The General, the Flyboy and the Grunt

Last week's personal events pretty much overshadowed other news for me. That, plus the lack of regular internet connection, so I caught very little of what took place outside of my own little world. I did, however, catch bits and pieces of General Wesley Clark's comments about John McCain and found nothing to disagree with in what the general said. Fred Kaplan sums up the affair as a combination of Clark's political ineptitude and a grunt's cynicism toward the flyboys. Kaplan gets it right, at least from this grunt's view (which is, of course, from the ground).

Among infantry soldiers I knew in Vietnam, one of the most disdainful epithets was "sleeps in a bed at night". As far as we knew, pilots flew missions and went home. Even our chopper pilots, who were at far greater risk than Navy or Air Force pilots, usually slept in beds at night. Unlike the flyboys, though, chopper pilots were often down and dirty in the fighting. For me, dismissing flyboys was not so much that I was tough and strong (sometimes I give into that illusion) but rather that I was getting screwed and they weren't.

Until they got really screwed--shot down, killed or captured. Dead is dead and captured is even worse. And John McCain got truly fucked over in Vietnam, far worse than I did. He, along with many others, suffered great hardship with honor. General Clark was candid in his admiration. I, too, will always admire John McCain's strength and courage. I certainly don't know that I would have done as well.

One reason I will always remember John McCain's Vietnam service is that he never stops reminding me of it. Like Clark, I don't believe McCain's service record is much preparation for the presidency (although his duty as Senate liaison for the Navy probably taught him to schmooze well). I go a step beyond Clark and say that McCain's record of honor and courage as a POW has been far less evident in his subsequent public life. Don't forget, John McCain is a son of privilege and has long relied on good connections (grandfather, father, the Hensley fortune, Arizona Big Business, lobbyists and a fawning press) to make his way in life. He is hot-tempered and reckless with a blind faith in the "free market" and Big Money to solve the nation's problems and military force to deal with the rest of the world. Expediency and self-interest are more associated in my mind with Senator John McCain. Honor and courage are Lieutenant Commander John McCain.

For me, McCain's experience as a congressman and senator is a far more reliable gauge of his potential as president than his military career. After all, he should have learned something during three decades in Washington. Apparently not, though. He's still a mindless militarist, an unreconstructed Cold Warrior, secure in the "faith of his fathers". The world has moved on. John McCain has not. I give him credit for working with John Kerry to restore diplomatic relations with Vietnam but other than that, I don't see actual accomplishments that give me any reason to think John McCain will offer much opportunity for the United States to meet the challenges of the 21st Century.

Barack Obama certainly has his limitations and uncertainties but those arise from the possibility of change and his inexperience. John McCain will bring us more of the same. He has experience but his experience is wrong for America and the world.

The general was right.

Change of P(l)ace

The sky over Olympia is overcast but the day is not at all dark. I call it subdued and am basking in its calm after the intensity of Phoenix. Here I can look at the world without my eyeballs turning to ash. Some rain fell last night, unnoticed by me. Rain here is soft. Rain in Phoenix is dramatic; we had a "monsoon" thunderstorm my last night there. Not soft at all. The Arizona monsoon,which is moist air from the Gulf of Mexico moving north and west this time of year, blocked the sky some nights but I still got those wonderful open desert sky views that have always thrilled me. I saw the conjunction of Mars, Regulus and Saturn one night in Phoenix against an immense sky that is much less common here. I do see stars and planets in Olympia, more so than Phoenix. I've been following Mars and Saturn for weeks from my balcony and neighborhood but I don't often get the immense perspective that I find in the desert, even with Phoenix light pollution. I do, however, like today's cool temperatures in Olympia, not expected to break 70.

The past week was an eventful one for me. I helped Maggie bury her mother. We sent Marion off with some Bailey's Irish Cream, a deck of pinochle cards, a photo of her dog and a slide from her Hawaiian honeymoon. The funeral also introduced much of the family to a half-sister and her 20 or 21 year old daughter. Maggie had mentioned a half sister at times but she was totally absent as far as I new. Maggie's police detective sister located the half sister in Phoenix earlier this year to tell her of Marion's failing health. I learned some of the backstory this week but it's not mine to tell; it's enough to say that the family has re-united with the absent sibling and unknown cousin.

A second significant event this past week was the offer of employment that I have accepted, my first full-time job since leaving Window Rock seven years ago. I make the change willingly--salary, benefits, challenging work in an interesting setting--it's pretty much everything I could want at a time that I can use it. I do remember that I left my last job singing Chris Chandler's refrain that "successful unemployment is more challenging than having a job". That part of me feels like I am surrendering. On the other hand, employment will help me fulfill some important life goals. Putting about 40 percent of my time at an employer's disposal will definitely change my schedule but think it will stop me from blogging. You just won't read about my work in this space.

A Day Marked by Illuminations and Bonfires

My return to the Northwest has been accompanied by a roaring display of fireworks. Mostly aural, although I saw some larger ones here and there coming down from SeaTac. Here in the hood, the noise is constant popping and and banging. It's been going on pretty much steadily in the hour since I arrived with no apparent end. I saw smoke and smelled cordite as I turned in the driveway. Maggie and I spent July 4, 2003 in Portland, Oregon and heard much the same cacophony. It actually began on the 3rd there.

The randomness in sound and location--it's all around me--gives it the sense of a moving firefight with call and response from all sides, back and forth. A string of Black Cats makes a fair machine gun burst. A single pop is a sniper. Distant pops and rumbles make the sound pervasive--you could walk for hours and not get out of it. It could be the light weapons soundtrack to a major battle.

July 4, 1973 is the birthday of my first dog, Toby, in Charlottesville, Virginia. Toby lived and traveled with me for more than 15 years.

July 4, 1776 is more or less the day that the Continental Congress agreed to one of the finest statements of human rights ever proclaimed.

July 4, 2008 is a day when I regret to say that my government no longer honors the stirring ideals of The Fourth of July.