December 18, 2006
Since Ozarkyn has been MIA for over a week, I thought I'd drop in and make a rare post.
Yesterday, I was listening to Thomas Tallis' Ave Maria, which I sang in college with the Madrigal group, and I was reminded how powerfully the final words hit me then: O Mater mei, memento mei, Amen. ("Oh my mother, remember me, Amen.")
To bring that sentiment to a more tangible level, I remember a story told to me by a Vietnam vet friend of mine when I was growing up. He was a medic, and told how he was doing an air lift with a wounded soldier. As they were rising in the helicopter, they were shot at with a torrent of gunfire, and the wounded officer was hit again, this time fatally. As he died, he cried, "Remember me!"
The vet did remember. And probably will, to his grave. Memento Mei.
I pray for the vets that are experiencing stories just like this one, right now. You'd think we would learn.
I understand the reasoning behind invading Iraq, these long years ago. I didn't agree with them and still don't, but what's done is done, and arguing about what was already done is a pointless exercise. But it's time to go. I don't want to see another war memorial in Washington. I don't want to hear any more horror stories of children being killed and mothers weeping over lost sons and daughters.
In somewhat related news, I was reading the SF Chronicle on Saturday. These two pages were facing each other on the spread of the newspaper. I don't know if it was done intentionally, but it certainly caught my eye.
On page A8 was this article about Santas. Photos of malls, kids sitting on Santa's lap. A fussy kid, terrified of this stranger with a white beard.
On Page A9, was this article. Violence and gunfire between Hamas and Fatah movements in Ramallah. Terrified children. Look at the photos, especially this one. Children weeping for a different reason.
We are so lucky, that all our children worry about are what they are getting for Christmas. Where my biggest worry of the day is whether we'll have enough time to decorate the cookies I made last night AND to decorate the tree. And whether the presents I ordered online will arrive on time. And how I can resist overeating this holiday. These worries are small potatoes.
I'm not sure how to end this post, other than to wish and hope and pray for peace. An end to fear and terror. A taste of what bliss feels like. A calm to overtake the hatred. To pray for joy to touch the souls of those who haven't seen joy in a long, long time.
Meera, the Proper Voice of Liberalism...
Yesterday, I was listening to Thomas Tallis' Ave Maria, which I sang in college with the Madrigal group, and I was reminded how powerfully the final words hit me then: O Mater mei, memento mei, Amen. ("Oh my mother, remember me, Amen.")
To bring that sentiment to a more tangible level, I remember a story told to me by a Vietnam vet friend of mine when I was growing up. He was a medic, and told how he was doing an air lift with a wounded soldier. As they were rising in the helicopter, they were shot at with a torrent of gunfire, and the wounded officer was hit again, this time fatally. As he died, he cried, "Remember me!"
The vet did remember. And probably will, to his grave. Memento Mei.
I pray for the vets that are experiencing stories just like this one, right now. You'd think we would learn.
I understand the reasoning behind invading Iraq, these long years ago. I didn't agree with them and still don't, but what's done is done, and arguing about what was already done is a pointless exercise. But it's time to go. I don't want to see another war memorial in Washington. I don't want to hear any more horror stories of children being killed and mothers weeping over lost sons and daughters.
In somewhat related news, I was reading the SF Chronicle on Saturday. These two pages were facing each other on the spread of the newspaper. I don't know if it was done intentionally, but it certainly caught my eye.
On page A8 was this article about Santas. Photos of malls, kids sitting on Santa's lap. A fussy kid, terrified of this stranger with a white beard.
On Page A9, was this article. Violence and gunfire between Hamas and Fatah movements in Ramallah. Terrified children. Look at the photos, especially this one. Children weeping for a different reason.
We are so lucky, that all our children worry about are what they are getting for Christmas. Where my biggest worry of the day is whether we'll have enough time to decorate the cookies I made last night AND to decorate the tree. And whether the presents I ordered online will arrive on time. And how I can resist overeating this holiday. These worries are small potatoes.
I'm not sure how to end this post, other than to wish and hope and pray for peace. An end to fear and terror. A taste of what bliss feels like. A calm to overtake the hatred. To pray for joy to touch the souls of those who haven't seen joy in a long, long time.
Meera, the Proper Voice of Liberalism...