Skip to main content

Decorations


On this Memorial Day, most folks are taking it easy and enjoying a week without a normal Monday. They also stop, for a moment or two and recognize the reasons we celebrate this day. Well, not celebrate, but rather honor those who have served our country in previously wars.
I have no problem with that. It's tradition, and I love tradition. But I take this time to reflect on the concept of war as well. It really is the last option of presumably civilized countries. But as noted writer and thinker Chris Hedges has pointed out, "War is a force that gives us meaning." His book by that title accurately points out how we are all too often seduced by the mythology of war.
But today is for those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. Today is for all those young people who never had a chance to live their lives into their 40s or beyond. I submit that they often never had a chance to think deeply about the reasons we go to war, the consequences that follow, or the alternatives to war that we might pursue with as much vigor as we pursue the violence.
In my community, like many others, there is another kind of local war. Gangs. These dysfunction surrogate families remind me, in some ways, of nationalistic entities who value retribution, seem insensitive to violent acts that take human life, and often breed via the seduction of young people. I often see a disconnect in the national dialogue. I'm waiting for someone of legislative or popular notoriety to ask the simple question again: Why do they hate us?
I'd like to see our foreign policy formed along those lines, so we might be able to put an end to foreign interventions and follow the advice of George Washington who warned about "entangling alliances" in his Farewell Address.
But too often we infuse our love for all things military with religion or simple-minded jingoism. We like the sound of "putting a boot in their ass" better than the hard work of solving international issues with permanent solutions.
On this day I feel for my classmates and their fathers who never made it back home from the European or Pacific theaters of war, the mud of Korea or Vietnam. I feel for my former students who did not survive the sands of Iraq or the moon like terrain of Afghanistan.
On this Memorial day I see the 1/3 of the mentally ill and homeless on the street that are veterans. They can't eat the flag, or take it as medicine, or even get close enough to most people to tell their tales. And the little flags carried by children watching parades or stuck into the countless rows of white gravestones at attention on cemetery's are not big enough to keep out the cold of the sidewalk.


They used to call Memorial Day Decoration day. It was a day when people wore little poppies with red, white, and blue decorations and bunting attached. It arose after World War I. There have been too many wars that followed, one every 20 years if you do the math. So at some point, Memorial Day enabled us to lump all the honoring together to include all wars past and present. It solved one problem but ignored an even bigger one.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

To a Tee

 I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt.  They are the foundational garment of my life.  My day starts with selecting a t-shirt and it ends with sleeping in one.  Once thought of as under garments, t-shirts are now original art and no doubt, a billion dollar business.   You can get a t-shirt with anybody's picture displayed.  You can commemorate an event, a birthday, a death, even a specular play in any sport.  Family reunions usually have a commemorative t-shirt.  Also, any organization that solicits your support in the form of a donation is likely to offer you a t-shirt. Where once I only had the basic white t-shirt, my drawers are filled with all manner of colorful choices.  Some recognize major events in my life, some, spectacular performances or plays I have witnessed, and some unforgettable places I have been.   I say I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt because I have taken the bait on what I perceived as a must-have only to be disappointed. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

Fetishism of Pain

We all knew it would get worse before it gets better. Anyone who lives anywhere in this country knows that the racism can ambush you anywhere, anytime. It's no surprise in California's great inland empire that the Republicans in Upland see nothing wrong with their racist depiction of Obama on a food stamp. "It's just food," they protest. "Like spaghetti and meatballs is with Italians." (They often pronounce I raq and I talian alike) No, it's not just food; it's history. It's the history of racism in American something beautifully, if not painfully depicted in films like Marlon Riggs' "Ethnic Notions." I have a collection of this history. I often used it when teaching either history or literature. It's the kind of primary source documents you won't find in the textbook version of America's past, but the kind that exceptional teachers or teaching units don't omit. To think that this Republican racism is not h...