The Indecisive Soldier

Airports are the best places to learn about people. They are either going somewhere or coming home, and are usually apt to talk about either of these events. A few, however, don't know where they're going--even though they have their boarding pass in hand.

I'm sitting near The Indecisive Soldier in an airport terminal. He's in full uniform, so I lean over, point to his uniform and start talking.

"Goin' home?"

He smiles. "Yup, on my way home."

He told me about his family: his fiancee whom he plans to marry in June, and a 17-year old daughter. He is in the National Guard, but wants to transfer to the Army. But there is a problem: his soon-to-be wife doesn't want him in the Army.

"Well, why do you want to join the Army then?"

His voice attains a level of pride I seldom hear. "I feel like I can contribute more in the Army. I don't keep going back (on tours) for the money--no soldier does. I go back because of a sense of duty, and because I want to be a part of a greater cause."

Duty. Pride. A greater cause. Sacred words to him that have become cliche to the rest of us.

"There is a special pride about wearing this uniform that civilians just don't understand."

Our boarding numbers are called, and we shake hands. I say the only words I can: "Thank you."

As I watched this modern-day Odysseus walk through the terminal, I wondered: Why are we uncomfortable about speaking of duty, pride, and a greater cause? And then it hits me: we have forgotten how to define them. The definitions have become lost in the excesses of our days--precisely because they don't exist in a dictionary. Rather, then can't exist in a dictionary. They are definitions of the heart. The world would be a better place if we stopped defining success based on money and fame, and defined it based on words like "honor" and "a greater cause." Only by doing that will their definitions ring inside us. Then we can look at the soldier sitting next to us, and understand him for the first time.