Archive for 'Larger Forces at Work'

I was never Patriotic

December 7, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

I was never “Patriotic“.

 

Even as a child, the early morning classroom ritual of repeating the “Pledge of Allegiance” struck me as empty. I could’ve repeated those words in my sleep (which was NEARLY the case anyhow).  They became abstract sounds with all potential meaning lost to me… like so many other rituals demanded of children.

By high school in the late 1960′s, The Pledge continued in our classrooms, but I refused to participate. I stood during the ritual but would not repeat the words nor place my right arm across my heart.  It was The Times… initially the mere Fashion Statement of a young, sheltered, counter-culture wannabee, but, as I approached military draft age, my refusal was a serious gesture with as many real consequences as I was willing to face:  BOTTOM LINE – the real threat of death in a far-away jungle for a cause I could not support.

Viet Nam slowly came and went “without” my direct participation.  None of us were left untouched, but I wasn’t forced to deal with the draft issue by joining, leaving this country, going to prison, or becoming a Conscientious Objector. For that, I’m grateful.  (I DID leave the U.S. during those years, and it was due to The Times, but only because I was sick and tired of what I saw and how I felt about it.)  And, I had friends who never had the chance to return Home.

Over forty years have passed. Those years had nothing to do with issues of Patriotism. My days were centered on my careers, my art, my daily life and my relationships. My personal version of “patriotism” was feeling love for, and a willingness to defend, the important parts of my life.

By now, on Pearl Harbor Day 2011, my self-chosen education has increased a hundred-fold, and my feelings are broader and hold much more gratitude for those who made possible my freedom to grow up at an admittedly slow rate.

 

 

Pearl Harbor:  seventy years ago today.

 

 

 

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Cruising at the Proper Speed

December 5, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

The weather CANNOT get any prettier than it is today. FALL is, by far, “MY” season. Especially early and mid Fall. It always, ALWAYS has been.

I have deep, cellular memories of loving Fall as a child… no doubt even as a baby. It vibrates at the same rate as me – not just in how it appears, but how it sounds, how it smells, and how it feels. It encourages me to calm down. It’s the time of year when I go for the most walks; sit outside with a cup of coffee; nap in less familiar places; think more about the past and the present both; and feel a little sad, but appreciate it. I hear the scrambling toenails of squirrels in our trees; I smell the fallen leaves dying; I see the sun setting in a new place; I feel the warmth of the day soaked into all things, while the air gains a chill.

I love Fall.

It’s time to plan ahead for my hibernation. The firewood still needs to be acquired, there may be a small insulation job that could be done, a coat of wax on the car wouldn’t hurt… but mainly I just want to cruise at the proper speed, so to speak.

 

 

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The Canary in the Coal Mine

September 26, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

I recently previewed an auction filled with the unsold inventory of one, possibly two antique shops that have failed in the region.  Anymore, I see this way too often and I know I am not immune from similar pressures.  I look over some of their ex-inventory and wonder “What were they thinking?”, but I know the answer: they weren’t.  They weren’t thinking.  They were reacting.  It’s a constant battle for antique dealers – all of whom began as collectors – to deny their emotional reactions, local biases, and outdated anecdotal business experiences.  When I move too fast, I too am vulnerable.

There are things in my store I purchased for those reasons – and shame on me.  I make mistakes, I suck them up.  But, it hardly frustrates me – it is the price of education.  What DOES frustrate me is when I’ve acquired very good pieces in top condition with historical validation already built in … and they remain a) invisible to the eyes of an uneducated audience, or, b) beyond budget for the others despite the fact I may have the item priced at half or one fourth the current market value (as determined by respectable books, actual auction results, my experience, and reliable world wide web sources).  When it comes to antiques / design / art like this, I price them so ANYONE with the knowledge and intent could resell them at a profit with little-to-no lag time.  THAT is where I position myself within the hierarchy of cost.

I’m well aware sales are slower because of the “current” economy (which, for me, has meant the last 9-10 years.  I AM the “canary in the coal mine.).  And yes, Virginia is very conservative and generally uninterested in the history of their living century, but [when the economy was better] those of like-minds were fervent patrons.

We’re all feeling this economy – and the economy is the result of beliefs, decisions, and behaviors by people… people who hold power we do not.

 

 “I can afford anything in here.”

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A Bug Speaks to Me

September 20, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

 

I’m at work. The fact is, WHERE EVER I am, I’m at work.  It’s all I do.  Anyhow, the day is cool, sunny, dry, and breezy. The Fall colors are just now hinting at their future when more leaves will be on the ground than on twigs, rattling along the pavements and piling up in quiet whirlwind corners of buildings. I’m still seeing more green than yellow, brown, or red. I’m going to pretend Fall will arrive and not pass.  I love Fall.

I’ve been at it four hours now – starting at home – equipped with my thermal mug of coffee.  I’ll go hunting – “antiquing” – perhaps make a good “find”.  Imagine your income being reliant on the sales of things that are no longer MADE – and you must track them down. If someone 20 years ago told me I would even TRY doing this as a career, I would’ve laughed my coffee right onto his shirt.

On the other hand, as a kid I wanted to be an Archaeologist.   There’s not much difference from what I now do… the bones are just fresher. I LOVE fossils.  They are almost magic to me.  When I see and hold a fossil, I feel the huge distances in Time, the immense Changes, the massive Extinctions, but also the singular, personal death.

I have a collection of unimpressive (small) but amazing insects caught in fossilized amber. They are one hundred percent intact. Twenty million years ago a bug was flitting along… la la la… not bothering anybody… landed on a tree, and SPLUT!, its feet were stuck to sap running down the trunk… the sap took its own sweet time… and never let go… dragging the bug deeper into the golden goo, encasing it perfectly, without damage, without the violence of most bug deaths… allowing me, all these eons later, to hold it up to light, and see it once again – appearing as fresh & untouched at it did then.

A simple bug, from twenty million years in the Past, is speaking to me.
If THAT isn’t close to Magic, I don’t know what is.

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“Life ain’t fair. End of Discussion.”

September 19, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

Ah… The Good Old Days…

You shoulda been there...

Prop up Your Feet, Cross your Arms, Close Your Eyes,
and Remember Back to the Glorious Daze of the 1960′s….

…When you’d go for walk on a sunny summer day
in the Land of Free Speech and be tear-gassed, locked up,
beaten, or shot by your own police & military if you spoke out?

Yeh, THOSE were the Days, my friend. 

We thought they’d never end.

Remember when we didn’t have email or anything, and we loved our
phones because we could call anyone we wanted from the comfort
and safety of our home… even while those lines were tapped by
the FBI listening for subversive language like “I don’t think
Viet Nam is a Just War!” and “18 year old citizens

MUST BE ALLOWED TO VOTE

if we’re also told to kill for America!”

Remember?

Mmmm, Simpler Times...

…when everyone agreed on what was proper appearance,
and, if your sideburns went below the ear lobe, your
skirt went above the kneecap, or your skin was
a wrong color, you were denied your public
school education until you got back in
line and stopped disrupting things?

I miss not having to think…

Remember when it was just simpler
to not fuss over sexual abuse or rape,

and let the family
go on uninterrupted

without all that embarrassment?

I sure do!  I mean, what could you do about it anyhow?

I miss those daze…

Remember when those great old cars got 8 miles to the gallon,

had no seat belts, airbags, or anti-lock brakes, and the very
BEST coming from Detroit (“It’s Ford!  No, it’s Chevy!”)
didn’t get tossed to the junk yard until maybe as much as
50,000 miles!! … but gas was 25 cents a gallon?  Everyone
could go out driving all the time!  Remember the people who
were killed on our roads?  Sure, I miss my friends and family but

cheap gas and “classic” cars were great!

It was Fun, Fun, Fun!

Good memories.  GOOOOD memories!

How about when we used to laugh and call our cigarettes “Coffin
Nails” but didn’t know ANYONE who was dying of lung cancer?
Did we?  Or like when we called cigarettes “Fags” and would
then cruise the parks at night looking for “Queers” to rob
and beat to a pulp?  And how about when “pulp” was
something you didn’t want in your orange juice,

so Mom got the latest-n-greatest modern version

of an orange-ish colored liquid?

Gosh, I wish I could go back….

Remember Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin,
Tim Buckley, Nick Drake, Brian Jones…?
I do wish they hadn’t killed themselves, but
what the hell, they were great while they lasted.

Remember John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Robert
Kennedy?  Okay, I wish they hadn’t been killed, but they
did some great things for little while, huh?  Boy… back
then you never knew WHO would die next!!   WOW!!

God those were exciting days!

Remember that old song “The Ballad of the Green Berets” and our
duty was to serve America’s flawless goals?  They were, right?

Okay, it was a bummer to hear another friend was Killed

or Missing in Action, but that’s the price of… uh…

you know…

Stuff. 

I miss President Nixon.  I miss leaders who’d sweat in front of
the camera and you knew they were lying.  I miss the egos
who would tape record their chit-chats about their own
illegal activities.  They made corruption simpler.  Life
was simpler.  Upsetting American Life was simpler.
Denying American soldiers proper aftercare was
much simpler than honoring our promises.
It saved dough, and with the gas crunch
and inflation, THAT was a good thing!
Hey … we should keep doing that!
Good ideas don’t go out of fashion.
The Bottom Dollar is still the Bottom Dollar!

Remember when “Life Ain’t Fair” was all you needed to say? 

I do.

Good days… GOOD ole’ daze.

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On the 10th anniversary of 9-11-01

September 8, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

Enough chit chat.

 

 

 

A recent survey revealed that 30+% of Americans could NOT remember what YEAR the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon were instigated.

 

That disgusts me.

 

Sunday is 9-11. I don’t need to tell YOU it was 10 years ago. You are here, and you can read. It’s the other 30% about whom I worry, everyday.  I intend on watching the 3 documentaries I own of the events on 9-11-01. It’s 4 1/2 hours of film footage. It will be a long evening.

WHY do I do this? I’ve been wondering, because I don’t enjoy it…

Why? Because I don’t want to forget, and I don’t want to lose sight of what ignited this last phase of Middle Eastern war. It has become a misguided, side-stepping, displaced set of aggressions. People in New York are suing the E.P.A. due to illnesses caused from breathing the dust of fallen buildings. Our soldiers are dying in Afghanistan and Iraq. We are glancing over at Iran…
Had we stuck to what we really needed to do – NEEDED to do – which was find all the killers AND their cohorts – and eliminate THEM – and NO ONE ELSE – we would have lost less world esteem, fewer American lives, fewer Afghan and Iraqi lives, and billions of dollars would be here at home. If THOSE killers were dead – we would be moving ahead in an entirely different fashion. We wouldn’t be in-fighting and out-fighting with sad, substitute aggressions.

===

Soon after the event, I wrote this:

“Monday, September 17, 2001 12:52 PM Six days after the attack.
Subject: “Smoldering Rubble”

My friends,
Having the INTENSE need to express myself the last few days, I tried to “organize” my feelings & thoughts into words, paragraphs, and themes with a beginning, middle, and end. You know, make myself intelligible. I failed.
Instead, I send you a few personal layers of smoldering rubble, which I’m trying to grasp and identify:

- I never thought we were safe…nor did I think we were so vulnerable.
- You can feel it everywhere you go. People are sharing the sadness, and yet, also ready to SNAP – at the wrong person, an insignificant action, a misdirected emotion – and make things even worse. It is a time to be careful with our fellow citizens.
- I have always been disappointed in the low level of security at our airports. The Israeli model is sensible.
- I have mixed feelings about the Media. Their intrusions are often coarse and disgusting – especially with innocent people that DESERVE their privacy. Yet, we live in a CULTURE, and this time our CULTURE was attacked, and we need to experience it as thoroughly as possible.
- What we decide – especially about terrorism – and WAR – is quite dependent upon our what we absorb and interpret through these days.
- After the Space Shuttle disaster, there were CREEPS that immediately began producing “humor” about it. I’ve seen NONE this time, and I hope I don’t.
- I resent the media’s Warholian repetition of images and sound bites – which eventually become emotionless, and then entirely abstract. I detach from that which originally brought me close. How many times can I watch a plane full of people slice into a building full of people, before it is just a plane and a building, then a video product, then a series of background shapes moving in now familiar patterns, like a LOGO? Perhaps, since I know better, I am angry at myself for reaching that point.
- I’m a “Baby Boomer”. I was born after World War Two, wasn’t conscious for Korea, and was very much against the Viet Nam War. This is the first time in my life I have felt “ready” for War. It is not a feeling with which I am comfortable.
- I tried listing ways to be of help in the emergencies. I decided I was more a hindrance than anything, and would be of most use just staying the hell out of the way – so that stronger, faster, healthier people could do something of real, immediate value. I am irritated with my body. Yes, with age can come wisdom, but there is a downside that I can’t deny.
- I am embarrassed by any American that has shown anger towards other Americans, simply due to ethnic appearance. Faced with the situation, I will not passively allow it to continue.
- I am grateful to each person that fought against Germany, Japan, and Italy in the 1930′s and 40′s.
- My Father was never willing to describe his experiences in WWII. He died with his secrets. I think he would now discuss those years with me.
- My definition of “Hero” has now been personified in fire fighters that run into a building as others run out, and, any of the high jacked plane passengers that chose to fight and die – sooner than later – for the sake of strangers ahead in another targeted building.
- I had a dream last night. I was watching video clips of people committing suicide by jumping off the World Trade Center buildings, before they were burned alive. Of course, this really happened. To my surprise, the Media has shown very little of it to me. I’m afraid my blank spaces are requiring they be filled with the Truth.
- Eventually, the site of the World Trade Center will need to be covered over, as was the Federal Building in Oklahoma City, acknowledging it as a mass grave.
- September 11, 2001 will be for the younger generation what November 22, 1963 is for me, and December 7, 1941 is for my Mother.
- Members of “Generation X” have often lamented to me that they don’t have huge markers for their lives – no World War, no Great Depression, no Viet Nam, no Woodstock… My response has always been “You don’t want markers like that”.
I ask them now: “You have your marker. How does it feel?”

—

Soon after the event, I also wrote this:

“October 16, 2001:
I was never “Patriotic”. Even as a child, the early morning classroom ritual of repeating the “Pledge of Allegiance” struck me as empty. I could’ve repeated those words in my sleep (which was NEARLY the case anyhow), and they’d become abstract sounds, with all potential meaning lost to me… like so many other rituals demanded of children.
By High School, in the late 1960′s, the Pledge continued, but I was now refusing to participate. I stood during the ritual, but would not repeat the words, nor place my right arm across my heart. It was The Times… At times, merely the Fashion Statement of a young, sheltered, counter-culture wannabee, and, as I approached military draft age, a serious gesture with as many real consequences as I was willing to face.
Viet Nam came and went “without” me. None of us were left untouched, but I didn’t have to deal with the draft issue by leaving this country one way or another. I’m grateful for that. I DID leave the U.S., and it was partially due to The Times, but only because I was sick & tired of what I saw, and how I felt about it.
Nearly 35 years have passed. Most of those years had nothing to do with issues of Patriotism. My days were centered on my career, my art, my daily life & relationships. My personal version of “patriotism” has been feeling love for, and a willingness to defend, the important parts of my life.
Today, for the first time in my life, I bought and displayed an American flag on the front of our home. My history makes this a moment of some ambivalence, but mainly it just feels right. Feels. Right.”

—

“Every December 7th”

December 7, 2003:
December 7, 1941.
62 years ago.

Most of us reading this now weren’t around then, yet I think about that day each year as it comes by. It was truly THE defining moment for my parent’s generation, as JFK’s assassination was mine, and the terrorist attacks of 9-11-01 probably are for the next.
There’s no way to evaluate which moment had a larger impact on those who were hit by it. That’s too personal. Yes, my parents (still in high school), and their parents (my grandparents), were aware of Hitler’s aggressions in Europe (though no one seemed to take his book “Mein Kampf” all that seriously), and there was constant debate about U.S. involvement in “the war over there”. (Italy and Japan were lower on the list of concerns.) So THAT wasn’t a surprise. And, IF you kept up on politics, you would’ve known we were pushing the Japanese to the edge with boycotts and blockades. You might have surmised something from that. Yes, the attack on the Pentagon and World Trade Center was a shocking and deadly event, but terrorism was not a new concept to the world at large, and we knew we weren’t winning any popularity contests. And yes, the Presidential assassination was awful for many reasons too.
And no, I’ll never forget them. I don’t WANT to.
When I try to find the common thread in these events, it’s NOT the VIOLENCE, because we’re informed of violence every single, solitary day – from local to international levels. It’s not the SCALE of the events, because we learn of mass population slaughters, starvation, and contagious diseases in one country or another on a regular basis. Nor is it in the WAY these people died, for other ways are equally horrendous.
What it IS, is US. US in the U.S. We, as a people, have been involved in a lot of violence, but most of it happens in other places – not OUR place – not within the territory nor the living memories of our Story Tellers, the History people. They’re gone now. There’s no one left to speak to us about the Civil War or Manifest Destiny. No “eye witnesses” remain. It’s “just” History.
Violence hasn’t vanished. Groups of our people have faced and still face it to this day. The difference is the “WE” – the “US” – on “OUR TURF”. This was what made Pearl Harbor a turning point. It was on “OUR” Naval base, even if not in our country. It was OUR President, and OUR city of Dallas. It was OUR Pentagon, OUR airlines, OUR Twin Towers, OUR New York City, and OUR people.
The thread is: our false sense of security – our “bubble” – which was burst again – and we’re not used to that. It doesn’t happen often. It seems like each generation gets their one big shock.
Bless this country that I could grow up in an Indiana neighborhood in the 1950′s, without as many of the daily fears that kids carry inside them now. Bless the days that I COULD take COMPLETELY for GRANTED…as though I was born into the magic… as though I had the automatic RIGHT to assume such a life.
That’s NOT how it happened.
As I played in the sandbox, raced my bicycle, or hiked in the woods, all the adults in my neighborhood – at least those that survived World War II – silently carried the physical and psychic wounds of 20 years of Great Depression and World War that wounded and destroyed millions. Had THEY not done what they had to do, MY life, and YOUR life, would not resemble ANYTHING like what we’ve known, probably assumed, & appreciated them to be – to this very day.
Bless those adults.
Most of us have had the luxury of being dilettantes in a gritty, real world that never lets up. So carry your “marker” – the Assassination, the Terrorism of Sept.11 – for they are valid. But understand: they stand out due to contrast, and we remain privileged.
THIS is what I think about every December 7th.

—

“Saddam likes Frank Sinatra”

December 14, 2003:
Okay. Saddam Hussein’s caught. “We got ‘im”. Good. I’m glad.
For the first couple of hours on television this morning, the facts were disseminated (even if with terms like “spider hole”, “rat hole”, and “hovel”), and I listened closely. I want the facts. But, once you’ve given me the facts, say so, tell me you’re now going to repeat those facts, and stop trying to keep me with you.
Don’t get baroque… and I don’t need to be entertained.
NOW, everyone on tee-vee, running out of new facts but wanting to keep the audience, has begun waxing poetic, philosophical, psychological…”What would you say the proud people of Iraq, with their rich past, are now feeling and thinking, as they learn about the U.S. capture of their Evil Ruler?”
“We’ve begun to see a lot of violence, since the announcement. We can’t tell if the Iraqi people are retaliating or celebrating due to Hussein’s capture…”
Yeh, we REALLY understand these people, and have a good grip on what they want, need, & will accept. Yeh.
Did you know that little Saddam was abused as a child? I didn’t.
Hey, you know who I haven’t thought about in awhile? That old dude in, uh, was it Afghanistan, Iran, or Turkey? The guy hiding in caves…what was his name? I’d forgotten about him, what with all this Iraq business. How long’s it been since those two buildings in New York City were destroyed, anyhow? You know when I think of those buildings? When I see ‘em during the opening of old repeats of the “Friends” tee-vee show.
Did you know that Saddam liked Frank Sinatra and Johnnie Walker?
I didn’t.
~
—

(The following are 9-11-01 memories of my Cousin Connie:)

“September 11…
Wow… I was at work very early (like 7AM), working on the internet and email. Suddenly, about an hour later, the net went bizarro… slow.. weird.. then my IM popped up with a message from my friend Laurie from Philly.
“TURN ON THE TV!!! PLANES HAVE CRASHED INTO THE WORLD TRADE CENTER IN NYC!”
My mind was confused. A plane had crashed into the Empire State Building in the early 1940′s due to bad weather, was this the same thing??
I ran into our multi-purpose room and turned on the TV…smoke, destruction, flames, shock.
I grabbed the phone.. who do I call??
I called Mary.. who now lived in Sioux Falls SD.
Mary USED to live in NYC.. she worked for Citicorp as a VP. She was making a call at the World Trade Center the FIRST TIME the extremists tried to bring it down. They used a truck bomb in the basement parking garage to try to blow up the building. Mary had to walk down 92 floors trying to breathe, trying to see, trying to survive. She was in the hospital for nearly a week due to lung and eye problems.
Her first item of business after being released from the hospital was to tell her boss she wanted to transfer. WHY?? Why the hell not! She told him she would NEVER again be in a building where the Fire Department could not reach her in an emergency. Citicorp had a processing center in Sioux Falls SD. The tallest building in Sioux Falls was 12 stories. She demanded the transfer. To hell with corporate climbing! She just wanted to LIVE!!! When I called her she was already crying. We watched and cried together for over an hour. She kept saying ” I TOLD everyone they would not stop until they destroyed it. They want us dead.”
I pulled the TV into the main part of the library and left it on. People staggered in and out all day, not talking, but just needing to be with other people. It was nightmarish. Then the plane hit the Pentagon. I got scared. My friend Sue from high school was a long-time civilian worker at the pentagon. I tried to email her, but nothing. I emailed her at home. Nothing. I tried to call her at home. The lines were blocked. I was so afraid she was dead. Three days later I got an email from her. She was safe, but the area where she worked was destroyed. She was on the other side of the Pentagon, doing someone elses job that day, because someone had called in sick. Her boss was killed, her office was destroyed. She was working from her garage at home for the foreseeable future while repairs were made.
Then the planes stopped flying. A week of no planes, no contrails, no noise. I think that scared me more than anything. In my entire life, there had never been a day when no planes flew. They even had the National Guard out at the South Bend Airport WITH GUNS!
To add to this weirdness, my son Rusty had won a trip to the Mexican Rivera to a golf resort. He was scheduled to fly down the day they lifted the NO-FLY provisions. The travel agent must have called him 1000 times that week: it was on, it was off, you cant take golf clubs (they could be used as a weapon), you need all kinds of new paperwork, etc. He was nervous, I was nervous. He and his buddy (who had also won the the trip) drove to Chicago O’Hare at MIDNIGHT and slept on top of their luggage for an 8am takeoff. At 2 am, the bomb sniffing dogs came in. Then the drug sniffing dogs came in. Then they were individually searched (down to their underwear), then they had to open their bags and unpack everything and even squeeze out toothpaste (plastique) and turn on computers and cell phone(timing devices for bombs). Then they searched the empty airplane. Finally at 9am, they were released for the FIRST FLIGHT after the no-fly ban. Scared? You betcha!
Rusty said through the entire process (2am to 9AM) no one said a word. No one complained, no one objected to ANY search. Everyone knew it was for the common good. When airborn, the flight was so quiet. People kept writing letters home ” just in case” and handing them to the stewardess.
When they landed in Mexico, the resort had sent a bus to pick everyone up. They even had booze, but no one wanted it. They just were freaked out. Rusty said it was the lousiest week of vacation he had ever had. The return trip was better (only 3 hours of searching rather than 6 hours!), but it was a nerve-wracking week for everyone. When he walked in the door, we fell on each other like we had been apart for YEARS, not a week. We were both emotional and stressed. 911 was now HERE, in South Bend, and we were there. He still has trouble talking about that flight. He still has problems flying. He used to LOVE to fly, especially in private planes. Not any more. He takes nothing for granted.
Connie”

—

(The following are memories from my friend Genny)

“”September 11, 2001 was a gorgeous early fall day here in Eastern Virginia. The sky was a spectacular blue, the humidity was low, and the temperatures were mild. Joanne was 3 years old; I dropped her off at day care around 8:30 and drove up to my library office about ten miles away. Things started to become surreal shortly after 9AM. One of my staff members had the CNN website up on her computer, and it showed what appeared to be a small plane that had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers. Pretty soon it became clear that it was not a small private plane but a jumbo jet. The web became more and more difficult to surf as news sites crashed under the weight of users trying to access them. Telephone service became spotty (Brent’s number at William and Mary rang a fast busy), as did email access. Eventually, we set up a television in a large meeting room so staff members and users could have a glimpse of what might be happening. I know I saw one of the towers collapse live on the Today Show. I remember Katie Couric reporting that she had spoken with someone in the building who said, “We’re f-ing dying up here.”
I received a call from a colleague based in Rhode Island. He told me a weird story about a plane that had crashed somewhere in Pennsylvania. Somehow I also caught wind of another crash at the Pentagon. It started to feel like something was working its way down the Eastern seaboard, and it struck me that this area might be next. We’re a “first-strike” zone with Norfolk Naval Base and a host of other military installations nearby. I knew that if something awful were to happen, I would not want Joanne to experience it without her mommy close by. So I just left the office.
As I drove down the highway with radio reports playing, I kept thinking what I was going to tell Joanne. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to frighten her unnecessarily, either. When I arrived at her daycare center, her class was in the midst of naptime. I hung out for a while in the infant room, enjoying the companionship of the babies and their caregivers. We exchanged tidbits of things we had heard; it was clear there were a lot of rumours flying around.
As usual, Joanne finished her nap long before her classmates. I hugged her and took her out in the hallway to collect her things. I distinctly remember her saying in her enchanting little voice (a combination of baby timbre and clear articulation), “Mommy, why are you here so early?” I took a deep breath and told her “Joanne, there’s been a terrible accident in New York City. Two big buildings have collapsed. Lots of people are hurt very badly, and some of them have even died. Grown ups like me feel awful about it. I came to be with you so I could feel better.” She considered this explanation for a moment and asked me three unforgettable questions. “Mommy, is New York City very far away?” I answered yes of course, deciding there was no point in bringing up the Pentagon. “Were there any children in those buildings?” I said no, assuring her that the buildings were places were grown-ups went to work. It’s just as well that I didn’t know about the onsite daycare that was safely evacuated. Finally, she said, “Were there any ladies there with babies in their tummies?” I still marvel at that one. I told her that I really didn’t know but I very much hoped there weren’t. Gosh love her, the longer I think about it the more I see that she was making a very logical attempt to assure herself that she and her little peers weren’t in any danger.
We left the center and I took her to Target to buy the Disney Little Mermaid Barbie she had been wanting. She was delighted, and I felt better. If only for a little while.
–Genny”

—

“9-11-01 x 5″
(The following is an exchange of thoughts between myself and good friend James, over the subject of 9-11-01):

As I said I would, over the last three nights I have watched the three films I own about the September 11th, 2001 attacks.
Each one has a different feel. They were made from different bases: Two French documentary film makers following recruits for the NYC Fire Department; the assemblage of hundreds of personal documents made by civilians; and, the events as experienced through the newsroom staff at CNN.
They are SO different, if it wasn’t for the images of the Twin Towers and the dust covered avenues, I’m not sure you would recognize they were all about the same event.
I don’t think that’s bad, I just think it’s more reliant on interpretation than I had expected.
So goes History. It’s not only a patchwork quilt of moments (and by implication, those left out), but various viewpoints on the moments themselves. As time passes, the quilt WILL shrink and fade… as fewer people need its confirmations and symbols. The entire quilt will then be used as a piece in the larger quilt…but this too will shrink and fade. And it too will be sewn into the larger quilt.
So goes History.
For now, for me, this IS one of the larger pieces of my small life, and it matters to me, as it does many others.
Ronn.

—

Ronn,
As I told you, I am still awaiting United 93 to arrive in my mailbox. It didn’t come today, so my guess is it will arrive instead on Monday. How apropos.
My fiance and I discussed why she would not watch the film with me. Her answer was that she already knew how it would end and she didn’t want to watch a movie about people dying. Furthermore, she wasn’t really sure she was ready to watch a movie about a subject so fresh in her memory. She finally agreed to try and watch it, but didn’t promise to make it through all of it.
As she and I were discussing this, I was busy downloading something I’ve had for a long time now, but never in its’ full form: the Howard Stern show from 9-11-2001. Surprisingly, he stayed on the air the whole time while New York was in a total state of disarray. For one day, he found himself completely out of his element. It begins as a typical Stern show; he degrades an obese woman who sues a New York hospital for being unable to provide her with an MRI, promises lots of naked women in the studio, and about 2 hours into it, begins telling a story about kissing Pamela Anderson.
He, his crew, and a caller are discussing whether or not he could have “closed the deal” when he interrupts, saying: “I hate to interrupt this story, but I have a breaking news story. I mean, this is real important news, so I have to read it. Apparently, a plane has just crashed into the World Trade Center.”
For the first few seconds after that announcement, there is shock, disbelief, and confusion. What size plane was it? How bad is it? The towers and the Empire State Building have been hit before; is this terrorists? Was it an accident? Howard doesn’t know, but he says, “You know, I’m auditioning for Dan Rather’s job. This could be my ‘Dan Rather story’”, and goes back to more important matters. That’s right, whether or not he bagged Pam Anderson.
Moments later, he mentions the accident to the caller. The caller says, “WHAT? You’re kidding! They’re right outside my window! Let me look! OH MY GOD! They’re on fire! And I mean not some little fire! The whole thing is in flames! Oh, uh, I gotta go to my roof and see this! I’ll call you back!”
At this point, everyone on the show decides they should turn on the TV and watch what’s going on. While they watch, there is more talk of terrorists, discussion of who’s in the building, the size of the hole, how the fires will be put out, and, of course, Pam Anderson. Nothing really earth-shattering. And then, they see the same image many of us had the grave misfortune of seeing that day. The second plane hits Tower number 2. A sound of collective shock hits the airwaves and Howard yells, “Oh my God, we’re under attack! We’re under attack!…We’re at war.”
Panicked phone calls begin coming in.
“It’s them towel-head bastards!”
“Howard, what’s going on? All the news channels are completely out!”
“This is chaos! It’s like Armageddon.”
“We should bomb everyone, and I mean, EVERYONE who opposes us.”
They go back to the TV around hour number 3 of the program, just as the first tower collapses. I jumped a little further, only to find myself at a point in the program as the producer read a statement about people jumping out of the towers to their death. At this point, I absolutely, positively had to stop listening. I felt like throwing up. Shortly thereafter, some jackass decided to go drag racing down a nearby street. The squealing of his tires, the roar of the engine, and the sound of him peeling out scared me so much that it reminded me of the last time I had a scare like that. Shortly after 9/11, at about 3 in the morning, I was sitting downstairs alone in my apartment. All of a sudden, a set of jet fighters roared overhead. It sounded like they were flying just inches above my roof. This was completely new to my neighborhood. They never circled around, but for the next few minutes, I kept waiting to hear explosions in the distance.
I was 21 years old when all this happened. I was living alone for the first time in my life. Was I scared? Nah. I was young, stupid, and incredibly cynical. I was watching the media exploit another story. I mean, how many times was I going to see the towers fall as they went to commercial? How many times were the planes going to crash into the buildings? And when the flags began appearing in the background of the footage, who were they trying to fool with this “Rah-rah-sis-boom-bah-USA-USA-USA” mentality? (The countless tribute specials, flag merchandising, T-shirts, footage of government officials singing “God Bless America” etc did not help.) I asked why we were so special. Things like this happened all over the world, sometimes for days, weeks, months. And the fact that my roommate, whom I now believe to be sociopathic, was saying things along the line of “I’m glad this happened” didn’t bother me. I have a homemade DVD of footage from that day. Wanna guess how many times I’ve watched it since making it? That’s right…zero. When all was said and done, it was just another day.
I watched the CBS 9/11 documentary with a slight interest. Perhaps the most shocking thing I noticed was that profanity was being allowed on TV before 9 PM. Five years later, people are now calling for the profanity and some of the more shocking images to be edited out of the film. Does anyone else recall when they asked the same thing of a certain Spielberg film when it made its network TV debut? Seemed absurd to me then, seems absurd to me now. Sometimes profanity is necessary.
So here I am, five years later, faced with United 93. I was hoping I’d get a chance to view it on or before 9/11. If the mail system works in my favor, I’ll have that chance. I’m going to have to bolster myself for this like I never have before. Schindler’s List was the first dramatic film I saw in my then 15 years of life. When I left the theater, I observed people crying, shaking, openly weeping. I was in no way connected to those events, but I walked out
knowing I had seen a very powerful film. If done correctly, I realize United 93 could bring things out in me that I’m not used to. I may cry, I may want to scream; even now, my stomach is doing knots thinking about it. My head is spinning, my palms are sweating, my heart is beating as if it wants out of my chest.
I’m not sure what changed within me in 5 years to make me afraid to recollect a moment of my past. But, for the first time in my life, I understand that I HAVE to see this film. Ready or not.
James

—

James,
Your memories and thoughts on 9-11-01 are very thoughtful and elegant.
You’re older. Now you’re understanding that your fears are grounded in real possibilities, and, there but for the Grace of God or Pure Dumb Luck, YOU could’ve just as easily been one of the people who faced the 2 choices: burn to death, or, jump from 100 stories high. You now understand that you, and everyone you love, are equally vulnerable, and the lesson isn’t to stay out of New York or tall buildings – the lesson is it happens anywhere at any time for any reason, and you may become one of the members of that moment.
You’re not just older, you’re much more mature, and you’re one of the most honest people I know. Honest people aren’t just honest with others, they’re honest with themselves. You acknowledge your flaws, but you work at change. I can see that you’re going to lead an honest life, with your nerves more exposed to pain and pleasure. You will see more…so, you will also feel more. You’ll like it & you’ll dislike it. You’ll feel more for yourself, and for others. You are now leaving the confines of your ego more often.
I can’t tell you where your path will lead, or what the inevitable obstacles will be, but I CAN say you WILL be faced with decisions about how many walls to put around your sensitivities, and all I can suggest is you try to avoid building them as often as possible. You’ll only look back wishing there were more doors – that you’d FELT MORE – good AND bad.
Recollecting your Past is something adults do differently than children. Children use the Past as a reference source for the Present, and only later, the Future. Adults begin using the Past not only as that, but as a gauge, a scale, a clock, a measure of Righteousness. Have you used YOUR TIME wisely? Have you added to the quality of Lives, have you the time to change, to correct, to turn a glimmer into a habit? Your mortality has arrived wearing fewer masks.
If you’re anything like me, this phase will also shift. I’ve come to a place where I accept much more as being too complex and needing too much time and energy for me to manage the change – especially by myself. The daze of my wanting to adjust the world purely through my individual Will, are over. I see the Inevitable, and I accept – only sometimes with sadness – the Inevitable. You’re being revisited by your increasingly detailed ideas about Death.
I have seen hundreds or thousands of photos and films of THE moments of death over the last couple of years. It’s part of the World War II study package, you could say. It’s unavoidable. In the last few days, as I’ve watched the documentary footage of 9-11-01, I see those people caught high in the buildings responding to their situation in various ways also. Some made final calls to loved ones, and said their good byes. All the messages I have heard were about Love. Some left messages, bluffing about their status, as an attempt to comfort those who would survive…
Aside from the brave fire fighters & police who had a much deeper understanding of the circumstances and CHOSE to face their almost certain death, we now know, through testimonies, there were civilians inside the buildings who hung back, trying to get the elderly, the handicapped, the overweight, the children, the hurt out first. We know that these people died horrible deaths – by choice. I have also seen film of the pedestrians outside running along NYC streets, trampling over those who have fallen… and trampling over those who have stopped to help the fallen.
I have seen the footage of Jews and Slavs digging their own graves, then passively kneeling in front of the Nazis, so they could be shot in the head & fall conveniently into their own dirt holes. I have read about the groups who refused to cooperate, and instead chose to attack the weapon laden soldiers with bare hands and their last breath of energy …sometimes harming no one, sometimes killing a few Nazis before being killed themselves…sometimes managing a few escapes – to fight another day with the Resistance Movement. I have read about Flight 93, where many of the passengers decided to fight back, attempting to save the innocent others ahead, from another jet crash attack. I have seen the photos of concentration camp members who ran to their intentional deaths on the electrified fence.
We have choices on how to Live, and sometimes, how to Die. I honor those who make the Ultimate Choice for the chance to not only remove an Evil, but help an Innocent survive.
We’re going to die anyhow. The real choice, if given one at all, is HOW.
Ronn.

—

“Referring to 9-11-01 in 2006″

I don’t know what YOUR plans are in relation to five years having passed since the date of the attack, but I have been collecting documentary videos of that day, and intend to view them all on this anniversary.
I know the media will be showing lots of footage, but it will be abused with stupid commentaries, useless interviews, unnecessary filler, and unintentionally surreal advertising. I don’t want that experience. I DO want to give this moment in our history the attention it DOES deserve.
True, they are numerous events in the 20th century. You might want to add to my list. I have made every effort to keep it as significant and unexaggerated as possible. I’m focusing on only those monumental and devastating events I see as affecting the majority of our population in serious, numerous, lasting ways:

• 1917: OUR entry into World War I.
• 1929: The start of OUR Great Depression.
• 1941: The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor – OUR entry into World War II.
• 1945: Our completion and military use of two atomic bombs to end WWII with Japan.
• 1963: The assassination of our president John F. Kennedy.
• 1968: The assassination of American leaders Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King.
• 1969: The first Moon landing.
• 2001: The successful mass murder of Americans, by Muslims, in New York City, Pennsylvania, and Washington D.C..

I share personal scars from 1963, 1968, and 2001. I don’t try to hide them, and I acknowledge them publicly.

—

“The Traffic of Suicides”

Saturday night, I watched the 2002 film “9/11”. This is the French documentary that follows a few rookie fire fighters through training and their early weeks on the job in New York City. It is THIS camera duo who, by pure ugly “luck”, filmed the planes hitting the World Trade Center buildings (which is footage you probably saw). It was also these two men, the Naudet brothers, especially the one assigned to follow the departmental Chief, who entered the Center and kept filming, while the top floors burned, and the buildings were headed towards total collapse. This is NOT Oliver Stone junk. This is the REAL thing.
They would capture the last images of many frightened, doomed, determined, brave fire fighters. My heart aches when I see these shots, my anger reminds me it does not dissipate, and I, again – with a renewed sense of awe – keep these people in mind as THE DEFINITION OF HEROISM.
These men KNEW there was little chance of returning once they began climbing up those stairwells in full gear, with an extra 60 pounds each on their backs, and thousands of people rushing down the stairs in a panic, and none of the 80 elevators working (in fact, those shafts became the conduit for explosive, ignited fuel to shoot all the way to the basements, making each floor explode from the pressure) – they KNEW. You can see it on their faces.
To get up, it would take them a full minute per floor. They faced 78 floors of climbing before hitting full fire and complete devastation… or at least that’s how it appeared at the moment.
Meanwhile, paper, glass, metal, fire, and body parts rained over the streets and rooftops of N.Y.C. for blocks. People were suffocating in the smoke. With the camera crew in the lobby of one building, you hear a slow, constant rhythm of HUGE, explosive bangs just outside… which are people jumping to their deaths – their bodies hitting cars, streets, overhangs – average people choosing this over burning – some jumping together – co-workers – hand in hand. In fact, the bodies were soon falling at such a fast rate, that firefighters and others who were now told “MAY DAY, MAY DAY!! EVACUATE!!!!” needed to wait inside for police, who were standing on the outside, to signal WHEN they could run out of the doomed building, so no one was killed by those people smashing to the ground from eighty or more stories up.
The police were directing the Traffic of Suicides.
This is 120 minutes of inspiring behaviors and personal sadness brought about by the Evil of those killers.
I WILL NEVER FORGET.

—

Finally, I wrote this:

“Yesterday was a day in which I gave no time to studying World War II books or documentary films.
I spent most of yesterday, my day off, viewing and reabsorbing the hours of documentary films I have on “9-11″ – WTC, Pentagon, and United Flight 93 airspace attacks.
Here’s how I feel about reviewing it: it’s a double-edged sword. If it wasn’t for the medias, we wouldn’t be nearly as informed as we are and we would seldom see evidence of any event. This is the good edge.
The other edge is the edge that removes the edge. The medias, in their rush to compete for an audience, will repeat and sensationalize and repeat and up the ante and repeat relentlessly – until we are all numb from the blitz.
Upon a first viewing, a person trapped 80 stories up in a building and waving for help – only to be left with the hopeless choice of burning to death or jumping to death – is beyond powerful. It is their Ultimate Truth. Most of us don’t ever FACE such a final nightmare like that. We cling to splinters of Hope in the face of every challenge. We think of reuniting with our Loved Ones. We think of Home, and our Past, and our Plans for the Future, and THIS IS NOT THE TIME to die! We have learned that this energy alone is the Force which gets us past the challenge and forward into our lives….but not for these people…and it’s on film for us to see.
See it too many times…and that person becomes a dot of colors in a dark rectangle with gray & black movements exiting against the blue backdrop. See it too many times and those colors become the inconsequential grain of a much larger shape. See it too many times and a poet might wax it into a huge granite tombstone symbol as existential cruelty of the human race. See it too many times, and the historian will finally shake her head and say
“Thus it was, is, and shall ever be….” Shrug.
I don’t want this to happen to me. Yes, I can’t help but think these things, and I don’t try to eliminate them. I DO try to keep my humanity specific and heart felt. THAT person called (or tried to call) those s/he loved – tried to comfort them – tried to say goodbye with a little bit of Grace in a completely chaotic Earthly Hell.
I remember the media blitz. I remember going numb. I also remember shutting the medias off when I “felt” the lack of feeling.
“TIME” can do the same thing to you… TO you.
I watch because it’s the only way I can honor their lives…by revisiting their horror…and by not turning away when they jump, or start up the stairs on a doomed rescue mission, or stay behind, reaching into the flames, helping others out first.
I watch because I don’t want to forget… and “forgetting” doesn’t have to mean it’s out of my head. It can mean having no feelings about it anymore. “It was a bad time… sure… but I’ve got things to do… and anyhow… thinking about it won’t bring them back. I mean, watchya gonna do, huh?”
You’re going to either file it away as something in your Past that isn’t any fun to think about, or, you’ll pull out the file, go through it, and do more than remember… you’ll FEEL. Those dying in Afghanistan and Iraq are FEELING, and no matter how you want to read the tea leaves of Politics, people like you and me are exploding into “pink mist” everyday with 9-11-01 as a major U.S. cause for reaction.

 

There but for dumb luck or the grace of a god go you, and you, and you, and me.

 

I REFUSE to take that for granted or let my memory go numb.
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I REFUSE.

 

 

 

2 Comments

I gotcher “Shoe Bomb” ri’chere, Pally!

August 31, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

Remember the guy who got on a plane with a bomb built into his shoe and tried to light it?  Did you know his trial is over?  Did you know he was sentenced? Did you see/hear any of the judge’s comments on TV/Radio?  Didn’t think so. Everyone should hear what the judge had to say.

-

Ruling by Judge William Young U.S. District Court
_________________________________________________

Prior to sentencing, the Judge asked the defendant if he had anything to say. His response: After admitting his guilt to the court for the record, Reid also admitted his “allegiance to Osama bin Laden, to Islam, and to the religion of Allah,” defiantly stated “I think I ought not apologize for my actions,” and told the court “I am at war with your country.”  

Judge Young then delivered the statement quoted below, a stinging condemnation of Reid in particular and terrorists in general.

-

January  30, 2003, United States vs. Reid.

Judge Young:

“Mr. Richard C. Reid, hearken now to the sentence the Court imposes upon you. On counts 1, 5 and 6 the Court sentences you to life in prison in the custody of the United States Attorney General On counts 2, 3, 4  and 7, the Court sentences you to 20 years in prison on each count, the sentence on each count to run consecutive with the other.  That’s 80 years. On count 8 the Court sentences you to the mandatory 30 years, consecutive to the 80 years just imposed.  The Court imposes upon you for each of the eight counts a fine of $250,000 for the aggregate fine of $2 million. The Court accepts the government’s recommendation with respect to restitution and orders restitution in the amount of $298.17 to Andre Bousquet and $5,784 to American Airlines.  The Court imposes upon you the $800 special assessment. The Court imposes upon you five years supervised release simply because the law requires it. But the life sentences are real life sentences so I need go no further.                                                        

This is the sentence that is provided for by our statutes.  It is a fair and just sentence. It is a righteous sentence.                             

Let me explain this to you. We are not afraid of you or any of your terrorist co-conspirators, Mr. Reid. We are Americans. We have been through the fire before.  There is all too much war talk here. And I say that to everyone with the utmost respect. Here in this court, where we deal with individuals as individuals, and care for individuals as individuals. 

As human beings, we reach out for justice. You are not an enemy combatant. You are a terrorist. You are not a soldier in any war. You are a terrorist. To give you that reference, to call you a soldier, gives you far too much stature. Whether it is the officers of government who do it or your attorney who does it, or that happens to be your view, you are a terrorist. And we do not negotiate with terrorists. We do not treat with terrorists. We do not sign documents with terrorists. We hunt them down one by one and bring them to justice.                                      

So war talk is way out of line in this court. You are a big fellow. But you are not that big. You’re no warrior. I know warriors. You are a terrorist. A species of criminal guilty of multiple attempted murders. In a very real sense, State Trooper Santiago had it right when you first were taken off that plane and into custody and you wondered where the press and where the TV crews were, and he said you’re no big deal. You’re no big deal. 

What your counsel, what your able counsel and what the equally able United States attorneys have grappled with and what I have as honestly as I know how tried to grapple with, is why you did something so horrific. What was it that led you here to this courtroom today? I have listened respectfully to what you have to say. And I ask you to search your heart and ask yourself what sort of unfathomable hate led you to do what you are guilty and admit you are guilty of doing. And I have an answer for you. It may not satisfy you.  But as I search this entire record, it comes as close to understanding as I know. It seems to me you hate the one thing that is most precious. You hate our freedom. Our individual freedom. Our individual freedom to live as we choose, to come and go as we choose, to believe or not believe as we individually choose.                          

Here, in this society, the very winds carry freedom. They carry it everywhere from sea to shining sea. It is because we prize individual freedom so much that you are here in this beautiful courtroom.  So that everyone can see, truly see that justice is administered fairly, individually, and discreetly. It is for freedom’s sake that your lawyers are striving so vigorously on your behalf and have filed appeals, will go on in their representation of you before other judges. We are about it.    Because we all know that the way we treat you, Mr. Reid, is the measure of our own liberties. 

Make no mistake though. It is yet true that we will bear any burden, pay any price, to preserve our freedoms. Look around this courtroom. Mark it well. The world is not going to long remember what you or I say here. Day after tomorrow it will be forgotten. But this, however, will long endure.  

Here in this courtroom and courtrooms all across America, the American people will gather to see that justice, individual justice  – justice, not war, individual justice is in fact being done.  The very President of the United States through his officers will have to come into courtrooms and lay out evidence on which specific matters can be judged, and juries of citizens will gather to sit and judge that evidence democratically, to mold and shape and refine our sense of justice.                                                                   

See that flag, Mr. Reid?  That’s the flag of the United States of America. That flag will fly there long after this is all forgotten. That flag stands for freedom. You know it always will.                          

Custody, Mr. Officer.  Stand him down.” 

 

 

 

 

That’s the ticket.

Ronn.

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Go ahead. Define “Nostalgia”.

August 21, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

“The Good Old Days – The Holocaust as Seen by Its Perpetrators and Bystanders” (edited by Klee, Dressen, and Riess, 1988-91).  This book is created from the compiled reports and diaries of those who did and/or watched the killing.”)

So you understand – the title of this new book, “The Good Old Days“, was taken from the scrapbook of someone involved in the killings.  Think about that.

 

I’m eighty pages in.  Some of it is already familiar to me, but
much is not only new, but so graphic (in words) it’s really
awful.  (There ARE photos, but they are of poor quality
because they were taken quickly.  It was ILLEGAL to
photograph the mass killings.)

Two types wrote the detailed, terrifying descriptions:

Those who enjoyed it, and, those who hated it.

Also included are original “data sheets” of how many males
versus females were killed per day/per location.  These too are
terrifying in their cool, bureaucratic “distance”.

One of the editors gave me an out-of-body experience in his intro.
To almost THE word, he said something I’ve been saying for most of
my life.  I quote his first paragraph:

“This is a horrible book to read, and yet one that should be read -
not in order to revive old enmities (after all, it has been compiled
by Germans and published in Germany), but in order that we do
not forget the most somber lesson of the Second World War:
the fragility of civilization, and the ease and speed with
which, in certain circumstances, barbarism can break
through that thin crust and even, if backed by power
and sanctified by doctrine, be accepted as the norm.

He uses the word “crust”.  I use “veneer”.

One thing some of you might not know is that the mass
killings were often NOT done by the Germans.  They took
advantage of the existing hate in local communities, and
allowed them to volunteer for the dirty work.  The Nazis &
German military saw this as very efficient for their goals.

It:

- unified the locals of each country with the Germans,

- saved on ammunition (locals had to use their own
guns, clubs, tire irons, etc.),

- saved on time, physical and mental wear & tear on
their own German soldiers,

- provided “evidence” of German non-involvement to
the medias who, (along with the Allied military forces)
were slowly discovering these events.

One of the IRONIES is that the Germans had such a driving
fetish for documentation, they even documented the causes
for not documenting things.  It’s one of the most ridiculous
(almost laughable) aspects of their cultural psyche.  (This
made the post-war investigations & prosecutions much
easier for the Allies.)

Black Forest through the Trees…

 

 

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It’s Twosday. We can’t seem to get it right.

August 7, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

 

 

 

It’s Twosday.  Makes sense.  Day Two of the work week.  The Sumarians discovered it.  The Chinese concocted the cheap, fake version that caused so many deaths.  The Russians made a no-nonsense, ugly version that always broke down, so the Italians made it much more beautiful than was necessary but it always broke down too.  We just can’t seem to get it right.  I think I’ll stay home.

 

 

 

 

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Swinging beautiful children by their arms and legs

July 29, 2011 by Ronn Ives, under Larger Forces at Work.

It’s a serious phenomenon, this contemporary, radical version of Islam, and we (as a world community) ARE repeating the WWII story by behaving in an identical manner to how we tolerated and rationalized Hitler and his Nazi violence for nearly a decade before we finally acted.  He KNEW he had to pace his atrocities… which would allow us to make excuses for our lack of involvement, allow us to organize our peace / isolationist movements, allow us to drag our economic heels about producing the machinery of war.  We nearly cost us the war.  We nearly cost us our way of life.

Had Hitler been stopped early, millions upon millions of lives would’ve been saved.  Instead, we tried to pretend it was not our problem, or it wasn’t a real problem at all, or if we just funded the current victims it might be enough, or if we sent in ambassadors they could fix things or at least stall him, or …  or … until all the ORs were gone… along with 72 MILLION [mostly innocent] people.

Apparently we learned little or nothing from that horror.  It looks like WE will be an embarrassment to our future generations… if they are allowed to read.

 

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