I'm watching 'Alive Day Memories: From Iraq'.  James Gandolfini is interviewing men and women who were injured whilst serving in Iraq - some of them suffered traumatic amputations, some lost their sight, some had head trauma.....all of them have what they call an 'Alive Day'.  It's the day when they almost lost their lives. 

Part of the program is video showing American military vehicles being blown up by IED's, recorded by insurgents.  It's making me angry - not mad, ANGRY.  ANGRY.  Angry enough to want to go to Iraq and slit some insurgent's throat - and before he lost conciousness, I'd bend down and whisper in his ear "Fuck you, Abdul, and fuck your Allah too".

I'm so angry, but I'm sad too.   Angry that these men and women are coming home missing arms, legs, eyes, ears, parts of their brain...they're coming home broken, and they're going to have to live with these injuries for the rest of their lives.  I'm not going to get into WHY the war is going on, that's not what this article is about.  This article is about how we hear about soldiers and sailors and airmen and marines killed and injured in Iraq every day but how that number sometimes doesn't mean anything to us.  We become numb; immune to the fact that every one of those numbers is a human being who has a life...they're someone's son or daughter, brother or sister or nephew or niece or friend or husband or lover.  They're all people who have LIVES. 

This show has really affected me.  It's angered me, but it's also made me incredibly sad.  One part brought me to tears: a little ffive year old girl who's daddy had his leg blown off by an IED drew a picture of him in uniform, standing next to a humvee with a cartoon-esque stick of dynamite underneath him.  It was such a sweet picture, it was really well drawn and was beautifully colored and detailed.  Very accurately detailed.

She drew him with only one leg. 

If you get a chance, you should see this show.