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I had never spoken publicly against any war until four years ago when a friend of mine who is the managing editor of our local daily let me rant at length on his editorial page. Since then I have faithfully attended rallies, vigils and all manner of gatherings in support of peace and against mass stupidity. I neglected my business to campaign for John Kerry and I worked with fellow veterans to stop the kind of lunacy that we knew all too well.
It took a family tragedy to knock me momentarily off my personal pursuit of peace and justice. I watched the dismal election returns of 2004 in a hospital waiting room far from home waiting to see if the surgeons could repair my son, badly broken in a senseless, brutal assault. I was numb for a year working to get my son’s once promising life back. I was numb but still sickened by all the horrible things still being done in my name. I watched Fallujah but I could not scream.
I rejoiced in November and allowed myself to hope again. We had regained the Congress and my son started walking again at Thanksgiving. But today something hit me really hard. As I sat down to dinner with my wife, I realized that I was angry to the point of shaking. Maybe it was the “I’m the decision maker” remark or Cheney’s latest demonstration of life without a soul. Maybe it was just one too many realizations that those rapidly scrolling fatality numbers each represent a family severely tested if not destroyed. I thought screaming at the car radio on the way home tonight would do it’s normal magic in calming me down. It didn’t. Something new is stirring in my soul.
I’m a no longer middle aged professional, well grounded in my somewhat conservative community. Before I left my office I made a few signs for tomorrow’s obligatory rally against the escalation-augmentation-surge-whatever. That didn’t calm me down. It only made me angrier because it focused my thoughts on what we have lost and why. My sign with appropriate graphics: “3,067 (won’t be correct by tomorrow) Have Died (flag-draped coffins headed home picture) for our Two Biggest Mistakes (Bush with an admiring Cheney looking on picture. You really have to see it.
I’ll join those now familiar faces carrying signs tomorrow but it won’t be a festive reunion. I can’t get much angrier. It dawned on me tonight that I am thousands of miles away from where the real action will be tomorrow, the Capitol Mall, and I’m on the verge of uncontrolled rage. What could happen when a critical mass of kindred souls join hands in the shadow of the White House? I am not advocating violence, but I will be sorely disappointed if my surrogates in the nation’s capitol are once again ignored. If I am this upset about the “They can’t stop us” remark from the director of the dark side, what will the mood be tomorrow in D.C.?
I hope and pray that everyone’s god shines on an event that will be the capstone of all our efforts to defy war and enable real peace. The world will be watching.
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