Over the last three years working as a journalist in Philadelphia, I’ve had the privilege of writing numerous stories on war veterans—particularly young vets of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Some of the stories I heard were inspiring—like that ofPisey Tan, a 27-year-old soldierwho lost both his legs when an improvised explosive device (IED) hit his vehicle in Samarra, Iraq, but who never surrendered his determination to fight for his country. Others were haunting—like that ofJason Gunn, a 28-year-old soldieralso maimed by an IED explosion, but whose worst scars were internal. I wrote about the possibility ofa new epidemic of homeless veterans, and in the process spoke with young people who’d returned from war unable to find a place for themselves or a vision for the future. And I spoke with aging veterans of Korea and Vietnam, concerned about the similar lack of governmental and societal support for those returning from another unpopular war and the anger they see in their younger counterparts.

Of all the veterans and experts I’ve interviewed over the past three years, one person stands out. Though she’s not a veteran herself, she’s made arguably a larger impact on the public’s perception of the war in Iraq than anyone else I’ve met—and she certainly made the largest impact on me.

Her name is Celeste Zappala, and on April 26, 2004 her son, Sgt. Sherwood Baker, was killed in Iraq. Baker—a husband, father, and the eldest of three brothers—was killed by debris in a factory explosion. He was guarding the factory while officials searched it for weapons of mass destruction.

Zappala is a life-long peace activist, but when her son told her he wanted to join the National Guard, she supported his decision. When the war began and his unit was deployed, she offered to take him to Canada to protect him. He said it was his duty to serve. When she was told of his death by a rain-soaked soldier on her front porch, Zappala decided to take action.

Since 2004 Zappala has been an outspoken opponent of the Iraq war. She is a founding member of the organizationGold Star Families for Peaceand joined forces with Cindy Sheehan, the mother of another soldier killed in Iraq, to camp outside President Bush’s ranch in Crawford, Tex., demanding to speak with him about the war that took her son.

WhenI wrote about Celeste back in 2005, Sheehan was still a major name in the news. Anti-war marches were still being held and protests were staged in cities across the country. Now things have grown quiet.

Sheehan decided to give up her public fight a year ago this month. Anti-war protests are now much less frequent. Ironically, the public’s disapproval of the war in Iraq is stronger than ever—but the fervor of the anti-war movement has languished amid a perceived majority consensus. The current election process has also provided a distraction: Although the war is discussed by candidates on TV nearly every day, there is less and less demand—both from the public and from Congress—for immediate action.

“I go to events and demonstrations and there are fewer and fewer people who come out,” Celeste told me recently. “And there should be more and more people, because we can’t accept that the war is just a part of American life.”

All of this is just one part of why I find Zappala so incredibly inspiring. While she doesn’t frequently appear on television news programs criticizing the handling of the war or travel to meet with influential Washington officials, she posts an ever-growing tally of the number of soldiers killed in Iraq in her office window, which faces a busy downtown Philadelphia street. And on the last Friday of every month, Zappala stands on the same busy street corner in Philadelphia—usually with Sherwood’s father and a few other friends and anti-war activists—holding a sign bearing a picture of her son and demanding an end to the war.

It’s a quiet act (except for the hundreds of drivers who honk in support of her message), but it is an act nonetheless.

“It might seem like a small thing, and it is,” she told me. “But I always think that it’s one way to raise a voice, it’s one way to make people passing by remember there’s a war going on, remember they’re capable of saying ‘no.’ And even though I feel great futility sometimes in my effort to end the war, I keep thinking: What if I did nothing? What if I said nothing? So I choose to speak.”

About a month ago, I produced a video that tells Zappala’s story.  Because of a legal issue, I have not yet been able to post it here. As this is an issue and a story close to my heart, I plan to continue working to resolve the legal roadblock—but should I be unable to, I will post a link here tomy Facebook pageand upload the video there.

Regardless of how you feel about the war in Iraq, Celeste Zappala’s story will make you feel something. Please check back for more on her soon.

-c