â€œTo save your world you asked this man to die; Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?â€ W. H. Auden How did Americans allow this to happen? How did we allow 2,000 kids to go to Iraq to die? Irrespective of the lies of an imminent threat, the promises of low casualties […]
Finally, in the last two days, evidence that Congress is beginning to react to the implications of White House deceit that took us to war
Could it be true, is Cheney working out a plea bargain to stay out of jail?
GI’s in the Navy and the Marines will not be able to access their Yahoo, Hotmail, email accounts
Perhaps the NY Times is so reticent about owning up to its failures because someone might decide they are liable for helping start the war in Iraq
Apparently, via the magic of the internet an article I wrote last week has in the space of only a few days, made its way around the world. The article â€˜Why I Marched in DCâ€™ was hard to write because it is hard being the mother of a trained killer. Sadly, I am only one in a growing sorority of other military mothers whose children have become experienced killers.
When I was a little girl and again as a young woman dreaming about having children I never, ever, even for a heartbeat imagined that I would ever be the mother of someone that had killed somebody…but I am. There in Iraq in the dusty, sun baked rubble that was once the City of Mosques, Ar Ramadi, Iraq, my son repeatedly engaged an enemy, opened fire and ended lives.
Even before Hurricane Katrina hit, the folks of Plaquemines Parish in Louisiana, knew they would be on their own with no state or federal assistance. The same thing had happened to them decades before after another hurricane. It took twenty years but the people of Plaquemines Parish, in exemplar American fashion, rebuilt their communities on their own. Sadly, the parish has been destroyed once again.
Battle lines were defined last weekend in Crawford, Texas by a little road called Prairie Chapel. On one side was Camp Casey, Cindy Sheehanâ€™s Gold Star Families for Peace site. Over 800 rose and ribbon adorned crosses, two and three deep, extend a quarter mile along the road shoulder. Most bore the name of a fallen warrior of the Iraq war.
Earlier this year, late March, my Marine son returned home from his second tour in Iraq. Seeing him for the first time upon his return I found myself surveying him carefully, holding him close in my arms I assessed him like a mother would a newborn, ten fingers, yes, ten toes, good. My relief and gratitude suffered no boundaries and I poured forth my soul in reverence and appreciation to our ancestors for watching over him; I praised Buddha, Allah and God and thanked my lucky stars and wept profuse tears of release.