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Sheltering Walls

Bare Trees in Fog

Witnesses to War

That's what we all are with one exception--those in the midst of war, once again.


Last summer in a French study program in my grandparents' homeland of Quebec, I was accused of being a pacifist. I had no problem with this, but Frankie did. "You probably come from one of those liberal places like, Massachusetts". Bingo! Frankie grew up in Texas. He was a recently discharged ex-army guy who had served in Iraq. What had he seen and heard there in the midst of a hot war? He was not an innocent bystander, but he was a witness to see, hear, or know by personal presence and perception. God knows what that meant for a young, nearly seven-foot-tall man who stood straight with shoulders back. Frankie carried a leather journal, like mine. This was our connecting point.


He favord the "Beat" poets and writers of the days when I was coming of age. I told him Jack Kerouac and I grew up in the same place--were both French Canadians having gone to Catholic schools. "Have you ever gone to his grave"?, he asked in a tone belying his persona. "Oui", (as we were having this conversation in French). I recounted seeing packs of cigarettes, beer bottles with flowers, and, of course, poetry written by other beatnik fans. I said "I think Jack would have identified as a pacifist, preferring poetry to violence". Frankie nodded, "Peut'etre", (Maybe).


Frankie made head's turn--those of the fifteen-year-old's in the class--those who had left San Salvador alone to escape violence and brutal regimes--those who knew about oppression. Frankie might have seemed a hero, a savior, if you will in their eyes. His thirty-year-old counterparts knew better, seeing beyond the facade. Those women did not let him get away with his sexist remarks and blatant misogyny.


Frankie for all his bravado was a wanderer with a journal that in his quiet moments might have said no to war with his pen, making him a pacifist the principled opposition to war and violence as a means of settling disputes ... Peut'etre.


Now, like the rest of us, he is a witness to war without his weapon. I wonder if he is waving the flag (like some) or writing with his pen, or both, depending on who he is talking to. The key word in the definition of pacifist is principled: acting in accordance with morality and showing recognition of right and wrong. I would add recognition of truth and lies.




 
 
 

A small town's legacy


"Did we end up in Paradise"? My daughter asked, a couple of years ago when we traveled together to a small town called Dunblane, Scotland. We had chosen to stay there because it was on the train and equidistant from Edinburg and Glasgow.


In 1996, my daughter was a five-year-old in kindergarten in a small town like Dunblane. Her teachers were caring toward their young charges. I never thought twice when I left her in their care for the better part of the day. She came bouncing out after school with colored pages she had worked on during the day. This was the beginning of her love of art that would take her through art school, followed by a post baccalaureate artisan degree, and a soon-to-be completed art therapy master's degree. A long road, to be sure, but one that she chose to follow since childhood.


Every five-year-old should have such a bright beginning that manifests in a dream fulfilled. Sadly, that was not the story thirty years ago for children in Dunblane.


Named Scotland's friendliest town, folks in this picturesque, bucolic town are out and about with their dogs in the evenings. We were greeted with "Halo" in a quiet, lilting accent and a tip of the hat or nod of the head on our way to or from our apartment in a former wool mill with wide windows overlooking the River Alan's waterfall.


Atop a hill, sat a substantial medieval cathedral. Its doors were locked whenever I tried to get a look inside, but from my bedroom I could hear the 12th century bells chiming the hour. My good intentions to attend a Sunday service did not come to fruition for reasons I have forgotten. I regret it now.


I learned too late that inside the Cathedral was a memorial to the children who had been victims of a mass shooting in their hometown. These children would be my daughter's age now. Like her, they would have shared classrooms with classmates and teachers who sparked their potential. Each one would have made choices about his/her future, be it art school, athletics, engineering, teaching, organizing, writing, singing, or whatever dream called across those lush hills. Their parents would have bubbled over with pride instead of sorrow.


Those very parents who lost their most precious loved ones took matters into their own hands. They rallied together with the rest of the town in what they called the Snowdrop Campaign for tighter gun laws, which helped to bring about sweeping reforms that left the UK with some of the strictest restrictions on private handgun ownership in the world.*


It gives me pause to read about such a far-reaching legacy for one tiny town --Dunblane would be the last deadliest mass shooting in the whole of the UK. Think of all the lives saved with determination and drive to make their child the last to suffer such a fate in a classroom with pretty pictures on the walls.


Here,in the United States, since 1996 there have been 540 deaths and a total of 844 shootings! There has been N0 national gun law reform.*** We are a country that could take a lesson from a little town in the hills of Scotland who refused to sacrifice anyone's future life, ever again.





 
 
 

Speak your mind: (202) 224-3121

The U.S. Capitol Switchboard will connect you 24/7 to the office of any and all Senators and Representatives. Most often, you will hear a recorded message asking your name, zip code, etc. Then you have the floor, so to speak!


This is an easy, painless, effective (sort of) way to speak your mind whenever the issues cause you concern. Sometimes, you will be mysteriously added to an email list from the office you called. I'll bet that email starts with a thank-you for calling, then goes on to tell you everything he/she has done for you, the voter, lately!


Not everyone wants to carry a sign with an ever-growing group of other citizens, who by the way will be out in force on March 29. If you are one who cannot or does not want to stand in solidarity physically, using your cell phone as a tool is better than nothing. And, if you choose to carry signs in solidarity, don't put down the phone. Call, and call again, during the march, after the march, and any time the Spirit moves you to speak your mind.


202-224-3121 Put it in your speed dial for future reference. You know we are going to need it!

 
 
 
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