Taking the road less traveled

I like literature and I like poetry. One of my favorite poets is Robert Frost. A typical choice, maybe, but I feel it's a good one nonetheless. The last week or so, one of his more well-known poems has been trickling through my mind.  He wrote it about a friend of his who chose to go fight a war. For me, it's about making the best of two good decisions.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

This poem has been on my mind for one reason. I, too, know a friend who chose to fight a war and never made it back to try the first forested path. Last week, that friend lost his life in that war. Though I call him a friend, I confess that I didn't know him well. I met him through his brother who is a dear, old school chum of mine from the University. But I call him friend insomuch as I have a general affection for him and knowledge of him. When Mark walked in a room, you noticed. He screamed confidence, strength and humor whether he was speaking or not. And he had such happy, kind eyes. He was my friend insomuch that he died to protect my way of life and the ideals I hold so dear.

He was Senior Airman Mark Forester and he was a hero. He was a combat controller for the Air Force, which meant he was in the hot spots during offensive strikes. He communicated with the pilots about where to drop their fire power. All the pilots he worked with said he was the best. He had already won a Bronze Star before he was killed and he received more accolades, including the Purple Heart, after his death.

Mark chose to fight a war in what I heard described as the most violent place on earth...Afghanistan. And he chose to fight in one of the most violent places on the battlefield. He chose it because for him, it was the best way to protect his beliefs and ideals. He chose it so he could catch the bad guys.

During this last week, I have often found myself wondering why such good and honorable men--the best men--die in such circumstances. I come up every time with the answer that it is only the good, honorable and best men who will willingly place themselves in such danger. I can't imagine how big Mark's heart must have been to take such a dangerous risk for people he didn't know. I suppose it is nearly impossible to keep a man with such a heart in this world alone.

Mark chose to take the road not many choose to take in order to make our country, and other countries, safer. Like the intersection in Robert Frost's poem, many good paths are available for us to do the same. Maybe we choose a road that is safer with more travelers and we do our civic duties such as voting, serving on community and government boards or volunteering. Maybe we take the road with less travelers and choose to face violent oppression head-on so that others don't have to. I say both roads lead to patriotism and it's only important that you choose one. Which road will you take?

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and Mark-
Mark took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.