough to put a tower in a toxic waste dump- they won’t know we’re there and they wouldn’t be stupid enough to cross the area to get there if they did.” No one cared that the M.P.’s stationed at this particular watchtower were getting severe headaches within 30 minutes of arriving for duty….or dizzy spells within the first hour….or that they were expected to stay there for the duration of their 12 hour shift every day for the length of their deployment. No one provided follow-up care or ran any investigatory medical tests on them when they came home. Much like Agent Orange exposure, this group of M.P.’s probably won’t know for years if they are okay, or if they actually died back there in that watchtower. When Rob heard this, he walked out of the meeting, too overcome with anger and grief to remain.
We spoke extensively about the lack of family support. About how the parents of the fallen are completely disregarded when it comes to the funeral planning or moral support offered by the military. About how the “re-entry” counseling provided to the National Guard and Reserve troops is bare-bones, if it’s offered at all, and is usually provided by a third party contractor with no understanding of military issues. The Aide smiled politely, nodded often, and said very little. When we finally left, I had a sense of catharsis, knowing that even if it made no difference (and the Aide made it clear that it did not) I had at least had the chance to drive home exactly what they were doing to military families and personnel. I decided that my new mantra would be “if I can’t change their minds, I’m going to make them feel guilty for holding the positions that they do.” It seemed to work in Carl Levin’s case.
This was a very, very long way to spend a morning. Rory had been with us the whole time and had been incredibly good. Amazingly good, really. He finally fell asleep in Carl Levin’s office. We decided to do something more touristy and fun. Since Rory’s been obsessed with cemeteries recently, Rob suggested that we make a pilgrimage out to Arlington. We took the tour shuttle around the monument, and saw the Eternal Flame, with John and Jacqueline Kennedy’s graves, the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns, and Bobby Kennedy’s simple, white cross. One thing that occurred to me there was that when other countries accuse us of being “ugly Americans”, it’s not that we’re culturally insensitive…it’s that we’re truly crass, disrespectful and tacky people even at our own sacred sites. This was best highlighted by the woman smoking near the Kennedy’s graves, who threw her cigarette butt on the ground and then gave Rob the evil eye for having the audacity to pick up after her. It was the closest I’ve ever seen Rob come to punching someone in the face.
Saturday was a very busy day. We arrived at the Eyes Wide Open exhibit at 10:00 am, after stopping to have a picture of Walter laminated to attach to his boots. We also brought a rose to lay. I volunteered to help out the American Friends Service Committee as a mediator in case of any counter-protest or altercation. Unfortunately, they’ve had people try to disrupt the silent march/vigils in the past and now plan for such a circumstance. I was given an AFSC t-shirt and volunteer badge and wandered back over to the MFSO staging area. Rory was eager to hang out at the AFSC children’s area, and contributed to their “Children’s Response to War” exhibit by answering the question “What would you do to create a more peaceful world” with “No more world ‘doom’ination.” When asked to draw a picture of what a more peaceful world, he drew an ice cream truck.” The AFSC children’s coordinator asked Rory if he wanted to go with us, or stay and help out with the kids’ area, he elected to stay with the children. At the end of the event, they told us that Rory had helped hand out flyers, carried signs and marched in the children’s contingent. He was such a big help, that they gave him his own volunteers shirt and badge.
Meanwhile, Rob and I had been standing with the MFSO contingent when we saw the Iraq Veterans Against the War assembling. I told Rob to go up with them and he said no, that he didn’t feel as if he belonged with them. “They’re Marines and Army…people who did multiple tours. I’m just a Guardsman.” I told him that he belonged with them and that I wasn’t going to walk with him, so he might as well join IVAW. He went over and I watched as they each shook his hand, patted his back, or hugged him. He was immediately welcomed and accepted. It was wonderful.
The march itself was quiet and uneventful. I made a point of looking in the eyes of those who stood along the perimeter and watched the parade of wounded, killed, and walking dead go by. Many nodded in agreement. No one showed open hostility, and one man stood and clapped loudly as we walked by. One woman was sitting on the lawn with her family having a picnic. As she watched us walk silently by, she sobbed. It was so very emotional. At the end of the silent march, Rob and I saw Cindy Sheehan. I had already walked with her a little ways in the vigil and she had hugged me and asked about Walter. I explained that calling him Rob’s cousin was so inadequate. When Rob approached her, she extended her arms and said “I’m so sorry about your brother.” This was the moment when Rob finally broke down and sobbed. He cried in her arms for what seemed like a very long time as she held him and gently talked to him about how hard the loss is. It was an incredibly powerful moment. It meant the world to Rob and me. A cameraman filmed this entire scene, and I was speechless with disgust- this is the second time that Rob’s mourning has been filmed for public consumption. First at the funeral, and then at the closest thing to a graveside that we have for Walter.
At the end of the walk around the National Mall, there was a time for speakers. Gold Star mothers stood and talked about how the Army told them that their son had been killed by a bullet to the head fired by an insurgent. She later found out that he had stepped on a daisy cutter after his unit was sent at night through a field that had been laid with the landmines by the Air Force earlier that day, without ever being told of their presence. Another mother spoke eloquently of the long wait at the airport, when she arrived to receive her sons’ corpse. Because of military orders forbidding the presence of a flag-draped coffin during daylight hours at a public airport, she was forced to wait all day until night fell; when no other passenger might see the evidence of her loss. One father told us about how he was denied citizenship, even after his son was killed in action fighting in the United States Army. Another spoke of how his son was diagnosed with PTSD and hung himself 17 days after being released from the military hospital that had held him, with no treatment and no follow-up care. This man was especially moving, because he told Nancy Lessin, one of the founders of MFSO, told me later that this man had pulled her aside to tell her what a striking resemblance Rory bore to his son in childhood. He told her “when I see their little boy, it’s almost as if my son is alive again.” I cried when I heard this.
Many of the Iraq veterans spoke. Some told of how they were 100% in favor of the war when they first got over there, and of how their opinions changed when ordered to fire upon unarmed women and children. One went as a combat medic, a non-combatant, and yet many times when being transported from one location to another, had a weapon thrust in his hands and was told to scan the horizon for potential threats. This is a violation of the Geneva Convention. One of the most amazing things that happened on Saturday was the attendance of Richard Pearl, considered to be the Administrations architect of the war. He was the only administration official to stop by and observe the boots exhibit; and the IVAW members “jumped” on him when they saw him. Encircling this man, who’d made the decisions that had affected so many lives so profoundly, they demanded answers to questions that had no been sanitized by carefully controlled press conferences. They demanded a simple answer to a simple question: Did you send us to Iraq for a lie or a mistake? He could not answer them. The exchange went something like this:
“We had all the intelligence indicating WMD’s presented an immediate threat.”
“So it was a mistake”
“No! It was not a mistake!”
“Well then, it was a deliberate lie.”
“No one lied. We had the intelligence.”
“So then, you made a mistake.”
“There were no mistakes. We had the intelligence.”
“Intelligence the CIA told you was incorrect. So it was a lie”
“We did not lie! We had concrete intelligence.”
“Then you made a mistake.”

I still can’t stand this man, and I hold Richard Pearl partially to blame for the 2437 (as of Sunday) military deaths in Iraq thus far; but I will give him credit for this: he had the courage to show up and face those he’d damaged. Only one Congressman attended and not a single Senator showed their face. But Richard Pearl had the fortitude to look at the destruction he’d helped wrought. I know that seems melodramatic, but it’s very, very true.
Finally, Rob and I spoke. Rob stood in front of the 500 or so assembled people (not counting random passersby on the Mall) and took off his sunglasses. He said “I am a veteran of this war. I am still in service today, and I’m not afraid to say so. But I have a question for those sitting in the Capitol Building today. Look at this field, Congress! Look at these boots, Senators! This is your down payment, my President; my Commander in Chief. WHAT HAS IT BOUGHT YOU?” It was an inspired and passionate moment. Usually, I’m the speech crafter in the family, but he took my breath away. I don’t know what I said, but it wasn’t my top form. There was nothing I could say to follow him up. We left not long after that. Rory had been just about as good as he was going to be for one day. He, Rob and I were drained, physically, emotionally and spiritually. We took a breather and went to the Smithsonian American History Museum where we were just able to see the First Ladies exhibit before it closed. That night, we attended a meet and greet/national meeting for MFSO where more stories were shared, along with action plans, initiative ideas and other information. We laughed, cried, hugged and then went home and slept.
Sunday morning we woke at 5:00 am in order to make it to our 8:30 flight. After walking with Rory and all of our luggage the 7 city blocks to the nearest Metro station, we discovered that it was closed and had to walk another 8 city blocks to the next station up. We didn’t get on the train until 7:00 AM and had to run through the airport in order to get to our gate. Upon arriving, we realized that our flight didn’t leave until 11:00, and we finally, after three days of non-stop walking, crying, laughing, caring, talking, debating, educating and peace-making, were able to sit and just enjoy the stillness.

And then we came home.