I got through the doctor's appointment (blah blah blah-- here's your prescription) and then I asked Doc how his family was doing. You see, he is Syrian. A Muslim from Syria. A sweet, caring, doctor, neighbor, father of three, and husband who is Muslim. I know in my heart that the crazies over in the Middle East right now do not represent what I hope is the Muslim faith (I won't admit to knowing much beyond what I've seen on the news.) But it's so hard to separate the two, isn't it? After 9/11, after 5 deployments that my husband had to endure, after watching the last 13 years unfold and all of the thwarted attacks, the televised butchery, the murder of innocent people all in the name of Islam -- how does one separate the Muslim faith from the Islamic Extremists? Well, you ask. Ask a Muslim: "What do you think about what is going on?" Which is what I did.
My doctor looked at me with tired, saddened eyes and told me in a voice so soft, that I had to lean in to hear him, that his homeland is not the homeland he once knew. He told me his family members weren't safe. His houses were demolished. He told me that Muslims are not like these terrorists. "This is not Syria. This is not my faith, what you see." The lines around his mouth frowned into deeper creases as he told me that the evil will continue to spread until the head of the body of evil is removed. "Without the head, the body will flail about, but eventually fall." Then he sighed and told me he would see me in three months.
Of course, I wanted to sit down with him and REALLY get into it with him. Why?! Why don't the Muslims who aren't crazy, speak out against these nuts?! RAGE! Rage against the Machine people!! I mean, I guess I kind of get it. While I was living in Slovakia, I noticed how reserved and self conscious people were. There I was, saying "Good morning" and "Hello!" to everyone I came across, and all I got back was a quick glance and a mad dash to get away from me. I asked some Slovak friends about this and they explained that it was because of the Communists. They had only come out from under Communism a few years prior -- so their mind sets were still on self preservation. You never know who was going to report you to the authorities, so you just didn't speak to people, especially strangers. Especially strangers with a horrible Slovak accent. You don't just smile at random strangers, and you certainly don't talk politics.
I suppose with the amount of oppression in the Middle East, you can take this explanation of behavior and multiply it by 2,000 years to maybe come to an understanding of why Muslims aren't raging, demonstrating, protesting?
My heart just broke for my Doc. To see it on the news is one thing. I was selfishly wondering if my husband was going to be sent somewhere again if things got "going" any further than they are. Shaking my head at the idiocy and almost child-like behavior of these "armies/gangs" taking over that part of the world. But to talk to someone who's family is in danger because of where they live...that's a whole new ball of wax.
I went on to my next errand...got it done and realized my tank was on empty. I drove onto the gas station and started filling up. While waiting, I decided to excavate the backseat of the car. And if you've never seen the backseat of my car -- let's just say it's not for the weak of heart. In fact, I think I found some sort of animal's heart (it could have been a dried up apple slice from McDonald's but I'm still not convinced.) As I walked over to the garbage can, my arms laden with mounds of trash, a woman comes up to me and says, "You active duty?"
Now, when someone comes up to me in a public place and abruptly asks me this, I have to hesitate. In this day and age, I never know if I will be stabbed sixty-five times by some anti-military nut. But, since my car has a big old blue and white sticker on it proclaiming to the world that "we" are active duty, I answered her mumbling, "Uh, yeah...." (I was still gripping the mound of trash, thinking I could block any karate chops with the stale chicken nuggets I had found.)
"Well," she said, "I just have to tell you that I think what Obama is doing to you and the rest of the military is DISGUSTING! I don't care WHAT COLOR HE IS! He could be red, orange, purple with green eyes, it is an ABOMINATION!"
I was, to say the least, a bit stunned. I replied, "Um, well--"
"If I could, I would go right to WASHINGTON and march RIGHT UP to Obama, and tell him what I really THINK OF HIS #!?$%! It is LUDICROUS how they are treating you folks!!!" She was getting really worked up. "With all this #!?% going on in the Middle East, you guys are getting the BOOT?! It's OUTRAGEOUS!"
Ah, don't you love when the universe throws you a curve ball and then giggles when it comes full circle? Not even fifteen minutes prior I was almost in tears in my Doc's office listening to the horrors of what his family was enduring in his beloved homeland. Now I was standing in a gas station parking lot with rotting food in my hands with another point of view being hurled at me.
"I wish you guys - the soldiers - could just tell him and this $#?&! administration to stick it!"
"Well, " I said, finally getting a word in, "They aren't allowed to-- "
"That's RIGHT! You aren't ALLOWED TO! It's a crying shame and I am SICK of it and I am SICK of him and I just think he is SCREWING this country up!"
"Um, oh, ok..." (still holding the rotting food.)
"OK, well, good luck. I just had to tell you." And with that, she stormed off to her car.
I dumped my trash / body armor into the can, turned around and saw about six other people standing there staring at me. I'm sure from a distance, it looked like this woman was going off on me for doing something wrong. Or, maybe she just looked like a lunatic. I don't know. I was taken aback, to say the least.
So reflecting on my day, I'm still trying to tie up the coincidence. Maybe there isn't a connection at all. Maybe it was just a strange occurrence that two separate people, from two VERY different worlds told me their opinions in two extremely different ways. But I tend to think that there was a reason.
And maybe that reason is this: We are very lucky in this, my beloved homeland. We can walk up to complete strangers in the gas station in the middle of the day and scream into the open air, "I HATE our $#!?% government!" and then hop back into our cars, drive to our intact homes, to our healthy families.
I didn't get a chance to see what this woman's eyes looked like as they were covered by sunglasses, but what struck me was that she had the same deep creases around her mouth, as my Doc had as he told me his opinions.
And maybe that says something too.
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