Reflections on Tragedy and War: Year Two

I would have hoped that "Reflections on Tragedy andWar: Year One" would have been enough, but, alas, the tragedies and wars continue. As we commemorated the first anniversary of September 11, President George W. Bush used that opportunity to push his new war, a war on Iraq. I start this series of journals before the defenseless people of that already beleagured country have seen their night skies again lit up with the blasts of American bombs, but it seems unlikely that reason or restraint will stop the U.S. Commander-In-Chief from carrying out his heartfelt desire to oust Saddam Hussein from power. And so begins Reflections onTragedy and War: Year Two.

*The easiest way to navigate going back and forth between photo links and journal text is to click on your "back" button at the left of your tool bar.
 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2002
 

3:30 AM

I cannot sleep on this night-growing-into-the-morning-of-September 11th. It reminds me of a night one year and one day ago when sleep eluded me as well. For many in my country, this date will be remembered in a pre-packaged way, with television and newspapers telling them what to think and feel. That is not true for me. Since September 11, 2001 I have spent very little of my time with either television or newspapers. What I feel and think come from sources deep within myself, almost on a cellular level.

I remember the iridescent eyes of a fox lit up by my car headlights at 11 PM that painful Tuesday night. I remember the sobbing relief that overtook me in our garage five minutes later when Ed told me our niece Carolyn was not dead in New York as we'd feared. I recall days and nights of alternating rage and sorrow, rage at this country and its leaders whose violently arrogant choices had bred such a hatred among Arab people that something like 9-11 was bound to happen sooner or later, and sorrow that it actually had happened and that so many innocents had suffered and died unnecessarily. My rage and sorrow was tinged with fear, not fear of terrorists but fear of my own government and what horrible means they would use to punish the world for this tragedy finally coming to our supposedly inviolate soil.

So many memories.

And now. What I feel now is horror at what has happened during this past year and despair over what is to come. It is not that I am ready to give up, it is just that I am sick and tired of always having to fight. Fight for what we imagined was ours--rights and freedoms, privacy and a sense of liberty. Illusions, as it's turned out. Ask Rabih Haddad and Sulaima Al-Rushaid about liberty, rights and freedom. Ask university professors, politicians and other public figures who have dared to question the government's decisions and actions this past year and see if they think we still have freedom of speech.

As they say, things changed forever on September 11.

Yes, change has come but is all of it bad? When I am with like-minded sisters and brothers in gatherings like last Sunday's "O Beautiful Gaia" CD project circle, or when I am writing my brother Rabih or marching with his family and friends in front of a jail or a court building, when I receive and send emails offering alternative views, when I read of the groundswell of global disgust with the US government's actions and policies, when I see the creative fire of young activists, when I hear from readers of my journal thanking me for saying what they are hearing no place else but are feeling deep within their own hearts, then I know that as bad as the change has looked from the top down, that is how good it has actually been from the bottom up. This is a movement that will not die; it will never give in to so-called "public pressure." We are here to stay and our numbers are growing. This is the change that I hold close to my heart on this sleepless night.

Life goes on and we do what we can to help it take paths toward new life not more destruction, at least the people I count as my sisters and brothers do such things. Being human was never easy but it is all that we can aspire to be. Human in the truest sense of the word. Human meaning living lives that benefit not only ourselves but all that share this wondrous spinning planet we call home. Our work is never done, but neither is our joy. And even in the midst of the darkest struggle, we can find joy. Pockets of blazing, glorious, dancing joy.

I will not give up the struggle to become more human and in becoming more human to help bring a sense of humanity to all around me. I will speak, sing, write, dance, cry, rage, shout, laugh, whisper and stand tall in my scooter or with my walker. I will not give in to the despair that wants to shut me down. No, I will remember the gleaming eyes of a fox, the healing rush of tears, the tender song of the cricket, the majesty of a midwestern summer storm, the comfort of friends, the arms of my Ed, and the daring-do that is my legacy.

September 11ths will come and go. We will never forget what happened on this day in 2001 but we will not stop there. We will move on into a future that can be brighter and more sparkling than we can imagine. We will continue to be voices of truth wherever we go, and we will make it. Yes, we will make it into the new reality we know is possible. It may seem small at first but don't be surprised when all these bonfires catch the winds of freedom and blaze up into a raging forest fire that spreads across the globe bringing new consciousness and life in its wake. It will surely entail suffering but what of value doesn't? We may not see the flower that grows from the seeds we plant but what seed ever does? Just keep doing what you do and all shall be well, as a twelfth century mystic used to say. All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
 

12:30 PM

My email inbox is filled with heartfelt messages of appreciation and solidarity today. Before finally going to sleep at 5 AM, I put up the journal entry that had kept me awake and sent a group email with the same message to my listservs and friends. I have received two poems in response that I would like to share.

The first is from a wonderful friend and singer/songwriter, Harmony Grisman, whose words and music always cut to the core of our communal truth and shared humanity. She prefaced the poem with these words: "Thanks for sharing your thoughts and feelings on this deeply troubling day.  We need to hear from our collective wise ones in whatever way we can...to counter balance the media world that has become our culture.  Here is the poem that called to me on this day for you and all of us."

Yours is the light that breaks from the dark
The good that springs from divided hearts
The heart that opens out on the world
The love that calls from the battlefield.

Your gift is a gain in the midst of loss
The life that flows through the caverns of death
Yours is the heaven that lies in the dust
And when you are there for me
You are there for all of us.
       -Rabindranath Tagore

The second poem was sent by the poet himself--a man from whom I have never heard before--who is obviously my brother.

Grounds Zero

Faceless with sweptback wings you slice into the flesh of my dreaming
The fierce fireball of our joining is your personal warning
To the random recruits, deadly personal.
But they are collateral damage
Your message was for the composite me only.

The gossiping world watches with electronic eyes as I choose my executioner,

Free fall sudden pavement death rather than slow burning fire.
Belching a storm cloud of glass, bones, blood and stone's dust
Confettied with forms in triplicate and overdue notices
The hated symbol of my dominion descends sickeningly to the canyon floor,
Searing in your master's heart terror and fear forever more.

Your anger is hot, pure octane wine,
A sufficient fuel for your own funeral bier and mine.

A colossal twisted wreck,
Moldering tomb for the most recent recruits to the hall of injustice
Sits burka-like on the distorted visage of my city
Shocked by your violence and the foul smell of my dying.
I clamor over the rubble searching for the faces of fallen friends in vain.
No breath...nothing whole remains.

On this vacant, hopeless land a name settles
Like the dust from a voiceless volcano,
It claims nothing, gives nothing, solves nothing.
It merely hides what lies below.
Zero land, ground zero.
I weep and wonder, "Why do you hate me so!"

Yes, I know  I have ignored you over the horizon, faceless.
Always wishing you well, vaguely,
As you wander in the heat of sand dune nations
Amid the precious black flowers
That seep up under your feet and burst
Into flames that my merchant adores.

Greedily I feast on the fruit of your dusty dunes
As I ply my asphalt shores;
In chariots drawn by unseen steeds
Drunk on hardly anything per gallon
Gulping down the amber elixir in a failure of frugality.

Truthfully, my merchant sold me your sweet sweat,
Gathered the dark dew neath your sweltering plains
And sent it to me in great ships water tight
That tossed upon a careless sea beyond my sight.
Nothing personal you understand.
It was business.
You were a profit center, a resource for my energy lust.
You understand I trust.
Markets have no scruples.

I did not want to see you there
With your family about you,
I did not want to have to care
Whose black blood I had transfused.

You were faceless, best keep it like that.
I shaded my eyes I looked away
Your Princes had all been properly paid
For all your collateral suffering.

I stuck my hose deep into your world
And took what I wanted...
Again and again I paid my merchant
To lie in your sweltering bed.
You were so exotic so vulnerable
With pungent dark black flowers in you hair upon your head
And sweet dark oil upon your lips

I did not care the price was not fair
And of course my CIA intentions were dishonorable
While you were IM force malleable.
The State Department will disavow any knowledge...
This poem will self-destruct in 5 seconds Mr. Phelps.
My daring duplicity was entertaining to me only.

Now that your ancient anger has pierced my world
My fragile freedoms wither under the freshly fallen fear.
Oh that terror that you lived with all those years
Has piled up everywhere.

Now every heart is a ground zero.
Now every car burns blood.
No one is innocent and
None are safe
From red, from fire from 'fuelish'.

A flag is drawn across your face and mine.

Now my merchant makes and sells a wish
From red, from fire from foolish
The richest bombs fall on the poorest
And we are no more safe,
But we are yet more dangerous.

The world teeters on the brink
From red, from fire from foolish
It's getting very hard to think
Senators say my choices are all ghoulish.

And yet I believe if I saw your face
And you saw my heart so cluttered
That we might together find a place
Where plans for Peace might be uttered.

Let fall the flags that hide the face
Of our humanity from each other.
Let ground zero be the place
Where we build tomorrow together.

Let us find the courage to see each other's faces.
Let us dare to share our heaped up hearts,
Let us strive to lift all children from the dust of hatred
And heal their nightmare fears
That they've lived with all theses years.

A colossal twisted wreck,
Sits burka-like on the fallen face of our cities
Shocked by our violence and the foul smell of our dying.
We clamor over the rubble searching
For all fallen faces in pain.
A deep and tender wound remains.
On these vacant, hopeless lands a name will settle
Like the dust from all the roads we will travel in its pursuit.
It will not hide what lies below,
But will cherish those who perished
In the West and in the East.
The name that can settle on grounds zero
Could be Peace.

Or we could fall prey to fear
From red, from fire from foolish.
The turning point is near
The path to Peace is clear

I can hear the clarion call
The road to war lies waiting
For more faceless recruits to fall
On more zero grounds

Choose then!
Not just for yourself
But for the faceless future pray
Whose children inherit the wealth
And the poverty
Of our spirits on this day.

- By Lawrence LaVerdure © - 8/13/2002
For widest distribution possible, no commercial use please.
 

6:40 PM

I am now in Ann Arbor getting ready for a September 11 Candlelight Vigil for Remembrance, Reconciliation and Peace co-sponsored by the Ann Arbor Ad Hoc Committee for Peace and the Muslim Community Association of Ann Arbor. It feels right to be with my sisters and brothers with whom I have demonstrated and vigiled for the nine months that our brother Rabih Haddad has been unjustly held in jail. We will be meeting at 8 PM at the corner of State and Liberty (appropriately named!) to receive candles and signs. How fortunate I feel to be here.
 

MIDN IGHT

I was in exactly the right place tonight, among the people I needed to be with, commemorating this tragic day in a way that resonated with everything I believe in and work toward. And over 500 of my sisters and brothers--Muslim and non-Muslim, youth and elders--were at my side. I even "happened" to stand beside a group of women with whom I sang during the whole vigil. They are called Women With Wings West, and are an offshoot of Kay Gardner's singing circle in Maine! How could anything have been more perfect?

When I got to the corner of State and Liberty at 7:45 PM, there was already quite a crowd forming to receive signs and candles. There were folks passing out leaflets to passers-by, leaflets that quoted the One Year Later statement put out by the September Eleventh Families for Peaceful Tomorrows, a group of individuals who had lost a loved one in the tragic events of September 11, 2001. This vigil was about remembering in sorrow all of those who had perished in the twin Towers, the Pentagon and in the mountains of Pennsylvania. It was also a plea that there be no more innocent victims anywhere, whether Afghani, American or Iraqi. It was a plea for peace not war. Our signs--that vigilers pinned on their shirts--said such things as "No more victims anywhere", "Our grief is not a cry for war", "Remembrance, Reflection, Peace", and the trued-and-true peace sign. Later in the night I discovered what radical statements these might be to some "patriotic" Americans.

I saw many familiar faces including Phillis Engelbert, the indefatigable Ad Hoc Committee for Peace staff member, my Muslim sisters Miriam and Leena, Rabih Haddad's son Sami, my drumming friend Lori Fithian, and lots of people with whom I've demonstrated and vigiled on Rabih's behalf during these nine long months of his imprisonment. I met new friends like the singing women, a boy named Daniel, a gentle-spirited "street man" named Lester, and Cynthia who recognized me from my group emails to the Women In Black. By the way, my singing friends from Women With Wings West have invited me to join them to sing in Ypsilanti the last Thursday of every month. I plan to be there.

After pinning on our signs, we received white candles in protective paper cups. The children seemed particularly enthalled with the idea of being able to be "fire-holders." When our candles had been lit, we were asked to form a line down Liberty Street. It was a stunning to scoot down this line taking pictures and seeing our wonderful diversity in age and national origin. By 9 PM we reached almost to Main Street, five long blocks away.

While we stood there, some folks were silent, others drummed and my sisters and I sang. A moment I will not forget was when Lester came upon us as he walked down Liberty Street. I sang and smiled warmly at him and received a kiss on my cheek and the joy of having him stay to sing with us. After timeless time, the line began to move down Liberty Street toward Main. We stopped at the Federal Building where we gathered together for a brief rally. We heard from a number of individuals including Nazih Hassan of the Muslim Community Association and Phillis from the Ad Hoc Committee for Peace. In closing, the Women With Wings West led us in song. Another moment I will hold close to my heart was when all 500 of us lifted our candles high as we sang of keeping our light of peace shining throughout the world. That moment came strongly to mind later in the evening.

After we'd completed our vigil, I scooted over to the Diag to join the official University of Michigan 9-11 Remembrance Ceremony. Beside me in the crush of thousands of people were Rodolfo and Melissa who had also come from the Liberty Street vigil. I was in time to see the flag lowered to the sound of a bugle blowing taps. Rodolfo and Melissa and I got to talking and decided to walk/scoot closer to the center of the now-emptying Diag. We were still wearing our signs and figured we might be a presence of a more peaceful way of looking at things.

Once at the center we saw candles blazing in the shape of a heart on top of the Big M. Within a heartbeat, an older man who was wearing a stars-and-stripes vest, came up to me and asked in a southern drawl, "And just what do you think we should do with those terrorists? Just let them kill us?" What followed was my first face-to-face encounter with the patriotic zealots you read about. Rodolfo and I tried to have a peaceful dialogue with Jim, but he was having none of it. It quickly became evident that this was not the time nor the place for any reasoned discussion, so I clasped his hand and said, "Jim, I think we see things very differently. Maybe this is not a good time for us to try to talk." He agreed and went on his way with the parting remark, "All you should care about are Americans. I don't give a damn about those foreigners." Whew.

September 11 obviously triggered a lot of different responses in people and was therefore remembered in different ways across this country and across the world. I just feel grateful that I was able to remember it with people who shared both my sorrow and my ever-deepening commitment to peace and justice.
 

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2002

This wonderfully long day began for me on the corner of Warren and Woodward near Wayne State University and Detroit's Cultural Center. Our peace community gathered 200 strong to protest the proposed war on Iraq. We were men and women, young and old, of European and African heritage, Arab and Asian. We were veteran protesters and those for whom it was our first time out on the streets. We came from the suburbs, apartments and houses in the city, university campuses and co-op housing. Our signs raised a multitude of issues but our voices were united (mostly) in calling for an end to war. When I say "mostly", I'm referring to one young man who came to our corner with alcohol on his breath and a propensity to yell negative remarks. But, according to an email I received from a sister protester, even his voice changed. Let me allow Nancy to tell the story in her own words. Just so you can see who is speaking, here's a picture I took of Nancy with her daughter Susannah.

"I wanted to share something with you that you may not have noticed on Saturday, because it happened while many people were clustered in another direction.  Remember the poor drunk man who was so annoyed by our protest, yet curious?  A photographer was taking pictures of my 15-year-old Susannah with her sign, and this young gentleman came around, yelling, "What about me?  Are you going to take my picture?"

"The photographer replied, 'You don't have a sign!  I'm taking pictures of people with signs!'

"It was clear then that our noisy friend was looking for leadership, because he began to glance around for a stray placard.  Without missing a beat, Susannah, at her first peace rally ever, handed him her sign that she'd worked on so hard that morning, the blue one with the big multi-colored peace symbol and the words, 'Peace, Please.'  The man was delighted, accepted it gratefully, and began to pose 'for all the girls on Woodward' as the photographer, part of this little miracle, began clicking away.

"Then our friend returned Susannah's sign to her, thanked her several times and added, 'God bless you!'  Now, he was on the team.  He stopped yelling at people.  I didn't notice if he stayed or if he left, but he did quiet down.

"I am sure other people were nice to him as well... it seems that was all he was looking for, in the end... but I did witness my daughter's kindness, and I was exceedingly proud and moved by it.  What a great demonstration of peace.  She downplayed her involvement:  'Mom, he just wanted to have his picture taken, too."

No, I had not witnessed this tiny miracle but am deeply touched by it, as I was touched by the radiant spirit of Susannah on Saturday.

The demonstration started at noon and when I arrived about 12:20 PM, most folks had already taken off walking with their signs toward the more populated Detroit Festival of the Arts three blocks away. I stayed put with a few others. But we were soon joined by more and more people so we eventually looked like a true anti-war demonstration. For me it was like old home week. I saw lots of friends, among them John, Pauline and Doris (with Kim, Pat K.'s friend). When the marchers returned, our numbers swelled and so did our enthusiasm. We even had some drumming and a little chanting. Toward the end of the demo, I joined friends from Peace Action and the Detroit Peace Community for a time of sharing around the Peace Pole.

As always, I took many pictures of our signs. Here are some of them:

War Is Terror...carried by two different people
Pre-emption = Terrorism & No War for Oil
A Single Standard for Human Rights
War Does Not End Terror; War Is Terror
No More War
No Blood for Big Oil& Hands Off Iraq
End the U.S.-Backed Occupation of Palestine
Negotiate for Peace
End U. S. Aid to Israel Now
Each Month U.S. Sanctions Kill 7000 Iraqi Children
$$ for Jobs, Education & Health Care, Not War

And the sign that said it all:

It Doesn't Have To Be Like This
 
 

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2002

To understand is not to excuse, but without understanding, our differences degenerate into unthinking criticism and negative judgements of one another.  It has been too easy to look at the current President of the United States, George W. Bush, and see him as weak, unintelligent, a tool of his advisors. We liberals, especially, have mocked, made fun of and derided everything he has said and done. We call him "shrub", "junior", and "daddy's boy." Few of us have taken the time to look deeper and try to understand what things might look like through George W. Bush's eyes. Few of us has seen him as a fellow human being who deserves respectful understanding.  We have demonized him as we complain he has demonized others.

This morning I started my "bear time" of reflection by reading in a favorite book by Jamie Sams, The 13 Original Clan Mothers (Harper San Francisco: 1993). I found myself drawn to read the chapter on the clan mother of the third moon, Who Weighs the Truth. After reading the story associated with this clan mother, George W. Bush came to mind, not as a misguided President but as a man who carries wounds from childhood. Many of us are saying that his proposed war on Iraq is simply an attempt to finish his father's unfinished business. That may be true but do we stop to look deeper than that? Do we consider what life has probably been like for this elder son of a powerful man? Do we stop to feel in our hearts the pain and striving George W. must have experienced when he was unable to keep up intellectually or educationally with the high expectations of his father who had likely struggled to live up to his own powerful father's unreasonable expectations? Do we see that George W.'s probable-dyslexia must have hindered him every step of the way? Is it any wonder he became, as they say, his mother's boy? I imagine his father was home very little and when he was, I can see little George W. trying in every way possible to gain his father's approval...and failing miserably.

So now he is in a position of power himself, a place where he finally has the capacity to do something significant that will please his father. From what I've read, George Bush Sr.'s one regret as former President is that he didn't "take Saddam Hussein out" when he had the chance. I understand he blames General Colin Powell for recommending restraint. Why are we surprised that his son, George W. Bush, now wants to do what his father failed to do? How good it must feel to be in a position to give his father this gift. And there may be a bit more to it than that. I'd imagine there would be deep satisfaction in going beyond what his father managed to do, to "one up" him, so to speak.

I am not saying that these are our President's conscious motives. No, I trust that he sincerely believes that Saddam Hussein is Evil Incarnate, has the potential for blowing the world to Kingdom Come, and Must Be Stopped. The oil issues are certainly there, but I do not believe George W. Bush puts them at the top of his To Do list. No, I feel we are seeing the actions of a deeply wounded child of a probably wounded father. I feel sad for him. It must be horrible never to feel that you are good enough, smart enough, powerful enough. No wonder finally having such power has pushed him beyond his ability to think clearly and act with restraint. Even as he wants to lead a war that will bring death and destruction to defenseless, already-suffering people, a war that will surely destabilize a region of the world that is already at great risk of blowing sky high, even with all of this, I feel deep compassion for George W. Bush, the undervalued son of a man who has already done grave damage to these same people. When folks say "like father like son", these are not empty words. They deserve to be lamented, not shouted in blame.

But understanding does not bring approval. I can never approve of decisions that bring war, death and destruction to any people or place on this planet. Even as I feel compassion toward my President, I will fight his wish to attack Iraq with every ounce of my strength. It's just that I will no longer see him as bad, stupid, evil or worthless. George W. Bush is my wounded brother and I will do all I can to help him heal.

It's so easy to look at government leaders as persons who determine policies and guide their countries according to information that is too high security for us normal citizens to know. We can imagine reasoned discussions, intelligence briefings and high-level meetings where things are hashed out and all sides heard. I have come to see that those who have power make decisions based on their own personal issues, just as we all do. How mature we become and how reasoned our thoughts and actions depends on how diligently we have grappled with our own hidden agendas, often leftover from childhood. It's hard to see that a war that can so devastate untold numbers of people and do irreparable damage to our earth could start because one small boy did not feel loved or appreciated by his father, but there it is. If George W. Bush insists on the United States attacking Iraq, family dynamics are as much to blame as anything. Let us stop adding to his feelings of inadequacy; it is death to do so.
 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2002

Even as I do my best to show President George W. Bush human compassion, I must stand up and say, "No!" to his latest attempts to steamroll over Saddam Hussein's unconditional acceptance of U.N. weapons inspectors back on Iraqi soil. After attempting to justify this proposed war on the grounds that Saddam Hussein "might be" developing weapons of mass destruction, the Adminstration must now backpedal mightily and say, "Well, that's not really the issue." If that isn't the issue, what is? And what's all this about, "Well, you can't believe them. It's just another of Saddam's games."? Why not try it and see if he's for real? But, of course, that would mean losing the momentum that our President and his advisors depended on, momentum that his speech to the U.N. last Thursday set in motion. After having only Tony Blair and the unwilling British people on his war wagon, now Saudi Arabia has jumped on with offers to let their country again be a military staging area, as it was in 1991. AlterNet.org sent an email to its readers today saying that the Adminstration is riding a roller coaster toward war. So how do you stop a roller coaster? Derail it?

Thank goodness there is at least one world leader who is having none of it. Today I received this article by email (what would I do without the internet in times like these?):

Mandela slams U.S. scepticism over Iraq offer

JOHANNESBURG, Sept 17 (Reuters) - Former South African president Nelson Mandela slammed the United States on Tuesday for its sceptical response to Baghdad's announcement that it will allow U.N. arms inspectors back into the country.

"What right has he (U.S. President George W. Bush) to come in to say that offer is not genuine? We must condemn that very strongly," Mandela told reporters at his home in Johannesburg.

"That is why I criticise most...leaders all over the world of keeping quiet when one country wants to bully the whole world," the revered African statesman said.

Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, under intense world diplomatic pressure backed by the U.S. threat of military action, agreed on Monday to allow U.N. weapons inspectors back without conditions after an absence of nearly four years.

He is accused of developing weapons of mass destruction.

The United States, whose declared policy is Saddam's removal, treated the move with disdain, saying the Iraqi leader could not be trusted and vowed to work for a tough new U.N resolution on Iraq.

Mandela, who has condemned what are seen as U.S. attempts to act unilaterally on Iraq, said those who had benefitted from U.S. support in the past should not let that stop them from speaking out against its actions.

"I have got assistance from the United States...I am grateful for that...but I'm not going to allow what they have done for me to shut my mouth. I will speak when they're wrong," Mandela said.

09/17/02 05:48 ET
Copyright 2002 Reuters Limited.  All rights reserved.

Well, you can be sure that Nelson Mandela and  South Africa will not be on the receiving end of U.S. aid for at least two more years, but that only makes his willingness to speak up strongly and say what needs to be said all the more impressive. The U.S. is not a good country to get on the wrong side of these days, but leaders of conscience must risk this superpower's displeasure or lose their sense of integrity and self-respect. A man like Nelson Mandela has paid his dues. Twenty-eight years in prison teaches one what is important and what is not. He obviously feels this is important or he wouldn't speak out so forcefully as the lone voice of reason among world leaders.

By the way, when I wrote yesterday of George W. Bush the wounded child, I was not referring to his advisors. I believe it is these men who present things to our President in language that they know will stir him to action. You can be sure my assessment of his needs and wounds are well known to those who have his ear. That is the danger. Unhealed leaders are not dangerous in and of themselves, it is how their woundedness can be used by others that puts us all at risk.

I just think it's important that we keep our eyes and ears and minds open during these next weeks especially. This is a good time to exercise our powers of critical analysis. Even if the government goes ahead and attacks Iraq, let us not buy into the propaganda and warspeak that fans the flames of our fears and insecurities. See things for what they are, speak out loud what you are seeing, and stand firm in your convictions. If it happens, this war will not just be against Iraq, it will be against the integrity of the American people. Don't become a war casualty.
 

MONDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2002

Later on, when the Bush Adminstration and the press and media try to make us believe that the American people are behind the war on Iraq, I want to remember today so I can say with conviction, "No way!" This afternoon I was part of the largest, most vocal, most energetic demonstration I've ever seen here in Detroit. Folks said it reminded them of the old anti-Vietnam War days in the '60s. I'd guess we had 1000 people out on the streets, most with their own homemade signs. And the signs said it all:

Buddhists Against War and The Witless Man Is Tormented By His Own Deeds
Ban Warfare
Peace Cannot Be Kept By Force...Albert Einstein
Stop Bush and Hatred Is Never Appeased by Hatred and Bush-Cheney--Weapons of Mass Destruction and No Blood for Oil and No War
Attack Iraq? Not In My Name
Congress: Listen To the People
Life...for U.S., for Iraq, for All. No War
We Need a Regime Change in Washington and Not In Our Name
Money For Jobs Not War and Trust God Not War
War Is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things
Peace Not War
Why War Now? Elections and Peace Is Patriotic
America Never Strikes First and Violence Begets Violence and Regime Change USA
Don't Invade Iraq
Attack the Economy, Unemployed, Soft Money, Corporate Welfare...Not Iraq and No Blood for Oil and Attack Iraq? NO!
Stop the Stampede To War
Why Now? and Let's Not Be "Evil-doers"
Terrorism, n., The unlawful use of violence to frighten people or to accomplish political goals and No War For Oil
War Is Crude
No War Against Iraq! Help Our Economy! Feed the People of Iraq, Buy Medicines for the People of Iraq, Help the People of Iraq Re-Build Schools, Hospitals, Transportation...And End Terrorism!

We also had an Earth To Bush: Don't Attack Iraq banner and three pigs, the biggest of whom represented the Pentagon budget, and the other two little piglets were the Education budget and the budget for World Hunger and Poverty.

For many people it was their first time out on the streets protesting war. I know because some of them were my singing sisters from Saturday's "O Beautiful Gaia" workshop with Carolyn McDade. Under the direction of Nancy Nordlie, we seven started a peace sing-along as we waited for the march to begin. We felt right at home later in the afternoon when Julie Beutel, a woman I've known at other singing gatherings, led songs for the crowds of people assembled at the rally in front of the Federal Building.

This was the best organized peace demonstration I've ever attended. I was especially pleased when we were instructed to place ourselves in groups of three for the march. It felt wonderful to feel the support of my dear friends Nancy and Julia at my side. With their hands resting on my shoulders, I felt we could do anything. For Julia and me, it brought back memories of our time together during the Windsor, Ontario protest demos at the June 2000 meeting of the Organization of American States.

Once we had marched the five blocks down Michigan Avenue to the Federal Building, we circled in front of the plaza in silence. Whether walking or riding, the energy stayed high. Soon there was a rally with speakers like Detroit Representative John Conyers, who is always a strong anti-war voice in Congress, Maryann Mahaffey, our peace-and-justice-supporting President of the Detroit City Council, and John Zettner who was one of The Fourteen who intended to perform civil disobedience.

What they did was to have a "Die In" where the participants lay down in front of the doors to the Federal Building. And although there were some police and federal marshals in attendance, no arrests were made. One of my greatest heroines, Sr. Elizabeth LaForest--who at 87 has been arrested more times than I can count, even spending significant stretches in jail--told me later that she was most disappointed. As she said, "I now have the time to do it!" I later asked one of our peace marshals to take a picture of Sr. Elizabeth and me, and then I got a picture of a young man healing her with his didgeridoo.

I actually knew eight of The Fourteen, one of whom was an old Pax Christi friend, Ron Dale. I ended up staying on in support of these folks who, since they weren't arrested, were planning to keep vigil throughout the night. Actually, they intend to keep the vigil going until Congress votes on Bush's war resolution. To stay warm--it was clear but pretty chilly after the sun went down--I kept circling in front of the building, singing every peace song I could think of. A couple of folks joined me at different times. Actually, I now remember that it was Dan and his snare drum that first drew me onto that sidewalk after most of the protesters had left.

About 6:30 PM, one of the peace marshals came to get my order for dinner. A local restaurant, the Anchor Bar, was donating food to the community. That toasted peanut butter sandwich and french fries tasted as good as any food I've ever had. When I left at 7:45 PM, the folks were settling in for what would surely be  a long cold night.

So when Bush or Cheney or Rumsfeld or Dan Rather or Peter Jennings or anyone tells you that the war on Iraq has the support of the American people, just send them to this journal entry and tell them to "Listen, listen to the voices that beg to differ from the rest." (text by Mary Margaret Parent, music by Carolyn McDade)
 

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2002

This day had a little of everything. It started with Ed and I celebrating our anniversary by having lunch with friends in Ann Arbor. Ed's friend Frank, whom he first met at Ann Arbor's Angell School in 1938, joined us at the Brown Jug on South University, as did my goddess daughter Emily. We had a wonderful time and Frank even managed to get a good picture of Ed and me. We were also tickled to see Emily wearing the ring and bracelet that Ed and I had given her for a birthday one year and for high school graduation last June. You never know if such gifts are going to feel right, especially to a style-conscious young woman like Emily. We were pleased when she said she wears them all the time.

Part of my pleasure in Ann Arbor was connecting with the folks at the Ad Hoc Committee for Peace's vigil against the U.S. war on Iraq. That's the group I've gotten to know through Rabih and Sulaima. And another peace vigil was to be the next stop for me once we got back to Detroit.

When I arrived at the Federal Building at 3 PM, there was a small group of faithful vigilers still standing strong. The vigil had been maintained through two cold nights and two sunny days; it was scheduled to end at 4 PM today. My singing friends from Monday, Kim and Steve, were there and we picked up where we'd left off. "We Shall Overcome", "Ain't Gonna Study War No More" and  the "Circle Chant" were our favorites. We made up our own verses and even got into a little harmony.

By the way I'd gotten the following email message from my friend Nancy on Tuesday: " I knew you had stayed quite awhile [on Monday] after my friends & I left, because I was home eating my dinner at about 6:50 pm, watching the news coverage live from downtown, and as the reporter ( I think it was Glen Zimmerman from Channel 7?) summed up his broadcast, the cameraman followed a lone protester scooting around in front of the 'die ins' on the other side of the street. Of course, it was you, you beautiful soul, singing out your support for their coming night long vigil.  I knew you were scooting for me and all of us, as well as for the fourteen."

Yep, it was me, but I wasn't alone. Kim, Steve and Gillian were marching and singing with me. And then Kim and Steve, two of The Fourteen, spent a long cold night on the cement sidewalk while I slept cozy in my bed. How I admire them.

Today as I sang and later marched with Kim and Steve, more folks started arriving with signs and smiles. Mary and Bill Carey, longtime Detroit peace activists, were among them. As we walk/scooted in circles in front of the Federal Building I saw creative evidence of this ongoing vigil. The concrete barricades beside the street were decorated with colored chalk messages like "Peace is good; war is bad", "Make love not war", and "War is not healthy for children, puppies and other living things."

I want to commend the police who guard the Federal Building. I understand they were very gracious to the vigilers, even inviting them inside to use the bathrooms. There were also untold numbers of restaurants, groups and individuals who kept our sisters and brothers fed and warm during their long hours. And today I met Michael, one of the "men of the street" who spends a lot of time on this corner. He said, "Thank you, sister. What you're doing is wonderful!"

At 4 PM the community gathered to mark the end of the vigil...for now anyway. The evening that the Senate votes on Bush's war resolution, we will reconvene for a candlelight vigil. Al Fishman spoke first and then Grace Lee Boggs. Grace, at 87, is one of Detroit's most faithful and respected community activists. Today she was passionate about our finding new ways to connect with our sisters and brothers of color. As diverse as we'd been in age on Monday, we'd been predominantly white. Grace said if we were serious about forming true coalitions, we'd need to stop simply inviting persons of color to join us; we'd need to start going where they are. Like at Louis Farrakhan's excellent anti-war talk in Detroit last night. She said the line outside the church where he was speaking was four abreast and went around the block; 3,000 people attended according to reports. We need to be there.

We then formed a circle, holding hands. Anyone who wanted to say something was invited to do so. I offered the following song by Linda Hirschhorn that I sang with my friends:

Circle round for freedom
Circle round for peace
For all of us imprisoned
Circle for release.

Circle for the planet
Circle for each soul
For the children of our children
Keep the circle whole.

It was easy to sing the last part while looking at the littlest one among us. And it was even easy to say goodbye for now. All I need to do is hold this image of peace people in my heart to get the strength I need to keep on keepin' on. And that's all that any of us is asked to do.

This perfectly balanced day ended with my swimming my usual 680 meters of the crawl at our local middle school. It felt fantastic.
 
 

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2002

11 PM

  I  wrote the following journal entry late this afternoon. It was written before the United States House of Representatives voted 296-133 to sign over their Constitutionally mandated responsibility to be a check and balance on the Executive Branch of government. This is a dark day in United States history, not to mention a time of utter terror for the people of Iraq. Who will save them--and us--now?

6 PM

Today I took another day off. In the morning I started reading David Suzuki and Holly Dressel's book Good News for a Change. My women's book group has chosen it to be this autumn's book and I am so glad. In the midst of the madness swirling around the country in which I live, it sure is good to hear hopeful reports of individuals, groups, organizations, businesses and governments that are making choices for sustainability rather than destruction of our planet. It felt like a welcome rain on the parched soil of my hope after months of drought.

Mid-afternoon, Eddie returned from work to find me rocking like Whistler's mother in his great-grandmother's rocker. He insisted on taking this picture because he said, "That chair is perfect for you." I've always loved this chair, that's why I have it in my space upstairs.

Early this morning as I was preparing to close down my computer and go to bed, I read one last email. It was from a woman I know from the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival. The subject was "How does peace work?" It was obvious from the text of the letter that she really wanted to hear my views on peace and war. I sensed that she was grappling with conflicting thoughts and feelings in relation to today's rush to war--that part of her feels it is justified and part of her resists the violence of war.

I reflected on her question throughout the night and much of today: How does peace work? I had no defined answers when I started to write her this afternoon, but this is what came:

"Dear friend

"I so appreciate your writing. Your question is a good one: How does peace work?

"I, like you, always have to take things down to the most basic level to understand and/or explain them. Almost like that book, "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten."

"If a kid comes up and hits me on the playground, I have four choices: 1) Hit her/him back; 2) Walk away; 3) Tell a teacher; 4) Ask him/her why s/he hit me. I might use one or a combination of these responses.

"There will be probable consequences for each choice: 1) If I hit her/him back, the fight will continue and probably escalate. Most likely we will be enemies from here on out. 2) If I just walk away, the person who hit me might think I'm a wimp and tyrannize me from then on. 3) If I tell the teacher, the other kid will probably get in trouble and hate me from then on. 4) If I ask her/him why s/he hit me, we might be able to work something out. Actually I might discover I've done something to hurt him/her that I didn't know about. Even if we don't become buddies, at least we'll have a chance at building a relationship built on mutual respect.

"That, in a nutshell, is my philosphy of peace.

"There's one more piece that might apply to what's going on right now between the U.S. and Iraq. What happens if I just think somebody might come up and hit me, but s/he hasn't actually done so yet? If I go up and hit them first, what happens next? The most likely scenario is that the person I hit will want to hit me back with whatever s/he has on hand. S/he will become very defensive and likely come up fighting. If I am stronger than him/her, then I'll beat the crap out of him/her, yes, but that person will hate me with a vengeance for life. I will then surely be under threat of attack whenever s/he can muster enough strength and/or buddies to do it.

"So what do I think peace looks like? It does not look like wimping out. It does not lack conflict or differences of opinion. It is not sweetly sentimental. Peace is tough, hard to maintain, and full of harsh realities. It means sitting down at a table--hopefully with unbiased arbitrators on hand--and asking questions and listening, truly listening, to one another's answers. It means using restraint when you'd rather just go in there with fists raised. It means having the humility and gumption to admit you've made mistakes. It means hammering out compromises right and left. It means never giving up. It means being strong and not using that strength to hurt others. It means living with former enemies, not necessarily as friends but as respected sharers of this one home, the earth. It means being creative and original, coming up with ideas that have never been seen before. It means saying "Yes, peace is possible" and then proving it to be so.

"When I think of peace, I think of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. who was kicked, beaten bloody, jailed, spat upon and terrorized, but who never ever hit back. He also never backed down or gave in. And because of his undying commitment to nonviolence, change happened. His perseverance eventually wore down the opposition. People died in the struggle--even Dr. King--but they did not hit back. If someone won't hit you back when you hit them, how in the world are you going to prove you won the fight?

"I don't know if any of this helps you, dear friend, but it sure helps me. I needed to ask myself that particular question today and see what answer I might have. Thank you.

"At the end of this email, I'm including a speech given on the floor of the House yesterday. To me, it is so reasoned and well-researched that I'd be hard put to vote for Bush's war resolution after hearing it. I also recommend the web site

http://www.alternet.org

"for some interesting articles that give a different slant to the news that we regularly receive on TV and in mainstream newspapers.

"Again, thank you so much for asking your question. If you want to keep the dialogue open, I'd be honored to do so.

in peace
Patricia"
***************************

FLOOR  REMARKS OF CONGRESSMAN JOHN CONYERS, JR. ON IRAQ
"The Grand Diversion"
(October  9, 2002)

I rise in opposition to this resolution authorizing the President to commence war at a time and place of his choosing.  It not only would set dangerous precedents and risk unnecessary bloodshed.  It already has created a "grand diversion" of America's political focus as elections approach, and worse, it would create a "grand diversion" of our already depleted resources, so desperately needed for pressing problems at home.

The American people are not bloodthirsty. They never want to go to war, unless they have been convinced that it is absolutely necessary. That is true of all Americans, whether in Maine, West Virginia, Texas or Michigan - and whether they are black, brown or white; young or old, rich or poor. The mail and phone calls from my constituents are overwhelmingly opposed to a pre-emptive attack against Iraq.

Is war necessary now? We keep coming back to one stubborn fact: There is no imminent threat to our national security.  The President has not made that case. Senators and Congressman have emerged from countless briefings with the same question: "Where's the beef?" There is no compelling evidence that Iraq's capability and intentions regarding weapons of mass destruction threaten the U.S. now.  Nor has any member of the Bush Administration, the Congress or the intelligence community shown evidence linking the Al Qaeda attacks last year on New York City and the Pentagon with either Saddam Hussein or Iraqi terrorists. Indeed, if President Bush had such proof of Iraq's complicity, he would need no further authorization to retaliate. He could do so under the resolution we passed only three days after Al Qaeda's infamous attacks.

What is it that we do know about Iraq? We know Saddam is a ruthless ruler who will try to maintain power at all costs and who seeks to expand his weapons of destruction. We have known that for some time.  We do know that Iraq  has some biological and chemical weapons, but none with the range to reach the U.S.  President Bush paints two scenarios:

1) The first is that Iraq would launch biological or chemical weapons against Israel, our Arab allies or our deployed forces.  But during the Gulf War, Saddam did not do so. Why not? Because he knew he would be destroyed in retaliation, and we were not then threatening his destruction, as President Bush is now doing. Thus, attacking Iraq will actually increase rather than decrease the likelihood of Saddam 's launching whatever  weapons he does have.
2) Under the Administration's second scenario, Iraq would give weapons of destruction to Al Qeada, who might bring them to our shores. But that scenario, too,  is not credible. Perhaps the most significant intelligence assessment we have is one revealed publicly only last night. The CIA states that Iraq is unlikely to initiate chemical or biological attack against the U.S., but goes on to warn that, and I quote:

 "Should Saddam conclude that a U.S.-led attack could no longer  be deterred, [Hussein might] decide that the extreme step of assisting  Islamist terrorist in conducting a  [weapons of mass destruction] attack against the United States would be his last chance to exact vengeance by taking a number of victims with him."

In other words, the CIA warns that an attack on Iraq could well provoke the very tragedy the President claims he is trying to forestall - Saddam's  use of chemical or biological weapons.

Nevertheless, President Bush and his supporters cite some "evidence of contacts between Al Qaeda representatives and Baghdad." So what? We have had high level contracts with North Korea, Afghanistan when the Taliban ruled it, and other ruthless despots. That did not mean we were allies. The intelligence community has confirmed that Al Qeada and Saddam's secular Baathist regime fundamentally are enemies. As a religious fanatic, Bin Laden has been waging underground war against the secular governments of Iraq, Egypt, Syria and the military rulers of other Arabic countries. Saddam would be very unlikely to give such dangerous weapons to a group of radical terrorists who might see fit to turn them against Iraq.

We are fairly certain that Iraq currently has no nuclear weapons. Even with the best luck in obtaining enriched uranium or plutonium, however, the official intelligence estimate is that Iraq will not have them for some time. If Iraq must produce its own fissile material, it would take three to five years, according to those estimates. In a futile effort to mirror the prudent approach of President Kennedy during the Cuban Missile Crisis, President Bush recently released satellite photographs of buildings, as evidence that Saddam has resumed a nuclear weapons development. This is hardly headline news. We  knew that he had resumed them.

Another thing we know is that:

Iraq's vast oil reserves have been a major tool in the Administration's pressuring other countries to support our rush to war against their better judgment; and

Those oil reserves will be controlled and allocated by the U.S., should we install or bless a new regime in Baghdad.

These implications are explored in an excellent Washington Post article, which I ask unanimous consent to insert in the Record immediately following remarks. Let me read just two paragraphs here:

 "A U.S.-led ouster of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein could open up a bonanza for American oil companies long banished from Iraq, scuttling oil deals between Bagdad and Russia, France and other countries, and reshuffling world petroleum markets, according to industry officials and leaders of the Iraqi opposition."

 "Although senior Bush administration officials say that they have not begun to focus on the issues involving oil and Iraq, American and foreign oil companies have already begun maneuvering for a stake in the country's huge proven reserves of 112 billion barrels of crude oil, the largest in the world outside Saudi Arabia (emphasis added)."

Mr. Speaker, there has also been a discernable and disconcerting rhythm to the Administration's arguments. Every time one of their claims has been rebutted, they have reverted to the mantra that "after September 11, 2001, the whole world has changed."  Indeed it has. But they cannot wave that new international landscape like a magic wand in order to transform Iraq into an imminent threat to America when it is not.

Moreover, discussing whether Iraq presents such a threat only deals with half of the equation before us. What are all  the costs of war?  While Iraq poses no imminent threat to us, unleashing war against Iraq would pose many terrible threats to America:

* It would dilute our fight against Al Qaeda terrorists. That is why families of the victims of "9/11" have angrily told me and some of you that they oppose a pre-emptive war precisely because it would undermine our war on terrorism. Administration assurances that war against Iraq would not dilute out war on terrorism are pleasing, but cannot change the facts. Space satellites, aircraft, ships and special forces simply cannot be in two places at the same time.

* America's attacking Iraq alone would ignite a firestorm of anti-American fervor in the Middle East and Muslim world and breed thousands of new potential terrorists.

* As we see in Afghanistan, there would be chaos and inter-ethnic conflict following Saddam's departure. A post-war agreement among them to cooperate peacefully in a new political structure would not be self-executing. Iraq would hardly become overnight a shining "model democracy" for the Middle East. We would need a U.S. peacekeeping  force and nation-building efforts there for years. Our soldiers and aid workers could be targets for retribution and terrorism

* America has never been an aggressor nation. If we violate the U.N. Charter and unilaterally assault another country when it is not yet a matter of necessary self-defense, then we will set a dangerous precedent, paving the way for any other nation that chooses to do so, too, including those with nuclear weapons such as India and Pakistan and China.

* We will trigger an arms-race of nations accelerating and expanding their efforts to develop weapons of destruction, so that they can deter "pre-emptive" hostile action by the U.S.  Do we really want to open this Pandora's  box?

* Mr. Speaker, of all the consequences I fear, perhaps the most tragic is that the war, plus the need to rebuild Iraq, would cost billions of dollars badly needed at home.  For millions of Americans, the biggest threat to their security in the lack of decent wage jobs, health insurance or affordable housing for their families. Senior citizens having to choose between buying enough food and buying prescription drugs is an imminent threat. Unemployment reaching 6 million people is an imminent threat to America's well-being. Forty-one million Americans without health insurance is an imminent threat.

* The huge costs of war and nation building, which will  increase our deficit, along with the impact of the likely sharp rise in oil prices, will deal a double-barreled blow to our currently fragile economy.

What then should we do at this time? We should face the many clear and present dangers that threaten us here at home; we should seek peaceful resolution of our concerns about Iraq; and we should get much, much tougher on nations that are still providing assistance to Iraq's program for weapons of mass destruction. We should avoid the horrors of war unless war is really necessary.

That is the American way.

Rep. John Conyers, Jr. (D-Detroit)
October 9, 2002
 
 

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2002

Heartsick. It is not a word I'm accustomed to using. I'm not sure I've ever used it before, but today, after hearing of the Senate vote this morning, heartsick is what I felt, and heartsick is what I still feel hours later.

I'm so tired of hearing the "Democrats" did this or the "Republicans" did that. The decision that each individual made when they cast their vote on President Bush's war resolution last night or early this morning had nothing to do with politics, no matter how much they would like to believe it. These men and women made the decision either to bring death and destruction to a people and a part of our planet or not. Actually, they made the decision whether or not to allow one individual to make this decision for them. They may think the blood will be on his hands and not theirs, but they are wrong. Every human being who dies, every creature, every plant, every tree, every river that is polluted, every bit of land that is blown up, every endangered species that disappears forever, every breath of air that carries sickness and death, all of this is on the hands of 373 men and women--not to mention the President and his gang--who voted YES on Bush's war resolution. I am so proud of the 156 who stayed strong in the face of dirty tactics and slanderous insults and dared to vote NO.  That number includes my two Michigan senators, Debbie Stabenow and Carl Levin, and my House representative, Carolyn Cheeks Kilpatrick. After having called their Washington, DC offices almost every day this past week--not to mention my in-person visits to them in early September and all the other emails and phone calls over the last months--I just called each office to express my personal gratitude for their NO votes.

But what about the people of Iraq? How do you think they are feeling today? I doubt if the word "terror" is large enough to carry what must be going through their hearts and minds at this moment. How would I feel to hear that my country would be attacked within the next few weeks by a nation that produces and maintains the most sophisticated weapons in the world? I can't imagine. Is what happened on September 11 worse because it was a surprise attack? Would you rather know ahead of time that you, your people, your culture and your land were going to be destroyed, or would it be easier not to know until moments or even hours before it happened? I think I'd rather not know. The fear alone would be as bad as the death that would come.

And for what? Because someone says--with no proof--that someone else just might have weapons of mass destruction? I mean everyone knows that my country, the USA, has more weapons of mass destruction than any other nation on the planet. Why don't they make war on us? Because if they did, the country of my birth would use those weapons and probably blow us all sky high.

Oh well, in about an hour I'm going downtown to the Federal Building to be part of a candlelight vigil for peace. I will be with my sisters and brothers who are also heartsick, and that is good. This is not a time to be alone. I need community.

Later

When I think of this day, I will remember the pain of Congress caving in to Bush, yes, but I will also recall a gathering of 200 peace activists with their faces illuminated by the warm glow of candles. I will remember an 84 year-old nun choosing to celebrate her birthday at a peace vigil rather than at home with her religious community. I will recall an 8 year-old boy named Morris proudly carrying the sign he had made himself. I will see my sisters and brothers drumming, performing poetry, singing of peace, and leading those songs. I will recall a boy who was proud to be attending his first peace vigil with his grandmother and grandfather, and a girl and boy who were also attending their first such gathering with their mother. I will think of a father and his two children shyly smiling at me late on a Friday night. I will remember a little one with gleaming eyes and a smile stretched broadly across his face as he honked the pink horn on my scooter La Lucha. I will recall signs that said it all. I will remember the powerful presence of the next generation of activists standing beside those who have been in it for the long haul. I will recall photographers training TV cameras on vigilers who would have been more comfortable staying behind the scenes. I will remember my feelings of pride as I learned that ten of Michigan's sixteen elected members of the House and the Senate voted NO on President Bush's war resolution. I will recall looking around this circle of vigilers and being pleased to see so many familiar faces, almost like looking through a living scrapbook of my activist years in Detroit. I will remember feeling deeply grateful to be part of this wonderful community.
 

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2002

Just as I will never think of September 11 without remembering the horror of those unbelievable attacks, so I will never think of October 26 without remembering the wonder  of being part of the reemergence of democracy in our nation's capitol. For this day 200,000 people gathered together in strength and oneness  of heart and said "NO!" to George W. Bush's war on Iraq. Not only "no" to his militaristic regime with its bottom-line corporate interests, but a resounding "YES! to peace and unity and a shared determination never again to allow any politician to tell us what we think and what we will or will not do. This day, in my memory, will go down as the day that true democracy came back to life in America! And what a grace it was to be part of helping to make it happen. I am sure every single person who was there feels as I do. Hope no longer seems a "someday" thing; hope is our shared reality. How grateful I am to the International A.N.S.W.E.R. (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism) coalition organizers, members and volunteers for creating the container to hold such an enduring reality. Today's rally and march in Washington, DC, coupled with those in San Francisco and across the globe, showed what non-violent resistance can look like on a grand scale.

The rally was scheduled to start at 11 AM at Constitution Gardens between the Vietnam War Memorial and the Lincoln Memorial with its reflecting pool. When I arrived at the Foggy Bottom-GWU Metro stop at 9:30 AM, it was already filled with folks carrying signs. I soon hooked up with a woman named Cynthia from Colorado, and a couple from Richmond, VA. We walk/scooted the six blocks together to Constitution Avenue. I was touched by their sensitivity when we encountered an ungraded curb that La Lucha my scooter couldn't handle; they walked behind me in the street so I wouldn't feel so vulnerable. On the way, Cynthia and I got to know one another a bit and I learned that she is an experienced symphony conductor and a concert violinist. She was visiting her parents in Triangle, VA, near where I used to go to Camp Fire Girl camp in the 1940-50s. Today was her first large demonstration. We decided to form our own affinity group and stick together for the day. What an excellent choice!

Once we reached Constitution Gardens, it was like we'd been dropped into a new world, one in which everyone shared our values and politics, at least in relation to the Bush Administration and its determined push to go to war against Iraq. There were welcome tables put up by International A.N.S.W.E.R., information tables boasting a variety of progressive literature, people handing out all kinds of flyers, a drumming circle, the Rochester, NY Raging Grannies singing their wonderfully irreverent ditties, an Uncle Sam stiltwalker who chose me as a companion for photo ops, several Bush look-likes--one an oil-guzzling babe in arms and another with strings manipulating his every move--university contingents from places like Yale, Dartmouth and the University of South Carolina, and people of every nationality (including this older couple from Pakistan), age, religion and ethnic background. I saw so many wonderful banners and signs that I almost ran into people trying to take pictures. Here are photos of a small number of the signs and banners I saw during this very full day:

Stop War, Cry Peace
Use Your Brains Not Your Arms and Don't Sell Out
Peace Is Right, Bush Has Left and Regime Change Begins At Home...VOTE
Hello Mother Earth
Hey Cowboy, Don't Rope Us Into Your War
See Our Hands (held by deaf students from Gallaudet University)
Professor of Literature Against War (group from New York City)
CIA Agents For Peace (friends of mine from Michigan)
a peace sign
RIP...How Many More? (with drummers)
The War On Freedom
Stop Ignoring Us (held by a sister in a scooter)
Talibans For Bush
It Takes A Village...Don't Raze It (dress worn by a Raging Grannie from NY)
Regime Change Begins At Home...VOTE (www.moveonpac.org banner)
Kill Not For Me (I unfortunately cut off the faces of Bush and his cronies)
Bu$h, Save Earth
No War Ever (little Maria's brother Jacob looked much more tired than she)

Just being among these crowds of people from all over the country was like a reality check. How I feel about a war on Iraq is not strange or unusual. For on this day, we were the majority. And deep down I know that, polls and media aside, that is the truth: we are the majority! The American people do not want this war.

Soon it was time for Cynthia and me to make our way up to the stage where the rally would be held. As is my habit, I used La Lucha my scooter to part the waters so we ended up in the front row right behind the media and press. The coolest part of it was that we were in the deaf area where there was to be sign language interpreting for a wonderful group of students from Gallaudet University. When I told them that both my grandparents had been deaf and my Great Uncle had gone to Gallaudet, they said that made me part of the family! Their enthusiasm, chanting and cheering helped me stay focused for what turned out to be a very long list of speakers. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's not every day you have the opportunity to hear such inspiring people as  Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney, former Attorney General Ramsey Clark, the Rev. Al Sharpton, attorney Lynne Stewart who has recently come under attack by Attorney General John Ashcroft for "violating" the Patriot Act in her defense of an Egyptian cleric who is currently being held in a U.S. prison, an Iraqi humanitarian, author Leslie Feinberg, an A.NS.W.E.R. youth organizer, Susan Sarandon, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, the A.N.S.W.E.R. organizers, and the singer Patti Smith.

What stays with me is Ramsey Clark's urgent, passionate cry for peace, the mixture of pain and gratitude in the voices of the Iraqi speakers, Susan Sarandon's saying that dialogue is the opposite of war, Ben Cohen of Ben & Jerry's reminding us that it would take $8 billion a year to feed all the hungry persons in the world while Bush has asked for $270 billion to wage his war on Iraq, and my disgust when Jesse Jackson described the Gulf War and other military misadventures as "necessary wars" while he said this upcoming war on Iraq was "unnecessary." I wonder to whom he thought he was speaking? Many of these same folks were out on the streets in 1991 protesting the Gulf War he described as "necessary." But his was the only sour note in four hours of speeches.

As the rally continued, the crowds grew larger. First they said we were almost 100,000, then 150,000 and finally 200,000. The numbers didn't matter; what mattered was the sense of solidarity and peace that permeated everything. Even the weather cooperated. After a misty morning, the sun appeared and it became a perfect autumn afternoon. Everyone started stripping off layers of clothing and my face even got a little sunburned. It was hard to remember my concern over cold and rain.

By 3 PM, the march began. Since Cynthia and I were in the front at the rally, we were near the end of the march, but even there, Constitution Avenue and 17th Street going toward the White House were totally packed from curb to curb with smiling, chanting, singing folks. I started some songs and got a terrific response from the people around me. We sounded pretty darn good if I do say so myself. But I'll tell you who really sounded good and that was a man with a clarinet whom I dubbed the Musician For Peace.

When you're at such a mammoth gathering of people I guess there is a good chance that you'll see someone you know. I was kind of blown away by how many times that happened to me today. I saw a group of activists from Michigan, some of whom I've seen at demonstrations at home in Detroit and Ann Arbor. Then there were at least four women who recognized me from the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival, the most significant of whom was the bodypainter Jayne from NYC who was painting faces here as well. But my most unexpected meeting was with Maria West, a woman I used to know in Detroit but had not seen since she'd moved away about ten years ago. We just happened to be marching near one another. Maria was with a wonderful woman named Mio (not sure of the spelling) whom she'd met on the Metro coming in from Maryland. From the moment we connected, the four of us stayed together until the end of the march. And I have Mio to thank for many of the pictures, including these of some fabulous street theater performers. For much of the time, we were marching in the middle of a large group of people from Vermont who had wonderfully creative banners of different kinds and a lot of pride in their identity as Vermonters.

Throughout the day I saw and connected with a good number of sisters and brothers in scooters and wheelchairs. Liz Fleet from Long Beach, CA was beside Cynthia and me at the rally, and I met Joanne from Springfield, IL on the march. It was good that we could be part of the action.

For me, the culmination of the march came when we got to the Executive Office Building where my father used to work. As my regular journal readers know, my Dad held a high level position in the government that meant he was privy to the machinations of power during Truman's and Eisenhower's administrations. He was also an important member of the U.S. intelligence community. My activism comes from that deep place where heredity meets conscience. It is a non-negotiable part of my being.

It's hard to know how the mainstream media will characterize this rally and march, but we do know that Pacifica Radio and CSPAN broadcast the whole thing live. And tonight I read an email from Margaret, a tireless activist friend of mine in Windsor, Ontario, in which she wrote:

I am writing while watching live coverage on Indymedia's streaming video of the speeches at the BIG peace rally in D.C. I JUST SAW YOU!!! I was thinking they might zoom in on you and they did! Good for you, you are representing so many of us who can't be there!! Ramsay Clark's powerful speech, Cynthia McKinney's, the youth from Vieques....I heard them all. This is a glorious moment for the American people as the Free Palestine Alliance speaker said. You are the patriots!!

Yes, we are the patriots, but we are patriots with a lot of work ahead of us. The next organized action proposed by the International A.N.S.W.E.R. coalition is to mount a campaign to get hundreds of thousands of signatures on a People's Anti-War Referendum. As we now realize, those persons whom we elected to represent us have fallen down on the job and it is up to us to represent ourselves. We will gather again for a Mass Demo and Grassroots Peace Congress here in Washington, DC on the weekend of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, January 18-19, 2003. In the meantime, we must work together to stop this war before it begins.
 

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2002

"You gas us, we'll nuke you." That is the headline shown on my Americia Online browser screen today. As if they are discussing a video game.

What are they thinking of? I guess the question would be, are they thinking? Not just Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld and their war-loving crowd, but the media and press who report what comes out of their mouths. Does no one realize what is being said here? Does no one remember what it means to "nuke" someone? Are Hiroshima and Nagasaki forgotten chapters in this country's violent past? And as if it weren't bad enough then, can you imagine what the Atomic scientists have come up with in the last 57 years? My God, is everyone asleep here?

We should be streaming into the streets shouting NO!!! at the top of our lungs.

Am I the only one in this huge country who feels like she's been shot in the stomach? Please wake up. Please don't remain silent. Please do something, anything to stop this madness. It is not too late. The White House has said this to see if they can get away with it unchallenged. Call the White House. Call your Congresspersons and Senators. Write letters to the editors. DO SOMETHING!

So I took my own advice and sent a group email to the folks on my list, called the White House Comment Line (202/456-1111) and let them know how I felt about the U.S. using nuclear weapons against Iraq (or anyone!), called my senators and representative and asked them to do whatever they could to stop this madness, and sent the following letter to the editor of the Detroit Free Press:

Subject: Do we need a nuclear war?

Dear editors

In its relentless campaign to promote public support of a war on Iraq, the Bush White House has brought out every possible rationale and fear tactic it can manufacture. Of course, no one seems to mention the fact that Saddam Hussein has not attacked or even threatened any country since 1991, but such facts have little to do with President Bush's push for war. And now he brings out the heavy artillery.

Today (December 11), President Bush submitted to Congress a new defense strategy called the "National Strategy to Combat Weapons of Mass Destruction." In this document Iraq and other "hostile nations" are warned that the United States is prepared to use "overwhelming force" - including nuclear weapons - in response to any chemical or biological attack.

Does no one understand what is being said here? The country to fear using weapons of mass destruction is not Iraq; it is the United States. If this country detonates atomic bombs in the Middle East, what do we think will happen? Israel, the United States' only real pal in the region, has nuclear weapons too. Do we really want to start a nuclear war? And for what? So that the US can control the oil reserves now controlled by Saddam Hussein? To get rid of a two-bit dictator that the US helped create?

What needs to happen is already happening: a UN weapons inspection team doing their work in Iraq. Does our world really need a nuclear war? Whatever became of peace?

Sincerely

Patricia Lay-Dorsey

My email pals, including Ed, have replied to my impassioned email message with alacrity. Here are a few of their responses:

From Kate in California: "I so appreciate your acting like the town crier, Patricia.  I heard this on the radio last night and realized that alot of stuff is getting by us....we are like those frogs in the water, slowly agreeing to being boiled to death."

Ed wrote: "now don't get your knickers in a twist.  stop.  take a deep breath.  there, that's better.  now keep up your good work.  try using reason like, we can overrun the iraq countryside with little difficulty and loss of life but, if deposing hussein is our goal as our government has stated, it means invading baghdad, a hundred and fifty square-mile city the size of detroit filled with millions of an  ancient devout people who pray five times a day.  it means the death of tens of thousands of our kids and perhaps triple that of the people, probably mostly women and children and very aged."

From Juli, a Michigan Womyn's Music Festival friend: "Thank you so much for keeping me 'involved'. I have become so hopeless with the state of our union that I am not even opening emails from all the action networks that I am signed on with.  It is only your occasional email (which I can't bear to delete without reading!) that helps me stay alerted and action oriented to the whole damned situation. Everyday I feel a little worse about the 'president' and his mess of policies and politics.  It is very hard to do anything but stomp my feet and yell at the CNN website.  I just hope that our voices are being heard, somewhere, by someone. Wow, I didn't realize how bad I felt about all this until I started typing..."

Nancy wrote from her home in Ontario: "Patricia: I am also so worried about the world. I heard on CBC about an agreement that Canada has made with the US to allow US army personnel to enter Canada in the case of a "disaster" with no need for permission. It did not say what or who specifies the disaster.  Candians are being allowed to help the US in the same case but under US military rule. It feels like we are all being sold down the river and it is damned scarey..."

From Dorothy in San Francisco: "Your letter to the editors of the DFP was great, and so was your letter to your friends.  Yes, I will call tomorrow.  You continue to be an inspiration to us all---a kind of modern Paul Revere, nudging the sleepers awake with an urgent wake-up call..."

And from Lolita of the Detroit area Women in Black: "I was in the demonstration yesterday on Jefferson Ave. Tons of folks honked in support of our signs. You're quite right we need to make a noise, stay visible and wake up this sleeping giant."
 

FRIDAY, JANUARY 17, 2003

 On The Way To Washington, DC...
Friday, January 17, 2003

Liquid tears frozen on ledges,
rocky ledges cut by the highway's
rusty blade. Do tears drip like
icicles from our eyes or have we lost
the ability to cry?

Do we stare dry-eyed into the
face of war and say it can't be
stopped, it is inevitable?
Have we lost the capacity for
horror, to feel in our cells the
tragic cost of war?

Do we sit before our TV screens
numbed to what is being said,
what is being planned? Is it
too late to wake up our sleeping
sensibilities and cry tears,
hot and heavy tears that can
never freeze?

The questions raised in this poem that I wrote as we drove through the hills of northern Maryland on Friday afternoon were answered a few hours later as I "happened upon"--they say there are no accidents in the scheme of things--Starhawk leading a Spiral Dance in a small park on 17th Street not far from the White House. I scooted over to the circle of perhaps 100 young and old women and men and asked to join. I was invited into the center of the circle where Starhawk and a community of drummers were preparing to begin the ritual under the bright white full moon. I was greeted with welcoming smiles and given two rattles to shake. Then Starhawk began to invoke the Goddess and to introduce the meaning of tonight's Spiral Dance. Her voice was so soft and our numbers so large that every phrase was repeated in unison by those closest to her, so that our sisters and brothers on the outer edges of the circle could hear what was being said. This communal intonement only increased the power of her message and helped each of us recognize our place as co-creators of magic. As Starhawk described it, our dance was dedicated to weaving the web of peace with justice. She asked those in the center of the circle to hold up the "webs" that had been created using fabric strips wound around and stretched across plastic hula hoops. The intention was for these webs to catch the powerful energy being generated by the dance. I picked up a web and held it high. The chant we were all to sing as the dancers danced was:

We are a circle, within a circle
With no beginning and never endingÖ

Breath by breath, thread by thread,
Conjure justice, weave our webÖ

Well. All I can say is that as the dancers spiralled around me on this frosty moonlit night, the drums, the chanting, the collective energy spiralled deep within my being and actually made me believe that peace was possible. I will never forget the faces--the love shining forth from the faces--of those who danced as I sat in the center of the circle with the web of justice held high. When Starhawk re-entered the center of the circle--she had been leading the dancers--the chant grew ever louder and faster until finally it became a tone shared on different keys by all the participants. Eventually we moved into the silence. When I opened my eyes, Starhawk was looking at me. Our eyes met, we smiled and a connection was forged.
 

SATURDAY, JANUARY 18, 2003

How does one put words to experiences that touch the deepest part of your being? How do I steer clear of sentimentality when it was my heart that marched the streets of Washington, DC on this cold sunny day, a day when a half a million people (or 300,000 or 200,000 or whatever number they want to come up with) came together from all across this country to say in one voice, NO WAR ON IRAQ!

I had attended the A.N.S.W.E.R. anti-war rally and march in Washington, DC on October 26 and had not been able to imagine ever seeing anything that would top that...but this did. Partly because this was not a beautiful sunny autumn day but rather the coldest day in Washington, DC since the year 2000. We awoke to temperatures of +11º F and it never got warmer than +24º F. But there was a bright sun shining, blue skies and, most importantly, no wind. And we all knew enough to come prepared.

My travel sisters, Pat and Kim, had wisely brought hand and boot warmers to share. These miracle-workers are small plastic packages filled with a combination of iron and other heat-generating substances that you put under your toes between your socks and your boots, and between two layers of gloves or mittens. They keep you warm for six hours, and that is exactly how long they worked for me. Of course I had several more hours of scooting around outside before we finally returned to the motel at 8:30 PM, but I never got too uncomfortable.

On October 26, I had been in town to visit my mother during what turned out to be her final illness. She had perked up a lot after I'd arrived on Tuesday, so I'd felt comfortable going off on Saturday to attend the rally and march in DC. I remember being absolutely delighted that things had worked out so I could be there. I had wanted to go but my busy schedule at home had put me off. Then Mom got sick and I cancelled out of everything and went anyway. Early that Saturday morning, I'd gotten on the Metro (subway) at Shady Grove near Gaithersburg, MD. When I got off the train near the site of the rally, I happened to meet Cynthia from Colorado and we quickly formed our own two-person affinity group. It was wonderful to share the day with her. But today was different--today I felt like I was part of a big family of loving sisters. And it wasn't simply the feeling of community that made it special; it was having a shared purpose, having a unique contribution to make to the greater whole. It was as though every piece of activism I'd ever done had been leading up to this moment, that this truly reflected who I am at my core...a Raging Granny!

The Raging Grannies who had driven and those who had taken the overnight charter buses from Rochester, NY and Detroit, MI were to meet at Constitution and 1st NW at 9:30 AM. Well, Kim and I met up with Elaine, her husband Ron, and Josie from Rochester, NY soon after 9:30 AM, but the bus Grannies didn't make it until 11 AM. So the four of us stood--I sat in my scooter--on the corner welcoming folks as they made their way to Constitution and 3rd NW where the rally was to be held. Many wonderful signs passed by carried by groups of folks from all over the United States, including Minnesota and even Alaska. We met and talked with a woman named Peace Walker who has been on a solitary walk for peace since last April. We saw a woman with an apron full of peace buttons. When I saw her later in the day, her apron was almost bare. We had a long conversation with a DC Metro police officer named TJ who was assigned to protect our corner in his patrol car. This young man from Kentucky surprised me by stating in a forthright manner that he was totally opposed to Bush's proposed war on Iraq, and that he wasn't the only one. He said that many of the DC Metro police officers were veterans and knew what war was like; they didn't want anything to do with it. He also told us how much he had liked and admired Senator Paul Wellstone who used to work out with them at the police gym. TJ was one of the most transformative agents I encountered all weekend.

Although the Rochester, NY Grannies were reluctant to start singing--they have an agreement that they will only sing when eight Grannies are in attendance--I talked them into calling it "practice" so we could do what we had come there to do...sing. Did we ever get wonderful responses from folks as they gathered around with big grins on their faces and sometimes sang along with us! One young man with a baby on his back and a mandolin in his hands even accompanied us for a couple of songs.

Now, I have to tell you right up front that my being a Raging Granny has definitely gotten in the way of my former commitment to being a "photo-journalist." There is no way I can sing and take pictures at the same time. Especially today. It had taken Kim and me a full ten minutes to put on my fleece gloves and the hand warmers under my Gore-tex mittens and nothing was going to make me take them off! So any photos I wanted would have to be taken by hands other than my own. I have Granny Kim, Pat's friend Bernadette and her daughter Josie, Vincent who climbed a tree at the rally and took pictures with my camera, and innumerable women and men whose names I do not know to thank for the photos I will share here.

When we saw our Raging Grannies Without Borders coming towards us from across the street, we were four happy Grannies! And within ten minutes, the Rochester, NY gaggle showed up too. There had been so many buses coming into town--900 at last count--that everyone was delayed. Now we had a goodly gaggle with 13 Rochester Grannies and 7 from Detroit. When we sang it took two pictures to get us all in--#1 and #2!

After practicing a few songs at our meeting place, we started making our way over towards the rally; it was now 11:30 AM. We stopped to sing on a grassy field before we got to the Mall, and attracted a large, enthusiastic audience. It was there that a woman whom I'd met on the Metro last night and had encouraged to come to today's rally/march, came up and said, "I just wanted you to know--I made it!" Here are Charlotte, Vicki, Josie, Kathy and I while we were temporarly between songs. We then moved on to the Mall. Was it ever crowded! I had literally to run interference with my scooter while calling out, "Make way for the Grannies!" to get us into any kind of position so we could hear the speeches. But before we had positioned ourselves so we could hear anything, we sang another set of songs at the back of the crowd. It was then that Dorothy Russell, the daughter of my friend Julie in the Bay Area, came running up and gave me a hug. She goes to boarding school in Philadephia and had been down for the October 26 rally, but we'd missed seeing one another then. I also ran into Jayne, the wonderful bodypainter from the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival. She had come down on a bus from her home in New York City. It was amazing that we met again; we'd also seen one another on October 26. But this running into friends happened to me all day long. It got so the Grannies were laughing and saying, "Patricia knows everyone!"

I guess now is as good a time as any to talk about the many, many interviews we gave during the day, and the untold cameras--press, TV, documentary filmmakers' and personal--that were trained on us during this long day. The Raging Grannies are media magnets, it seems. We were interviewed and/or photographed by an Italian newspaper, NPR (National Public Radio), the Women's International News Service, the Buffalo News, the Washington Post, and many others. At one time I was surprised to see a microphone in front of my mouth as we marched along singing. But for me it wasn't the press or media attention that most delighted me; it was the smiles, laughter and cheers of our sister and brother peace marchers, especially the children and students. You could almost see their stories in their eyes, stories that so often include having parents or grandparents who do not understand or approve of their commitment to activism. It was as if seeing and hearing this group of gray-haired women who share their horror of war and are willing to get out on the streets and use hard-hitting song parodies to get their message across gave them the feeling of family understanding and approval they so richly deserve. Their faces are what will stay with me.

Even though we arrived at the rally pretty late, we still heard several speeches--among them, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, Jessica Lange, Rep. John Conyers, Jr. (D-Detroit, MI), and former Congresswoman Cynthia McKinney. We were so far away that even when Vincent took this picture from up in the tree, you still can't see the stage. But the sound equipment was excellent because we could hear the speeches quite well. Actually, it surprised me that even though we were so far back, everyone around us was totally focused on what was being said and often cheered and chanted with the rest of the crowd. Don't forget, it was very cold, so standing for hours of speeches was not the easiest or most comfortable thing to do. But even though we couldn't see the stage, there was always plenty to look at with the incredible variety of signs around us. By the way, almost everyone carried a sign or a banner, many of them homemade.

I understand the march started at 1:30 PM, with the first group arriving at the Navy Yard, its destination, an hour later. We probably didn't start marching until sometime after 3 PM, and it was 5 PM before we completed the march, but lots happened during those two hours. First of all, there was a bottleneck at a place where there were no curb cuts for my scooter to navigate. The Grannies stayed with me and eventually we called on "our gr