"Did you lose anyone over there," asked a 50 ish woman. "I've lost everyone over there," I replied, referring to each person who has been killed.
Her question is commonly asked, the premise being I may have lost a family member and that's why I'm out there. But each person matters and is a member of my extended family. I'm there because I care for them.
And the killing goes on. Today, bombs exploded across Iraq, killing 46 Iraqis and seriously injuring 194 more.
But with this being the 200th vigil, my friend and long time vigil supporter Mary Ellen raised compelling questions about the vigils and I'd like to share the questions and answers with you:
"When did the vigils start?" January, 2006; nearly four years ago.
"Why did they start?" My heart ached for the Iraq war victims, especially the children. Why must Iraqi children be killed, injured or orphaned or live in fear? Why must the children of the U.S. and allied soldiers sacrifice having a father or a mother? I had to offer a visible voice of reason!
"How did the idea come to you?" It came in prayer: the candle, the sign and its words and taking to a very busy street corner once a week.
"How did you feel standing out there alone? Do you worry that others might possibly think you are crazy?" I've never felt alone out there and I'm not the one continuing the wars so I'm certainly not crazy.
In Germany, when the Nazis came to power, many people knew what they intended was terrible and waited for others to act. But few did anything and the world was blown to shreds in World War ll.
Today in the silence of the American people the death and destruction in Iraq and Afghanistan continues, while in Afghanistan it will now escalate. And for what? What can possibly be gained by this death and destruction?
My vigil presence is an appeal to the consciences of others. And from the comments many people have made, it is reassuring to them that someone is doing something. They don't understand it is also essential for them to do something as well.
"Is it the same motivation that takes you out there now?" Yes, as a small number of us across the U.S. continue to appeal to the consciences of the American people to stop this war. Locally, Korean War veteran John Fortier holds a weekly vigil even on Christmas Day and Pat Alviso and Jeff Merrick of Military Families Speak Out lead on going peaceful demonstrations.
Our actions speak for the U.S.'s victims, for they have no voice in America. The U.S. government doesn't ask the Iraqi or Afghan people what they think of these wars, nor of the U.S. occupation of their countries, nor do we see their suffering for it is censored from us.
U.S. censorship even includes the dead and severely injured American soldiers and their families who bear their pain largely invisible to the rest of us. We don't even see the caskets of the dead soldiers. It is as if they had never existed. Given the price these soldiers paid, this is a disgrace.
"Don't you ever get discouraged," asked my uncle Gene Kazan. That the Afghan War is over eight years old and the Iraq War nearly seven years old can be discouraging. And the American people being largely silent can be disheartening as well.
Many people have said to me, "What can I do, I'm just one person and the government doesn't listen." But by taking that attitude, and doing nothing, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. As we saw during the Vietnam War, it took years but in 1973, in response to massive demonstrations, Congress finally cut off the War's funding.
When I get discouraged, I remember Gandhi's words: "Satisfaction does not come with achievement but with effort. Full effort is full victory." And I do what came to me in prayer, leaving the results in the hands of a Higher Power.
At last night's vigil, the Christmas traffic was very heavy, perhaps as many as 2,000 cars drove by. And the night was filled with horn honks and waves of support, and one woman even applauded, while others called out "Merry Christmas."
The 200 vigils have become an island of civility. It's the poignant moment when a woman says, 'thank you,' with tears in her eyes and a sob in her voice as she talks about her brother's death in Iraq. It's the grace of a man who walks up, shakes my hand and joins a vigil. It's in the tenderness of a parent who gives his 7 year old daughter a hug and explains the vigil to her.
Just as their support is important, so is yours, to me and to others who take to the streets. I believe it is equally important to those we remember each week, for it tells them they matter and that we also care for the loved ones they've lost. Thank you for caring.
Dick
1 comment:
Mary Ellen replies:
And when all is said and done and the wars are over.
And others stood in their silence, in their homes and places of business and did not voice their oppinions about the war's
Know, that you, Dick Kazan stood in silence on a street corner for years, silently voicing your oppionion about how you felt about the wars.
You knew they were wrong, you knew about the suffering and you did all you could to let others know in your own inevitable quiet way how you felt.
Bravo!
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