I haven’t seen the movie “Midnight Special” yet. The film looks amazing – a sci-fi thriller about a father and his supernatural son on the run from the feds. It also seems a heartfelt family drama, too. My kind of movie.
There are lines in the trailer that instantly connected with me. Son to father: “Dad, you don’t have to worry about me.” Father to son: “I’ll always worry about you … that’s the deal.”
Every parent knows this.
A few years ago, Dorothy “Dolly” Sullivan, a retired postmaster from Princeton, Massachusetts, was in my office in Holyoke, glancing at a photo of me in desert cammies with my unit at the Arc of Triumph in Baghdad in 2004. Also called the Swords of Qadisiyah, it’s a common picture taken by troops to show “you were there.”
Dolly paused for a long while looking at that photo, of a place that has brought her nightmares since Jan. 18, 2005. Her son, Army Capt. Christopher J. Sullivan, was 29 when he died on that Tuesday in Baghdad when an improvised explosive device detonated not far from the spot Dolly was staring at in the 5-by-8-inch photo on my wall. You see, when you are a Gold Star Mother, the pain never leaves, and reminders occur in places you’d never imagine, like an office in Holyoke.
As I would find out, Christopher’s unit, the Blackjack Brigade, was responsible for security for the compound and buildings where I was assigned, and on that day, Capt. Sullivan was working security in preparation for Iraq’s first free election in more than 50 years. To my knowledge, I had never met Capt. Sullivan although, as I now know, his unit provided security escorts for me and other officers.
Dolly became a Gold Star Mother. As she and her fellow Gold Star Mothers will tell you, “it’s a club no mother wants to join.”
Founded in 1929 to honor the mothers of World War I dead, the Gold Star Mothers in my parents’ day were ever present at Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day events, marching proudly in white skirts and jackets and treated reverentially by the community.
In an old folder in my desk, I keep newspaper clippings about articles on holidays and observances. One yellowed article notes the history of Mother’s Day. I had forgotten, myself, that despite years of unofficial observance, it wasn’t until 1914, on the eve of the First World War, that Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the second Sunday in May as Mother’s Day.
For decades, Mother’s Day was tied directly to war remembrances. Fighting sons were encouraged to remember mother, home and flag in the same breath. Mourning mothers were lauded for sacrificing their sons. But more recently, the holiday has languished amid gross commercialism.
On May 15 next month, one Sunday after Mother’s Day, the American Gold Star Mothers of Massachusetts and Rhode Island, including a chapter here in western Massachusetts, will hold an event called a “Star Spangled Afternoon” at The Log Cabin in Holyoke.
The Gold Star Mothers use the occasion to promote a cause they are passionate about – remembering their children by raising money to help today’s veterans. Money from the event, which includes great food and entertainment, helps recreation programs like the ones at the VA in Leeds and at the Soldiers’ Home in Holyoke and the Fisher House in Boston.
It will also be a way for all of us as veterans and good citizens to say to this special group of mothers: “thanks Mom.”
With donated phone cards given to deployed service members, I would call home to my mother when I was deployed half a world away.
On Mother’s Day, in particular, it was important to check in with mom and dad and to let them know I was OK, even if the images on CNN from wherever the heck I happened to be at the time suggested otherwise.
I’d use the little time I had with them on the phone to be cheery, talk about the food or the kids or something funny I read about back home and then I’d end the conversation with a “don’t worry.” But, for mom, with a sigh and a long pause, I knew that wasn’t possible. After I said goodbye on Mother’s Day from Kabul, Afghanistan, in 2006, my father stayed on the line and told me she prayed for me every day. “She even said a rosary,” he said.
Dolly Sullivan prayed every day, too. Christopher would tell his mom the situation in Iraq was not as grim as it appeared in the news. He was scheduled to return home to his wife, Sandy, and son, David, in a few weeks. I came home. He didn’t. He’s buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
Those of us who wake up and go to bed worrying about our children, at least we have all of them. The Gold Star Mothers don’t. That’s the deal.
John Paradis, a retired U.S. Air Force lieutenant colonel, lives in Florence and writes a monthly column that appears on the second Friday in the Daily Hampshire Gazette.
The “Star Spangled Afternoon” show will be offered May 15 from 2 to 6 p.m. at The Log Cabin in Holyoke. For ticket information and reservations, visit the events listing on center’s website or call (413) 535-5077.
