Pro-Bush Protester Shows What A Class Act He Is

We'd arrived at Camp Casey at about 12:45 on Saturday, August 13th a few miles outside of Crawford where Cindy Sheehan is holding her vigil to get a meeting with President Bush. We were surprised that there were only 100 or so people there, including 15 or so Department of Public Safety and other law enforcement. We passed the immature, taunting signs of the 5 pro-Bush protesters who were just across the small county road from Camp Casey.

The camp was erected along the periphery of a half acre triangle of grass that was where two country roads met at an odd angle. There wasn’t a lot of shade, but a few hackberrys cooled the few who could fit in their shade.

We began to walk around, looking at the various booths that had been put up. Code Pink was there, the Gold Star Families were there. Even PETA.

Seeing a tarp over three tents that were set up in the midst of many of the crosses, we headed that direction. There was a metal sculpture of the United States out of which was carved the words "The US in Iraq." In chalk on to the side it said "1841, 13,538." Those were the dead and wounded Americans.

Suddenly my daughter turned and I could see she was crying profusely. I gave her a hug and she continued sobbing. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?" She didn't try to voice anything, but just hugged me back. Finally I asked "So...does it just seem real now? Is that it?" She nodded her head yes and continued to cry.

It was about then I noticed that a steady line of cars were arriving. I looked on the road back to Crawford, and there were bumper-to-bumper cars leading back a good 3/4 mile. Many of the anti-war protesters were gathering at a place where the cars would drive by to greet them and yell to them and flash the peace sign. A very unofficial greeting committee. Diana and I walked over and started doing the same. She continued to cry. I told her I was going to get some water from the truck, and did.

As I approached where my daughter had been, I noticed the Viet Nam vet hugging her, and was touched by that. A few minutes later I approached and noticed she was flashing motorists the peace sign, and continued to cry. This was highly unusual for our rugged, resilient daughter, so I hugged her too.

“See that guy over there?” She pointed to the 5 pro-Bush guys. “Yeah.” “He was making fun of me for crying.” I couldn’t believe it. She said he was calling her crybaby. What the idiot across the road doesn’t know is that my daughter rides a 1200-pound horse, putting in brutally-long hours at the stable, has a wall full of ribbons for the shows she's won, and is in some ways far more macho than I am. She doesn’t know a lot about fear.

What he also didn’t know was whether or not that girl across the road had a brother who had died in Iraq. It probably didn’t even cross his mind. As a barometer of the class of the other 4 protesters, none of them had told him to stop taunting.

After the music by folksinger Eliza Gilkyson and speeches by several people, including Cindy Sheehan, we started heading back to the truck. We got separated, going different ways. When I spoke to my daughter next she told me the protester did it again. “There’s that crybaby!”

It's not fair to judge the opposition by the worst of its kind. I hope you'll forgive me though, if I do precisely that.

Part IV: I meet Cindy