Month: May 2009

During broken pieces of this weekend, Kyle and I have caught splices of “Band of Brothers,” and last night, a Memorial Day concert from our nation’s capital. I verbally expressed astonishment at the bravery of those in Easy Company, but the portrayal of wars effect prompted Kyle to request a channel change. The concert included a tribute to Staff Sergeant José Peque?o and his family. The young man had about a third of his head blown off in Iraq and didn’t appear to have any awareness of why he was there. The story was more about the sacrifices his sister and mother have made in caring for him since his injury. He is one of 34,000 American soldiers wounded in Iraq. Nearly 5,000 have died, along with an estimated 100,000 Iraqi civilians.

In related news, and in the midst of the worst economic downturn in nearly a century, Raytheon’s profit rose 15% in their latest quarter. The company derives 93% of its revenues from building weapons, and is just one of many US companies that profit from conflicts all over the world.

I will never begin to understand the bravery of soldiers like those in Easy Company and Staff Sergeant Peque?o, nor will I accept the greedy motivations that in 2009, continue to make war a growth industry by placing them and thousands of other human beings in harms way.

I love the solitude of being in a flying tube with 200 of my closest friends crying, squirming and of course hacking Swine flu spray into the encapsulated atmosphere. A very cool thing on JetBlue are the little TV’s at every seat. I’ve got the LeoPod on shuffle, but that’s not stopping me from occasionally looking up for a little Maddy moment of “Dora” and “Boots” on Nick.

Real time shuffle report!

• Waiting for the Slow Songs – Sloan
• The Drinking Side – Lonesome Brothers
• Houses of the Holy – Zep
• When Doves Cry – Prince
• Daniel – EJ
• The Rover – Zep
• You Wreck Me – Tom Petty
• Mr. Undertaker – Angry Johnny & the Killbillies
• Wave that Flag – Bottle Rockets
• Elliott Smith – The Biggest Lie
• Adagio Divertimento, K.297 – Capella Istropolitana – Mozart Effect for Children
• Fuck & Fight – Varnaline
• Backstreets – Bruce
• Walken – Wilco
• Dear John – Ryan Adams and the Cardinals
• Alive – Pearl Jam

This flight will hopefully deposit me in Long Beach, Cal-ee-foh-nee-ah for the annual APA Conference. Actually, it would be cool if we ended up in Seattle where my pal Dave is for business and the APA isn’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with the APA… We see a ton of our customers at the show and it’s always cool to get their unvarnished views. Given the seismic activity Sunday and yesterday, I am a bit concerned about experiencing my first earthquake. There was actually a “big one” centered in Long Beach back in 1933, and while I dig a good sequel, I’d rather miss this one. I’ve not yet done the “what bands are in town” research, so maybe I’ll get lucky. I did rent a car for Friday and will head up to Wilshire Boulevard for a visit to the LA County Museum of Art once the conference ends at noon. That’ll help me kill the 8:55 before my red-eye leaves for home.

I’m flying to LA tomorrow. Well, Long Beach specifically. They’ve had 2 minor “tremblors” since Sunday in Laker-land. “Geologists say an earthquake capable of causing widespread destruction is 99 percent certain of hitting California within the next 30 years.” Not in the next 3 days though, right?

It was if I was watching a frantic movie thriller that had a few key frames cut out just when the killer was revealed. Before I could even add the “F” to “WT,” the credits were rolling of the Carolina Hurricanes celebrating a Game 7 win exactly where they put the Bruins: on Boston Garden ice. At fifty feet from the crime scene, I should have witnessed the execution, but the speed of NHL hockey sometimes defies the senses and Scott Walker’s rebound season killer eluded mine. Instantly, the hopeful, collective spirit that inflated the building for nearly four full periods expired into a vacuum of despair.

My rookie season of NFL fandom was 1969 when I watched the Bruins in the playoffs with my dad. The “Big Bad Bruins” of Bobby Orr, Phil Esposito and Gerry Cheevers swept Toronto in the first round, but then exited the tournament via the traditional “handshake line” through the Montreal Canadians. It seemed more like the receiving line at a wake. “Get used to it,” my Dad said as he turned off the TV.

This year’s game 7 ducat was courtesy of pal Jeff who scored the pass, but twin priorities for Jeff put me in Section 5, Row 6 for game 7. It was a great seat, just six rows from the ice at “the end where the Bruins shoot twice.” That’s an important consideration in a 3 period game. On this night unfortunately, it was the end where Carolina also shot twice. And last. Just before the wake.

What cinema runs through the eyes of your mind? Video killed the radio star, and our imaginative millions of blood fed celluloid tales we held conscious interpreting the music. Nevermind. Do they pass your mind? Flickering when fluoride hits your teeth or dark your eyes? Pictures of Lily, or some person you’ll never have? I had a woman living in my head like that once. Actually, several have squatted transient.

I ended up with her.
And down without her.

Images

The flags of my country and the Commonwealth I live in were blowing as nearly perfect rectangles against a background of sprinkle carrying stratocumulus. While my audio was processing the “Star Spangled Banner” as performed by a Fitchburg State College coed, the rest of my mind hobbled through an obstacle course of conflict.

In the recent past, fictional WMD’s leading to a real war, torture tales and the sickening greed of the entitled in this country have seriously challenged my faith in America as a “shining city on a hill.” Yesterday, however, the love scenes shone everywhere on an otherwise grey day. As announcements were read, a woman of my vintage signed them to a young boy in the stands. Wheelchairs were propelled by smiles. Many Fitchburg State College volunteers chatted with the athletes, offering praise and encouragement. The SpEd teachers organized and led their kids from event to event. Parents smiled. Some cried. One young man, upon seeing his mother and sister across the track, breached it to hug them just as a race was beginning. Nobody cared. The Special Olympics is about belonging more than competing and nobody lost anything. Everybody gained. Seeing the wonder in my son as he gazed at his medals is a moment I’ll never forget.

As the flag stood still I calculated all the love and effort expended to take care of special needs children, especially in this bluest of states, Massachusetts. I wondered with doubt, if most other countries took care of these “troubled and afflicted” the way we do. I briefly thought if red-states do. It hasn’t always been this way. An elderly family acquaintance once coldly uttered, “In my day, we used to put kids like Kyle away.” Thankfully, that day is past. It’s called progress, and seeing it on display yesterday instilled some much needed optimism in me about who we are.

“A troubled and afflicted mankind looks to us, pleading for us to keep our rendezvous with destiny; that we will uphold the principles of self-reliance, self-discipline, morality, and–above all–responsible liberty for every individual that we will become that shining city on a hill.”

Ronald Reagan, announcing his candidacy for President of the United States at the New York Hilton, New York, NY on November 13, 1979