One night, everything changed. As you see in the movie, I got stabbed and robbed while counting the homeless as part of a volunteer effort to help end chronic homelessness. And in March, no matter how we protested it was starting to become clear that we were going to be unsuccessful in stopping Bush from increasing troop levels.
It's funny, we never once talked about quitting nor did we ever agree to quit. Slowly we just stopped talking about what we came out here for. We stopped going out to film, we stopped talking about how we wanted to reclaim the long lost spirit. We stopped trying to change things. It was just kinda over, and we knew it.
To us, it seemed like we had failed. So we started living and enjoying our lives day to day. And why not? After all, we were just three people. And three people can't possibly move a mountain. We had bills to pay, other dreams to explore, and our lives to live.
But there was a sting in our sides that just wouldn't go away.
We had always talked about going to visit Jeff Heaton in Lafayette, ever since we heard about him. So as I walked through the memorial I couldn't help but feel guilty for letting ourselves down. But more importantly for letting down the moms, dads, and grandparents that were there that day.
If you ever make it to San Francisco I recommend that you visit the crosses put up by Jeff and his volunteers. No words or pictures can possibly explain what that sight makes you feel and think.
As I came home that day, I prayed for the courageous men and women who died since this senseless war began, but more importantly I also found myself praying for all those who are yet to fall victim to this awful war. Iraqis and Americans, alike. Even though I didn't agree with this war, I deeply believe that we should, regardless of where we stand on the political spectrum, honor the sacrifice, commitment and selflessness of the soldiers who will return from the war. They should be praised and rewarded for their service to this beautiful country...