First, the veterans in the room stand. Then those related to a veteran. Then those who know one. Then those who work beside one, live near one, pass veterans in grocery aisles and parking lots. By then, the entire room is standing. The Tug of War begins there-in the moment we realize that war is not somewhere else, not someone else, and not finished. It lives among us, like weather we choose not to name. And not just the old kind of war but the new kind too, run by remote drone pilots, code writers, and button-pushers. The Tug of War is not about heroes or villains. It is about responsibility. About attention. About the invisible lines pulling at us long after the shooting stops. What would happen if we all gathered and acknowledged those who have carried the weight for the rest of us and what that weight leaves behind? The Tug of War attempts to keep that question alive.
