preeety crafty

Today I got my package from Anne containing my piece of linen to contribute to The Mother’s Day Project. As I didn’t have anything pressing to do, being home taking care of a sick child (he’s alright, just some recurring bronchitis) I spent my afternoon doing that. It wasn’t my best job ever, but since I haven’t done ay embroidery in almost 10 years, I’m okay with the result.
The strange thing is, I was able to do it without a problem. The name printed in the small piece of cloth was just another drawing, waiting to be filled. Just now I sat by my computer, emailed Anne about the arrival, and it’s future departure from my hands, and, out of curiosity, after checking the project’s blog, decided to Google my name. And the shoe dropped.
Lori Ann Piestewa was a member of the Hopi tribe from Arizona. There are so many things wrong with just that sentence. I am partly descendent from indians, which is disturbing as a coincidence, but not only that, Lori died at 23. This woman was being shot to death at 23. I am worried about paying my next semester’s tuition and being an okay mother at 23. It’s not something I can explain, but the feeling I got when I first read these two facts was not a good one.
She was the first woman killed in the war. And a POW.
The irony is that, coming from a long military tradition within her family, she only joined the army to provide a secure income for her two children. I just hope these children are being taken care of financially by the government. There is no way they can have their mother back, but they shouldn’t want for anything on top of that loss.
Another irony: they got lost. Her convoy got lost in the desert. And trapped. She made a split second decision which saved many people. But she died. She was assigned to a maintenance convoy.
And to go one more:

Only
twenty-three years old, Piestewa saw herself as a Hopi warrior, part of a
centuries-old tradition developed by a people who once resisted an invasion and
occupation by the U.S. military – much as the Iraqis are today. She went to
war, but she believed above all in peace, in doing no harm to others. “I’m
not trying to be a hero,” she told a friend just before the invasion.
“I just want to get through this crap and go home.”

Lori is deemed a war hero. There are roads and peaks and games named after her. She was decorated and promoted posthumously. Ty Pennington built her family a home. After that, she was all but forgotten.
The universe has a wicked sense of humour.
And I’m glad to be alive.

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