January 27
by Janine Stephenson
It’s hard to talk to people with sons
in the military. I have a hard time with it because you can see the worry in
their eyes. We try to figure out which house has suffered a loss so we can at
least prepare ourselves for a different reaction. We can’t go in saying things
we’d normally say. Becca and I try to be as respectful as we possibly can, all
the while, getting our message across as well.
Becca lets me do a lot of the talking
because she doesn’t feel as confident about it. Plus, she’s more passionate
than I am. I can come off as more logical and rational. Becca is just a bundle
of emotions and nerves.
We’ve had a slew of these situations
today. A whole section of town lost a handful of boys. From what we understand,
it wasn’t all together either. It was hard to canvas because even the neighbors
who didn’t suffer a loss felt like they did.
Some of the parents were angry at the
government and some of them held steady in their support. One woman – her son
died four months ago – she sat across the table from us and cried. Just cried.
It was so hard to watch her.
I don’t feel like I’m just
canvassing. We’re talking to people. We represent something to them. Sometimes
we’re their sons’ girlfriends and sometimes we’re protesters. Sometimes we’re
the future. They see us and react.
