In my December 1967 Jane Addams Jr. High School Language Arts class, there was a mimeographed newsletter titled Pearson’s Progress – the teacher being Miss Pearson. I was assigned to write an editorial about the recent demonstrations. These being demonstrations against the Vietnam War. My favorite lines by the 8th grade me is, “What good is a Peace rally that causes fighting?” And, “…what good are these Peace marches doing? Are they gaining PEACE?”
The opinions of the effect of the anti-war protests is mixed. Did the war end sooner? How did these activities impact the election? Did it change anything. Of course, it changed everything, but we can’t say precisely from what to what since we cannot know the outcome if they had not happened. Many of those protesting the “establishment” became the new establishment. Some continue to be true to their politics and emotions about governments and the world.
What I still cannot reconcile, for myself, is how yelling and marching and violence changes anyone’s mind. A few years back I was lucky to be able to listen to Congressman John Lewis speak at Amazon. He had done so much in his youth, said so many words, marched so many marches, survived so many fights, and carried all of that into the seat of government to make his mark on time. Yet here we are, still fighting, still yelling and, to me, still not making progress.
In my notebook, titled Words, there is a poem written on August 14, 1985. I made a note on the page called “Background,” where I listed what drove me to write. 520 killed in a plane crash. That was a Japan Air Lines crash. A faulty valve caused a chemical leak that only injured and did not kill. However, chemical leaks have been a demonstration-worthy issue over the years. This one is odd – I said, “People mugging cars so to speak on Miami freeway.” That must have been carjacking, but on the freeway? I noted that “I felt pain at the inhumanity we all suffer day to day.” This was not a bad time for me. It was a time of new love, good employment, being happy in my own home, and generally satisfied.
Yet, still, somehow, what was going on in the world made me notice. Much like today. Except, now I marvel at how the more things change, the more they stay the same. I’ve read books about, and set during, World War II. Major inhumanity. Recently read novels that referenced goings on in Russia and not a lot to love there. Especially enjoy my Russian friend sharing that this Marxist nonsense is why she left Russia to become a US Citizen. One recent read, Deep River, is a novel about many things Northwest related, but especially current is the incursion of the Wobblies. Another attempt to divert capitalism to something that, on the outside, looks more humane. Lot’s of yelling, marching, destruction, and killing then as well.
The talking, the marching, the anger, the violence, and everything that makes a protest must be for the giver, not the receiver. I cannot see that it changes hearts and minds today any more than it has in the past. These protests address the symptoms and the outcomes, and not the reason and the causes. These make no fundamental change, except sometimes to innocent lives and livelihoods. It seems that only through the passage of time and the evolution of thought can infinitesimal changes be made, and we hope that most are to the good. A friend pointed out, though, that the suffragists (I learned this week that Suffragette was a diminutive and diminishing word men used to demean the cause) succeeded. Yes, they did, showing that it takes a group representing over 50% of the population to be involved in the change. Can we muster that in this fractious world? Fifty-three years ago, I was questioning. Thirty-five years ago, I hoped for more. Today, I mostly wonder.
With all of that, as I referenced in 1985, as background, here is my untitled work.
There is a pain of loneliness in the world – it separates us each from the other.
When great tragedy occurs we overcome it and the great soul cries out together.
The pain is strongest when there is the least to mourn for.
How I long for the days when
together hand in hand
all men, women and children will be together as one.
There will be no fights, no one trampling the rights of others, no more ignorance of others’ lives.
For only when we see each other, feel each other’s lives and really know
What is in the world Only then will this pain be gone,
Loneliness gone and we can touch. Touch the heart of our fellow man and walk together in the joy of love.
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