Jenny wrote in about what the end of the war in Iraq means to her:
I am 76 years old and live in a small Mormon town in Utah.
I was so distraught when we invaded Iraq, and protested, and it did no good. Then in 2005, a group of children from the local middle school took up a peace vigil. Every Friday, from 5 to 6 p.m., they would stand in front of the local Mormon Tabernacle on Main Street in the center of our little town. I got out my old "No Iraq War" poster, turned it over and wrote "Bring Them Home," and joined them.
For the next three years, poster in one hand and huge American flag in the other, I stood in that same spot every single Friday, facing into the blazing summer sun, or in winter darkness with candles, in rain or snow or heat or just balmy, beautiful evenings.
Sometimes there were as many as 40 of us, or as few as two or three. Occasionally I was alone. People in passing cars would honk and give us a thumbs up, or yell insults. Once, when just I, a 72-year-old woman, and a girl of 14 were the only ones there, a man yelled at us, "Get a job."
This went on until Inauguration Day, January 2009. Then, with great hopes, I packed away my sign and waited for this day.
Heartsick and tired, I am glad it has come.