Support

His flight to Chicago is delayed. The day after Exodus day, he is beginning his first leave in the St. Louis airport. Twenty-five, he is just beginning his career in the U.S. Army.

“Where will you be stationed,” I ask.

“Korea, sir,” he replies unable to break himself from military discipline even when speaking to those in military clothes.

“A lot worse places.”

“I know, sir. I know.”

Our conversation is filled with starts and stops between times I read a book and he watches the planes land and take off.

His final destination is Raleigh, North Carolina where he will show off to his family his uniform with freshly polished shoes. He is making something of his life, making a contribution and the pride gives his face a glow. No longer will he be what he was six weeks ago; now, he is a proud member of the United States military. He will protect my freedom, engage the enemy and if need be lay down his life for the country.

Odd, how we honor him. We are given two choices. The first is a gun-ho supports the troops, but it can only be done by strict allegiance to national policy and popularity of leaders. Any question of policy or leader is an abandonment of the men and women in uniform. The second is to mock them. Believe ignorance, poverty or bad luck forced them to enter the military. Look down upon them and their value of duty as if it were an idea of a bygone era or a lesser mind.

While those two options rage for control in America, the men and women in the military work with little pay, poor housing, and when in combat equipped not with the most up to date safety equipment, but with Vietnam era surplus. Our elected leaders do not try to solve problems, but bicker. The citizens are barely better. As I watch him patiently waiting for his flight filled with pride and deserved self-respect, I ask don’t we owe them more?

“If Kim-Jong Il starts shooting keep your head down.” I offer my hand as my plane boards.

“Will do, sir. Will do.”

The best we have, let’s not waste him.

A Shorten Response

I do not have much time today, but I wanted to get this out before I take a short business trip and forget about it.

Today, 12/12/06 is my birthday. Ol’ Blue Eyes and I share the same date of birth, and in my opinion the same level of cool. But that is not what I want to write about today. Instead, I want to concentrate on something that has been rolling around in my head since 12/07/06.

December 7th is the anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. The sneak-attack brought America into the war. A war that started with America as an isolationist country and ended with it being one of two global superpowers.

On this blog, one of the readers asked: why do I think war happens? Are ‘isms’ the reason we fights wars, outside self-defense?

I agree self-defense, both real and imagined, is one of the main reasons we fight wars. America knew that if it did not fight back against Japan, Japan would continue to attack. While on the other hand, America ‘knew’ Iraq had WMDs in 2003 and would give them to terrorist. So, while self-defense can be a legitimate reason for the use of violence, it can also be a rallying cry aggressive action.

Are ‘isms’ the cause of war? Does communism, capitalism, socialism, fascism even feminism cause strive? I do not think it as simple as that. In fact, I think it is much simpler. War/violence is caused by man’s inability to live together, man’s inability to tolerate one another’s differences. It is possible for a fascist state and socialist state to live together-see France and Spain, or a communist and democratic state-see China and Japan. What makes tanks roll and bullets fly is the thought that the country next to you either has something you need or acts inhumanly. It is the inability for people to tolerate different thoughts next to one another or a state’s inability to tolerate descent in their own nation forcing others to fight to defend others’ rights-see World War 2 to save the Jewish nation.

It is not ‘isms’ that cause war, but the same question of: why can’t we all just get along?

Steady Going Nowhere

Saturday night, L and I were supposed to go to Bahama Breeze a suburban restaurant where soccer moms and dads drink fruity cocktails and eat standard fish dishes with Caribbean names. L has a gift certificate and wanted to use it. But I did not feel like it.

Earlier in the day, my parents and I went to see Bobby. Estevez’s film on a day in the life of people at the Ambassador hotel the night Bobby Kennedy was shot. Even with the minor flaw of too many characters over too short a film, the writing and acting lift the movie to what it desires to be not just a picture honoring the values of RFK but an appeal to the audience to work towards a better society dedicated to respect for one another.

The film put me in the mood for conversation and community not usually found at Bahama Breeze. So, I called an audible. Instead of heading into the burbs, L and I went into city and The Royale.

There among pictures of the Kennedy brothers and other leaders of the past, I reflected upon the movie. With a faintly shadowed purpose, Estevez used old footage of RFK to speak about the issues of today: war, poverty, the environment and equal rights. As the director would have wanted, I thought about how little has changed in thirty-five years.

There are issues, even with the best efforts, could take generations to solve poverty, racism and crime remain stains on American prestige. None offer a sure fire solution; rather, they will require decades of patient toil.

The environment will not be corrected in a generation or return to its previous balance. Instead of focusing on how we can improve our actions towards the earth, America continues to stick our heads in the sand and increase our oil demand every year.

The war Bobby spoke of is one I learned in history books. In high school and college, Vietnam was pinnacle of American hubris: a blunder that tore both the American nation and Vietnam in two. Now, we are in Iraq and faced with eerily similar discussions. Why are we there? How do we best support the troops? Should we pull them out? What will happen if we pull them out? Is our force ever right or wrong?

This one bothers me the most, because Vietnam could have stayed in the history books. My generation X could have viewed it as an experience of our parent’s not to be repeated in our lifetime. And yet, here we are again facing the same questions against terrorism they faced against communism. All I could think of America was we are caught in a Fiona Apple line, "Steady going nowhere".

Snow Day

Sleet, freezing rain and snow all day yesterday left The Lou closed down. Schools and offices, including my own, are taking an extra Friday off as the city workers clean the streets. From thirteen floors up, it is beautiful-a view overlooking a park with ice and snow hanging in the trees, untouched ground, and kids sledding down hills. Tea, stew, and fresh baked bread keep me warm. It is a day for reading, writing, and taking as many naps as I can.

After lunch, I sat down and started to look through the magazines pilled up on the coffee table. I picked up What's Up. The magazine sold by the homeless providing them with income and readers with news on the state of homelessness, social issues, and local flavor. It is a thing to buy like free trade coffee or a red iPod to show you have a moral conscious.

Flipping through the pages, I began to wonder what it must be like for the sellers of the magazine on a day like this one. A decrease in customers would be inconsequential problem to the fact that they were cold, wet, and hungry with some having slept outside last night. Instead of escaping to stew and tea, they escape to doorways, alleys, and crowded unsafe shelters. My gift only goes so far to help them.

I wonder if we are more like the Pharisees then the widow with our gifts. If what we give to charity is not what we sacrifice but enough to do what society accepts and get noticed. How many times have I sacrificed book, a game, or even a new shirt for a gift to charity? How many times have I given a gift to a charity not to help the ones in need, but because it is expected of me or I wish to fit in?

I like to think of myself as a giving person. Yet, when I compare how much I have and how much more I could give to how others suffer, it is shameful. In the end, though I pushed these thoughts out of my mind and went with A to the new Bond movie.