The War in Ukraine Hits Home – Opinion

Poltava is a city of some 280,000 in Ukraine’s northeastern portion. The Russian forces have not yet attacked the city as of the writing date (February 27, 2011, 11:00 Pacific Time). Ukrainian sources claim that air strikes took place in the region.

Oksana, a young lady from Poltava is just a few hours away. Oksana runs and teaches English at the school. Oksana once lived in California. She used to babysit my daughter in everything but bloodline’s children.

Oksana shared the following message on Facebook just hours ago.

TO ALL MY FOREIGN FRIENDS AND COLLEAGUES: I’m as safe as possible in such a situation. Putin is a danger. Kindergartens, orphanages, civil homes… everything is bombed and shelled. He’s lying about attacking only military units. It is our army’s duty to protect. Our organization is organizing support for the army. Most of the time, it’s medical. Also, trying to assist refugees. Russians have been influenced by propaganda. They are convinced they do the right thing. They love wars and investing them from their taxes…ANYWAY, we need help. WHAT CAN YOU DO? Apart from medical and financial help…Address your governments to close the sky so we will have to protect our country only on land. And we need SWIFT to be banned for invaders…And a lot of your prayers! It’s very hard and a lot of people are losing homes, lives, close people but nobody is giving up!

The school serves as a point of collection for medical and other supplies. It will remain standing for so long.

In the United States of America, war is almost always a foreign concept. For this reason, we’ve traveled an entire ocean. We don’t tuck our kids in at night, worrying about whether a missile or mortar shell will come crashing through the bedroom wall. We don’t think about whether that siren means an ambulance is heading to the scene of an accident or we need to take shelter from an incoming air raid. We don’t have to pay heed to such considerations. It’s more than likely we never will. It’s one of the rewards of living here.

Other people don’t enjoy that luxury. This is what we know. We’ve seen the pictures, be they from real life or ones made in a Hollywood basement. We’ve seen them so much, we’ve become inured and disconnected. Even the most horrific visuals are now optic room noise.

This is not the case when it is a family member’s written word describing first-hand war’s brutal, omnipresent horror. Because you are a part of the game, this cuts to the core. This is as far removed from Washington, D.C., walking pastry puffs bloviating about Who Is To Blame For All This (here’s a hint: the guy presently living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has far, far more to do with it than the addresses’ previous tenant) and Let’s Send Someone Else’s Kid To Fight This War.

When I write here about sports, I’m fond of the grammatically poor yet still truthful truism “ball don’t care,” meaning athletic tools respond solely to how they are used, with no regard given to the user’s skin color. Here’s another truism: Bomb don’t care. Not if you’re the aggressor or the defender, not if you’re right or wrong, not about your race or religion or gender or any other identifying factor. This is the only objective of this program. If it hits its target, there should be enough people left to do so.

This is home war. It is comforting the woman I couldn’t love more as a daughter if she were my own, as she comforts her children. At their respective ages, these kids’ sole life concerns should be that first job, first date, first crush, and did they get their homework done in time to turn in tomorrow morning. You don’t have to wonder if that nice lady next door, who was their babysitter when Mom was at work, will still be there.