The Heave

When I was a child I was very attuned to war and its weird affect on the culture. Vietnam was in full force. What I most remember about Vietnam was the weird word. Nothing in normal English sounded like viet or nam. Never mind Vietnam as a three syllable word all together.

In addition to the odd name, one was also made aware by the conversations around him that war was very wrong. People were awake. The teenagers in the neighborhood had long hair, played guitars and seemed very, what I realize now, stoned. And they were feeling their youth. They wanted their chance at life.

It was not the Vietnam War that formed my real dislike of war did to the culture. It was World War II. Being the “good” war made the idea of any war even worse. If there was such a thing as a good war, than that means one day one might have to go to war. Furthermore, I did not know anyone in the Vietnam War. But my father had five older brothers who were all in World War II.

What I cobbled together from the personalities of my hard drinking uncles and movies about World War II---is that during war (like during illness)—joyful life is compromised.

The protestors of Vietnam during that colorful Hippie time seemed to be fighting not only against the war but for the sensual nature of sweet life and joy.
World War II was more of a total lockdown, “We just have to get very serious and win this thing.” This, of course, was the perfect attitude for that particular war, but a deadly idea for a child.

I hated the thought that people had to get that serious and be constantly enemy focused. Besides, joy opens up possibilities. Seriousness offers nothing but sameness. Just a “think about nothing else until this is finished” mentality.

Bush and his profiteers would have us believe that we are in a very serious “good” war where we must shut off our joy and keep our heads down. But truly, this war is another Vietnam. It is quite different in its particulars but fundamentally the same in its misguided thrust.

I am too old to go to war. But I am affected, like everyone else, by this joyless gray culture in which we live where people have their heads between their trembling legs, terrified of the terrorists and of our own nasty government. Add to that the sad smacking of our lack of social structures for health and civility, and one sees all joy has left our shores. All that is left is coercion, greed and pride.

And where are the young people playing guitars, loving in groups, protesting the wrong headed actions, trying to claim the open, relaxed joy of living? I fear they are all in church praying to a God who demanded they vote for the tyrannical reign that holds them captive.