What's In A Number?

By Charlie Anderson

"One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic."- Joseph Stalin

Though hardly mentioned in mainstream media, this week the Pentagon released notification that three more American soldiers have died in Iraq, bringing the American death toll to 2,500. With the Bush Administration's typical Stalin-esque callousness, White House Press Secretary Tony Snow glibly dismissed the tragic milestone saying, "It's a number and anytime we reach one of these 500 benchmarks, people want something." To him and the Administration, the 2,500 dead and 130,000 Americans currently serving in Iraq are just numbers, numbers that do not include any of his loved ones or the loved ones of anyone serving publicly in the Administration. This flippant dismissal cannot lightly brush aside the pain, anguish and utter destruction brought by this war. If the Administration truly believes this war can be reduced to mere numbers, perhaps we should consider some statistics left out of Mr. Snow's arrogant, insensitive and inflammatory remarks.

Mr. Snow makes no mention of the estimated 18,490 American troops wounded in Iraq, 8,500 of whom were not able to return to duty. Nor does he mention that this war has created a new medical term "polytrauma" to describe troops who have been so horribly wounded that they require teams of doctors and scores of nurses to care for them. Mr. Snow makes no mention of the 30% of Iraq and Afghanistan war veterans seeking mental health care. He makes no mention of the 3 VA hospitals that will be closed this year as the number of veterans eligible for services sky rockets. Mr. Snow's "number" does not include the 226 of the so called "coalition of the willing" who have sacrificed their lives in this war, many from countries who have already realized that victory is impossible and disentangled themselves.

Chief among the "people who want something" are the Iraqi people, who have sacrificed more than 4,800 police officers in the line of duty. As many as 100,000 Iraqi civilians have been killed in a war over which they had no control. Thousands more have died or contracted illnesses from the lack of electricity, poor sanitation, and dirty water created by this war. The statistical view also obscures the psychological impact of thirteen years of constant bombing, destroyed buildings, ruined homes, unemployment and utter despair felt by many Iraqis. The majority of Iraqis believe the occupation is destabilizing their country: 64% of Iraqis believe that crime and violent attacks will decrease when American troops are withdrawn; 67% of Iraqis believe that day-to-day security will increase when American troops are withdrawn and 73% of Iraqis believe that the political process will be more cooperative when American troops are withdrawn.

On his second point, Mr. Snow is right; as Americans begin to feel the impact of this seemingly endless war, we want something. Recent polls show that nearly 50% of us want our troops withdrawn within the next year. Moreover, 72% of troops serving in Iraq believe the war should be ended by December of this year. Perhaps that is because the troops have spent significant time on the streets of Iraq as opposed to Mr. Snow's one day photo op in the heavily insulated Green Zone.

Mr. Snow is correct, in the literal sense, 2,500 is just a number. But we must never glibly dismiss what that number represents. It represents hundreds of children that will grow up without a parent. It represents thousands of men and women that will not grow old with their spouses, and it represents thousands of grieving parents that will never spend another holiday with their children. It also represents a war that defies logic and responsible government by even the most conservative standards. After enduring thousands of pointless deaths, the majority of Americans want what they wanted when the death toll was only 2,499: we want the war to end. The American people want the war to end, the British and other coalition countries want the war to end, the Iraqi people want the war to end, and we want it to end before Mr. Snow is dodging another tragic benchmark.

George W. Bush

As we fast approach the death of the 2500th U.S. casualty in Iraq, please consider the following:

George W. Bush
The White House, USA

EDUCATION AND EXPERIENCE:
LAW ENFORCEMENT:

• I was arrested in Kennebunkport, Maine, in 1976 for driving under the influence ofalcohol.I pled guilty, paid a fine, and had my driver's license suspended for 30 days.
• My Texas driving record has been "lost" and is not available.

MILITARY:

• I joined the Texas Air National Guard and went AWOL.I refused to take a drug test or answer any questions about my drug use.By joining the Texas Air National Guard, I was able to avoid combat duty in Vietnam.

COLLEGE:

I graduated from Yale University with a low C average.

PAST WORK EXPERIENCE:

• I ran for U.S. Congress and lost.
• I began my career in the oil business in Midland, Texas, in 1975.I bought an oil company, but couldn't find any oil in Texas. The company went bankruptshortly after I sold all my stock.
• I bought the Texas Rangers baseball team in a sweetheart deal that took land using taxpayer money.
• With the help of my father and our right-wing friends in the oil industry (including Enron CEO Ken Lay), I was elected governor of Texas.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS GOVERNOR OF TEXAS:

• I changed Texas pollution laws to favor power and oil companies, makingTexas the most polluted state in the Union.
• During my tenure, Houston replaced Los Angeles as the most smog-ridden city in America.
• I cut taxes and bankrupted the Texas treasury to the tune of billions in borrowed money.
• I set the record for the most executions by any governor in American history.
• With the help of my brother, the governor of Florida, and my father's appointments to the Supreme Court, I became President after losing by over 500,000 votes.

ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS PRESIDENT:

• I am the first President in U.S. history to enter office with a criminal record.
• I invaded and occupied two countries at a continuing cost of over one billion dollars per week.
• I spent the U.S. surplus and effectively bankrupted the U.S. Treasury.
• I shattered the record for the largest annual deficit in U.S. history.
• I set an economic record for most private bankruptcies filed in any 12-month period.I set the all-time record for most foreclosures in a 12-month period.
• I set the all-time record for the biggest drop in the history of the U.S. stock market.In my first year in office, over 2 million Americans lost their jobs and that trend continues every month.
• I'm proud that the members of my cabinet are the richest of any administration in U.S. history.My "poorest millionaire," Condoleeza Rice, has a Chevron oil tanker named after her.
• I set the record for most campaign fund-raising trips by a U.S. President.
• I am the all-time U.S. and world record-holder for receiving the most corporate campaign donations.
• My largest lifetime campaign contributor, and one of my best friends, Kenneth Lay, presided over the largest corporate bankruptcy fraud in U.S. History, Enron.My political party used Enron private jets and corporate attorneys to assure my success with the U.S. Supreme Court during my election decision.
• I have protected my friends at Enron and Halliburton against investigation orprosecution.
• More time and money was spent investigating the Monica Lewinsky affair than has been spent investigating one of the biggest corporate rip-offs in history.
• I presided over the biggest energy crisis in U.S. history and refused to intervene when corruption involving the oil industry was revealed.
• I presided over the highest gasoline prices in U.S. history.
• I changed the U.S. policy to allow convicted criminals to be awarded government contracts.
• I appointed more convicted criminals to administration than any President in U.S. history.
• I created the Ministry of Homeland Security, the largest bureaucracy inthe history of the United States government.
• I've broken more international treaties than any President in U.S. history.
• I am the first President in U.S. history to have the United Nations remove the U.S. from the Human Rights Commission.
• I withdrew the U.S. from the World Court of Law.
• I refused to allow inspectors access to U.S. "prisoners of war" detainees and thereby have refused to abide by the Geneva Convention.
• I am the first President in history to refuse United Nations election inspectors (during the 2002 U.S. election).
• I set the record for fewest number of press conferences of any Presidentsince the advent of television.
• I set the all-time record for most days on vacation in any one-year period.After taking off the entire month of August, I presided over the worst security failure in U.S. history.
• I garnered the most sympathy for the U.S. after the World Trade Center attacks and less than a year later made the U.S. the most hated country in the world, the largest failure of diplomacy in world history.
• I have set the all-time record for most people worldwide to simultaneously protest me in public venues (15 million people), shattering the record for protest against any person in the history of mankind.
• I am the first President in U.S. history to order an unprovoked, pre-emptive attack and the military occupation of a sovereign nation. I did so against the will of the United Nations, the majority of U.S. citizens, and the world community.
• I have cut health care benefits for war veterans and support a cut in duty benefits for active duty troops and their families -- in war time.
• In my State of the Union Address, I lied about our reasons for attacking Iraq, then blamed the lies on our British friends.
• I am the first President in history to have a majority of Europeans (71%) view my presidency as the biggest threat to world peace and security.
• I am supporting development of a nuclear "Tactical Bunker Buster," a WMD.
• I have so far failed to fulfill my pledge to bring Osama Bin Laden tojustice.

RECORDS AND REFERENCES:

• All records of my tenure as governor of Texas are now in my father's library, sealed and unavailable for public view.
• All records of SEC investigations into my insider trading and my bankrupt companies are sealed in secrecy and unavailable for public view.
• All records or minutes from meetings that I, or my Vice-President, attended regarding public energy policy are sealed in secrecy and unavailable for public review.

PLEASE CONSIDER MY EXPERIENCE AND MY PARTY WHEN VOTING IN 2006PLEASE SEND THIS TO EVERY VOTER YOU KNOW.

My Old Friend, Grief

Written by my friend, Sherry Glover, to whom Grief is no stranger...

The photo to the left is me and Maxx, taken at Jeremy's funeral as we waited for his flag draped coffin to be carried from the chapel for his final ride.

MY OLD FRIEND, GRIEF, is back. He comes to visit me once in a while just to remind me that I am still a broken person. Surely there has been much healing since my son died six years ago, and surely I have adjusted to a world without him by now. But the truth is, we never completely heal, we never totally adjust to the loss of a major love. We will be all right, but we will never be the same.

And so my old friend Grief drops in to say hello. Sometimes he enters through the door of my memory. Sometimes he sneaks up on me. I’ll hear a certain song, smell a certain fragrance, or look at a certain picture, and I’ll remember how it used to be. Sometimes it brings a smile to my face, sometimes a tear.

Some may say that such remembering is not healthy, that we ought not to dwell on thoughts that make us sad. Yet, the opposite is true. Grief revisited is grief acknowledged, and grief confronted is grief resolved.

But if grief is resolved, why do we still feel a deep sense of loss at anniversaries and holidays, and even when we least expect it? Why do we feel a lump in the throat, even six years after the loss? He has taught me that although the pain of loss is great, I must confront it and experience it fully or else risk emotional paralysis.

Old Grief has also taught me that I can survive even great losses and that although my world is very different after a major loss, it is still my world and life is worth living. He has taught me that when I am willing to be pruned by the losses that come, I can flourish again in season, not in spite of loss, but because of it.

My old friend, Grief, has taught me that the loss of a loved one does not mean the loss of love, for love is stronger than separation and longer than the permanence of death.

The Many Forms of Violence

As many of us know, violence takes many forms. And violence only begets violence, whether it is beating, shooting, sexual abuse or many other forms... All are harmful to the human psyche and spirit as well as the body. I know this all to well. There has been violence in my family and we have paid a great price. I don't know if I can ever forgive those who have harmed my children with their violent, mean, selfish acts. I don't know if they can.

The following is from Cindy and was in my email this morning. I hope we can learn from our lessons of violence and be there for the people we love who are hurting.

Peace,
Amy

When Will We Ever Learn?
Cindy Sheehan

If public opinion would frown against violence, it would lose its power.
Leo Tolstoy

Our American culture is permeated with violence. I don't think anyone would dispute that fact. A recent tragedy that occurred in a family who is close to my family in Vacaville, Ca. is horribly bringing this fact literally home to many people in that community.

My friend, who was one of my first friends in Vacaville when our family moved there almost 15 years ago, gave her 11 year old daughter an overdose of prescription medication, killing her. I have known the mom since before she became pregnant with her daughter and celebrated with her when she finally had the baby. By all accounts, and the last time I saw her, the mom seemed healthy and whole. The daughter was a popular honor student at the same elementary school that my younger two attended years ago.

Why? We have all been asking ourselves why. There are wild speculations going around of course, but none of us know for sure. The mom also allegedly took an overdose of pills. Was it a murder-suicide; or a murder with a pretend suicide? I saw a picture of my friend at her arraignment in the local newspaper. She is lost. She is haunted. She was not there. She is without hope. Small wonder.

I know these feeling of being without hope. There were the long days and the endless nights that I was in a black pit of despair and hopelessness. The days when the only thing that stopped me from taking my entire bottle of sleeping pills was the fact that I would hurt my family even more. No matter how much agony I was in (a broken heart is not just a metaphor) I could not bring myself to commit that easy-ultimate act of selfishness. But, oh how I wanted to. How I longed for that permanent sleep that would free me from pain.

Even without the added stress of burying a child, when I think of the violence that can start early in the morning when we switch on the TV and attack us all day with one image and experience or another until we fall into restless sleep, stressed-out and exhausted from another day of hatred, it is easy to dismiss what is going on in our society as "normal." When we realize that violence is not normal, and not give the cop-out excuse that we as humans are somehow "hardwired" to be violent and non-violence is abnormal, then our society and culture will never change.

Violence begets violence and killing begets killing. All we have to do is notice how our leaders consistently use their votes or their signatures or their orders to beget and condone violence, and we shouldn't be shocked when our soldiers in the field commit acts of atrocity which I am sure go against their very fundamental core of humanity. Our soldiers are just copying their leaders and fulfilling their training which dehumanizes them and the "enemy." Violent is as violent does.

However, I believe that using violence is not like opening a Pandora's Box where the evil escapes and cannot be stuffed back in. Violence is a cycle that can be broken. Violence is like that proverbial can of worms: which slither and roil, but any 2 year old with basic motor skills can control the can of worms and put the lid back on.

I often have to ask myself why we, as Americans, so blindly follow our leaders down this path of violent destruction, and it has always been so. From the genocide and virtual extinction of our native population to dehumanizing black people so that they could be used as human chattel and still be oppressed, even today, to still be the only so-called "civilized nation" that executes people. Why do we allow our leaders to kill and oppress people in our names? Is it so we won't have to look at our own destructive behavior?

Are we as a nation so devoid of hope that we are ready to live our lives in "quiet desperation" watching BushCo destroy Iraq, destroy the USA and destroy the world for their own wicked ends? Do we see any difference in jumping in our huge, gas guzzling and polluting SUV's to go to a job we hate to be able to buy things we don't need in contrast with invading a country to control its oil reserves to give the people who run companies that profit off of death and destruction more money so they can buy their jets and build palaces that they don't need?

Are our visions of a future that is one endless war after another in competition for resources and for a dwindling planet so bleak that we are condoning the destructive behavior of the Bush Administration because we are competing with our neighbors to have the best and brightest new thingamajig that Madison Ave tells us that we need?

Before we can change the world, we have to look in our hearts and change ourselves. Before Casey was KIA in Iraq, I led this life of rampant consumerism that wreaked havoc on my soul and the environment. I had a mortgage (death pledge) and I couldn't leave the anchor of my home for long, because something might happen to it or my stuff! However, I did leave my home every work day before 7:00 in the morning, fought traffic and cussed out other drivers and extravagantly used my middle finger to ward off the evil eyes of my fellow commuters who were also trapped in their encumbered and heavily insured mini-prisons. Then I would arrive at my job, work all day in a solitary office, listen to the constant bad news, skip out of work at the appointed time then fight the same battle going home, in reverse, that I had so frustratingly fought on the way to work. This was no way to "live" and I had little to show for it except a healthy sailor's vocabulary and neck spasms. Things changed after Casey was killed. Priorities sharpened and came into better focus.

Since I have been traveling all over the world for peace, I have discovered how little a person can live on. I have a teeny-tiny aparment in Berkeley and I carry my belongings from airplane to airplane in one suitcase and an obscenely heavy shoulder bag (ask anyone that has had to shlep it for me) that contains the computer I am writing this from and other essentials for a life on the run. I don't have to worry about my stuff in my apartment, because I don't have that much stuff there and it is replaceable anyway. Despite the personal attacks against me and the exhausting travel and loneliness, I am a much happier, freer, and less-stressed person.

To lose hope is so devastating and destructive that we follow the path of least resistance which has led us and leads us to this place in history where our leaders are such destructive and devastating forces themselves. No one is asking anyone to be a nomadic, practically monk-like person for peace, however, we can all change a little something in our lives that can have an enormous impact in the world. How about coming to Camp Casey in the summer?

The Camp Casey experience has given so many of us back our hope. Veterans who fought in Vietnam and in Iraq said that coming to Camp Casey restored their hopes of living a near normal life. Families who, like mine, tragically have had a loved one killed in war found hope in the fact that so many Americans cared about our sons and daughters and were willing to sacrifice something to come out and show solidarity in our struggle to ask: "What Noble Cause/" Many Americans who haven't had personal experience with loss had their hope restored seeing that the naked Emperor was exposed and there are people working for peace. The Camp Casey movement led us all (over 15,000 visitors to date and thousands of supporters all over the world) to what Gandhi called "heart unity" with our fellow human beings who deserve enough, if not the comparative opulent lifestyle of most Americans.

It's time to join us to stop allowing our government to give those orders to kill innocent Iraqis in the name of fighting a global war of terror---which is just another name for corporate colonialism (honestly, instead of patriotic emblems on their uniforms, our troops should have corporate logos all over them, like NASCAR drivers. Tanks should have a big "Exxon" symbol painted right on their sides, this would make more sense!). It's time to look at our country's knack for arming and training dictators and terrorists such as Saddam and Osama and oppressing other countries for profit and demand that this violent behavior stop.

When and only when we frown; protest; yes, demand that our leaders quit committing acts of violence on our heart family members and change our own personal wasteful lifestyles violence will stop and then we will have something to live for: a hopeful future.

Like Martin Luther King, Jr said we can't wait for our leaders to change their beatitudes. They won't. It's time we make them live up to ours.

This article for peace and hope is dedicated to my little friend:

http://legacy.com/thereporter/Obituaries.asp?Page=LifeStory&PersonID=18026224

October 19, 1994 to June 3, 2006
May she Rest in Peace
May her family find comfort and hope.

Jennifer passed away unexpectedly on June 3, 2006, in Children's Hospital in Oakland.
Born Oct. 19, 1994, in Vallejo, she was a lifelong resident of Vacaville. She was a student at Browns Valley Elementary School, was student of the year, and was also a writer for the school's newspaper and took an award for her interview with Andy Sheehan, regarding his brother, Casey Sheehan, killed in action in Iraq . She was a lover of music and enjoyed playing the viola, was a great drawer and loved to write.

Rambling

This morning is a good time to ramble, I think. Just a few thoughts to help clear the cobwebs from my head.

For the past month or so I have taken a break from political activism. Why, one might ask? There are several reasons.

I've had some health problems and had to take a strong proactive stand to take care of myself. I want to be around for a few more years. I want to spend another 20 or 30 years with my wonderful partner and husband, Maxx. I want to be here for my daughters. I want to watch Aiden grow up and graduate from high school and college.

At first the doctor thought I had a heart condition, possibly congestive heart failure. However, the tests have all come back normal, so I guess my heart isn't broken -- physically anyway. Turns out that the problems I've been having are due to my prescription for depression, namely, Wellbutrin, along with getting older and heavier. So I'm off the Wellbutrin. Maxx and I started a healthy eating regimen and have committed to it for a year and a day. Nothing prepackaged -- all foods must be prepared from scratch and as organic as possible. At least this way we have a better idea of what's going into our bodies. I'm watching my sodium intake and Maxx has hopped onboard with this as well. Exercise is a must and although I'm not up to the same speed as in my younger days, I'm doing it.

Actually, I'm feeling better -- though I can tell those tummy crunches I did this morning will catch up to me tomorrow. No more aches and pains in my joints when I get up in the morning, no more severe swelling in my legs, ankles and feet. I can walk without feeling I'm about to fall apart. So far no weight loss, but I'm maintaining instead of gaining 3-5 pounds every few days. That's a good starting point, I think. Hopefully the rest will come in time.

I quit smoking the day after my birthday in March. That's been a difficult test, but I did it.

Another reason I decided it's time to take a break is my family. I hadn't realized until recently just how devastating Jeremy's death was to my daughters and how they continue to suffer emotionally. They live in another city several hours' drive away from Houston, but I still need to be emotionally available for them. They could both use some grief counseling. In the process of working with them and other Gold Star Families, I have come to the realization that as a group, the parents especially need to find the resources available to help our kids, both juvenile and adult, deal with the loss of their siblings. There is alot of talk and help for parents and children, but virtually none available for siblings. We're working on that. It's my hope that we can have a day devoted to the siblings of our fallen heroes at Camp Casey, complete with grief counsellors. They need the support from other siblings who have experienced the same thing. I have no doubt it would help them as much as meeting other parents has helped me in my grief process.

From time to time I become very discouraged with the path our country has taken under the control of George W. Bush and his administration of cronies. I am discouraged with the media and I am discouraged with those who call themselves the leaders of our country. I am discouraged with the numbers of war dead, both American and Iraqi. I am frightened by the thought of war with Iran which will only open up a bigger Pandora's Box of problems.

I know that my email is being read by persons unknown to me before it reaches its intended destination and this disturbs me. Not because I have anything to hide, but because it is an invasion of my privacy -- something every American should be concerned about. I used to believe that if I don't have anything to hide, then this was fine. In recent times I have completely changed my mind. I have a right to my privacy, I have a right to say what I want when I want to whom I want without having to worry about someone at some point pilging through my email before it reaches the party/parties I have sent it to.

I am no threat to anyone. At least not physically. However, I guess some might consider me a threat to their preferred way of life. Specifically, people like the man who calls himself President of our country and his cronies. Maybe it's good that my emails are read and my phone calls are listened to because it means I'm doing what I set out to do -- upset a few people and make them think about what is going on in our country today.

In the meantime, I hate that we have come to this point where I do not go to certain places to protect people I love from potentially being watched. Some have come to learn that their association with me is a threat to their privacy and they cut communication off. I guess it's the price all peace makers and peace keepers must pay to bring an end to the insanity that has become the government of the United States of America.

This weekend I got a hate email -- something I don't usually get -- telling me to leave this country if I don't like it. Thing is, they have it all wrong. I love my country. I just don't want to see the Constitution and the Bill of Rights trampled upon. I will fight just as hard to protect the rights of those whom I disagree with as I will to protect my own rights. That's the difference between those who create hate and those who create peace.

The day Jeremy died I cried and cried. The unbearable physical pain nearly crippled me for a long time. I wanted to whole world to stop turning and people to stop living their lives, to pay homage to my son until I could once again become a functional person. But the world didn't stop for one soldier. It hasn't stopped for over 2400 soldiers and it will not stop for any price. Life will continue on with or without me and our soldiers. As much as I want, I know I can't back down from the fight.

The only questions for me to answer now are: Where do I go from here? How can I best reach the people who need to hear what I and so many others who are trying to bring about peace and end this war? I know why I do it. Just not sure how anymore.

In Peace,
Amy
Proud Mom of:
Jeremy, Danielle and Jaime
and.... proud Gramma of Aiden Russell.

Houston's Memorial Day Observance

From my dear friend, Sherry Glover, who was at the Houston Memorial for our soldiers on Memorial Day. I could not be there...

I sit on the grass next to Alex Carbonaro’s flags. There are two of them, one an American flag, the other a Texas flag. Much of his family still lives in Houston. It’s late in the afternoon, but I sit, and cry a little as I speak to him. His mom is my friend.

I stop and get up to fetch water from the car. The little pot of live white daisies is wilting and dry. As I walked away, I hear a voice say, “Are you one of Alex’s family?” I didn’t stop, but kept walking, my eyes now swollen and red. When I came back, she was still there.

She works with his uncle, and we finally introduced ourselves to one another. "Christina" stays as long as she can, then we hug, and she departs. She took pics and will send them, but I forget where or who to. The air is feeling thicker now.

An old woman walks up with an accent, and her companion. We begin to talk a little. I tell her my name, and she introduces herself as his grandmother. I hug her tightly and tell her how sorry I am. I explain to her that I know his mom. I never caught the couple’s names, but as she left, the grandmother looked me in the eye and said, “I still cannot accept that he is gone.” A tear never fell from her eyes. This is one stage of a loss, common to all losses. Denial.

Her daughter (Alex’s mom) would call me this evening, and sob as she describes her day at Arlington National Cemetery, and said there must be 40 new ones since Alex was laid to rest last Tuesday…and when Bush spoke, she said his words were met with stone cold silence. All I could do was sob with her and promise to be available should she want to talk. We planned to get together when she comes to town

All around, as far as the eye can see are American flags- one for each American GI death in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as the representation of all those innumerable civilian deaths.

Yesterday, (after hugs all around) it was Jim and me, and a precious few others standing in line and planting those flags as the names were called out- and shortly after we began I looked up and noticed that this human line to put them in the hard ground kept growing longer. There behind me was my father, a 78 year old WWII vet who served in the Air Force. He was visiting from Dallas. He had a flag in his hand, and kept 'recycling' in line, even after the heat had gotten to me. He read names as well. He was proud to participate and contribute. I was proud of him.

Interestingly, passers by began to join the line, a Latino man who began taking two, then four, then six flags at a time, a black family with children, a cyclist still wearing his helmet…it was amazing!

I’d done three TV interviews and one radio but never saw me. It isn’t about me anyway. But off the cuff, one seasoned Houston reporter asked me why they were disallowed to photograph the coffins draped in flags...my response was that it might be the same reason "they" really don't want folks to see these flags en masse. When she asked me what "stop loss" meant, my jaw dropped.

As we prepared to close, Jim stood in the center of the display with a trumpet…I did see that on TV…but I also caught a live glimpse of the crowd watching in silence during taps. My father stood and saluted. He was the only one who did. He said, in his final, simple observation, “No one wins in war.”

Now I sit and quietly observe as the sun begins to set. There are people walking around, looking curiously at the display. Some of them are taking pictures. Some are looking for lost friends. I am softly crying again, visibly sad, and can feel the presence of wandering strangers. They avoid getting close to me, keeping their distance, presumably giving me space, obviously uncomfortable with my tears, and yet curious about the story surrounding this particular flag and the little put of daisies. I hold still, in secret. The tears quietly flow.

A child yells from behind me as he and his family approach. “Cool!” he says, “Thousands of flags!” His excitement is in his voice, but his awareness is not there yet. Oh, if he only knew what those flags stood for. What will he say when he learns?

Occasional vets come and go. A black pick up truck finally parks after circling awhile. The riders display a flag out one window, and a POW/MIA flag from the other. They get out and stand on the sidewalk, both dressed in BDU pants. After 10 minutes of quiet conversation they leave.

To my right, I hear the voice of a very young girl. “Oh, these are WWII” she tells her mother. “No”…her mother replies, and her explanation is not decipherable now. Silence again.

I water the daisies again and they’ve perked up. I look up to see the crowd changing once again, coming and going…solemn and respectful. In the distance, a woman with a baby carried in a sling walks among the flags- and when the breeze gently blows, they all obey in unison, exactly waving in identical fashion. The view is exquisite, as breathtaking as is the display itself.

A car alarm interrupts quiet scene, the train whistle blows in the distance as riders catch a far away glimpse of the flags. There is light traffic; I can hear the cars passing along Fannin. Many living continue to walk among this beautiful, sad representation of the dead. I still sense the people who walk around me quietly as they slowly come and stare as they pass by, but no one will get close.

Once the Quakers came, I went to talk to them. Next to the civilian shoe display, they unfurled their banner saying “War is not the answer” and stood in silence as the sun set. We will talk again soon.

Tomorrow I will not return. Tomorrow is reserved for a melt down. But to experience this and take part in this incredible effort to educate the public (and nourish a few dying flowers), it was all worth it.

Peace,
SherryGo, heart, unto the lamp of light,Go, heart, do service and honor.--AnonymousThe value of life does not depend upon the place we occupy.It depends upon the way we occupy that place. St. Thérèse de Lisieux