SOME THOUGHTS ON WAR

When I was a child, my mother frequently referred to “The War,” by which she meant World War II, the war she and my father had survived in Glasgow, Scotland. 

 

I did not know what war was, but I had a vivid imagination, or so my mother always said.  Here is what my four- or five-year old mind came up with:  I pictured two single-file lines of men facing each other.  The men at the front of each line would step forward and engage in a sword fight. (Why swords?  I have no idea.). When one fell, the next person in line would step forward.  If it rained, everyone would put on raincoats.  This would continue until one line was empty. The men remaining in the other line would “win.”  (A bit like the card game War, only more bloody.) 

 

I don’t remember when my early vision of warfare was replaced with something closer to the truth.  I was seven when Nikita Khruschev declared to representatives of several Western countries, “We will bury you.”  That was pretty scary. (Of course, I pictured the Soviet leader with a shovel . . .. )  I was almost 12 by the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Certainly, by then I knew enough to be terrified by the thought of missiles attacking New York City, which was only a few miles from my New Jersey home. Also terrifying was the dawning realization that our earth bristled with nuclear weapons, poised to wipe out whole nations.  I remember thinking – These weapons are everywhere, and no one asked if I wanted them.

 

The Vietnam War was raging while I was in high school and college.  I marched with others trying to convince our government to bring the troops home.  Before that war was over, around 50,000 American soldiers--my peers, and God know how many Vietnamese civilians, had been killed.  

Since then, America has been involved in two Gulf wars and a war in Afghanistan, and we have continued to arm nations all over the world.  

 

I am thinking about war today, as battles continue in Gaza and Ukraine and Congo and Darfur, among other places.  And as I think about war, here are some of the questions that come up for me:

 

What would I do to defend my family?

 

Is it different to defend a nation?

 

How exactly should we define “defense”?  Where would I draw the line?  (Our Department of Defense was called the Department of War until 1949. Was that more honest?). 

 

My parents’ city was bombed during WWII.  Should they have waved white flags and become German?

 

Is there a difference between self-defense and revenge?  

 

Is revenge still sweet if it leads to an endless cycle of violence?

 

Is it ok to go to war to rescue people who are being oppressed, imprisoned, or tortured?  

 

What about the fact that the military straightens some people out?  Gives them a career path.  Does this justify what Eisenhower called the Military-Industrial Complex?

 

What is a just war?  Who gets to decide?

 

What does it mean to have "rules of war”?  If we can come up with rules of war, can’t we come up with another way to sort things out?

 

Are we the only species that attacks itself?

 

Japan and Germany were our sworn enemies 80 years ago, and now they are close allies.  Can’t we find a way to skip the enemy stage and go straight to being friends?  

 

Candidates are vetted for military service.  Could we also vet them for compassion and diplomatic skills?

 

If we’re going to send young people to war, can we at least take care of them when they get home?  Mightn’t there be a need for some help with adjusting to civilian life after serving?  

 

Can we fully fund the VA before spending more money on military hardware?

 

Come to think of it, can we make sure everyone in America is fed, clothed, and housed before we build any more missiles?  

 

 

I don’t think I ever shared my early understanding of war with anyone.  As methods of managing conflict go, it may seem bizarre, but really, is it any more bizarre than raining bombs on civilians? Might it not be more efficient and less costly to wage war in the manner conceived by my childish self?  If we must go to war, could we maybe ask for a dozen volunteers from each side to engage in the sword fight, and have that decide the matter? 

 

Just a thought.

                                    Photo by Provincial Archives of Alberta on Unsplash

 

THE 100 THINGS

 

A few years back, I read the novel Asymmetry by Lisa Halliday.  Among other plot lines, it is the story of a romance between a woman in her twenties and a much older man, loosely based, or so I have read, on the real-life romance between the author and Philip Roth.  I liked the book, but this is not going to be a review.  Instead, I point to it only for one line. Here is how I remember it -- When it’s time to get ready for bed, the older man announces to the young woman that he must start to do “the 100 things.”   I found this line amusing when I read it.  Five years on, it is starting to feel a bit too close to home.  

 

Of course, I have always brushed and flossed my teeth, washed my face etc. before going to sleep.  So, why does this routine suddenly feel more onerous?  I guess it’s just I am a bit older than I was when I read the book, and by the time I am ready to go to bed, I am (surprise!) tired, and these simple tasks are an unwelcome roadblock on the path to sleep. Damn, I say to myself, I still have to do the 100 things.

 

So, I have cleverly taken to doing my ablutions soon after dinner.  I don’t know quite how to describe the pleasure it gives me, when, heading to bed later in the evening, I realize I don’t have to pause to do the 100 things.  As an added bonus, early tooth brushing discourages me from eating after dinner. 

 

Win. Win.

 

In truth, though, it is my morning routine that feels more like slogging through 100 things.  Before beginning my day, I again brush my teeth, then embark upon a series of stretches.  Go ahead -- ask me how much I want to do these stretches.

 

You guessed it.  I don’t want to do them at all.  I want to go downstairs and have a cup of tea.  Still, I spent too many years visiting my mother’s assisted living center to be able to kid myself that sitting still is a good approach to healthy aging.  

 

In addition to stretching, I walk most mornings, and, in summer, when the days will heat up rapidly, my walk must also be accomplished before breakfast. And then (again in summer), watering must be done early before high sun brings on evaporation.  

 

Before I know it, half the morning has been eaten up by the 100 things. (My husband , who has to swallow a bunch of medications, calls his tasks the 1000 things. As Bette Davis once opined, getting older is not for sissies.)

 

And while I’m counting the 100 things, let’s not forget the annoying tasks that seem to take up more and more of my time throughout the day, such as:

 

Paying bills 

 

Deleting, answering, and unsubscribing from emails.

 

Dealing with computer issues.

 

Waiting on hold, while trying to resolve computer issues.

 

Waiting on hold while trying to make medical appointments.

Doing laundry.  Folding laundry.  Carrying laundry up and down stairs.

You get the idea.  How did I manage to do all these things while working?  Oh, yeah, that aging thing again.  And wasn’t there less waiting on hold ten years ago?  

 

I guess I should be grateful I still remember that I need to do all of these things. . . .  

 

I’ll work on that.

 

Anyone else over the age of, say, 60 feeling at all daunted by your own 100 things?  Did I leave any out?  Please comment, telling me I am not alone.   

                                                                                                        Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash