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No longer concerned about my plight of being stuck in traffic, I watched as he passed by many luxury cars filled with families happily anticipating and preparing for their sumptuous Christmas celebration. No one even took notice, no one even cared, including the driver of the SUV directly in front of me on which was displayed a "Proud to be an American" and a "Freedom isn't Free" bumper sticker. I was outraged. As he approached my car, I lowered my window and clumsily shoved bills into his can. As our eyes met, I saw the tears in his eyes and he in mine. By then the light had changed and those behind me started leaning on their horns. I felt an overwhelming need to apologize for so many things . . . for not doing more to help him, for the obnoxious people in the other cars who could talk about love and peace during this Christmas season, but could callously ignore the needs of a fellow human being, and for not being able to stop these damned wars and occupations. Not a word was exchanged, however. I realized that words were unnecessary for we shared a bond that goes far deeper than words can ever express. As the cars began making their way around me, the vet smiled weakly, nodded in appreciation and acknowledgement and walked slowly to the safety of the sidewalk. As I drove away, angry and upset, I doubt that I have ever felt less proud to be an American.
