FAMILY AND FRIENDS OR SOLITUDE


IT’S CALLED NON-CONVENTIONAL but on our own personal level, if you fall in that broad culture and it is a unique and historically significant tribe, especially in the arts and the military. Artists skip from creating to counting change, very few make a comfortable living. The Military are more unconventional than any other profession. I’ve tried to imagine choosing to fight our wars knowing I could be shot or tortured.

Do you think that not choosing the basics: family, friends and a comfortable living are enough? They are, now I know that.

How did this become my spotlight, like a bulb that flickered and whispered, you thought you knew more. Well, I didn’t and now I am adapting my fictional life to nonfiction. Beginning with: relinquishing luxuries, vacations, replacing outdated or broken furnishings, buying my favorite designer garments, and most important a monthly budget. Now instead of withdrawing from my savings account, I am depositing. Friends and family pose a more rigorous effort to the depts. I’m a loner. There is nothing glamorous or mystifying about this stain at least not for me, more like solitude for longer periods of time.

Photo by Philip Townsend. London 1964

As I watch and hear the interviews of Veterans, Gold Star Families, Military groups, former Iraq and Afghanistan Marines, Army, The Navy and Airforce, and the ones left behind because their hero was killed have one knot that holds them together, and it is their family, their comrades in arms and friends.

It’s raining, the tiniest little drops, like new bourns. The sky is a saddened muted white gray, like it’s in mourning. Hoagie Carmichael is singing Two Little People, simple lines that rhyme. Without music, and I don’t listen as much as I did a month ago, I’d be in bed today, it is a day for music medics to carry my pen where it sinks.

I was selfish, spoiled, and myopic, now I am awake to eternal gratefulness for being born American.

Trying not to watch the news as my heart needs a reprieve from Afghanistan. I’ve never appreciated, honored, respected, and loved our Military more these past two weeks. Do you know that feeling? What happens next? Eventually this presses to a USA attack.

Buck up guys and dolls and be a civilian soldier.

WORLD VISION


politics+cartoon+power+of+people
WORLD VISION
By Luellen Smiley

I made a list of the horrors, corruption, and confusion that dismantled the ordinary into extraordinary. The notebook is on top of my desk, on top of the entire works-in rewrite documents. All the other tributes to my success or failure are stored mentally; I have to look and hear the world. I am addicted to news alerts, commentaries, panels, and interviews. Along with the experts and analysts I listen to, my own voice and opinions are exploding.
I am not Charlie, Kayla, or Kyle’s wife. I am a writer of interior battles. My writing has never steered towards Politics. It is a freeway I never understood; a freeway my father told me at a young age was not to be trusted. A subject I avoided in college, and a topic that fumbled my thinking during my young adulthood rap sessions.
How faraway those years grow everyday. We chanted peace and love, in our kooky outfits, and our imaginative minds. I was full with Lennon, Dylan and Joni.

How much longer can I remain silent? There is a blockade of conversation about politics; it goes up like a digital wall, as soon as I meet a stranger. I was in La Posada Hotel the night the terrorists captured the Kosher Deli and Coffee House. I went to record by hand, the reactions of people I pick out very impulsively. A sort of lightning rod hits when I go into public and select my conversations. I may meet someone I have to write about.

No one had time to really absorb the truth of this historical moment. We may read, or watch the news, shake our heads, and then tuck our children into bed. I feel that our lives our complicated more with finances than any other single threat. Most of us just want to take a vacation. So what can they expect of us. Do we have a voice? Do we have a fax number to the Administration? Sometimes I dream of one representative in every state of the Union grabbing the microphone, and all digital devices, and shouting out, “Stop the war Republicans and Democrats!  IMAGINE IF WE WERE UNITED… JUST A LITTLE.

BOSTON BOMBS BACK


IMAGINE, if you were in Boston
On the day of the flare
and it fired your daughter
and you dived in the dare
Hell rises
and heaven opens
the souls are not lost
they are moments to bare
BOSTON, is the angel
that brought the fire to lair.