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"It Might Be Wise To Wait Awhile," I Said. (Stockholder's I Was Wrong W/O)Apr 14 '03 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Even though I don't exactly belong in this W/O 100%, I think I belong enough to participate. Anyway, these are my honest thoughts.
My younger cousin, David, could be such a brat--so, by the time I'd reached puberty, I'd learned not to be too quick to believe him, since he just might be trying to get a rise out of me. Therefore, his news that our cousin, Jimmy, had been drafted was first met with a response on the order of, "David! It's sick to kid about such awful things!" But his next words: "If you don't believe me, ask Aunt Jenny!" suddenly made me realize--with a sick feeling all over--that his words were credible. It was a normal school morning, and we were riding Jesse's bus to Fall Creek Hgts. Elementary. Everything was so normal that it was painful. As usual, groups like Herman's Hermits and The Four Seasons were coming from the bus's radio, which had been set to the local pop station, WHUT. As usual, there was the sound of other conversations of fellow bus-riders--and Jesse giving his usual "Hey!" when things got out-of-order. And we traveled along the same country roads that we traveled each morning, stopping at the same houses to pick up kids. Now, I was looking out the window at the bus--looking at the peaceful, green meadows dotted with laid-back cattle--with tears rolling down my cheeks. I so much wanted this to be just another one of David's stupid jokes--like the one he had a big part in playing on me concerning Uncle Andy (my great-uncle) a few years before (which is a whole other story that I'll tell you sometime). Jimmy was the cousin whom I was proud to have for a cousin--but, at times, wished that he weren't my cousin so that he could be my boyfriend/future husband. Not only did he share the same birthday (only one year younger) with Mick Jagger and really have it going in the looks department (I would say, looking back on what he looked like then, he was a cross between John Travolta, Bobby Rydell, Tony Dow, and Jerry Lewis.), but he was just so much fun to be around! He could be a big tease at times and play practical jokes. I remember when he'd gotten me mad about something, and I was throwing a tantrum and threatening to tell on him. Since I was wearing pink pedal-pushers at the time and a pink, checkered blouse, he referred to me as "The Pink Fink." And he and one of his best friends were laughing about how they had offered what appeared to be pieces of a Hershey Bar to some of the girls in their church youth group right before they went into the sanctuary for a revival service. As you might have guessed, what they had really given the girls was Ex-Lax, and the two of them were sitting towards the back of the church looking like angels while discreetly nudging each other as each girl suddenly jumped up out of her pew and hurried out of the sanctuary! And don't even get me started on the scam that he, David, and another cousin, Phil, had going during a monopoly game--or the joke he was going to play on his newly-married sister and her husband involving toilet-paper and limburger cheese! Jimmy was all-boy--but, all the same, a very sensitive and responsible sort of guy, meaning that, when my cousins and I took walks, we could only walk so far--but, if Jimmy were along, the sky was the limit, and we could walk for miles and miles! I used to refer to these adventures as Jimmy walks! Now, I knew that Jimmy had a very good chance of going to Vietnam--and I had already seen too many news reports on young men being shipped back home in coffins from a war that seemed to go on forever! I was so relieved when, a few days later, I learned that Jimmy had signed up for The National Guard. This meant that he would be one of those protecting the homefront--and that chances were slim that he'd ever see Vietnam, or any other kind of combat. It was a joyful ride over to Muncie to put him on a plane that would be taking him to boot-camp. When he returned home to us, the majority of that gorgeous hair of his would be missing from his head--but, at least, his head wouldn't be missing! He was there for Carolyn & Larry's wedding on June 6, 1968--where the stinking plans he was making with Phil got thwarted after Aunt Jenny and Uncle Dick overheard them talking! By June 6, 1968, though, the war was still dragging on--and had, among others, taken with it the son of our much-loved school secretary, Jamalee, a few short months before. I had seen cheerful, witty Jamalee age ten years overnight. And LBJ's "Mah felow Americans: ah come to you with a heavy heart. . ." prologue to yet another increase in troops being sent to Vietnam continued to disrupt our soap operas and other things we'd rather be watching than to hear this same old same old. In truth, we would have rather been watching the end-of-the-broadcast-day test-pattern than this bad-news spiel! The summer of 1969 brought Woodstock. I wasn't there, but I was familiar with the music--including Country Joe's infamous "Fish Cheer." Call me a prude if you wish, but I just haven't seen the need to make the F-word part of my vocabulary--and I wouldn't have missed this cheer had it never been added to this song. In spite of this, I totally agreed with the message of the song: "1-2-3. . .what are we fightin' for!?!" To this day, I still wonder if it had been necessary to spill so much blood of young, promising men--now names on a dark wall instead of fathers helping their children with homework, lighting the grill for a family-cookout, seeing their kids graduate from high school and sending them off to college and giving their daughters away at their weddings. . .and instead of today's grandpas doing what grandpas do best: spoiling their grandkids rotten! Touching a name on a granite wall doesn't replace kisses, hugs, and walks to the ice cream stand down the block. I've been a member of Amnesty International for years, and I'm more of a dove than a hawk--so it isn't too surprising that, when rumors of possible war started getting spread this time around, my own stance was: "It might be wise to wait awhile." And, to this day, I still hold this viewpoint when it comes to planning a war. I don't want another long, drawn-out Vietnam-style war--and I'm definitely in favor of settling things peacefully if at all possible. There's no glory to war for the sake of war, and I still, even now, consider myself to be a dove. My thoughts from the very first were that, if there must be a war, to do it with as little bloodshed as possible--from either side. Should we capture Sadaam Hussein alive, I would fight against his getting the death penalty just as much as I would for the 21 year old American who has been sentenced to death for a robbery-related killing. While he was locked up with little or no possibility for parole in one of our prisons, I wouldn't want the guards to nod, wink, and look the other way while he was being beaten and/or raped--nor would I want him to be forced to eat foods that were against his religion or be kept from kneeling on a prayer carpet and talking with Allah while facing Mecca. Instead, I would want him to have kindness and compassion shown to him for what might be the first time in his life in hopes that some of it would rub off on him and convince him to live whatever years he has left as a better person--blooming beautifully in the prison where he would have been planted, as opposed to being allowed to go free. This wouldn't be revenge--just the realization that some people need more supervision in order to become (and stay) their best selves! I'm writing this piece in response to a W/O challenge from Stockholder, because he has invited those who had, at one time, protested this war to write about being wrong in their thoughts. You can find the details for this W/O here: The "I Was Wrong" W/O http://www.epinions.com/content_3221856388 Perhaps, since I wasn't out actively protesting this war, I really don't quite "fit in" when it comes to taking part in this W/O. Yet, I confess to being one of the ones who wanted the powers-that-be to wait a little longer in order to see if this might not be solved another way--and this is still the stance that I take on war in general. In regards to embarking on this war, I'd even said that I hoped it wouldn't turn into another Vietnam--one dark, granite wall full of names is one dark, granite wall too many, so we certainly didn't need to start gathering up young people to create another one! Even so, I knew that there were dangerous weapons around that needed to be destroyed--as well as those educational places where war and hatred is taught instead of peace and love. And I knew that people like Sadaam Hussein needed to be taken out of power in order to make room for a government that has love and respect for those making up its nation. "Don't rush into war too soon!" I said. "However, do what it takes to make the world a safer and better place!" There has been blood spilled during this war--but not so much as could have been. For this, we're thankful. But even with the statistics low, those statistics include people whose families loved them just as much as we love our Jimmy--and who will miss them just as much as I'm sure that Jamalee still misses her son, even after over 35 years. If this sense of hesitancy--one that I'll continue to have each time war is initially discussed--means that I'm automatically "wrong," it really doesn't matter to me, because I'm going to be wrong and proud of it!!! But, if this is the case, as I watch all of those scenes of people experiencing freedom for the first time in thirty years--people holding their tiny children in the air so that they will be "tall enough" to watch history being made!--it gives me incredibly-great pleasure to be able to say with great rejoicing: "I WAS WRONG!!! P.S. Don'tcha just loooooooove watching all of that statue-busting and picture-ripping/slashing/stomping going on!?!  |
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