Vermont's War
It's known for liberal politics. But the Green Mountain State has also paid a heavy price in Iraq
The Grays don't want the troops pulled out of Iraq. The president should be supported, said Marion, archly noting that the road to Canada is nearby. Though most at the table described themselves as nonpolitical, they said they know that things have gone wrong in Iraq. They talked of sympathy for the Iraqis, about how their boys loved the children there, and their hopes that the kindnesses their sons showed to the youngsters may make a difference someday.
"But now we're there, and it's messed up," said Kevin McLaughlin, who wears his son Scott's camouflage jacket. "We can't just leave. It would be a waste of my son's life."
As plates were cleared, a waitress delivered to the Merchants a thick piece of chocolate cake to mark Chris's birthday, a tiny candle burning at its center. "I don't want to blow it out," Janet said as the group finished singing "Happy Birthday."
"My wish," she said, "can't come true."
Home. In Milton, Heather Sheehan now presides alone over a home crowded with the sweet, familiar debris of family life-pet dishes for the cats and dogs, photos taped to the refrigerator, her son's red-and-green gumdrop tree. On one recent day, Alyson played near the Christmas tree with a new plastic pony, and Nathaniel-the spitting image of his red-haired father-sat on the couch, his nose buried in a Hardy Boys mystery, but not missing a word his mother was saying.
"We talk about their dad every day," said Sheehan, who works as a home health pediatrics therapist and said her husband's careful financial planning has left them with a financially stable life. Alyson, with her mother's prompting, happily remembered that her dad loved the special bubble light on the Christmas tree and that he liked to call her Cookie and Choo Choo. Nathaniel, intelligent and watchful, has had a tougher time, his mom said. His bedroom pays tribute to his dad: painted camouflage green, with his dad's uniform pockets hanging over the headboard. But Sheehan said the family has taken advantage of every service offered them; they even attended a unique grief camp. It's all about remembering and honoring Kevin, but moving forward, she said.
It was a simple life they shared here in this small town near Lake Champlain, she said, a life in which being close to the land, caring for the children, and just being home safe under one roof seemed enough.
"Is his death a tragedy? Absolutely. But I do not believe it was in vain."
"Kevin," she said quietly, through tears, "was honored to serve his country."
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