THE DEAD WE DARE NOT SPEAK
or see. or remember.
Cindy Sheehan, before she turned into a parody of
herself and a caricature of her cause, placed rows of white crosses, each marked
with the name of fallen American soldier, along the side of a road in Crawford,
Texas. War supporters whined and moaned and complained -- not about the deaths,
of course, but about the memorials -- and then some yahoo plowed
through the crosses with his pickup
truck.
Nightline, before Ted Koppel and Tom Bettag left the show a shadow of its former self, devoted a broadcast to the names and photos of the first 721 brave American soldiers who lost their lives fighting in Iraq. War supporters whined and moaned and complained -- not about the deaths, of course, but about the memorial -- and the jingoes at the Sinclair Broadcast Group ordered its ABC stations not to air the telecast.
Jeff Heaton, after visiting the Vietnam Veterans Memorial three years ago, decided to plant some white wooden crosses on a hillside near his home in Lafayette, California, as a way to honor our fallen soldiers and to remind us of the true costs of the war. Before too many war supporters whined and moaned and complained -- not about the deaths, of course, but about the memorial -- some jingo-yahoo came along and vandalized the display.
Earlier this month, three years after his first attempt was foiled, Mr. Heaton and some helpers began the project anew, planting several hundred white crosses on that same hillside, beneath a sign that counts the number of American dead and declares, In Memory of U.S. Troops Killed in Iraq. Anyone want to take a guess at what some war supporters are doing?
Whining. Let's honor the troops the right way, says Lyn Zusman, who did not suggest what way that might be. Don't do it for shock value.
Moaning. The display is a travesty, says Jim Minder, who is apparently more disturbed by the white crosses he can see than by the flag-draped coffins. The display's creators, he adds, are despicable and morally bankrupt.
Complaining. I do not consider this a memorial, says Lisa Disbrow, whose son will soon be leaving for the war and, we hope, someday returning from it. I am appalled. This hillside is painful.
That's right, Lisa, that hillside is painful. Do you know why? Because war is painful. Because death is painful. Because sending young women and men like your beautiful 22-year-old son to fight and die in Iraq for a cause that is now lost and that, truth be told, was never really found, is painful. It is excruciating. It is eviscerating. That you are appalled by it and not by the war that necessitates it or the administration that produced it suggests that you need to spend a little more time considering not just the memorial but the pain behind it.
And you're right, Jim, the display is a travesty. It is a sad and grotesque reminder of a sad and absurd and increasingly ludicrous campaign that has managed to destabilize a nation and quite possibly a region while killing thousands of Americans and tens of thousands of Iraqis. And its creators are despicable and morally bankrupt. But they do not reside in Lafayette, California. They reside in Washington, District of Columbia.
And you're right, too, Lyn. We should honor the troops, the brave American soldiers living and dead, the right way. The best ways.
I have a few suggestions.
Let's whine and moan and complain about the people sent them to Iraq, not the people who want to bring them home. Let's whine and moan and complain about the people who killed them, not the people who memorialized them. Let's whine and moan and complain and cry and scream and rend our garments not because these memorials exist, but because they must exist. Not because people are compelled to name and honor the dead, but because politicians are compelled to supply them. Not because we shouldn't have to think about these terrible losses, but because we shouldn't have to suffer them at all.
It seems to me an odd and untoward notion that a country at war should not be allowed to name or to remember or even to acknowledge its dead. But when we are not permitted to see pictures of the thousands of coffins coming home, when our God-fearing Commander-in-Chief refuses to attend so much as one military funeral, and when we are told every day by your government and its apologists that the course must be stayed (or not) and the war must be won (somehow) and the mission must be accomplished (again?), it is all too easy to forget that the same people who like to remind us that freedom is not free are the same people who refuse to let us see the bill. And so we need those names posted to a web site or pronounced on a television show, those white crosses hammered by a road side or planted on a hillside, to not-so-gently -- and yes, Lisa, quite painfully -- remind us that the only way to calculate the cost, the only way truly to honor the loss, is to listen closely, somewhere beneath all the bellicose whining and moaning and complaining, for the mournful silence of all those broken hearts.
Nightline, before Ted Koppel and Tom Bettag left the show a shadow of its former self, devoted a broadcast to the names and photos of the first 721 brave American soldiers who lost their lives fighting in Iraq. War supporters whined and moaned and complained -- not about the deaths, of course, but about the memorial -- and the jingoes at the Sinclair Broadcast Group ordered its ABC stations not to air the telecast.
Jeff Heaton, after visiting the Vietnam Veterans Memorial three years ago, decided to plant some white wooden crosses on a hillside near his home in Lafayette, California, as a way to honor our fallen soldiers and to remind us of the true costs of the war. Before too many war supporters whined and moaned and complained -- not about the deaths, of course, but about the memorial -- some jingo-yahoo came along and vandalized the display.
Earlier this month, three years after his first attempt was foiled, Mr. Heaton and some helpers began the project anew, planting several hundred white crosses on that same hillside, beneath a sign that counts the number of American dead and declares, In Memory of U.S. Troops Killed in Iraq. Anyone want to take a guess at what some war supporters are doing?
Whining. Let's honor the troops the right way, says Lyn Zusman, who did not suggest what way that might be. Don't do it for shock value.
Moaning. The display is a travesty, says Jim Minder, who is apparently more disturbed by the white crosses he can see than by the flag-draped coffins. The display's creators, he adds, are despicable and morally bankrupt.
Complaining. I do not consider this a memorial, says Lisa Disbrow, whose son will soon be leaving for the war and, we hope, someday returning from it. I am appalled. This hillside is painful.
That's right, Lisa, that hillside is painful. Do you know why? Because war is painful. Because death is painful. Because sending young women and men like your beautiful 22-year-old son to fight and die in Iraq for a cause that is now lost and that, truth be told, was never really found, is painful. It is excruciating. It is eviscerating. That you are appalled by it and not by the war that necessitates it or the administration that produced it suggests that you need to spend a little more time considering not just the memorial but the pain behind it.
And you're right, Jim, the display is a travesty. It is a sad and grotesque reminder of a sad and absurd and increasingly ludicrous campaign that has managed to destabilize a nation and quite possibly a region while killing thousands of Americans and tens of thousands of Iraqis. And its creators are despicable and morally bankrupt. But they do not reside in Lafayette, California. They reside in Washington, District of Columbia.
And you're right, too, Lyn. We should honor the troops, the brave American soldiers living and dead, the right way. The best ways.
I have a few suggestions.
Let's whine and moan and complain about the people sent them to Iraq, not the people who want to bring them home. Let's whine and moan and complain about the people who killed them, not the people who memorialized them. Let's whine and moan and complain and cry and scream and rend our garments not because these memorials exist, but because they must exist. Not because people are compelled to name and honor the dead, but because politicians are compelled to supply them. Not because we shouldn't have to think about these terrible losses, but because we shouldn't have to suffer them at all.
It seems to me an odd and untoward notion that a country at war should not be allowed to name or to remember or even to acknowledge its dead. But when we are not permitted to see pictures of the thousands of coffins coming home, when our God-fearing Commander-in-Chief refuses to attend so much as one military funeral, and when we are told every day by your government and its apologists that the course must be stayed (or not) and the war must be won (somehow) and the mission must be accomplished (again?), it is all too easy to forget that the same people who like to remind us that freedom is not free are the same people who refuse to let us see the bill. And so we need those names posted to a web site or pronounced on a television show, those white crosses hammered by a road side or planted on a hillside, to not-so-gently -- and yes, Lisa, quite painfully -- remind us that the only way to calculate the cost, the only way truly to honor the loss, is to listen closely, somewhere beneath all the bellicose whining and moaning and complaining, for the mournful silence of all those broken hearts.
Posted: Thu - November 30, 2006 at 10:55 AM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM