Cindy Sheehan Leaves the Peace Movement

From Cindy’s diary at DailyKos:

“Good Riddance Attention Whore”

I have endured a lot of smear and hatred since Casey was killed and especially since I became the so-called “Face” of the American anti-war movement. Especially since I renounced any tie I have remaining with the Democratic Party, I have been further trashed on such “liberal blogs” as the Democratic Underground. Being called an “attention whore” and being told “good riddance” are some of the more milder rebukes.

I have come to some heartbreaking conclusions this Memorial Day Morning. These are not spur of the moment reflections, but things I have been meditating on for about a year now. The conclusions that I have slowly and very reluctantly come to are very heartbreaking to me.

The first conclusion is that I was the darling of the so-called left as long as I limited my protests to George Bush and the Republican Party. Of course, I was slandered and libeled by the right as a “tool” of the Democratic Party. This label was to marginalize me and my message. How could a woman have an original thought, or be working outside of our “two-party” system?

However, when I started to hold the Democratic Party to the same standards that I held the Republican Party, support for my cause started to erode and the “left” started labeling me with the same slurs that the right used. I guess no one paid attention to me when I said that the issue of peace and people dying for no reason is not a matter of “right or left”, but “right and wrong.”

[snip]

The most devastating conclusion that I reached this morning, however, was that Casey did indeed die for nothing. His precious lifeblood drained out in a country far away from his family who loves him, killed by his own country which is beholden to and run by a war machine that even controls what we think. I have tried every since he died to make his sacrifice meaningful. Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives. It is so painful to me to know that I bought into this system for so many years and Casey paid the price for that allegiance. I failed my boy and that hurts the most.

As I commented on Counting the Cost, I do not believe Casey died in vain or that Cindy failed.

If the reason behind Casey Sheehan’s death in Iraq was nothing more than to act as a spur, so that his mother and others would fight for peace, then he did not die in vain.

And Cindy most assuredly did not fail. At a time when Bush had decent approval ratings and his war was thought to be a good thing, though maybe it wasn’t going so well, Cindy called on him and on America to tell her why her child and other children – Iraqi and American – had died. There were no WMDs, there were no ties to 9/11, there was no reason for American troops to be fighting and dying on Iraqi soil.

Through her steadfast determination to stop this war, to stop the killing, to stop the endless quest for power and oil, she created a movement that will continue until all our sons and daughters, our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers are brought home. Every last one.

If anything, it is our country that failed. It is us who have failed.

Seventy percent of us might oppose this war, but not all of us have done more than register our disapproval. We failed to stand up, and we continue to do so. Until and unless we all – all of the 70% – join together, to write and call our CongressCritters, to join protests in our hometowns and on the National Mall, to insist our supposedly Democratic-controlled Congress does the will of the people, then nothing will change.

Cindy, I can only say “Thank you.” For teaching us to stand up, even when the polls and the pundits said you shouldn’t. For inspiring us, even when the media excoriated and abused you. For continuing, even in the face of hateful attacks by your fellow citizens.

I truly believe that when the time comes for you to join Casey in the life hereafter, he will greet you with a hug and the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

In Remembrance II

This Memorial Day, take time to remember and honor those who gave all, and those who are in harm’s way.

Take time to reflect upon the sacrifices still being made upon the altar of Ares; all those yet to die in our name.

*

 

Taps

“Fading light dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar drawing nigh — Falls the night.

“Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky.
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

“Then good night, peaceful night,
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright,
God is near, do not fear — Friend, good night.”

— Composed By Major General Daniel Butterfield

Army of the Potomac, Civil War

*

Jenn’s Sunday Sermon – Memorial Day

From last year’s Memorial Day post, These Honored Dead:

Memorial Day is supposed to be a day set aside to remember the sacrifices of our military in wars – popular and unpopular – throughout our history.

Far too many people forget the meaning of the day, just as they forget the meaning of Flag Day, and Veteran’s Day. To most Americans, this weekend will be about prepping the house for summer, planting gardens, and barbequing. It will be about beer and friends, races and baseball.

I was raised to remember all those who gave ‘that last full measure of devotion’. My father was a lifetime member of the American Legion, and a Post Commander. He was a stickler for the rules of flag-handling, and many other solemn events related to the military and honoring their sacrifices. Before I was ten, I knew more about military ritual than most kids.

When I was eight years old, I was given the honor of leading the attendees of the Legion’s Memorial Day remembrance in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. I remember little of the experience, except that my father looked very handsome in his Post Commander’s cap, and that there seemed to be a million people in the audience.

From my father, I learned a lot about ritual, but it was from my mother that I learned about the cost of war.

My paternal grandmother sent four sons to war. Three returned to her; the fourth buried with his comrades on a small plain in France. Her mother waited in vain for her son to return from World War I, but like so many, he perished in a foreign land, his final resting place unknown.

My maternal grandmother watched her brothers leave to fight in World War II. Of the four, two came home; one later to become an instructor at the Air Force Academy. Later, she saw her youngest son drafted, in 1964. My mother was fourteen and remembers vividly the pride and the fear the family felt as they watched him leave for US Navy boot camp. She remembers the eighteen months of terror spent waiting for any word, after the Navy reported him missing in action. She remembers the sense of relief and guilt that assailed them all, but especially him, when he came home injured, but not maimed or crippled. Alive, unlike so many others.

Many people often express surprise that I am very pro-military. I understand this – it’s hard for most people to understand that you can hate wars and the reasons for fighting them, but still love, honor, and support the US military.

Servicemen and women do not choose their battles, they do not choose their enemies. They are told where to go and what to do by leaders that may or may not have their best interests at heart, by leaders who may or may not have seen combat themselves. And they do the very best they can, under circumstances the rest of us will never be able to comprehend.

My problem is not, and never has been, with the men and women in uniform. It is with those who send those men and women into harm’s way without valid reason, without proper equipment and supplies. It is with those who scream themselves hoarse about supporting the troops, but cut veterans benefits in wartime and order them – in America’s name – to violate international law and their own moral code.

It is those who mistreat the American soldier while calling the rest of us unpatriotic.

In Remembrance

Fallen Patriots

“Taps” drifting over carved marble stones.
Tiny flags standing in smart ranks like an honor guard
We come this day to remember those who fell
The youthful and the seasoned alike

Volunteer or conscripted, doesn’t matter which
Most did not a hero’s medal gain
Yet all were patriots for what they did
They went; they served and they died

Some realized glory, others saw their duty clear
Yet, not all dreamed a patriot’s dream
Or really understood their country’s call
But all knew well of fear and death

How shall we remember them?
By bugle strain or tear stained cheek?
Or by their bones that feed the grassy roots?
No! By the free air and soil they bought for us
At the highest price of all

But these are not alone
They have brothers and sisters
that do not sleep beneath the stones
Who also went and served
And stand now and remember

Young man, do not scoff at this remembrance
Rather, accept their gift.
They have given you the freedom to scoff if you want
But refrain and remember instead

And as you do, stand a little straighter
Turn your eyes to that banner fluttering yonder
On which they once gazed and still do
And sing the anthem loud,
For the courageous and strong have sung it before you
And were not timid in it.

Now, as you go from this hallowed place
Do not forget them that lie here
Or those that lie in places far distant
While their lives were lost,
Their gift of freedom lingers still.

— David Lawson © April, 1998

Refund, Please?

The build-up was intense: T-shirts selling like hotcakes, an already-frenzied media literally foaming at the mouth, debates raging as to the soundness of the move, people feeling pro-royalty for a few minutes…

And then, like a nail into a balloon: POOF!

Britain’s Ministry of Defence announced Prince Harry will not be going to Iraq after all, a move that surprised…absolutely no one.

From AOL News:

Britain’s Prince Harry will not be sent with his unit to Iraq , Britain’s top general said Wednesday, citing specific threats to the third in line to the throne.

Army Chief of Staff Gen. Sir Richard Dannatt said the changing situation on the ground exposed the prince to too much danger.

“There have been a number of specific threats, some reported and some not reported, that relate directly to Prince Harry as an individual,” Dannatt said. “These threats exposed him and those around him to a degree of risk I considered unacceptable.”

 

Primary Day – From the Inside

As I have the previous two elections, I spent yesterday working the polls. For the first time, we reported to the Board of Elections in Towanda before 11pm!

Yesterday was the primary, with (mostly) Republicans and (some) Democrats trying to earn a place on the ballot in November.

Here’s a few inside observations:

1) People from both parties were fairly disgusted by the race for sheriff.

I heard this from people from both parties, all age groups, first-time and long-time voters. As one woman said, “We’re used to this in national politics, but local politics used to be about issues.”

Unsurprisingly, Sheriff Steve Evans won the party’s nomination in a landslide. I imagine that when the write-in votes are tabulated, he’ll have a large majority of Democratic votes as well.

I would say close to 70% of the voters we saw asked about doing write-in votes, and from what I saw of the print-outs, there was a larger than usual number of write-ins.

2) There needs to be an increased effort to register younger voters and then get them to the polls.

The majority of voters in my district (and probably the others) are over 60. We had a good number of 40- and 50-somethings, but there was an extremely low turnout in the 18-30 and 30-39 age brackets. There were only four 18yo first-time voters.

3) For the first time in recent memory, nearly identical numbers of Republicans and Democrats showed up to vote.

This is according to the other poll workers, who’ve done this for more than 12 years. Usually primary turnout is about 2/3 Republicans and 1/3 Democrats, mostly because older voters are the ones who turn out for primaries, and they tend to be overwhelmingly Republican.

4) The candidates (and their supporters) were more aggressive this year.

Not only was the run-up to the primary more aggressive and hostile, but those who waited outside the polling places to push their name (or their candidate’s) were more aggressive.

Four times, we had to send our constable out to back them away from the door. They were literally forming a gauntlet that voters had to walk through, shoving cards and flyers at them, and scaring the wits out of some of our elderly voters.

Last, but not least of my observations:

5) Someone who voted yesterday is a thief.

Because the sun was shining brightly yesterday morning when I left home (boy, was I running late!) I still had my sunglasses on my head as we opened the polls. When I realized this, I took them off and set them on the table next to me with my water bottle, where they stayed for the next two hours as I worked one of the voter-tally books. At some point, after I’d moved to working the cards* someone stole my sunglasses off the table. I didn’t realize it until I got my break and went to get my water off the table. The water was still there, but my sunglasses were gone.

- – -

* We have one “Voter Access Card” for each of our machines. During primaries, these cards are programmed by party (1 for Dem, 2 for Rep, 3 for all others) so that the proper ballot comes up when the cards are inserted into the voting machines. We have to program them for each voter that comes through.

Jenn’s Sunday Sermon – Happy Mother’s Day

Happy Mother’s Day.

Julia Ward Howe (1819 – 1910) is best known as the poet-author of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” which was published in the Atlantic Monthly, and later set to music to become the most well-known song of the Civil War.

She was an active campaigner against slavery and war and for the women’s right to vote. In 1868, she founded the New England Women’s Suffrage Association. A year later, she and Lucy Stone founded the American Woman Suffrage Association.

Her “Mother’s Day Proclamation” is as important today as it was at its writing, 137 years ago:

Mother’s Day Proclamation
1870

Arise then…women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
“We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.”

From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: “Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.”
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace…
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace

-- Julia Ward Howe

* *

To my mother:

It wasn’t until I became a mother that I began to appreciate what you’d done and endured in raising five kids. Whether it was fishing MatchBox cars out of the backed-up toilet or taking a daredevil bike rider to the emergency room or trying to wrangle three kids into clean clothes in time for school, you were there to assure me that “They really do grow out of it.”

It wasn’t until Miss M. became a teenager that I began to feel sorry for having been a whiny, rebellious, know-it-all, convinced of her own ability to direct her life and find the happy ending. I’m lucky you let me live. Which is why, as I’ve dealt with hormonal mood swings and slamming doors and screams of “I hate you!” I’m so grateful you’ve been there to assure me that “They really do grow out of it.”

It wasn’t until RC turned 18 that I realized a mother’s worries don’t end with adulthood, they just become more complicated, and that you have to stand back, bite your tongue and keep yourself from interfering while they work it out.

It wasn’t until PK moved to his dad’s that I realized how hard it must have been for you to let me marry and move to Arizona. And how, sometimes, doing the right thing and letting them go is the hardest thing of all.

I’ve always known you loved me, but it took having children of my own to teach me just how much.

Thank you, for all you do and all you’ve done.

Love you muchly,

Me

* *

This poem never fails to make me cry. I wish I knew who wrote it, but not even the great and mighty Google could help me find the author.

This is for mothers of the flesh and mothers of the heart; for married mothers and single mothers, for fathers doing their best to raise their children alone; for foster parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, relatives of every stripe who have stepped in to help raise a child, for whatever reason.

For mothers in war-torn lands, and mothers living in peaceful ones trying to stop the carnage.

For all of us:

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s OK honey, Mommy’s here.” when they keep crying and won’t stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON’T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football or soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars,so that when their kids asked, “Did you see me?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet like a tired 2-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn’t. For all the mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year, and then read it again. “Just one more time.”

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls ” Mom ?” in a crowd, even though they know their own off spring are at home.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they bleed–when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

For all the mothers of the victims of all these school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school safely.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children’s graves.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. So hang in there.

— Unknown

* *

Whether a grown man or a toddler, a high school senior or a preteen girl – there are mothers everywhere who would give anything for one last hug, one last kiss, one last whispered “I love you.”

Take the time to be grateful if you are not among them.

Why the British Army Rocks

We’ve all heard the worrying and watched the hand-wringing over Prince Harry’s deployment to Iraq with his unit.

The papers and the blogs and the televisions have been abuzz. Harry’s presence in Iraq makes him a target, a “high-value target” – to coin a phrase. There’s supposedly a £250,000 bounty on his little freckled face.

Should he stay home or should he go? That’s what it boiled down to. And for all the legitimate reasons why this might not be such a great idea, there were as many equally compelling reasons why he should be allowed to do the very thing for which he’s trained.

Yes. His presence does put all British troops in more danger. But those same troops – and the citizens of many countries – respect a man who chooses not to use his “get out of war free” card.

Yes. It’s not going to look good for Britain (or the US) if Harry – the second child of the late Lady Di – is killed in combat or kidnapped and/or assassinated by insurgents. But, in case no one’s noticed, things aren’t looking too good for them anyway when it comes to the Iraq war.

Yes. He is only one man, and no one man can make a difference – for or against – in this current nightmare. But, he is also a man who has chosen to train for war. Are we going to tell him it was wasted?

In a way, Harry’s decision to take an active role with his regiment has given us all a big taste of the “What if?” haunting every single military family. “What if…they don’t come back?” Sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers – all feeling that same dread, asking themselves that same terrible “What if…”

What if Harry becomes the first Royal in quite some time to die in combat? What if British troops die because insurgents were targeting Harry? What if he is kidnapped and used as a bargaining chip by insurgents in order to force the US and Britain out of Iraq, and what if the Royal Family is forced to allow Parliament to decide the fate of Her Majesty’s second grandchild as a result? And what if Parliament has to do just that – decide between his life and their commitment to the US?

Well, he’s going. Harry, with what can only be called courage, told his superiors (including his grandmother) that he would not allow himself to be treated any differently than those in his unit. If they go, he goes; being third in line to the throne doesn’t give him any special privilege to avoid danger.

And so, in a fit of solidarity with their Prince, his unit has banded together to send a message to their countrymen and the insurgents.

From Bill Moyers, on HuffPo:

So guess what his comrades — his fellow soldiers — are doing? Rather than petition the Queen to keep the young man home, they have gotten shirts printed up with the words across them: “I’m Harry.” Marvelous, no? The commoners and the Prince are in this together: one for all and all for one. What a notion — that war should be the great equalizer, that no one’s son or daughter is privileged from duty or danger.

As Bill says: Marvelous, no?

From imharry.com:

Prince Harry’s proposed tour of duty in Iraq is hugely controversial. The insurgents have apparently put a £250,000 price tag on his head. His regiment, and every British soldier serving in Iraq are at greater risk then ever before. Michael Portillo says it would be a ‘disaster’ if the Prince were kidnapped or killed. There are enormous security considerations, a massive dilemma for the Army and a ludicrous PR coup for the extremists.

Hang on a minute. Who’s side are we on? Are we scared of the threats and extremist propaganda? Prince Harry isn’t and neither are we. Let’s back him up. Just like Spartacus.

Think about it. How will the extremists be able to tell the Prince apart from his colleagues? How will they know who the real Prince is?

The answer is they don’t know. And if we all wear the new exclusive limited edition ‘I’m Harry’ ® t-shirt they’ll be more confused than ever.

From ananova:

Militants have pledged to kill Prince Harry in Iraq and the T-shirts are intended as a humorous display of camaraderie.

A senior military source said: “Soldiers are well known for having operational tour T-shirts and also for pulling together to support each other.

“Prince Harry is highly respected by his comrades as a young officer and for what he is doing in the Armed Forces.”

Friday Anti-War Song

YOUR FLAG DECAL WON’T GET YOU INTO HEAVEN ANYMORE
– John Prine

While digesting Reader’s Digest
In the back of a dirty book store,
A plastic flag, with gum on the back,
Fell out on the floor.
Well, I picked it up and I ran outside
Slapped it on my window shield,
And if I could see old Betsy Ross
I’d tell her how good I feel.

But your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more.
They’re already overcrowded
From your dirty little war.
Now Jesus don’t like killin’
No matter what the reason’s for,
And your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more.

Well, I went to the bank this morning
And the cashier he said to me,
“If you join the Christmas club
We’ll give you ten of them flags for free.”
Well, I didn’t mess around a bit
I took him up on what he said.
And I stuck them stickers all over my car
And one on my wife’s forehead.

But your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more.
They’re already overcrowded
From your dirty little war.
Now Jesus don’t like killin’
No matter what the reason’s for,
And your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more.

Well, I got my window shield so filled
With flags I couldn’t see.
So, I ran the car upside a curb
And right into a tree.
By the time they got a doctor down
I was already dead.
And I’ll never understand why the man
Standing in the Pearly Gates said…

“But your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more.
We’re already overcrowded
From your dirty little war.
Now Jesus don’t like killin’
No matter what the reason’s for,
And your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more.”

More on Political Hackery in BC

Commenting on my post, Political Hackery in BC, setaf suggested readers study the subsequent articles regarding incumbent Sheriff Steve Evans, as printed by the Daily Review. I figured I’d take him up on it, and save you some time. For those interested in delving deeper than I have, you can go to the Daily Review’s website. At the top the the page, there is a search bar. The links below were found doing a search for all articles containing the words “Steve Evans” within the past 30 days.

The first two items are actually from editions prior to those I mentioned in my previous post on the subject.

Some of the links are “Letters to the Editor” and – unfortunately – to find some of them, you’ll have to scroll down the page to find the exact item. (21st century web technology and the idea of links being unfamiliar tools to the local press, I suppose.) I’ve marked them as “LTE” and included the headers in bold where there is more than one LTE on that page, so you can locate them a little more easily. Editorials are marked as such.

Certain things have been marked with asterisks (*) and my comments are footnoted at the bottom.

So, ready to read more? Follow me below the fold!