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Airport security has altered our farewells. The feeling is particularly acute when you're sending a child off to war.
Welcoming members of the military home hasn't changed much over the last century, although now they arrive by commercial jet instead of a train or ship.
The welcoming party waits impatiently outside the airport corridor. Where is he? Did something happen? Did he miss the plane? Surely he would have called.
There is the mandatory interval of standing on tiptoe and craning to see over the guard. And suddenly there he is -- a huge grin. His camouflage uniform seems so natural. There are hugs, tears, compliments -- "You look great!" -- and he does.
Then comes the subdued day when he has to go back. These departures are stilted and awkward; the usual jokes and bromides sound so lame. At least ours do. We've seen both of our sons off after mid-deployment leaves and we still haven't gotten the ceremony down.
The problem, I think, is airport security. No one is blaming Transportation Security Administration officials for this. But security has ruined a great ritual.
If security had been in effect in "Casablanca," Rick would never have been allowed out on the runway to make his speech. He would have been stuck behind a barrier back in the terminal while Ilsa was taking off her shoes.
First you arrive at the airport early. The earlier you arrive, the shorter the lines will be at both check in and security. Cut it too close and there are about a thousand people ahead of you, all with tickets that need elaborate rebooking.
Family and friends cluster at the entrance to security and watch as their soldier shuffles through the maze, too far away to talk to and too close to begin waving.
Finally, he arrives at the agent. Suddenly, he disappears. Then reappears. Taking off his combat boots. Security, you know.
Finally, he is through but too far away for all but a token wave. Then he's just gone.
All the cool stuff -- the bars, restaurants and shops -- are on the far side of security, available only to ticketed passengers.
What I would like to do is sit down with my son in sight of the gate and buy him a couple of beers. And then to have punctuation to the departure. Watch him walk down the gangway, see the cabin door close, the airliner push back from the gate and taxi off in the direction of Kuwait.
Surely the minds at the Department of Homeland Security can restore farewells to our military.

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