Princetonian reflects on brother's service in Iraq

When the initial shock withers away into realization that my older brother is a soldier in Iraq patrolling in Bagdhad, I feel less removed from the headlines and CNN. And it is always a shock when I consider that my brother Luis Fernando is one of the many American soldiers in the Middle East — the setting of so many front-page stories.

On campus, I haven't met many students with family members or close friends in Iraq. I don't know how other students in a similar situation describe their feelings when they read or watch news about the now occupied portion of the Middle East.

I remember my close friend getting tickets to a televised motorcycle race when I was in kindergarten. I looked in vain for him on the screen while I sat at home. Today, I find myself searching again. A subconscious part of me peruses TV snapshots of Iraq looking for my brother. If I saw him, then I could rest assured that for at least that short moment that the cameras were on him he was alright.

This past summer, I participated in the Princeton-in-Ishikawa Program in Japan. My host mother woke me to explain that my "okaa-san" — mother in Japanese — was on the phone. My mother told me that my brother had called. At twenty years old, he had just graduated from boot-camp and was off to Germany to learn how to drive tanks. At the same time he was supposed to attend class, working for a college degree.

I don't remember when I found out he went to Iraq. I actually expected it on some level, though.

His deployment has had a profound effect on me, though my life has not changed much. I think that's the part that makes me feel the worst and most guilty. I have moments working in Frist, gallivanting on the Street or simply sleeping late when it strikes me that my brother's lifestyle does not afford him the luxuries I have here at Princeton.

He patrols. He protects. His life is on the line. He's a hero, and I know I should talk to him as often as possible, email him every day, become more involved with Iraq-related issues or simply pray whenever I have a chance.

I fear for him. That much is certain. I didn't grow up with him, so it is only natural that I am somewhat estranged from my older brother.

Yet, my fraternal love shouldn't be doubted, despite how much he has angered me at times.

His decisions have upset me. Why drop out of college in Miami? Why should he fight for the U.S.? He was, after all, born in Guatemala. I have trouble identifying with his version of patriotism.

And another thing bothers me about his decisions. Why does he have the right to make our family agonize about his safety?

Our family expects him home by the end of summer. Certainly, I won't reproach him next time I see him. I think I'll lionize him instead. I'll embellish — praise him. I may never understand, though, how he let himself get caught up in the inextricable mess of enlisting in the army and heading off to a tension-ridden area.