We all tend to get caught up in our day-to-day troubles and concerns. For many of us, our daily worries and fears are minuscule compared to what our military troops are dealing with every single day.

I have spoken to several men and women who have returned from the war (and some still deployed) and across the board they all agree that support from home has been vital to their morale and confidence.

Matthew returned home to Dallas last month. He said he stopped reading the newspapers his wife sent from home because he didn’t like reading the negative stories and editorials. He said it was difficult to be interested in political bickering and economic woes back home, while he was dealing with life and death every day in Iraq. Matthew’s eyes began to well up with tears and he became silent. I waited for him to speak for what seemed like an eternity. Matthew appeared to be carefully selecting his words, “Carol, there were many days when I just felt as if nobody really cared.”

I asked him what we can do to make things better for the troops and he was very clear with his response, “Men and women are risking their lives for our country; let them know they have your support.” Matthew added, “…and I know this is selfish, but my family suffered while I was away and it would have been helpful to know that people were stepping up to help when it was needed.”

Good people of Southern Indiana, this is your opportunity to let our deployed men and women know they have your support. We are once again collecting cards and letters to send overseas to the troops (Hoosier Cheer for our Heroes). Lt. Gov. Becky Skillman is hosting this effort and for the past three years Southern Indiana has been the state’s strongest contributor. I know you will not let us down this year.

I am sharing a special poem with you, written by Michael Marks, who said he is happy to share this poem with the Extra Milers of Southern Indiana.



THE SANDS OF CHRISTMAS

I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,

and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.

The laundry wasn’t finished and the car I had to fix,

My stocks were down another point, the Dolphins lost by six.

And so with only minutes till my son got home from school

I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.

The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,

and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.

I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,

No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.

And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,

eight Hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.

A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,

Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.

They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,

their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.

Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,

To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.

There wasn’t much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease;

They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MREs.

They didn’t have a garland or a stocking I could see,

They didn’t need an ornament - they lacked a Christmas Tree.

They didn’t have a present even though it was tradition;

the only boxes I could see were labeled “ammunition.”

I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side;

He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.

I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near

and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.

There’s nothing wrong my little son, for safe we sleep tonight,

our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,

to worry on the things in life that mean nothing at all,

instead of wondering if we will be the next to fall.

He looked at me as children do and said it’s always right,

to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.

And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,

to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,

God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.

Remember that we love you so, and that you’re not alone.

The gift you give you share with all, a present every day,

You give the gift of liberty and that we can’t repay.

— Copyright December 2003 by Michael Marks

• Extra Miler Tip of the Month: The boxes for your cards/letters are found at the offices of The Evening News, New Albany Tribune and One Southern Indiana. Deadline is Nov. 18 (no envelopes). Please show our troops that Southern Indiana appreciates their service. If you are interested in helping with projects dedicated to our veterans, contact the Clark County American Red Cross. They have many opportunities to help and many more coming soon.

Carol A. Dawson is a resident of Jeffersonville and owner of EEO GUIDANCE, Inc. If you have seen or been a part of an act of kindness or know an EXTRA MILER, please contact her. To submit an Extra Miler, a story, or act of kindness, contact Carol via e-mail: Cdawson@eeoguidance.com, mail: THE EXTRA MILERS, The Evening News, 221 Spring Street Jeffersonville, IN 47130-3340.