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Feb 28 2012 Mad Men: The Falling Man and 9/11

So this reporter asks me, under the guise of "I do not want to start a controversy where none exists," how I, one who lost someone on 9/11,  feel about the poster.

The first time I saw one of these posters it made me sick to my stomach..a little.

There was a day, that day, a crisp morning, when I stood beneath the towers taking photos on 9/11. I stopped when I realized I had just captured the image of a woman in a white dress, twisting down, down...I own that image in a way I detest. This was all before we knew that my nephew, Supreme Court Officer Mitch Wallace, was at the site; moments before the South Tower collapsed upon him and so many others.

I also, less frequently now, get nauseous when a low flying jet passes overhead. Living under a Brooklyn flyway lets me deal with this quite often.

If an advertising campaign (which I am now, I guess, a part of) evokes images of a horrid day, then so be it. I cannot stop the jets from flying low. I cannot stop images that remind me of 9/11 from being created.

I refuse to spend my entire existance looking through the lens of 9/11. There is more to me than grief and anger. I can only do my little bit to make for more peaceful tomorrows.

 

Feb 24 2012 Two conversations: Syrian Slaughter, Iraqi Bombings, and Iran

We stand in the cold drizzle and talk of Syria. The Lieutenant, a disabled Vietnam vet, is wearing his khakis, smoking his cigarette, and talking loudly of the cruelty of the Syrian government. I listen.

"They are killing women and children. The bastards. They're bastards, you know. These people should be hung. They don't even let the Red Cross in. No food. Nothing," he rants. He goes on for quite a while before I find a place to break in with some quiet assent, a word for the future, and a damp goodbye.

I don't have the heart to bring up Fallujah. Every day the Syrian slaughter reminds me of Fallujah, especially the assault on Homs. Fallujah has become a symbol to me of the utter illogical cruelty of our invasion and occupation of Iraq;  where we crushed the innocent civilians with every bit as much gusto as the Syrian government has mustered now.

---

Later I'm on the phone to Baghdad, and the news is not good.

"The neighborhood is closed since yesterday. We cannot go anywhere. The older children cannot go to college. We are trapped. Again. There is no hope."

"But there is hope in the future...the  young ones who are coming out of college," is my reply. It is also my hope.

He tells me, "This is a dead hope. I have been in Syria for 4 years before I come back now. Baghdad is not Baghdad. It is Iran. Even the cars that blew up yesterday are Iranian taxis. Everything is Iran here. Do you think these children can change that?"

"Do you know," he continues, "the government paid 60 million for their cars? 60 million American. Now they ride in safety in their armoured cars. They don't care for the people. Only themselves and all they can steal. This is Baghdad now."

The conversation shifts to the children and how they are coping with the madness around them. Little K has taken to biting. Each time he is upset, each time he hears a loud noise, each time he is angry he bites. Usually his mom, but anyone around is in danger. They don't know what to do about it, how to handle it, how to punish, reward, prevent...

The line is cut and I am in the rain again, or maybe it's tears.

Feb 22 2012 Condolences and Prayers: Does Homs Remind You of Fallujah?

RIP Marie Colvin and Remi Ochlik. We publicize the names of brave journalists killed in Syria. Let's not forget the many, many innocent civilians being murdered in the midst of the violence.

We remember when we were told that Fallujah had been evacuated before the shelling. We remember the students who arrived in Baghdad to tell the tales of the many who were left behind, unable to leave. Sure, the rich, those with transportation, those who fled on foot did escape the bombs. But what of the families too poor, too traumatized, too paralyzed to leave?

Hundreds for sure, perhaps thousands, died in Fallujah. The death toll in Homs is already over 400 [France News International], and the killing hasn't stopped.

Can you tell which is Homs; which is Fallujah?

 

Innocent civilians, as always, are paying the highest price in this latest violence in Syria. Does it matter who does the killing? The Syrian government? American troops? Violent resistors of tyranny? It's all the same to the daughter who loses her dad or the mother who loses her precious son.

We offer our condolences and prayers to the families of the lost innocents.

Feb 14 2012 Syria: The shame and the blame

It's Valentine's Day. This wonderfully commercialized holiday is RED. Red covers everything: boxes of chocolate and jewelry, Hallmark cards, and bouquets of roses.

The streets of Syria are red, too, but there are no flowers. Over 7,000 have died so far and there is no end in site. Indiscriminate bombing of Homs and other civilian centers intensifies; fighting dances around the edges of Damascus; arms and fighters flow in and the rich and/or lucky flow out.

The blame of it: It depends upon which media you read. It depends upon which pundit you revere. It depends upon which house you were born into.

We already hear the echoes of Iraqi voices in such statements as, "Yes, it was bad before, but I could go to the store and not fear for my life," and "Sure, we hated him, but it is NATO we really hate now."

I don't have any answers. Syria is internally split and the opposition is also internally split. They have no leader and the various anti-government forces are creating their own militias. Rumors of Al Qaeda, Iranian influence are increasing. The old "Syria-to-Iraq" path of arms and fighters has evidently been reversed.

The shame of it all is bigger than Syria. It is the shame of a human race that thinks it cannot resist the tyrannies of power that are so willing to use violence to keep themselves on top. Truth be told, the peace activist (just the activists, mind you, not the vast majority of peace-loving people) outnumber the leaders and operators of The Machine by at least a million to one.

The Machine depends upon our cooperation. Our taxes pay for the bombs. Our bodies are the soldiers. Our munitions manufacturers (and those that work for the military industrial complex; not just the owners) are critical to the oppression of freedom loving peoples.

The peace activists, if working together, could, in the manner of Gandhi and King, refuse to participate in large enough numbers so that we could halt The Machine.

The shame of it: We are as splintered as the militias of Iraq were; as the militias of Syria are; as [insert clever metaphor here]...

Happy Valentine's Day.