Sitting on a concrete bench in the quad, a student I know walks up to me and asks what I am doing. I respond, "Spending some time with my friends." She looked confused, as I was seemingly alone, but then picked up on the nod of my head toward the grassy green field in the quad. Placed on the field are 3,858 handmade, wooden Popsicle-stick crucifixes in the ground. On the periphery of the mass of sticks are signs designating Veterans Day and the listing of the names, ranks and death dates of all the U.S. soldiers who have died during Operation Iraqi Freedom.
I looked at all the signs until I found those seven names I knew. Hundreds of students walk past the display without giving it a second look. They talk to each other about school, parents, boyfriends and leaky apartments. To them, these are nameless and faceless sticks. For me, these crosses have faces and names, and I let my mind slip and slide back into the past and I see images, hear sounds - the gunfire and heat and fear. I stare out for a bit, smoking my cigarette, grateful for their sacrifices. It is because of them that I am here. It is because of them that these students can talk on their cell phones and accidentally step on these small wooden people without concern, compassion or comprehension.
Before I left, I caught one more good look and said goodbye to my friends. They thanked me for stopping by, even just for a moment to share a story or two. And I thanked them for giving me everything that I have today. And in a couple blinks of an eye, I looked at those walking past and then back and apologized for those who cared little to none. My friends smiled and said it was OK, as they gave everything they had so that those smiles could be big, bright and free.
Brandon Krapf Sophomore, School of International Service. Krapf served in Iraq from February 2004 to 2005.
