EARLIER this month at the Jacksonville Jaguars’ Military
Appreciation game, Brandon Becar, 11, and relatives proudly stood on
the football field in front of 45,000 people. The stadium’s giant video
screen flashed a prerecorded greeting from his father, stationed in
Iraq. Brandon grinned and flexed his muscle.
Suddenly
the crowd roared. Brandon turned, bewildered. Dashing across the field
toward him came a figure in fatigues: Maj. Kevin Becar, surprising his
son with an early two-week leave. “We both totally zoned out where we
were,” Major Becar recalled. “He was just bawling, and we melted into
each others’ arms.”
Read this and weep. Go ahead. It’s that season. And these surprise military homecoming tales are the definition of heartwarming.
But view ’em — as have millions through TV news broadcasts, YouTube and countless other Web sites — and just blubber:
A 2-year-old opens the door to a costumed Santa.
He gives her M&M’s and, gingerly, she hugs him. Then her stunned
mother lets loose a yelp — “It’s Daddy!” — home six weeks early from
Afghanistan. And while Mommy smooches Santa, thumping his chest (“You
stinker!” “This is the best Christmas ever!”), the child looks
quizzical. “Da-dee?”
In recent years, the popularity of surprise
soldier homecomings, videotaped for posterity, has grown: dozens of
such moments have been posted on the Internet. Fathers in fatigues —
it’s almost always fathers — surprise children in classrooms, at a Valentine’s Day dance, popping out of a gift-wrapped box at a school assembly. Occasionally, as in a Veterans Day ceremony at a Tennessee elementary school, the local TV news lies in wait.
Network
anchors sniffle. Public relations people beam. Parents describe
unparalleled elation. But as these surprise reunions become embedded as
this generation’s narrative of the returning vet, psychologists
and others who work with military families question whether these
surprise visits best serve the children themselves. Debates on blogs,
like Andrew Sullivan’s Daily Dish, ask, Do these videos celebrate or exploit?
“Some
people think it’s totally fine,” said Lillian Connolly, a mother of
four who leads support groups for military families in Brockton, Mass.
“But I recommend to families not to surprise children. The child has
been without a parent for so long. The child can hold anger. You never
know how they’re going to react.”
Mrs. Connolly, whose husband is
on his third deployment in Iraq for the Army Reserve, added: “And in
front of the media? I don’t think it’s fair.”
Candace Weir disagrees. She helped engineer a surprise
for her daughters this month, dropping them with her mother for a
weekend and driving to Fort Campbell, Ky., to pick up her husband,
Specialist Chris Weir, just returned from Iraq.
That Monday
morning, Kylee, 6, and Ashlyn, 4, attended an early Veterans Day
assembly at Oak Grove Elementary School in Cleveland, Tenn. Who should
stride in? The girls were floored — and then over the moon.
Months
before, to prepare them for his mid-deployment visit, Mrs. Weir tried
the calendar countdown. But the military could only give a two-week
estimate of his date. “It was an emotional rollercoaster,” she said.
“One day he was coming home — and the next he wasn’t.” The girls’ anxiety
was particularly acute because their uncle died in Iraq in 2006; their
father had volunteered to complete his brother’s service.
“My
kids were upset and crying and thought Daddy was supposed to be home by
now,” Mrs. Weir said. “The surprise thing worked better. And they
really loved it.”
The adulation from classmates at these special
moments can be reparative, parents say. Peers may finally empathize
with the turmoil of a child whose parent is deployed. How bad could a
little glory be?
“Nobody paid attention to me, it was all about Hannah,” said Master Sgt. Joseph Myers, of the video
in June that vaulted onto national broadcasts showing the reaction of
his 10-year-old — freeze-frame expressions ranging from incredulity to
ecstatic relief — when he walked into her Randolph Elementary School
class at Universal City, Tex.
Hannah still Googles her name to read new posts, he said, “and to check what ranking she is on the viewings at YouTube.”
FOR
viewers, these moments have a voyeuristic magnetism. They are
mini-dramas, representing the anxiety of the ultimate parent-child
separation, with a radiant resolution. Institutions that facilitate
them can’t help but benefit from the emotional spillover.
Chief
among them: the military. Jon Myatt, a spokesman for the Florida
Department of Military Affairs, said those called up — doctors,
butchers, accountants like Major Becar — live in communities where
people may not understand military families’ ordeal. These reunions and
their publicity give a window into their lives. “You don’t get that on
the nightly news very much,” Mr. Myatt added.
And while
opposition to the Vietnam War corroded the reception of those veterans,
he said, the intimacy of these public reunions helps viewers separate
their feelings about current wars from the troops themselves: “Everyone
was touched by this moment,” he said, “and that’s a wonderful outcome.”
Still,
he said, surprises with younger children work best: “They’re not as
self-conscious when it comes to crying and hugging their father.
Teenagers are worried about their peers.” ...
The veteran’s homecoming is such a potent milestone that it’s been a theme in books, paintings and film — “The Odyssey,” Norman Rockwell’s “Homecoming G.I.,” William Wyler’s “Best Years of Our Lives.” Elizabeth Samet, a professor of English at West Point,
viewed some reunion videos and noted that when some of the young
children peered uncomprehendingly at a man in a uniform running toward
them, she was reminded of Hector’s return to Troy in “The Iliad”: his
young son “doesn’t recognize his father because he is still wearing
armor.”
FOR centuries, whatever unfolded during those reunions —
children shrieking with joy or clinging to their mothers’ knees — took
place in privacy. Today, because of the orchestration and omnipresent
cameras, the “surprise” homecomings make viewers essential to the
reunion itself, much like reality TV shows. But what happens after the
cameras are turned off?
That’s when the complex adjustment for
soldier and family begins. “The expectation is that it will be
wonderful and happy and we hope so,” said Mark Pisano, a school
psychologist at Fort Bragg in North Carolina.
“But sometimes, all
he wants to do is sleep, because he has been sleeping in a hole in the
desert for weeks,” he said. “That is understandable but hurtful.”
For
children, he added, mid-deployment visits can be notoriously rough,
because in a short period they are whipsawed between the euphoria of
reunion and the anguish of departure. In workshops, he advises families
to prepare their children. Minimize surprises.
Last month,
Lillian Connolly’s husband returned for a mid-deployment visit. Staff
Sergeant Joseph Connolly called from the airport; the plane had landed
early. “I told him, ‘I don’t like to be surprised!’ ” Mrs. Connolly
said. “ ‘You have to wait until I shower and wear the outfit I
planned.’ He has me waiting a year, does he not? Well, he can wait 20
minutes.”
The deployments don’t get easier: “Every time my boys get off Skype with him, their eyes are full of water.”
Major
Becar, home for a 14-day visit, stayed hidden at a friend’s home for a
few days until he could surprise his son at the Jaguars’ game.
“I
had no idea the effect it would have on everyone else,” he said of the
reunion. The V.I.P. treatment, appearances on a morning TV show and
sports talk radio. “It shows how patriotic everyone is and wants to see
good news,” Major Becar said.
Reached 48 hours before returning
to Iraq, Major Becar said Brandon’s school excused him to stay with his
father throughout the visit. “I’ve been with him 24/7.”
He
lowered his voice; Brandon was nearby. “The last couple of days as he
looks at me, I know he’s thinking about me leaving. He’s starting to
act differently.” The major began choking up. “It just kills me to
think how tough this is for him.”
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