A mother in Texas

Somewhere a mother in Texas awaits. All across America women await. Some await those they love who will return. Some await those they love who will not return.

Cindy Sheehan awaits the man who sent them there. She awaits the man who could stop these mothers suffering. But he is on vacation right now.

While more sons are preparing to leave their loved ones. He bicycles.

There was a time when war was more personal. A time when due to the limits of the weaponry one had to see the whites of the enemies eyes to even have a chance of firing. There was a time when the Generals slept in a tent on the same field as the soldiers.

Then we got good at war. We created ways to kill someone from a distance that left impossible to tell if they were military or civilian, man or woman, democracy lover or rogue infidel and hater of all reasonable ideals. Where now the men who led the war sit in command an ocean away. They go home at night to their wives and children. They vacation in Crawford and while the tents are pitched in Bagdad.

So Cindy Sheehan waits. She used to wait for her son. She didn't wait long. Her son Casey Sheehan was killed in combat on 4/4/04 in Sadr City five days after arriving in Iraq.

Now she waits for the man who sent her son to Iraq to ride by while on vacation. She hopes he will notice her there. She hopes she can explain the reasons she came and she hopes she can speak with the voice of 100,000 mothers. She hopes that she can have a moment of his day to replace all the moments she will not have with Casey.

She hope and waits for all the mothers who can not be in Crawford today. And across the world women wait for her and hope for her. Today we are all Cindy Sheehan. I wish for her that she may find some peace and she may share it.

She stands on a front line close to home. A front line that was never meant to be more than a vacation spot for a man who knew only war. She brings the war to his feet. She brings our suffering to his street. She carries our hopes.

She has cried our tears. And we have cried for her in return.

Somewhere in Texas a women stands tied to the hearts of 100,000 mothers.

Tomorrow I will stand at a school in my town. Tomorrow I will speak to students about the realities of the military. I will offer them choices. I will ask them to take a stand. I will tell them about Cindy and ask them what their mothers would do in her shoes. I will ask them if they think he would stop for their mother.

But I know it's more than one man that needs to stop and hear Cindy. It is mankind she waits for. It's you and I she waits for.

When will we hear the womens cries and bring their children home?

Are we ready to end the war?

Will we be in the streets on September 24th or will we be on vacation?