I’ve been thinking a lot this weekend. I’ve been watching. I’ve been talking with friends online and off. And I think I get it now.
You’re scared.
Every one of you. Including me.
We’re just not all scared of the same thing.
Most people who know me know that I’m an Army Brat. I was born in Europe and spent most of my life bouncing between the US and Germany, and anywhere else I could visit. I’ve even visited a few countries that no longer exist. The main reason they don’t exist anymore? Ideology and Fear.
Being a kid in the Army, you knew about fear. You experienced it. You LIVED it. There was always that chance that someone you loved was going to have to go to some god forsaken hell hole and give their lives to protect the country they believed in. We know hell holes, too. Don’t make me explain Kansas.
By the time you were old enough to walk, you likely knew someone who was dead. Or wounded. The first girl I ever kissed while playing “house” in the backyard was from a military family, and I remember asking about the Purple Heart in the basement. Her dad didn’t go into detail. Frankly he didn’t talk that often, and it was amazing that he talked at all. You see, his Purple Heart didn’t come from someone handing it to him during a speech. His Purple Heart came from Vietnam. His Purple Heart came FROM A BULLET. A bullet to his throat. He defied the odds by: a) SURVIVING. and b) teaching himself to speak again. On top of that, he continued to serve his country. I lost track of them years ago (though I hear she’s a lovely person who’s done very well for herself), but I know her father continued to serve long after we moved away.
The first time I delivered a Purple Heart to a soldier’s family I was around 12 or 13 years old. You can read about that one here if you so choose, complete with date corrections from my Mom. I’m not perfect.
Lots of military kids join the military, and I can guarantee we all know someone who has died serving their country. It wasn’t unusual for our parents to go away for long periods of time. And we all supported each other. And we knew fear. I’ve known that fear all my life.
I’ve heard from a lot of friends this weekend who wonder “How many innocent people have to die before we do something? How many people have to die before we build a wall?”
Let me be perfectly clear: WALLS DON’T WORK.
Period.
End of Story.
If you want to argue about that, I’ve got a large chunk of cement and asbestos to show you. I tore it from a wall in Berlin in November of 1989 with a 20 pound sledgehammer.
Walls, whether physical or virtual, don’t protect you from danger. They protect you from knowledge. They protect you from experiences. They protect you from GROWTH. But they will never protect you from danger.
I grew up with that fear. Most people I know didn’t. For most people, 2001 was the first time. I’d venture a guess that for our current Commander in Chief, September 11th was the first time anyone he knew died in that way. I’m guessing that the odds are he knew someone. And he would have been in his 50s at that point.
For some of my friends, who I love very much despite our political disagreements on social media this weekend, they really didn’t get hit up close until the Boston Marathon. They never experienced a lockdown of their town. They never saw a military or police presence so strong and close to home.
For me, I still remember sneaking out of our locked down Military housing in Germany right when Desert Storm kicked off. My friends and I did our best to blend in with the locals. We’d speak our best German when trying to order drinks, but we still spoke to each other in English, albeit in hushed tones.
Do you know what we learned from that experience? We learned that the vast majority of the world WASN’T out to get us. We learned our German friends living near the Military Bases were just as scared as we were, and we learned that they would STAND BY US.
Even now, just three months ago, I headed to Tel Aviv. I can’t tell you the number of people who asked me if I was scared, or who asked me if I had security with me. What I learned on this, my second visit to Tel Aviv, is that you are more likely to get blown up by a terrorist than you are at risk of being mugged. And your risk of being blown up by a terrorist is PRACTICALLY ZERO, so long as you don’t wander into a contested area or an actual war zone. I walked down dark alleys by myself in near pitch darkness at 4 AM and the only time I felt remotely unsafe was when a stray pit bull was trotting down an empty street in my direction. He crossed to the other side.
I’ve been lucky enough to travel the world. What I fear is losing my freedom. I fear not being able to visit new places, meet new people, and doing new things. I fear that my friends will lose their freedoms, like my friend who just got to visit his lovely wife’s home in Iran, or my Canadian friend who happens to be of Lebanese origin. All my friends at Facebook, Google, Apple, Microsoft. My friends in the US Military.
I know my experiences are unusual, but not unique, and I understand my friends who have never left their home states. Who have never visited other countries. I’m not saying there aren’t bad people out there. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be scared. I’m saying that you need to learn to control your fear. Fear defies Logic. Fear drives bad decisions. And whether you’re talking about visiting a far off land, going to that job interview, or talking to that cute person across the room:
FEAR WILL STOP YOU FROM LIVING YOUR LIFE TO THE FULLEST.
The best things in life start with fear. If you never face fear, you will never know what could the greatest experiences in your lives.
Walls don’t keep people out. Walls keep you in.
The choice is yours. Hopefully one day we’ll meet in some far off exotic land and talk about the wonderful people and places we’ve visited.
