An American Tragedy in Perspective

As I sat in silent worship this morning at the Sarasota Friends Meeting (Quaker) my thoughts were, as were those of many millions of Americans, on the 9/11 attacks that occurred fifteen years ago today.  We all remember where we were when we first heard of the attacks.  I was on my way to Springfield, IL from my home in the Madison, WI area, to visit Lincoln’s hometown.  Knowing my son, David, had an appointment for a job interview, I called him at 9 AM (Central time) to make sure he was awake and he told me of the attacks.   I was heartsick at the news and cancelled my trip, returning home for three straight days of TV watching.

True, the 9/11 attacks were a most profound matter of national concern and outrage—the Pearl Harbor of my generation—but when one considers it in the context of American historical events, it pales in comparison.

Millions of Africans were either kidnapped or born into slavery.  When one considers what many of them went through in terms of beatings, killings, having their families split up, and generally treated as little more than work horses, 9/11 doesn’t even hold a candle.  Even after slavery was outlawed forever by the 13^th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, the ex-slaves’ treatment was not much better than it had been before.   The Jim Crow laws in the South and the birth and rise of the Ku Klux Klan caused the wrongful  imprisonment, murders, and lynchings of untold  numbers of ex-slaves and their descendants.

The displacement of Native Americans—mainly Cherokee, Seminole, Muskogee, Choctaw, and Chickasaw--from their ancestral homelands in the Southeast to reservations in present-day Oklahoma was simply a wrongful eviction facilitated by the Indian Removal Act of 1830.   The law was declared unconstitutional by the U.S. Supreme Court, to which President Andrew Jackson responded, “They made their ruling.  Now let them enforce it”.  The Cherokee were the last to be removed from Georgia to Oklahoma and, of the 16,543 that began the trek, somewhere between 2000 and 6000 of them perished along the way, giving rise to the term, “Trail of Tears”.

The illegal and unnecessary wars in Vietnam and Iraq (in particular), as well as the invasion of Afghanistan were American Tragedies.  I am a Vietnam vet who was there during the Tet Offensive of 1968.  My path toward pacifism started during a rocket attack one night.  We were being showered with rockets and mortars.  As I was running for cover, I spied a dog running hell bent for election not knowing what was going on or why.  I immediately identified with the poor guy, feeling sorrow and compassion for him and his totality of angst.  Having attended and graduated from a small college—N.C. Wesleyan—I, like many others of my generation, lost friends--three of whom were college buddies.   In fact, a fourth student, whom I did not know, was also killed.  The Vietnam War was an American Tragedy of epic proportions, yet we tend to forget with the passage of time.

While it’s understandable that the foul tastes left in the mouths of Americans could justify an invasion of Afghanistan in order to topple the rule of the Taliban and hoped-for capture of Osama bin Laden, there was absolutely no justification for the invasion of Iraq.  Saddam had not harbored the 9/11 terrorists nor did he have any WMDs that were used as a lie and excuse for invasion.  The loss of life, both to civilians and soldiers is regrettable.  But even more so is the inadequate and even denied medical care given to American G.I.s who were wounded—either physically or emotionally—during the course of the war.  It is a tragic situation that many volunteered for what they felt was their patriotic duty when America needed them, but where was America when these poor souls needed it?

There are many other American Tragedies that could be cited and explained away—Pearl Harbor; the JFK and Lincoln assassinations; the Indian Wars; and the like—but my purpose here is to remind folks that tragedies occur and that those in the past should not be forgotten.  They should be remembered for what they were and serve as reminders that we can always be better as we progress on this journey called life.

What I Believe

I just wanted to touch on a few points. I am a liberal. In fact, I am so liberal, that I am close to being socialist. I believe in a single-payer National Health Care system for all people, because it can only benefit, even the least among us. We should all have access to medical care, because we all have the right to live.

I also believe in a reasonable national minimum wage in the amount of not less than $15.00 per hour. Not only would such guarantee such wage earners a bit more to live on, but it would also put more money into the economy, by allowing at least some disposable income.

I also believe we are put on this Earth to be of service to one another. To enrich oneself at the expense of others is simply not right. Pay your fair share of taxes; do not deny education or social programs to those unable to afford them. Treat others as you would wish to be treated.

I believe in education for all people. Other countries do it, so why can't we? If we had a system, such as what Denmark has in place, maybe we wouldn't have some of the ignorance from the other side, as we do. I believe that's what a big part of the problem is. Denmark is gung ho about people who come to their country to become citizens, getting a FREE education, and also three years of free language courses! Everyone should have that right.

I also want to stress that I respect everyone, no matter what their belief system is. I don't care if you're a Christian, Jewish, Muslin, atheist, or whatever. You are still a person. Liberals have compassion and empathy, and take the high road. To do otherwise is to deny your own humanity.

What's Goin' On?

Dallas…  I hate—hated—Dallas since November 22^nd, 1963.  Over the past 52 plus years I have had absolutely no use for that city.  Even worse are the Dallas Cowboys.  I hate that team more than God hates sin!  The only good thing I can say about it is that its name was used as the title of a great evening soap opera in the 1980’s.

However, things started to change last Thursday evening with the killing of five police officers.  Folks were peacefully marching to protest the two black men shot to death by cops in Louisiana and Minnesota over the preceding two days, when a black who apparently saw himself as an avenger took it upon himself to wreak vengeance on the police by shooting eleven police officers, killing five, who were monitoring the peaceful protest.  For this reason, my bitter feelings about Dallas are starting to ease.  One possible reason—beyond the policemen who were shot to death—is the way their police chief, David Brown, has comported himself.  He has had more than anyone’s share of grief, having lost his brother, his son, and his partner to gunfire.  Despite these tragedies, perhaps because of them, he has become a rock to whom all should look up to and admire for his strength of character.

The recent shooting deaths of two African Americans is a continuance of what seems to have become the norm in American society.  More and more, it seems, unarmed blacks are being murdered by the police while armed whites are being arrested with few, if any, shots being fired.  Take for instance, the death of Eric Garner of Staten Island, NY who was choked to death for selling cigarettes on a sidewalk; or Tamir Rice, a 12 year old who was “armed” with a toy gun in Cleveland; or Freddie Gray, who was given a rough ride despite a broken back; or Walter Scott, who was shot in the back in North Charleston, SC.

Compare these with the arrests of Dylann Roof, who murdered nine African Americans at a prayer service in Charleston, SC; Jason Dalton, who murdered six people in Kalamazoo, MI; Eric Rudolph, the Atlanta Olympics bomber; or even Ted Kaczinski, the Unibomber,  These men are all lily white, yet they were arrested and not shot to death by the police.

Unfortunately, there is a strong specter of institutional racism inherent in American society--some may call it “white privilege”—but it is as prevalent in society as is baseball and politics.  When a policeman approaches a car with a white driver, he is not as apprehensive as he would be when approaching a car with a black driver.  Not knowing if the black person is armed, the adrenaline gets to pumping and the tension rises.  Stopping a white driver, on the other hand, the officer tends not to be as concerned for his own safety.

We MUST become aware of our own humanity and do away with the confrontational attitudes that we foist on others all the time.  It can be a “F*ck you” and flipping the bird at a discourteous driver or telling someone with whom we disagree to kiss our ass!  The problem today, as I see it, is that we have lost the compassion we felt for others, such as we did when I was growing up in the ‘50’s.  There is way too much bigotry in today’s American society.  Sure, there was much bigotry and prejudice in those days.  The civil rights movement of the 1950’s and ‘60’s did much to advance the rights of minorities that we white folks took for granted.  I never thought I’d ever see an African American president, but here we are in the final year of Barack Obama’s second term.  Not all that much has seemed to change in the past 60 years.  The latent bigotry that had been festering broke forth in all its ugliness.  It is as if the light in a dark room was turned on and suddenly all the cockroaches became visible.

What the future holds, I know not.  I can only hope that whatever it is our children and grandchildren can handle it better than we have.  

Why I Do Not Salute the American Flag

Being a student of history and a spiritual person, I have been given to consider recently the necessity of going through the rituals of standing and removing my hat during the playing of the national anthem.  History tells me that the early Quakers, feeling that everyone is equal in God’s eyes, deigned to remove their hats in the presence of the king.  Being a person of a spiritual rather than a secular frame of mind, I began to consider a few months ago if it was keeping with my spiritual being to stand and remove my hat during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner.  I came to the conclusion that my spirituality meant more to me than an empty exercise.

                                                                                                                              

Being a Quaker who swears no oaths, I appeared in several trials in my career as an insurance claimsman and would only affirm--not swear--to tell the truth.  Likewise, I refuse to stand and repeat the Pledge of Allegiance.  I have only had one occasion in recent history where such was the case.  Recently, I attended a meeting of the Anna Maria, FL city council as an interested observer in an issue they were considering.  I was given no grief by anyone at my remaining seated.

Last week I was at my usual haunt—McKechnie Field in Bradenton—to attend a Bradenton Marauder’s baseball game.  When the time came for the national anthem, everyone was asked to stand and remove their hats whilst the anthem was being played.  I stood, but did not remove my hat, as has been my usual recent practice.  Afterwards, one of the ushers—a good friend of mine and retired Air Force colonel—came over to me and asked if I had forgotten to take my hat off.  Without thinking or measuring my words, I snapped back at him that I refuse to remove my hat for no body or no thing.  That really got under his skin and he told me that, in his opinion, I was a f*cking asshole and stormed off.  I tried to explain to him later, but he told me that he didn’t want to hear anything from me and it was all he could do to keep from putting his fist through my face.  Of course, it bothered me somewhat, because I think so highly of Jack.

A couple days later, at a July 4^th weekend game, I approached Jack about halfway through the game—wearing a patriotic hat with a American flag attached to it—and said to him that he may think of me as an asshole, but I wished he would at least think of me as a patriotic asshole.  He apologized to me for what he had said and I apologized to him for the way I had responded to his inquiry.  We shook hands, gave somewhat of a “man hug”, and I told him that I didn’t want to lose his friendship and we went about our business.  Later on during the game I was talking with one of the other ushers, when Jack passed by and gave me a poke in the belly with his finger.  I then knew we were back together as friends.

I, too, am an Air Force veteran and can understand Jack’s feelings of patriotism and why he feels that way.  He spent his career in the Air Force and I honor him for that.  To my mind, the old Vietnam War jingoistic chant of, “My country, right or wrong…” holds no water.  When my country is right I can live with that.  However, when my country is wrong, it’s my patriotic duty to change it.

But to insist that I must salute the flag by removing my hat, telling me I must recite a meaningless pledge to an inanimate object, or swear a vow that I disavow, I feel it is my right as a person NOT to engage in meaningless rituals.  In not doing such, I am being true to myself.  I need no one else’s approval.  I need only that approval that comes from within.

American Values in Question

Last night, as usual, I attended a Bradenton Marauders (Pittsburgh Pirates Advanced Class A affiliate) ballgame.  The game had been advertised as Military Heroes Night, recognizing 20 active duty and veteran service people.  I walked down Ninth Street to the main gate of McKechnie Field and, as I turned toward the gate I saw a giant inflatable quonset hut leading to the gate emblazoned with “GOARMY.COM” on the front.  Being a Quaker and pacifist, I started to do a slow boil since I had to walk through the damn thing to gain entry.

Once inside there was a table with Army recruiters handing out enlistment propaganda.  There were many people milling about, as it was also Craft Beer Night.  As I made my way through the crowd to my seat I came to realize that there were several military personnel about along with some recruits who were to be inducted.  I went over to talk with some friends about baseball and how the Marauders have been doing of late (fortunately, pretty well).  An announcement was made that the recruits were about to be sworn in, something I had no wish to observe or be a part of, so I made my way out of the stands and to one of the beer bars to get ready for the start of the game.

To digress a bit…  Early Quakers believed in equality the equality of persons before God.  Among the things they declined to do was to remove their hats in the presence of the king.  I have been thinking lately that perhaps I should follow suit and decline to remove my hat during the playing of the national anthem before each game.  As one who opposes the swearing of oath, an original tenant of Quakerism—that integrity of one does not need to swear to tell the truth.  Akin to this is that we disdain the honoring of one person or thing above another.  As such, I refuse to stand and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. 

Similarly, I question if I should stand and remove my hat (as directed) during the Star Spangled Banner.  Last night, when the anthem was sung, I decided it was time to make my stand against all the militarism that was present.  I did not take my hat off nor did I stand erect.  I merely slouched against the bar awaiting the end of the song and the start of the ballgame.

I have come to a point in my life when I am questioning the values of the United States.  We no longer live in a democracy but in an oligarchy with those with the money calling the shots.  Congress is bought and paid for by the 1% and does everything in its power to maintain that imbalance.  Congress authorizes—many times against the wants and desires of the military—weapons systems that are neither wanted nor needed; they authorize the building of airplanes that either do not work as promised or are immediately mothballed.  To make matters worse, Congress refuses to allocate money to take care of wounded veterans or those suffering from PTSD.  I shudder to think of what might befall any of the recruits that were inducted into the Army last night.

Congress will do nothing to address the rise in gun-related violence, despite the call by the vast majority of Americans to do something.  The NRA has taken over and quashed the discussion about reasonable gun control legislation.  From Columbine, to VA Tech, to Sandy Hook, to Aurora, to Ft. Hood, to Umpqua Community College in Oregon, and now to Orlando.  “How many deaths will it take ‘til we know that too many people have died?”  It is so damn ridiculous to know that persons on the “No-Fly List” are not on the “No-Buy List”—that such persons, if legally qualified otherwise, can purchase firearms, from a .22 pistol to an AR-15 assault rifle.

WHEN IS AMERICA GOING TO WAKE UP AND THROW THE RASCALS OUT WHO PERMIT SUCH ENABLING LEGISLATION TO ENDURE?  “The answer, my friend…”

Memorial Day—What Does It Mean?

I, along with many other people, get a bit upset that Memorial Day has lost its meaning.  The first Memorial Day was organized by ex-slaves in Charleston, SC on May 1, 1865 to recognize and honor the dead Union forces that were killed so that they might live in freedom.

Nowadays, people tend to confuse Memorial Day with Veterans Day, reaping platitudes on their fathers and others who served in various wars—people who are still living and were not killed during wartime.  Memorial Day is set aside to honor the ones killed so that we might also live in freedom.  Worse yet are those who commercialize the day with their sales; any excuse for a sale.  This past Friday there was an ad in one of the local papers that went:

 "Pamaro Shop Furniture Remembers Our Nation's HEROES who paid the Ultimate Sacrifice So That We May Live Free... 40% off All Furniture in Stock..."

How tacky is that???  I don’t care what any merchant is selling, be it furniture, mattresses, cars, or whatever…   Memorial Day is apparently a day set aside to honor all who died so that merchants can have their damn sales!

I have a special connection with one of those who lost his life in service to his country.  My Dad’s brother, William, was killed in a plane crash in Australia—the deadliest airplane crash in Australian history.  He was returning from R&R to New Guinea when the B-17, which was being used as a troop transport, crashed at Baker’s Creek in Queensland on June 14^th, 1943 and I was born nine months later on March 17^th, 1944.  According to Dad, I was conceived the night they got the news of Uncle William’s death (“the train lurched”, Dad used to joke).  Dad was stationed at Ft. Lee in Petersburg, VA.  He and Mom were returning to hometown Huntington, WV.  (As an aside, Dad was born on a train and I apparently was conceived on one, both on the Norfolk and Western Railroad--I never made the psychic connection until now).

Anyway, we moved to the Washington, DC area in 1954 and every Memorial Day (May 30^th in those days) Grandma and Grandpa Hilsheimer would come to our house and we’d go to Arlington Cemetery to place flowers on William’s grave.  I miss those days.  I miss Grandma and Grandpa.  I miss Mom and Dad.  I also very much miss the time I could have had with Uncle William…

My wish is that Memorial Day will be recognized and revered for what it is—a day of remembrance of those lost to the vagaries of war.  May the time come that war will be no more and that no more Memorial Days will be needed.

What Happened to North Carolina?

Fifty-four years ago I was considering where to attend college.  I had explored colleges in Ohio, West Virginia, and North Carolina.  While I considered Wisconsin and North Carolina to be the most progressive of states, Wisconsin was much too far away, so I settled on one of the fine fifty-two excellent colleges on the Tar Heel State--North Carolina Wesleyan College in Rocky Mount (as an aside, I was blessed to marry a Wisconsin girl and spend my career in the Badger State).

I enrolled at NCWC in 1963 and found that there were still some vestiges of racism and conservatism remaining in the area but, by and large, things were fairly tranquil.  After attending church each Sunday morning,  it was the habit of other students and me to stop by a nearby cafe for a cup of coffee or a Coke before heading back to campus.  One morning however, service was refused to one of our fellow students, Helen Chestnut, a full-blooded Cherokee whose skin was "too dark" for her to be served.  Helen was a beautiful co-ed--both inside and out--who didn't want to make an issue of the situation.  As for the rest of us, we decided then and there, that if she couldn't be served we would not favor them with our patronage.  At some point--possibly 1964-65--the Ku Klux Klan came to town and held a rally in an area farm field.  I had no interest in going, but several of my college buddies--some of them native Tar Heels--went and hooted and harassed those in attendance from the surrounding woods.  They were chased from the area by armed assholes, which made me glad I decided to stay on campus.  At another time, Oral Roberts was holding one of his patented tent revivals, at which some of my buddies got "saved and healed" by the "Oralmeister", himself.  Such was the life of a bunch of college friends who were exploring more liberal ideas and ideals outside their traditional bringing up.

My term at NCWC was interrupted by the Vietnam War, as I was faced with a possible draft notice after my junior year.  I opted to join the Air Force, picking up a semester's worth of college credits and returning in fall 1970 to complete my degree.  Still, I regarded North Carolina as a progressive state, insofar as southern states went.

However, that bubble soon burst.  Upon graduating and living in a central Wisconsin mill town, my news source was primarily the "CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite".  In 1973, firebrand conservative asswipe Jesse Helms--a former conservative commentator for one of the Raleigh TV stations--was elected to the U.S. Senate.  This guy was anti-civil rights, referring to the University of North Carolina (UNC) as the "University of Negroes and Communists".

In the meantime, ambulance chaser John Edwards won election to the Senate as a Democrat in 1998.  Things were looking up.  Hopefully, North Carolina was turning the page and getting ready for the 21st Century.  Unfortunately, such was not to be.  Helms retired from the Senate in 2003 and was replaced by (IMHO) moderately progressive Elizabeth Dole.  Although Dole was a bit less conservative than Helms, she served only one term until defeated by Democrat state senator Kay Hagan in 2008 who, then, was defeated by Republican Thom Tillis in 2014.

The downhill slide of North Carolina has continued, capped by yesterday's signing into law a draconian  measure, denying municipalities and other local governments from enacting laws prohibiting discrimination against lesbians, gays, and transgenders.  Hopefully, the tide will turn in this once wonderful state.  I am the eternal optimist but, as the fiftieth anniversary of my college class will occur next year, with the attendant Homecoming, I wonder if I should spend my good retirement money in a state that is so Middle Ages.  Time will  tell...