Monday, September 24, 2001

oh say can you see // While leaving Atlanta Saturday afternoon and first thing the next two mornings I played a Michael Tolcher CD. I met Michael a few weeks ago and had the pleasure of hearing him perform live in a very intimate setting. He's a gifted performer with not only a beautiful voice but a light-heartedness and an improvisational ability that is astounding. When a string broke on his guitar, without breaking the stride of the song, he grasped the flailing wire between his forefinger and thumb and pulled on it creating an eerie, melodic and haunting sound that somehow managed to fit the mood of the song perfectly. During another song he segued in the middle into a loud and passionate version of the Star Spangled Banner. It's not a song I much care for -- neither lyrically nor thematically -- but his soulful rendition transcended the mediocrity of it and for the first time I imagine I felt what legions of patriotic American's must feel when they hear it. Of course, on this occasion, the singer was performing naked on a stage in the middle of the woods, the air was filled with wafts of aromatic herb and there was nary a flag to be found -- but plenty of tie-dye. This was nine days before the day when everything changed, before the attack.

So there I was, heading west on I-20 away from Atlanta on the first day of this trip listening and singing along with Michael. The fourth song on the CD is the one with the Star Spangled Banner smack in the middle of it. As I listened to the words I noticed a large American flag hanging from the overpass I was approaching. I also noticed lots of little flags on the antennas and in the windows of the cars around me. The mood and passion that was screaming out of Michael infected me and for perhaps the first time in my life I had a feeling of patriotism (brief pause so you can pick yourself up off the floor). I must explain.

In the days immediately following the attacks I was frightened of the "American response." We, as a country -- at least as depicted by CNN -- were sounding like a bunch of militaristic zealots bent on retaliation, revenge, and a move towards revitalization of the extreme right. Dubya's pep talks were full of incendiary rhetoric pitting the US as the epitome of good in an almighty battle against the fanatical, evil-doer, "others" who were motivated primarily by their hatred of christianity and goodness. Were we really expected to believe that these attacks were committed because the perpetrators despise democracy and freedom? One would have to wonder if the military "experts" who were quick to lay blame on the American left of being evil-sympathizers what with their calls to limit civil protections and to steer federal monies away from the "liberal agenda." Correct me if I'm wrong but I thought one of the things that made America such a great example of democracy was our (supposed) love of liberty and our (supposed) dedication to equality and fairness. I saw countless Republican politicians and their punditry taking advantage of the opportunity to expand the rift between the frick and frack political parties' agendas. I heard Curt Weldon, a Republican representative from PA claiming that the government's responsibility wasn't health or education but security, as of the military type. I've heard renewed calls for a star wars defense plan, as if that or the immediately dispatched flotillas which were put to sea surrounding our borders would have been able to do anything to prevent suicidal hi-jackers with plastic knives and razor blades from turning commercial airplanes into glorified vehicle bombs. I heard countless cries calling for the sacrificing of rights and liberties in exchange for greater security. It was a depressing, pathos filled period, during which time most of the tears shed were in horror and grief for those whose lives were slaughtered and forever traumatized but also for the impending political nightmare which appeared to be descending, unprotested, upon the land. As if I wasn't already cynical and paranoid. Now I was starting to feel hopeless.

But then something happened. It must have been five or six days after the attack. CNN ran a brief story about a peace march in Oregon. Then the email floodgates were opened. I soon started receiving message after message with alternative viewpoints and urging people to resist succumbing to the temptations of war as an instant remedy (albeit a placebic one -- can I do that? can I make that into a word?) for our pain. Then there were more stories on the television news programs about dozens of peace marches occurring on college campuses across the country. I started to feel less alone and even a little hopeful again. I started to feel like I was part of something bigger than myself. I'm not talking religion here but community and country. I actually started feeling connected with others in our national community. I'm not losing my mind -- I know we're still in the minority and that we possess little substantial political power. I know that the country is still marching forward into a frightening scenario which may very well lead us into WW3. But for that brief moment with Michael in my car I felt hope. More than that, and this is what I've been getting to, I felt pride. I am proud of the values I posses and I am proud to be in the ranks of those who would seek a greater understanding of our current predicament and world situation in the hope that someday we shall overcome war and violence and the worship of the almighty dollar that makes them such powerful and necessary political tools.

I still don't like the song, The Star Spangled Banner, and I'm afraid of the nationalism it represents but I'm glad that I allowed myself that brief but sweet moment of comfort that, perhaps, just perhaps, we aren't all doomed.

Today, the sky over the Painted Desert and the Wupatki ruins were crisscrossed with almost a dozen jet plumes...

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