How much longer...
Warning - this is going to ramble - I'm not really framing or editing this beyond basic spelling.
I was driving to work this morning and along my route there's these two huge flag poles. Today they were at half-mast, a sign for mourning. My first though had been "Who died?" and my second was "Fucking idiot."
Aside from the momentary flash of guilt my memory lapse caused, I realized that I was actually surprised that the flags were still at half-mast. But then I remembered that there are places and people who still take their flags to half on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Some wounds never heal. Maybe some never should?
I kept driving and put it behind me at work. But the question remained and I began to wonder, "How much longer..."
It may be the defining moment of a generation. Just as Pearl Harbor tore us from our complacency and thrust us into the role of world leadership ( or dominance, take your pick), and Vietnam bloodied our noses over it and proved that we weren't infallable. 9-11 brought both of them home - not only are our borders not inviolate, but we don't always know what's right. What's proper. What's just.
But how much longer do we let the day define us, and when can we start defining the day?
How much longer before we can take a step back and say, "It happened. It was horrible. It hurt us. It made us angry. But we are moving on. We are determined. We are getting better." Even if we're not, really.
How much longer before we can stop using this day as a show place, or a soap box. What politician hasn't taken the opportunity today to wrap his or her message in a veil of remembrance and honor.
And really, Georgie - having your General's Iraq report come out today? Tres tacky.
[Insert the rant about the gov't still playing six degrees of 9-11 here.]
How much longer before we can stop being so angry about this that we can't see straight, we can't talk straight, and we sure as hell aren't walking straight, at least not as a country.
Yeah, ok, fine. How much longer before I can stop being so angry about this that I can't see straight.
How much longer before we can stop feeling guilty... about moving on, wanting to put it behind us, wanting to stop being bombarded with images of falling towers, falling people, falling hope.
Dammit, I have enough nightmares, people - stop giving me the old ones back!
How much longer do I have to listen to my elected (or "elected," take your pick) officials snipe at each other, try to out sound-byte each other, try to be the loudest voice in the room, while I want to hear the voices of the Iraqi people. They can vote now, right? Maybe we could ask them what they wanted?
No, that's not really true. Well, the voting part is, but what I really want to hear is the sound of life. Seriously - the sound of a couple of kids playing and laughing would totally make my day right about now. Or the sound of nature - life without technology, without time being pressed upon it. Standing in a forest, listening to the trees.
I believe that there is an end to this somewhere. There is a solution. There is a way to honor the dead without using their memories to further anyone's agenda, without using them to make a point.
There is peace in silence, in rest. There is peace in the knowledge that although so many lost their lives, their families have continued. Their children play, their wives/husbands/brothers/sisters/parents talk to their friends. There is peace in love, in hope. In the knowledge that the world didn't stop, apocalypse didn't come, and the catastrophic crash that people feared never happened. There is peace in life.
Maybe I'm just tired. Weary. I love my country. I try so hard to have faith in her. I DO have faith in her.
But how much longer do I have to wait?
I was driving to work this morning and along my route there's these two huge flag poles. Today they were at half-mast, a sign for mourning. My first though had been "Who died?" and my second was "Fucking idiot."
Aside from the momentary flash of guilt my memory lapse caused, I realized that I was actually surprised that the flags were still at half-mast. But then I remembered that there are places and people who still take their flags to half on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Some wounds never heal. Maybe some never should?
I kept driving and put it behind me at work. But the question remained and I began to wonder, "How much longer..."
It may be the defining moment of a generation. Just as Pearl Harbor tore us from our complacency and thrust us into the role of world leadership ( or dominance, take your pick), and Vietnam bloodied our noses over it and proved that we weren't infallable. 9-11 brought both of them home - not only are our borders not inviolate, but we don't always know what's right. What's proper. What's just.
But how much longer do we let the day define us, and when can we start defining the day?
How much longer before we can take a step back and say, "It happened. It was horrible. It hurt us. It made us angry. But we are moving on. We are determined. We are getting better." Even if we're not, really.
How much longer before we can stop using this day as a show place, or a soap box. What politician hasn't taken the opportunity today to wrap his or her message in a veil of remembrance and honor.
And really, Georgie - having your General's Iraq report come out today? Tres tacky.
[Insert the rant about the gov't still playing six degrees of 9-11 here.]
How much longer before we can stop being so angry about this that we can't see straight, we can't talk straight, and we sure as hell aren't walking straight, at least not as a country.
Yeah, ok, fine. How much longer before I can stop being so angry about this that I can't see straight.
How much longer before we can stop feeling guilty... about moving on, wanting to put it behind us, wanting to stop being bombarded with images of falling towers, falling people, falling hope.
Dammit, I have enough nightmares, people - stop giving me the old ones back!
How much longer do I have to listen to my elected (or "elected," take your pick) officials snipe at each other, try to out sound-byte each other, try to be the loudest voice in the room, while I want to hear the voices of the Iraqi people. They can vote now, right? Maybe we could ask them what they wanted?
No, that's not really true. Well, the voting part is, but what I really want to hear is the sound of life. Seriously - the sound of a couple of kids playing and laughing would totally make my day right about now. Or the sound of nature - life without technology, without time being pressed upon it. Standing in a forest, listening to the trees.
I believe that there is an end to this somewhere. There is a solution. There is a way to honor the dead without using their memories to further anyone's agenda, without using them to make a point.
There is peace in silence, in rest. There is peace in the knowledge that although so many lost their lives, their families have continued. Their children play, their wives/husbands/brothers/sisters/parents talk to their friends. There is peace in love, in hope. In the knowledge that the world didn't stop, apocalypse didn't come, and the catastrophic crash that people feared never happened. There is peace in life.
Maybe I'm just tired. Weary. I love my country. I try so hard to have faith in her. I DO have faith in her.
But how much longer do I have to wait?