Along the way, I have been looking for examples of “being” that might be considered humanitarian. I found a great one in an article entitled “Sharpshooters – The Distant Executioner” in the February 2010 Vanity Fair (a moderately guilty pleasure of mine in the realm of reading).
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This evening John Allen Muhammad was put to death. He was a soldier too. His ex-wife claims he came home from Dessert Storm a changed man. His lawyer decried that statement and said he wasn’t… how could you not be though? Battles change people whether they are in the army or in a living room. They stir dark parts of your soul and voices emerge that we didn’t even know existed; voices that haunt and prey on our esteem and our will to live in a healthy way.
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My parents lived at Fort Hood in 1973, when my dad was still in the Army. In fact, my brother Matt was born at the Army hospital there. When I spoke with my dad yesterday, he was deeply troubled by the events yesterday. Of course, all of us are troubled, but for military personnel, active or retired, this is a particularly difficult thing to walk through.
I wrote this song right after the Virginia Tech shootings in April 2007, and when I heard about the Fort Hood shootings yesterday, I wanted to share it again. I am praying for all those affected by this horrible tragedy.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, You are with me..." (Psalm 23)
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This morning, I followed my normal pre-work routine. My alarm rang at 6:45. I climbed out of bed to turn it off. I climbed back into bed until the snooze alarm sounded. I turned that off too, and climbed into bed again. Finally, after thirty minutes of this game, I was ready to truly get up and face the world. (Why I can’t just set my alarm thirty minutes later and sleep I’ll never know.) Next, I journeyed to the bathroom for the morning ritual: shower, shave, brush my hair (even though I buzz my hair), brush my teeth. I got dressed, headed to the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of cereal. I then embarked on a ritual I’ve had in some form or fashion since I was eight - I saw down and read the paper. When I was eight, I would literally spend 20 minutes combing through the local paper - skimming articles, checking out the day’s news, reading the funnies. Nowadays, I migrate back to my computer and skim through the news stories on the website of the local paper. If I have time, I’ll pop over to a few favorite sites or blogs that are on my newsfeed.
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Conversely, a photographic essay published a year after US troops came to Afghanistan loudly intimated, "THESE WOMEN ARE NOW FREE." I distinctly remember seeing photographs of Afghan women wearing high heels and makeup in TIME magazine. Somehow, the spikes and eye shadow were supposed to convince the world that equal rights had arrived to the country. Today's news, then, was nothing short of distressing. Today, a law was passed in Afghanistan that gives husbands express permission to essentially rape their wives. Consent on the part of the wife was deemed unnecessary. Originally crafted to give the Shiite community it's own freedoms and identity, the clause on permissible, state sanctioned rape is drawing international scrutiny.
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I’m a confirmed introvert. If I spend a lot of time with people, I recharge my personal batteries by spending time alone. My favorite escape is Harriman State Park, a 6,000 acre oasis about 15 minutes from my house. As soon as the days warm up, I begin planning solo treks with nothing but my tent, a little food, and a water purifier. When I talk with people about camping alone, the first thing I often hear is “aren’t you afraid of bears?” Bears may be scary, but they are also few and far between. The real danger when camping in the northeast is ticks. Though the size of a pin-head, they carry Lime Disease. We humans tend to focus our fears on big hairy creatures, while ignoring the real danger, which often appears small and insignificant. That’s what I thought of when I read this morning’s paper. The Dow keeps dropping, passing the previous “bottoms” of 9,000, then 8,600, then 8,400. We are now staring at a Dow at 6,763, the lowest closing since April, 1997. Scary? Yes, in a “bearish” sort of way (could not resist). But I wonder if the real danger is not in the US, but in other places. The American government is still able to function. $3 trillion in economic stimulus, if nothing else, certainly points to a robust attempt to avert disaster. I believe that good news will emerge, as inventories run out and manufacturing begins to pick up
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I’m awkwardly bent at the waist, shuffling like a penitent monk as I search for my winter clothes in our low-slung attic. I always forget to stay low, till the inevitable “thunk” of my head reminds me to repent. Why do I even have winter clothes? What does that mean, to have clothes that are seasonal? In most cold places I’ve traveled, people just put on more of what they have, relying on layers instead of Gortex. It is a strange world I live in. So I’m writing on consumerism. Not just consumerism, but the bigger picture, the impact our nation’s insatiable appetite for more has on other parts of our increasingly small globe. As I mentioned, I do this hesitantly. It’s just too close to home, so painfully obvious in my attic, as I swap out Dry-Fit for Gortex. But, as blogs seem to be as much about self-confession as about anything else, I’m going to press on. How does American consumerism impact others? Does my personal wealth, evidenced in my clothing options, affect Nigeria?
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