Memorial Day, 2013

 

Memorial Day 2013 1

 

“Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”

 

Memorial Day 2013 3As I fade into the autumn of my life, I find myself becoming increasingly depressed on Memorial Day, about what it represents and what it has become. At this point it is common to lament the true meaning of the day being largely ignored in our haste to start the first barbecue of the season and take advantage of a Memorial Day sale. But that is not what troubles me this day. It’s the day itself and all that it represents and all that it has become. Each year, it seems, there is a larger celebration of our honored dead, people who have paid the supreme cost to ensure our freedoms. That’s how the day is always billed and what it has come to represent, a huge, monumental thank you for those who laid down their lives for our freedoms. In more recent years it has become common to also extend a hearty thank you for those on active service, and every now and again, an old codger like me who served at a peacetime post gets a nod of thanks. Although I never saw combat, I was part of the Cold War Warriors stationed in Berlin just a few short years after the Berlin Wall was first erected.

 

It will soon be some fifty years since I served, and in that intervening half century I have seen more wars, more deaths, more lamentations, ever more attention given to Memorial Day. Doug Manchester purchased the San Diego Union-Tribune in November, 2011, and promptly transformed it into little more than a print version of Fox News. Yesterday that rag published a 20-page section headlined:

 

Military + Defense

Remembering Our Fallen

 

Having worked fifteen years in one of the advertising departments of a newspaper, my first thought was, why so much on this subject? The moment I opened it, though, I knew. Some thirteen or fourteen of those twenty pages were advertisements. And given the tenor of some of the ads (expressions of gratitude for the fallen) it was at once apparent what they had done. They had simply put together a special section. Newspapers love that sort of thing. A special section is one that revolves around a theme that will interest the reader, but that is mostly advertising, thus resulting in a wonderful ROI (return on investment), and it’s pitched to advertisers on that basis: something for you (people will be sure to read this), something for us.

 

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Memorial Day 2013 5But, as I looked through the section itself I was struck with its incompleteness. As always on such occasions, that famous poem from WWI, “In Flanders Fields” was trotted out, and, of course, the U-T made sure to rattle a few swords as they thanked veterans in their own editorial. No, they did a rather complete job on the editorial side. And at first blush, given the ads both thanking veterans, and “honoring” them with a special discount on sale items, along with the usual Memorial Day Blowout ads, it would seem that the commercial aspects were also covered. But, really, there should have been a few ads from munitions manufacturers. Something from a manufacturer of nuclear missiles would have been just the thing. “We want to thank those who died in defense of this country and to introduce our latest guided missile. This baby is guaranteed to lay waste to entire cities, to make damned sure that the hated enemy does not survive.  We are Vishnu, killer of worlds.”

 

One of the things that most impressed me about President Obama, and one of the principal reasons I voted for him, was not only his opposition to the Iraq War, but his justification for that viewpoint: “We need to get away from the kind of thinking that gets us into situations like that.” Sadly, what most disappoints me about his presidency is the utter lack of anything having been done to implement that kind of thinking.

 

But maybe we should rethink our positions on wars and militaries and military-industrial complexes. Maybe we should be looking to do something other than throw our weight around, and we could start that kind of thinking by realizing that we often do just that. One of the first things President George W. Bush said after 9/11 was, “They hate us because we love freedom.” And with that as his mantra, he then went in search of those who had perpetrated such a horror upon this country.

 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA         I had the same feelings as everyone else at that time, but even in the immediate aftermath, something about that statement nagged at me. It was so clearly false. We are obviously hated because only an incredibly intense hatred could inspire people to such unspeakable horrors.  But was that the sole reason for that hatred, that we love freedom? Surely, there was more to it that than that.

 

Another writer seems to have his finger on that particular pulse. Even before September 11, 2001, a former lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Air Force, Robert Bowman, was writing on this very subject. In an article in the National Catholic Reporter he had this to say about the roots of terrorism:

 

 “We are not hated because we practice democracy, value freedom, or uphold human rights. We are hated because our government denies these things in Third World countries whose resources are coveted by our multinational corporations. That hatred we have sown has come back to haunt us in the form of terrorism. Instead of sending our sons and daughters around the world to kill Arabs so we can have the oil under their sand, we should send them to rebuild their infrastructure, supply clean water, and feed starving children. In short, we should do good instead of evil. Who would try to stop us? Who would hate us? Who would want to bomb us?”

 

Unless we embrace that kind of thinking, we will go on sending poor boys to fight rich men’s wars and young widows to plant flowers on their graves. So on this day I don’t want to honor any more soldiers plucked from the very beginning of lives that might have held such promise. I want to honor the peacemakers.

 

Joseph

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“All Our Bags Are Packed”

The tranquil life 6

 

We’re not leaving on a jet plane, but we are leaving for a while, five nights at a desert resort in Tucson, Arizona, which is rapidly becoming our home away from home. It’s because of the lives we lead these days. She is increasingly busy with her job, and I with the huge volume of work I must do for our remodeling plans. More and more, our lives seem to be hurry, hurry, hurry, with very little in the way of a break from it or a little time for each other. And it is this last that we most yearn for.

 

Anyone following us around in Tucson would surely wonder what the attraction is. We rarely do anything in the way of sightseeing. This time round we’ve made plans to take in Old Tucson Studios, in part because we want to see it a second time, in larger part because we want to buy some souvenirs for our next door neighbors, two young boys who will surely eat that up. But that one-day trip is for us very much of a rarity. Most of the time we go no further than a few miles from the resort itself: to restaurants, a favorite used book store for me, shops for her. What we mostly do is simply spend time with each other. It is such an incredible luxury to get up in the morning when we feel like it, have coffee for as long as we want to, go to a breakfast so late it’s brunch, walk hither and yon holding hands. And talk and laugh and be. With each other and only with each other.

 

I have always been very driven to create, which is surely why my woodworking projects have such a tendency to take on a life of their own. They’re much too complex at times, but my modus operandi has never changed. First I make drawings of what I want to do for a project. Then I go about figuring out how in the hell I’m going to pull that off! But with all of that, and with all of the time I spent learning how to write, I never once wanted to work without rest for years at a time. If I had my wish, I would be writing award-winning novels, working just four hours every morning.

 

The tranquil life 2There are times when I’m working when I’m not working at all, and especially so when I am writing. Back in the years when I wrote in longhand and got up at 3:45 every morning to pursue my dreams before leaving for a full day’s work at 8:00 a.m. I would often go into the study with a hot cup of coffee and go right to work on a passage. I would eventually lean back in the chair to read over what I’d written, take a sip of coffee, and be shocked to discover that it was then ice-cold. It’s because I’m so focused. I go to work, and the rest of the world drops away from me. But for all that I love to work at times, I love life much more, and I especially love being with Christine.

 

One of the quotes I often trot out in such a discussion is from Mahatma Gandhi, “There is more to life than increasing its speed.” It’s a saying that has been with me so long that I really cannot remember when it was not, but even before I read it, I lived it. I do think Americans have always moved too fast, a syndrome that has only grown worse in recent years. Ironically enough, the very technology I am using to urge a slowdown is the very thing that has done so much to speed us up these days! The problem with iPhones and texting and so forth is that we never really leave the office, because it’s always with us. And being always with us, it rapidly becomes the day that never ends. I don’t have such a thing and have long since left the world of business, but back in those days, I always knew that what I most wanted was a little less. I read Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden” in the fall of 1981, and I was never the same after that. The following year we moved to San Diego and began restructuring our lives. One of the passages that stayed with me is this:

 

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.

 

“When we consider what, to use the words of the catechism, is the chief end of man, and what are the true necessaries and means of life, it appears as if men had deliberately chosen the common mode of living because they preferred it to any other. Yet they honestly think there is no choice left. But alert and healthy natures remember that the sun rose clear.”

 

I have always felt drawn to that man, not to every single thing he says, of course, but the main message, that of living a more measured and meaningful life, has always resonated with me. It’s what I so enjoy about my time with Christine, just to revel in her, her laugh, her spirit, her all. We work so hard these days, but to what purpose? One of the quotes that has been making the Internet Rounds recently is from the current Dalai Lama. When he was asked what most surprised him about humanity, he said,

 

“Man.

Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money.

Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health.

And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present;

The result being that he does not live in the present or the future;

He lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

 

In any case I am going to Tucson this coming week, and that is where I will be. I’d leave a number where I can be reached, but I don’t want to be reached. I want to commune with nature and the desert and Christine.

 

Joseph