WEAR IT, DECLARE IT, SHARE IT!

New Clothing Line Raises Awareness of Men and Women Serving in Our Military

My three nieces Kirsten (16), Connor (10) and Kaycie (8) sparked an idea that may make a big difference in our society. We were discussing our cousin Drew's service in Iraq and Afghanistan and what his family goes through while he is away for so many months. My three little girls had plenty to say about what it would be like if their fathers had to be away for that long. What it would be like not to have them kiss them goodnight, or read a bedtime story, or let them curl up in their lap watching TV.

One of my nieces blurted out that she didn't like war and the other two quickly agreed. According to them war is "yucky," "dirty" and "hurts good people." I seconded (fourthed?) their dislike of war and--in typical avuncular style--started into the theory of a "just war."

Big mistake. I knew I'd gone to far when little eyes glazed over and gum-filled mouths slowed and slacked as I waxed about the thoughts of Cicero, Augustine and Thomas Aquinas. "Uncle Dale," one of my nieces interrupted, "Are they your friends?" "Another asked, "Are they soldiers?"

Hmmm...I had fallen into the uncle trap. They were smart, but as I got into theory and philosophy I'd gone from cool guy to teacher in a flash. Instead of bore them any more, I decided to turn the conversation to what had sparked the conversation in the first place: the people in uniform serving in time of a war that has no boundaries and no definitive end point. I shifted the conversation to our cousin Ryan McGlothlin, a 26-year-old Marine 2Lt. killed in Iraq in 2005. Ryan was on a full ride fellowship to Stanford's doctoral program when he joined the Marines. After Sept. 11, he felt he needed to give back. He told his father, “Dad, I’ve been born into privilege, why should I ride on the backs of others?” He wrote to his family, “I know this war is not the most popular one back home, “but people must understand that to pull out before the Iraqi army is fully ready to assume responsibility for the security of their own country is not only irresponsible of us but would ensure the persistence of terrorism. If you walk through these cities and see how terrified Iraqi citizens are of the terrorists and how thankful they are that we finally came to their cities, you could not possibly consider doing this job incompletely.”

My nieces were riveted and I felt my heart slow and tears welling up as I recounted the story. Like most rural families, the McGlothins are close. We scratched out an existence in the hollows of Russell, Tazewell and Buchanan counties in far off fields and coal mines of southwestern Virginia. Ryan's death had affected all of us and I remembered the call from my dad when it happened. I sat back from my desk overlooking Conn. Ave in DC, then asked my assistant to hold my calls and meetings and walked around Dupont Circle for hours in a fog. I queried the girls: Did they know that about their cousin Ryan? That he'd given up his studies at Stanford to serve? Did they know that young people, men and women just a few years older than my oldest niece, were serving in Iraq and Afghanistan? Did they know that sometimes those young people who were doing their jobs because we ask them to, were wounded and killed? Silence fell over their little faces as they thought and thought about my questions.

One of the nieces finally broke the silence, "My friends don't know anything about Ryan. They don't think about anything but clothes and movies and the beach. Why don't we care more about good people like Ryan and Drew who serve in the army for us?" I didn't have an answer. "Uncle Dale, we should do something to get people to care about the boys and girls like Ryan and Drew who are in the war." The other two girls agreed. "We should make something so that people will remember them." Great idea! But what could we do?

That question consumed me for weeks. One morning as I was searching through U.K. coverage of the war, it hit me. It was right there in front of me--had been for years! The red poppy! Since I was a kid riding around our hometown with my grandfather I'd seen the VFW selling little plastic lapel poppies on street corners around Veterans Day, but as their numbers decline I've seen them less and less. In the U.K. and Canada, however, the poppy was everywhere. That was it! We could create a new look for the red poppy and create a line of clothing so that people could wear it to show they remember and appreciate the men and women in our military.

After a month or two of hard work we did it! Our line of tees, hooded sweatshirts and hats are now out and ready to roll. My nieces are so proud of them and are modeling the clothing for our website (which we hope to have up soon.) They are learning about costing, marketing, production, and design and the clothing will keep those marines, soldiers, sailors and airmen in people's minds and hearts.

We hope our new "rememberthem" logo really takes off and begins to appear everywhere. One of the girls suggested we give back too. So, for each item we sell, we're giving a percentage to the Fisher House--a nonprofit that provides a place to stay for family members of injured military personnel so they can be with them as they receive medical attention. Come on, wear "the power of the flower" and put on a Red Poppy to show you care about the men and women in uniform. This is not about whether you agree or disagree with the politics of war--it's about the sacrifice, dedication and service of people like Ryan and Drew. Yes, war is "yucky" and "dirty" and "hurts good people." But, the people who serve in our Armed Forces are our brothers and sisters, cousins, uncles, friends, neighbors, coworkers and even total strangers to whom we owe a debt. We must remember them. Above the din of anger and accusation and political rhetoric Remember Them!