And yet another…war?

 

Back in 1966, the words of Lorraine Schneider appeared on posters everywhere in reaction to the Vietnam War.  Our country, still in the throes of dealing with unrest in Afghanistan, sits on the brink of yet another world conflict, this time, with Syria.

I don’t make it a practice to delve into political debates on my blog, not that I steer away from a healthy discussion involving current topics, mind you.   Today is different and I’m feeling there is a point to be made.  Chalk my ramble up to good old Facebook and a long thread of comments after the posting of a friend regarding possible U.S. military action in the Middle East.   Sometimes, it’s difficult not to lash out at the inane reasoning of others, even though we all know that everyone is well-entitled to their opinions.   Call this my need to challenge one random viewpoint if you will and, while you’re at it, don’t judge me.  Thank you.

Most, if not all of us, have grown up through some war event.   Keep in mind that war is a very, very broad term.  A little quick research brought up 194 conflicts or wars, since 1945,  which included great power wars, civil wars, genocides, terrorism, humanitarian intervention, inter-ethnic wars and could even include the Mexican Drug War.  

Getting back to the great Facebook debate earlier today, a comment was stated about how “war not only boosts our economy but is our biggest industry.” The poster went on to talk about how “Americans will never give this up being that the military employs so many people with few other options. And the manufacturing of war toys lines the overstuffed pockets of the 1%.”  

Somehow, I’ve never quite looked at war with such a Capitalistic point-of-view, in fact, I recalled The Broken Window Fallacy which is illustrated in  Henry Hazlitt’s Economics in One Lesson.  In short, Hazlitt’s view on the effect of war on the economy is that the argument can be made that war is a benefactor, since historically it often has focused the use of resources and triggered advances in technology and other areas while reducing unemployment. The increased production and employment associated with war often leads some to claim that “war is good for the economy.” However, this belief is often given as an example of the broken window fallacy. The money spent on the war effort, for example, is money that cannot be spent on food, clothing, health care, consumer electronics or other areas. The stimulus felt in one sector of the economy comes at a direct – but hidden – cost to other sectors.

The intrepid Facebook commenter continued on about war’s economic effect  with “It’s a machine we are all part of.” asking..” Do you think the majority of Americans are interested in really shaking up the lives we lead?   In some way, this individual stands firm in their belief that the majority of Americans are a select group of passive warmongers, more interested in checks and balances, completely unconcerned with the sacrifices of our military in the face of diabolical entities on this troubled planet.

What troubled me the most during this bit of social media drama was that the poster had no regard, no real understanding, for those who have and presently are serving in our military other than to label them as instruments in some great economic design by our government.  In every war, there are countless sacrifices and those lucky enough to return from conflict aren’t necessarily anxious to step back into another theatre of turmoil.  Most want peace but will always support everyone in military service who defend all that is precious to every American.

In a few days, even weeks, our President might gain Congressional authorization for use of force against Syria because of its use of chemical weapons which have killed hundreds of innocents in that country, many of them children.  The debate has lingered for days.  The United States can refrain from policing such horrific acts  or…respond in a strong show of force to punish the Syrians and send a message that this type of aggression will not be tolerated anywhere in our world.

There is no clear answer, no win-win solution. Syria, one of the most ancient civilizations on earth, has been embroiled in centuries of conflict.  Even today, terrified Syrians flee the civil war that sweeps across their country.  Any intervention or attempts to achieve political transition won’t be taken lightly or end quickly.   Peace, anywhere in the Middle East, is just a word thrown on some table of negotiation.

In the words of our President, “We are prepared to strike

And yet another…war?

 

 

 

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Her gypsy soul….

She’s someone that I admire, from a distance.  Her spirit dances on the wind and her heart soars above the clouds.  It’s impossible to keep up with the wanderings of her soul.  Like I said, you just have to stand back and gaze at the mystical whirlwind that she is surrounded by; her energy can leave you breathless at times.  If you look out the window during the light of a full moon you might find her gypsy wagon has found a home, under your windows, resting until life’s next journey.

       

Time and again, she’s dealt with some impossible odds and smiled back in the face of defeat.  Pain is tossed into one more raging bonfire as she stands back and glows in the shadows of the crackling embers that float up into the darkness.  I’ve called her an earth mother but she’s much more like a mischevious spirit, full of adventure, walking on the edge of excitement and always, always, on the move to somewhere… but no place in particular.  Home…is wherever she happens to be.  Love…will never be far behind.

For Kimberley………”Be humble for you are made of earth; be noble for you are made of stars.”

 

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Man of Stone

He sat in the waiting room, skimming through a few magazines and glanced over at me now and then.  An older man, tall, tired-looking with a silk scarf wrapped around his neck, tied in a loose knot that rested on the collar of his jacket.

Eventually, he came over to the counter and handed me a piece of paper where how much longer will it be was scribbled.  I looked into the shop’s garage, checked with the guys who were installing a new antenna on his car and informed him that it would be another half-hour.  His hand reached up to his throat as he struggled to speak and I realized that he had a prosthetic voice box and handed him a notepad, asking if it was easier to communicate in that manner.  He smiled and told me that he much preferred to have a conversation because people always avoided talking with him, out of concern for his condition; at times he felt as if he were a man of stone, acknowledged by some, ignored by many.

We chatted, slowly, and I became fascinated with all that he wanted to share.  Cancer had robbed him of his ability to talk after he underwent a laryngectomy upon returning from the Amazon River;  he ran guided tours of the rainforest and did a fair amount of gold and woolen trading with the Peruvians.  He told me how he missed his work and longed to return just one more time, if only to say his good-byes to the many friends he had made during his years of travelling. 

Often, he would reach down and write things he wanted to say.  Talking seemed to tire him but he was so eager to continue, to share his stories, with someone willing to listen.  We talked about the new home my husband and I were building upstate.  I explained it was rare for me to be working, most of my days were spent chasing our builder and dealing with the endless paperwork involved in new construction.   Sadly, the antenna job finished more quickly than expected and his car was brought around.  After taking a look, he came back into the showroom to pay his bill and thanked me for our nice conversation.  I watched him pull out of the driveway and thought about what an interesting life he had lived, glad that I taken the time to speak with him.

More than an hour later, he returned to the shop, carrying a package in his hand as he walked back into the showroom.   Here, this is for the home you are building.  It was one of the nicest pieces from my last trip to Lima.  Hang it on the wall , it will bring good luck to you and your family. 

As he drove away, I unwrapped the package to find a beautiful, rustic weaving of a Tumi, a Peruvian symbol of good luck.  It  hangs in the dining room of my home to this day, a reminder of a wonderful conversation with the man who wasn’t stone.

 

 

 

This is a simply-written, but true, story which took place more than twenty-five years ago, on July 11th, 1986.  What I shared here are bits and pieces of a brief conversation that remains etched in my mind to this day.   I often thought of this gentle man, the kindness he extended to me and was able to contact his family to see if he managed one last trip back to the rainforest.  He passed away a short time after our meeting that day. 

 

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