Mountains Wanted Read Free

eye. Sarah was
generally optimistic but every once in a while just a bit of melancholia crept
in, no matter how hard she fought it. Beauty often stirred those passions
inside her, leaving her wanting someone to share it with.
    She shrugged away the
tear, trying to clear her head to focus on her lecture notes. She switched
the heavy bag containing her laptop and heels from her left shoulder to her
right as she started up the stairs to the auditorium. She noticed several
uniformed military types milling around outside the hall where the lecture was
to take place. This was relatively unremarkable due to the proximity of
the university to several military bases as well as the topic of the lecture.
Sarah had more than a passing curiosity about military life, particularly the
sociological aspects of it. She’d never really been close to anyone who served
but she had studied deployment related post-traumatic stress disorder and as
part of her research into homosexuality and bisexuality she had examined the “Don’t
Ask Don’t Tell” Policy. That was the focus of the panel tonight.
    Sarah would be covering
the cultural and sociological aspects of the policy, which had recently gained
a lot of media attention due to the fact that President Obama aimed to have it
repealed. There would also be panelists covering the historical and
political aspects, represented by faculty from those departments. In
addition, the chair of the fall colloquium series had invited officers from
each of the branches of the armed forces to participate.  Sarah hoped for
a lively but civil debate. It always surprised her how heated discussions
about human sexuality could become.  Why did people care so much about
what others did behind closed doors?
    She made her way down
the aisle toward the stage and remembered she was still wearing her bright pink
flip flops. She’d meant to stop off at the ladies’ room, adjust her makeup
and change her shoes. Eh, whatever , she sighed, feeling a little like
Mr. Rogers changing her shoes on stage. She dug through her bag searching for
her stylish open-toed navy pumps and suddenly realized she had brought one navy
shoe and one black which were similar in style but obviously not a match. Oh,
for fuck’s sake, she chided herself.  I am such a mess!  She
briefly examined the ramifications of wearing fuchsia flip flops with her
tailored navy skirt suit, and then she remembered she’d be sitting down.  Oh
well. I’m going to dazzle them with my words, not with my shoes, she
vowed.
    She fired up her laptop
and watched the audience begin to file in. Most of the military type
people sat near the front of the auditorium. One young man caught her eye
as he chose a seat within spitting distance. He was nearly six feet tall,
sported sandy brown buzzed hair, broad shoulders, and piercing blue eyes.  Well,
if he isn’t the quintessential All American, clean-cut Army guy , Sarah
mused.  I think I will call him GI Joe.  Suddenly his eyes met
hers and she was busted for staring at him. Never one to shy away from a
social interaction, Sarah shot him a gregarious grin. He smirked a little in
return and then quickly glanced down at his program where Sarah’s picture and a
brief bio fell on page two.
    The panel moderator
adjusted the microphone, initiating a bit of feedback which signaled the
audience to quiet down, then proceeded with the introductions. Each
panelist presented the findings of their research on the topic, taking fifteen
minutes or so apiece, a little less for the military officers, and then the
moderator opened up the floor for questions from the audience. There was quite
a bit of passion and fire in the voices of those who asked questions, but
civility was maintained. Sarah was relieved. She was particularly proud of
her response to one older, retired veteran who said that he wouldn’t want to
serve alongside a gay man in combat.
    “With all due respect,”
Sarah remarked, “let’s say