Domingo Soto: Because Freedom Isn't Dumb

Noel Luis Rios
My cousin just sent me this email:
"Mark Lauer is Noel's son and has been looking for his father's side of his family for years. Thanks to your website, he found it. Unbelieveable!!!, Sixto."
Attached to the email was the original email sent by Mark:
Sixto and Narda:
"Praise the Lord!! The glory goes to God our Father. I have been searching for years and came across this web address http://www.domsoto.com/sixto/ and saw Noel's name and e-mailed you. I have seen this before but never e-mailed. I am glad I did yesterday.
Yes, I am Noel's son. I live in Fremont, CA near San Francisco and Helene lives in Denton, TX near Dallas. I have forwarded your e-mails to Helene after I called and spoke to her. I have had a very emotional morning to this point. Please call me ... if you feel so lead. There is so much I want to say, but not enough time to write it all out today.
God Bless, I hope to hear from you soon.
Mark."
This was followed by Narda's email:
"Junior,I just wanted to let you know that, through your website, Noel's son was able to locate us. We've searched, to no avail, for these two children up until several months before mom passed away.
Thanks and God Bless you!"

Noel's name is on the wall. He died in Viet Nam. I can't truthfuly say that I think about him often but he surfaces every now and then. These emails trip me off because, for the second time this month, I am participating in an intriquing coincidence, this time involving him.

When we were young we all lived in Newark and we looked up to him because he, Richard and Mario - who lived in New York - were the oldest of the male cousins. They were our role models. He hung out with the older wing of the cousin posse and was one of the toughs. Pretty guy, white Mendez skin, dark and intense eyes, slicked back hair, waterfall. At any rate, that's how I remember him. I also remember that he went off to war proudly. He was missing in action and we all waited for years, hoping it was just a terrible mistake.

I was in a bar recently with a friend. She has two sons who are also proudly and unhesitatingly serving their country and they are doing it in advance and special ops units. We are all worried for them. Somehow we got into a conversation about war stuff: "Support Bush.""We shouldn't be running off to do it much less not challenging the decisional process." We had fallen into the quicksand of the war debate.

I flashed on Noel and how he had gone off so gung ho and to my aunt and uncle's years of grief. I became at once angry at his hubris and sorry for our loss. I had tapped into a Sixties/Seventies angst like a contact bummer and it made me sad and worried for all of the Noels who are yet to come. And even though my cousin would probably still gladly go off with the two brothers in search of Osama - I invoked his name as a statement of my personal investment in the war and to give my protestations legitimacy. "I have a cousin on the wall."

I take no great pride in knowing that I have diminished his memory by invoking it for nothing better than to make a point or that in the process I had also unintentionally hurt a dear friend's feelings by bringing up the prospect of a new wall.

As we lumber towards the war and its necessary debate we must keep in mind that we are all family.