This is my big brother, a man that cleaned my knees when I scraped them as a child, who made me grilled cheese sandwiches and showed me how to breakdance. And this is one of the villages in Afghanistan that he patrolled. He is a career military man, and has been in for over twenty years. Special Forces so he has seen a lot over the years. I am so proud of him because he is dedicated to protecting our country at great personal sacrifice. He has been married as long as he has been in the military. If we averaged it out, he has probably been able to spend about two months per year with his wife and children. They have lived wherever the military has asked them to go, whenever they have been asked. I look at these pictures from Iraq and Afghanistan and I think, who is this grown man, and where did my brother go? His eyes are too old. It makes me sad. I love him more than he knows.

One of my best memories of my brother happened when I was in fifth grade. I was outside in our front yard, playing with a few neighbors. The girls were picking on me and calling me names. My mother heard them, threw our door open and told me to come inside. She then went on the porch and started yelling ugly things at them. Meanwhile I was sobbing in the living room- not because they had called me names, but because I knew for sure that they would never want to be my friends because my mom was cussing them out. Anyways, my brother came to the living room and surveyed the scene. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Don't give them the satisfaction. You don't need them." and he walked out of the room. He's a man of few words. The lesson did stick with me, he and I will both cut someone out of our lives before we go through unnecessary, ugly drama repeatedly.

He does not support Obama. He has been brainwashed by the military culture. I am sure that he would be incensed to read me saying that. I am not surprised that he believes in boot strapping. He and I have both been successful at boot strapping our way out of our outrageous upbringing, to have beautiful families and careers. However, I also know that it takes a helping hand at the right time to work your way out of poverty. I think he knows it inside too. I have exclaimed to him before: "I can't believe that you grew up poor, have three black brothers and sisters, and would vote Republican!" He also married a black women and has his own beautiful mixed children. He refused to fund college for his son. He wanted his son to earn his way through and do it on his own the way that we did. I have a lot of opinions about that, the Republican party values, and this war. Whatever I think, I know that my brother is a strong man of his word, committed to his values, and is willing to die for us. He has to believe in what he believes in to do that. I have to believe in what I believe in to do the work that I do. It is amazing that we live in a world where both of our views can exist and intersect.