Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Home For The Last Time

I have let slip the veil between this memorial blog and the real world by letting enter the topic of politics. I do it again today. Sorry. By politics today, I am thinking about the approach of Veterans’ Day tomorrow. I have been thinking all year about the song I am going to play tomorrow—a song which is the story of a real Viet Nam vet named Gary Cooper, who was shot in his home after an episode of what we now know is post traumatic stress. I am so sad for all the innocent victims of war. Today’s musical track is a soundtrack for all those who are coming home for the last time. This track was recorded the kitchen of our Page Street Apartment in 1986. That's me in the background fixing dinner.

Today’s artwork is another drawing from a little booklet Scot made in the late 1970’s called “Money,” in which all the drawings were based one way or another on this dollar stamp. Scot could get very political. He always wanted to teach a history class using Herb Block. I think this drawing very succinctly illustrates how the big money machine can chew up the innocent for dinner. All wars have one thing in common--it is in the best interest of the people making the weapons to keep things stirred up, which actually is easy but decidedly difficult to calm once things reach the boiling point of the blood feud.

Drone airplanes have much the same ring to me as the helicopter had in the Viet Nam War. Drones are quickly becoming the new way war is waged, at how many million a pop? As an alternative, I suggest we create a Corp of Americans charged with the duty of taking the money we might otherwise spend on the drones and the whole war machine, directly to the countries involved. Once there, it would be their job to partner with local people and organizations to build and invest in infrastructure that would enhance the actual well-being of those innocents whose lifestyles and well-being have been so long and horribly crushed by the hand of war. May it be ‘Butter, Not Bombs’ for us all.

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