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My little brother and I just had our first conversation since he returned from Iraq. I wasn't even going to mention it, but he brought it up. Everything was silent when he practically spat it out upon the dinner table. It was said under his breath, almost reflexively "six months ago, I was in Iraq."

Out came the questions. I realized for the first time how little my family knew or was willing to ask about his experience there. They saw this as an invitation to ease their curiosities, but had no idea how to approach it delicately. "Where were you in Iraq?" was the best they could do.

His responses were designed to reveal as little as possible. He said more with his body language. Slowly jerking back and forth, staring vacantly, clenching his arms to his torso, he answered, "in a sandstorm."

"but where were you located during this sandstorm?"

"In Iraq."

"What part of Iraq?"

"The part with the sandstorm."

"And what were you near when the sandstorm occured?"

"The humvee."

His timing was comic genious, but looking at him made me want to do anything but laugh, so I asked, "Did you talk to any Iraqis while you were there?" He said he talked to one to buy a pepsi, but he wished he hadn't. besides, they don't speak english anyway.

My family switched their focus to making fun of what they couldn't see as anything but a stupid question. My little brother sat in silence for awhile, and then left the table.

I was thinking from the beginning of this conversational tangent that I ought to say "Six months ago I was arrested and abused by police for protesting the war on Iraq," but I understand the delicacy of this topic.