Friday, April 24, 2015

War and Love: April 24, 1971

On this date exactly forty-four unabridged but evanescent years ago, I marched on Washington D.C. with something like one-half a million others to protest the war in Vietnam.

We ended up before the Capitol and Peter, Paul, and Mary sang out Blowing In the Wind to ask how many years. I know the answer now is just as long as there are years themselves

divided into moments like just why it takes so long to get my Triple Venti Half Sweet Non-Fat Caramel Macchiato when I ordered it before his Non-Fat Frappuccino with Whipped Cream and Chocolate Sauce.

And that's the order which is difficult to understand because it's not about the ignorance of others but the basic lie of what we think we are. Divided from the universal, we, the personal, are war itself.

I could make the argument the only reason why so many were protesting Vietnam was just the simple fact there was a partisan Selective Service System and we the commoners could end up within that horrid jungle.

On the other hand, Afghanistan continues softly on its fourteenth bloody year and everyone now knows Iraq was not invaded for the yellowcake. It wasn't war the protests had effected but who would have to fight them.

On the bus back home I met a girl who for a single short and holy season would become my first true love. I was of course so very young. Despite the Beatles' song we sang out loud while driving through New Jersey

on the way to Washington the night before, I didn't know it then but it’s not being in love, but being is love, and what we truly are. It doesn't take a single moment to discern it if I never think about it.



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