The Long Road Home

Throughout this process, I have considered the many vantage points from which you could analyze the topic of war and its effects on our society.  Some people think strictly in terms of rationale for being there, others reflect on the sheer numbers of casualties, and still others consider the amount of time lost by those who are serving in the effort.  I chose to examine this issue from a place of hope -- the hope that resides in the family and friends of deployed individuals, the hope that those during deployment have that they will return home, and the hope that the life at home will meet the expectations of all involved. 

Excerpts:

Once the deployed parent has returned home, adjustments in the routines of daily life occur again.  "You kind of sit back and just observe and watch, and start feeling your way back into your family.  You don't jump in and start playing Daddy and putting down rules and everything else." (Caroff, 2007, p. 86)  During this transition, children might require extra support to manage expectations.  While this adjustment can be difficult for all involved, it is an expected issue after any long absence.

However, there are other emotional obstacles that these veterans will encounter daily, many of which are attributed to their sustained exposure to highly unstable and stressful situations.  "To the soldier, American culture may seem foreign." (Colloff, 2004, p.93) Many describe reaching for weapons that for months became a part of their body but are no longer there, while others describe studying the mannerisms of those around them scrutinizing them for suspicious activity.  While their dependence on these routines - vital to their safety during combat - seem justifiable, the petty concerns and complaints of those they encounter in their daily life do not.  When asked what bothered him most now that he was home, Staff Sgt. Matthew E. Jordan said, "Less tolerant of stupid people, doing stupid things." (Myers, 2003, p. 1) I can understand that the daily complaints of civilians seem relatively insignificant compared to what veterans have been through.  The perspective I have gained with this assignment has caused a shift in my personal value system.

I will show you fear in a handful of dust--

Poems by Esme Sammons
Positive Spin

“His sense of humor and positive outlook make him a favorite on the amputee ward.”—VFW Magazine, “Wounded Vets Rebound”

The clock is broken and marks eternal 3 o’clock.
Her hand rests on his arm, pale against the tan;
Her face an oval cut from paper.
He sleeps for now.

If she speaks, her lips will surely shatter—
Like cheap pottery—
And anyway,
What will she say?

His chest moves with tidal breath,
Rising and falling like coastal waves.
Under the blanket,
Ridges of his legs stretch uneven—
Diminished.

Later she will weep as she folds the laundry
And finds his single sock.



Above is only Blue

Strangely quiet after impact
Above is only blue.
Percussive roar now muffled
comes from an unimportant distance
--disconnected--
More felt than heard,
Swaddled as if in cotton, it thumps
counter rhythm to the internal beat,
but fades in numbing fingertips.
Crimson seepage spreads a shroud,
consumed by thirsty sand.
Above is only blue.




For in that Sleep--

If I shut my eyes theirs will open in the dark,
silver
Against the blood red screen of my lids I watch them open—
They can see—
They can smell me here.
I don’t know I don’t know
idon’tknowidon’tknow
Their voices; clogged with roots and clotted earth they—
whisper
Telling of their (that unknown world from which no traveler returns) dreams—
Beckoning, questioning:
Why why why why why
Peace will come at such a price if only I—
I am full of the hum of voices,
Here in the dark—
Mustn’t mustn’t musn’t
If I open my eyes I—




Human elemental

When broken into its most essential parts, the human body is made of

65% Oxygen
18% Carbon
10% Hydrogen
3% Nitrogen
1.5% Calcium
1% Phosphorous
0.35% Potassium
0.25% Sulfur
0.15% Sodium
0.15% Chlorine
0.05% Magnesium
0.0004% Iron
0.00004% Iodine

And trace amounts of flourine, silicon, manganese—
zinc, copper, aluminum, and arsenic.
Monetarily speaking, the sum of these parts is worth less than a dollar.
But we are so much more! (so much more)

Each element could be isolated, then stored in glass jars—
Such tiny jars!—
And displayed on the mantel.
Meaningless.
As meaningless as that small lump of bronze
(elemental tin and copper)
Called the Medal of Honor
Given in reward (supplication apology payment) for valor in action.
But Sn+Cu loses all value—
When the recipient is a small woman dressed in black,
Cradling a carefully folded flag.

Stream— September 11, 2001

Towers fall in on you on themselves
On the world
Crash
Burn and churn and break and
Kill and smoke and clouds and
Death and bits and—

Nuclear wrongness
Molecular weirdness
Broken broken smoke and soot and
Bits and pieces—
Hell begets hell begets

A baked land that, with parched mouth,
Calls— overflowing with maybes and where tos and how will I?
Mama please I’m hungry DaddyohDaddy
I’m so thirsty Mama—
Watching children die face down in the dust in pain
Bloated bellies, flies—
Ohdon’tleaveyourbabies
Nodon’teverleaveyourbabies

See the beatings the horror the war the rape
Get on a train for tomorrow
A hope a prayer for no more tears
And no more blood no more hungry
Mouths and pleading eyes
Overflowing with words and prayers and oh god have mercy on me
Cramped crowded squeezing hoping
Ohgodohgodohgodoh
Fragments of brain and bits of dreams and technology and the
Bright bright bright bright future—

“this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends”

Not with a whimper but with screams and screams
And screams.

--Esme J. Sammons 2008

THIS IS NOT A GAME

There aren’t three strikes in this game.
No instant replays or do over’s.
There’s no “we’ll get them next time” or “at least you tried your best”.
No room for error or death is what you get.
I sit in my room
Listen to music while lying on my soft bed.
My biggest worry- what to make for dinner.
Clear blue skies, cars driving by. Peace.
Thousands of miles away a solider sits on his hard bunk,
Listening to the gun shots and explosions in the distance.
His biggest worry: will he make it back alive this time?
Will his daughter grow up with her daddy by her side?
Worlds away, but still so real,
TVs on, but easily shut off when images of war are shown.
No off button there.
Horror everyday; pink clouds when bombs blow
Body parts are scattered.
The smell of death lingers.
“The experience didn’t rattle him. Worse, it changed him.
He realized that this is not a game.”

Women Veterans with PTSD

Woman warrior, with hands so small,
Don’t let them see you cry.
Stand up firm, and proud, and tall,
While you watch your brothers die.
And if bombs explode, and blood is gushed,
Keep your head up high.
You’ll never be one of the guys,
If you let them see you cry.
And if they push you down, and tear your clothes,
Remember it’s all right.
Gotta be a tough girl now,
So don’t let them see you cry.
-Woman Warrior by Deb Eskie

Excerpts:


As a woman, a feminist, and an advocate against the war in Iraq, I am particularly interested in the stories of female soldiers fighting alongside men as a minority group within the military. Women warriors have existed since pre-biblical times, but have struggled for equal opportunity within our modern U.S military. Though, they have served as supporting roles in every American war, it wasn’t until the Gulf War of 1991 that as many as 40,000 women went to war, four times the number of female soldiers in Vietnam. After the Gulf War, President Clinton signed the military bill ending combat exclusion for women on warships (Holmstedt, 2008). According to Kristen Holmstedt (2008) “about 90 percent of the career fields in the armed forces are now available to the best qualified and available person, regardless of gender” (para. 7). In 2007 more than 160,000 female soldiers were deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan (Corbett, 2007).

In her book Love My Rifle More Than You: Young and Female in the U.S Army, Kayla Williams describes her experience as an American soldier, and how she was used to sexually insult and humiliate an Iraqi detainee, while her male counterparts flicked cigarette butts at him (Burke, 2006). Twenty-one year old Tina Priest, a soldier serving in Iraq, shot herself in 2006 after filing a rape charge against a fellow soldier. The army failed to verify her claims. Other vets diagnosed with PTSD reveal that after coming home from Iraq to their children, they could not function as capable mothers (Corbett,

Why do you think more women experience PTSD from war than men do?
Eleanor: It’s the inherent nature of women. They’re sensitive and nurturing, and are affected on a deeper level. If women see injured children and women crying for their husbands in Iraq, it’s that much more traumatic. The military should open up and expose their problems and not act above reality. That way, people would benefit from their pain.
Daniel: I think it's a combination of a lot of things. First of all, women have a more difficult time just existing within the military. There's a lot of potential for trauma day to day, whereas men don't really have to deal with that. That is probably the main reason, but there may be others. Society basically conditions men from a young age to be jaded toward violence, for example, and at the same time our society tries to shelter women from everything.

War is ugly. It is violent, messy, and sickening. I don’t expect any aspect of it to be pleasant or humane. My theory is that the men who perpetrate disgraceful acts against their female counterparts most likely have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder as well, as I refuse to believe that anyone is immune to the dire affects of war. Perhaps women truly are better at identifying their emotions, while men suffer in silence.

Cultural Sensitivity

When entering a foreign country such as Iraq in a time of war, American soldiers naturally expect to face a heightened level of resistance from not only insurgents but from local civilians as well. Clearly the military focuses much of its attention on preparing soldiers physically for any confrontation they may encounter, arming them with plenty of weapons and gear. Though I feel more should be done, especially at this phase of the war, to educate soldiers about the Arabic culture and history. I’m not saying that they have to agree with their customs or way of life, but I do believe this information is absolutely essential in order to build peaceful relationships.

(Marine Cpl.) Jeff: "Almost every Iraqi soldier was pro American and most were Suni. They were elated that we were there not just for diplomacy but also for muscle. We took our chances with the water and had dinner with them Chai tea, falafel, goat… We’d even swim in the Euphrates River together. Acmed, knowing that I was catholic, as a parting gift gave me a bible, which shows tolerance and respect for another point of view."

In trying to infuse democracy into a civilization that already has a rich culture and deep history filled with mythology, literature, religion and the arts, it’s important not to lose sight of our intent. Geographically civilization was born in the Middle East and to see it looted and crushed undermines our cause. Yes we may be determined and have the motivation to liberate an oppressed people but should never confuse integrity with authority. “America must approach the world with a sense of purpose that is anchored by its ideals, a principled realism that seeks not to remake each region in our own image, but to help make a better world.” (Hagal, Chuck, 2006)

Three Kids

“Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal”
(Dr.Martin Luther King, Jr.)

Prologue
September 12, 2001

I was driving home
I had the radio off because I needed a break from the news
Like everyone else at that time, I needed some quiet time
To reflect

I knew this would get complicated very quickly
The new president, recently appointed by the Supreme Court,
Needed to silence his critics and claim legitimacy
And 19 terrorists had just handed him a blank check

Was he hiding South Dakota?
Or did Cheney send in there
So he would not be in the way?

Either way, I knew that once he came out of his hole
He was just enough of a cowboy to get suckered into this bar fight
And why not? He knew his kids were safe
Yep! This would get complicated very quickly

I noticed a boy, about 12 years old
Standing on the sidewalk in front of his house
Holding an American flag
Wearing an army helmet and camouflage khakis
He was saluting to cars as they passed
The people in their cars would blow their horns, salute, and wave
This brought a look of joy to the boy's face
A look normally associated with ice cream and new bicycles

As I drove past him I did not blow my horn, wave, or salute
I just frowned
I watched in my rearview mirror as he threw down the flag
And stomped back to the house
I imagined him saying,
"Mommy, Mommy…that man doesn't want to play"

As I write this, I realize that that little boy
Is now old enough to serve

Thank You President Bush
(A poem inspired by a picture of a young Iraqi boy in a car holding a sign which reads, "Thank You President Bush")

Dear President Bush,

I am a young Iraqi boy
Who prides myself not only on my vast knowledge
Of politics and world leaders
But also on my command of the English language
And excellent penmanship as illustrated by this sign I made
All by myself

Thank you for liberating my country from that evil dictator Saddam Hussein
A million Iraqis were killed during his 20 year reign
You are a much stronger leader because you were able to get a million Iraqis killed
In twenty five percent of the time

I know in my heart that those people would have gladly given their lives
To further your cause, whether it be to find weapons of mass destruction
Which did not exist
Or to capture terrorists who were not born here, did not train here, and did not live here
Until after you invaded

But my heart is filled with joy because I, and the 80% of my family who is still alive,
Look forward to a free Iraqi government
Which should be formed any day now

And do not worry about the 4.9 million refugees you created
Our homes were not nice like your ranch in Crawford that you had built
During a political campaign to help Southern voters forget
That you're actually a rich Yankee from Connecticut

Like your mom said about the refugees from hurricane Katrina
Who had to live in a football stadium in Texas,
This will probably work out better for us
Especially for the 190 refugees you let live in your country

Remember what I always say
Americans lives are more important than Iraqi lives
And US security is more important than world stability
Keep fighting the good fight!

Sincerely,
The little boy with the sign who does too know what it says!

Epilogue
Amy

Coincidentally, the first show she acted in
Was the first show I directed
And don't even remember why I chose her
Out of the dozen or so who auditioned
Maybe her voice quality, hair color, or even her height
But I soon found out she was the hardest working 15 year old in community theater

In spite of no budget, a lazy stage crew, an inept production company,
In other words, a typical community theater production,
The show and Amy were great
At the cast party I was playing the typical pissed off director
Angry at the company for giving so much support to the cast party
And so little to the production

At the end of the night, Amy gave me a big hug and thanked me
She told me how hard she worked but how it was all worth it
I saw how proud her family was of her
And how much it meant to both her mom and her dad who were recently divorced
The anger I was harboring melted away
From a hug from a little girl
She taught me that art doesn't have to be polished or elaborate to be meaningful
Sometimes it just has to be done

Coincidentally, we met again years later at Boston's South Station
Amy told me that as a flight attendant she had the opportunity to visit Amsterdam
And the house where Anne Frank, the girls she portrayed in our play, hid
During the war
She asked if I would direct her in a two-person show she wanted to perform
Theatre people always say stuff like that but it usually doesn’t happen
But I really hoped that this one would

Coincidentally, she was working on the second plane
That crashed into the World Trade Center
Six years, two invasions, millions of lives, and billions of dollars later
We still haven't caught the alleged perpetrator

But I guess I'm missing the big picture

A poem written by Alexis Alleman

Here is a poem inspired by my conversation about our class with my friend, who is a wife of a marine in Iraq currently. I thank her graciously for adding to our blog:

A Poem on How Theory Does Not Translate to the Mind

The brain thinks the trick is to keep the body busy

That the body follows the mind

And cathartic experiences are expressed through paintbrushes and paper cut out hearts

It thinks (through logical summation)

That the whole is the sum of its parts

Arm, foot, ear, mind à body

All in one

And when things go wrong, the brain doesn't wish to be somebody else

It simply thinks that sometimes

sometimes

...it'd be better if things were different.

The brain thinks. Its good at that.

And so (fully satisfied with itself)

It passes alerts from neuron to neuron, from synapse to synapse

Because it has an announcement to make:

We will now commence with making a heart.

The body responds. Its good at that.

Scissors in hands, drawings on papers, tongue hanging delicately out the side of the mouth.

Endless hours of painstaking research on to just which heart to make

And carefully, gently

Like a baby, it all comes out

"Today is February 17th. There are 82 more days" the brain says

And the body responds: there are 82 hearts (research and popular opinion has shown that taking them out one by one each day signals to brain that things are getting smaller).

Its getting smaller.

Risk is getting smaller.

Synapse to synapse, neuron to neuron, we begin typing a poem, counting calendars, making beds, watching TV.

The brain knows the body can be numbed.

Arm, foot, ear, mind

But the mind is not so easily fooled.

Some think it's the heart that knows, but its really the mind.

The mind understands that 82 doesn't go away with paper hearts but actually with the passing of time

And time does not always feel particularly friendly.

Sometimes, the mind thinks the trick is to plan and imagine

And then it also knows that there is no trick

The mind knows this is a poem and it is not cathartic.