Supporting the troops: soundbytes or action?
September 5, 2008
Anyone who knows me that if I am in town, I play pool with my dad…religiously. But last weekend I had a life changing experience. While my Dad and I were wrapping up our last game (and I did win last week, by the way) a White guy stumbles up to me with a beer in his hand (who we will call Dave) whose breath reeks of alcohol, spiked hair, plaid shorts, and flip flops. Through stuttering and some mumbling, Dave tells me that he always wanted to play pool with someone from Detroit.
Politely, I try to decline Dave and tell him that I am about to go leave. For some reason, Dave doesn’t quite understand what I am saying and I get the sense he is going to be heart broken if I don’t play pool with him. So I tell my Dad to pay for the time and tell the cashier to restart the time.
Dave was born and raised in Southfield, MI, a suburb that borders Detroit and his game is nine-ball and as I rack the balls, Dave reveals that he just got back from Iraq. He tells me about the horrors of war and how I should never ever join the army. Dave needs to vent more than anything so I listen as he says, “Man I would rather cut grass than scissors than go back over there. It’s like we’re sitting ducks just driving around waiting to get blown up…It’s nothing like the movies.” As we play, I am entranced at Dave’s anguish and misery, thinking to myself, “Dave will never be the same as a result of this war.” Read more
