Friday, May 04, 2007

May Day. May Day. Tell Us The Mission (Accomplished) Tell Us The Mission (Accomplished) Tell Us the Mission. © copyright 2007 Betsy L. Angert. Please accept my apology for what might seem to be an oft, or for some, an overused video. Perhaps, my missive is my response, the reasoning, and rationale for my submission or an answer to the question. "What, exactly was accomplished?" Today, as I awoke, I was reminded of the date. The radio broadcaster shared the history of May Day and spoke of how the events of the past are playing out in the present. Workers are uniting as they have done for centuries. Americans are declaring their loyalty. Children are signing and dancing 'round Maypoles. Immigrants are gathering together showing their allegiance to the States, and George W. Bush is presented with a Bill to fund the war that he will not sign. Although, four long years ago the President proclaimed an end to the Iraq war, the combat continues. It worsens. Currently, the Commander-In-Chief wants no closing date recommended or imposed. He prefers the legacy of this protracted effort. You dear reader recall. It was May 1, 2003, a day that lives in infamy. It began as every May 1 has since man created the calendar. It was a day of reflection, realization, and of course, realities revealed. Americans were thanked and told, the Iraq war had come to a swift and welcome close. The President of the United States, standing aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln proclaimed his gratitude and relief. A large banner, not so subtlety placed, screamed, "Mission Accomplished." Commander-In-Chief, George W. Bush said . . .Admiral Kelly, Captain Card, officers and sailors of the USS Abraham Lincoln, my fellow Americans: Major combat operations in Iraq have ended. In the Battle of Iraq, the United States and our allies have...
Reflections of A Solitary Peace Protester Another time; another place, a long protracted war. © copyright 2007 Betsy L. Angert "Standing on the corner watching all the girls go by." I recall the tune; it rings in my head as I position myself at the intersection. I plunk myself there each Saturday pleading for peace. Today was the second time that I stood alone. The other protesters remained across the street. As I held up my index and middle fingers in the sign harmony, I thought of how I am not observing fancy, flashy, or forlorn females pass. I am interacting with my community. Men, women, the elderly, the young, and the middle age. I cannot tell who will acknowledge me or how they might react to my request for an early exit from Iraq, Afghanistan, or war. The exchanges may seem superficial and distant; we are not necessarily meeting face to face. However, when you are the sole person situated on a sidewalk, carrying a sign that speaks to love and not war, people look at you. They wave, smile, honk, or extend their fingers in a sign of triumphant tranquility. Tears well-up inside me as I experience the responses. As I hold my banner high and my digits higher, I work not to cry. I am often overwhelmed by my feelings. The public's response is inspiring. The whole has its effect; however, the parts consume me. The two young teens crossing the street declare, "If I had a horn, I would honk." They affirm their agreement. They want the troops out of Iraq and believe working together for a common cause worldwide is essential. The man riding by on his bicycle stops. He stays for a long time. This gentle soul maintains a physical distance; however, he is enveloped. His face glows; this chap...

A being that believes . . . "thinking is the best way to travel!" [Mike Pinder, Moody Blues]

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