After Summer Reading Thoughts

So here I sit this morning, hashing and re-hashing the contents of my mind, poised somewhat differently than six months ago.

Summer reading, for some people a cornucopia of new and not so new novels, celebrity bios, and sundry stuff, has taken its toll on my conscience and perspective. I feel like some things have come together; that I've had time to re-think some rather heartfelt, if not totally well thought out, views.

The books: the afore referenced "Nixonland." The second, "They Marched Into Sunlight," by David Marannis, Vincent Bugliosi's "The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder," and lastly, "In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Vietnam," by former Defense Secretary Robert McNamara.

The first was eye-opening and enlarged on some general history - it's indispensable and I highly recommend it. Not a history buff? Learn how to be one via this massive volume. Have any passion about the day and time you live in? Maybe through this book you'll see that what goes around comes around, there is nothing really new under the sun, and those that don't remember history are condemned to repeat it, and that passion kindled may require a shifting of priorities. Yes, your iPod Nano is very cool; the blackberry indispensable for communication, but your brothers, cousins, loved ones, neighbors, and former playmates from down the street are dying in a war several thousand miles away. I heard a variation of that last sentence 40 years ago.

"They Marched Into Sunlight," will tear your heart in pieces; the suffering of the 1967 C-Packet guys deployed to South Vietnam nothing but wretching. In a quick instant they were gone in a Viet Cong ambush, their parents and families never quite the same afterward as evidenced by the mother of one dead solider who never again celebrated a holiday or observed a birthday. Another's children were raised only knowing their father as a hero in a book or by those who served with him. For the moment, the morality or immorality of the War doesn't matter. If Vietnam was a hideous and horrible error in judgment, it was played out on the ground by a bunch of guys who were doing their duty regardless of the cost or their respective political viewpoint. The men in foxholes didn't have time to debate intelligence estimates, they were fighting for their lives. 58,191 total were lost to the conflict.

That same October, in Madison, Wisconsin, student demonstrations against the Dow Chemical Company's recruitment program were in high gear, and with them the ascendancy of Paul Soglin from demonstrator to mayor of Madison six years later. Spoiled, wealthy kids who were anxious to set the university's academic atmosphere on its heels? Hardly. These young people were showing passion with the same intensity and vision as the C-Packet brigade in Vietnam. I like to think that both sides were fighting, more or less, for the same thing.

These separate accounts have moved me in many ways, some of them very hard to describe. Perhaps one of those movements has been one to empathy - putting myself in the place of both camps - the jungle fighter, the street fighter, what they believe in, why they believe, and what both are willing to sacrifice in pursuit of those beliefs.

Read the book; think about it, discuss it with others who have read it, and parallel its message to more contemporary times and conflicts. What have we learned in forty years? What have we discovered about passion and a well thought-out modus operandi to bring passions and visions to something tangible, that will make our lives and the world better?

Vincent Bugliosi ("Helter Skelter") offers that President George W. Bush should be tried for the murder of over 4,000 American lives lost in Iraq in the New York Times bestseller, "The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder." A compelling and page-turning read, this book focuses on the enormity of poor decisions, outright deception, and the tragic aftermath of the war games being played in the Middle East. If there is any passion (there's that word again) in today's world of journalism, you'll find it here; agree, disagree, whatever. He makes an earnest case.

"In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Vietnam," Robert McNamara discusses our involvement in Vietnam from the days of military advisers sent to the country in the early 1960s to his resignation in 1968 after arriving at a stalemate with the administration, LBJ in particular, over the war's progress - or the lack of it - and what continued involvement would cost the United States in economic, political, and most of all, human terms.

Facts, opinions; could've, should've, would've. . . .

Now, how has it all affected me?

I guess I've learned again what grace is all about. It's not that I feel less passionate about what happened and what I think was the best course of action, feelings that were shared by many of my generation, but what to do with that passion now. Ther's enough blame to go around and most have now historically claimed their share of it. Pointing fingers of accusation do little good at this point and certainly aren't going to fashion a new outcome to a war 35 years afterward. Many of the principals have vanished from the scene, the jungles of Vietnam are quiet, snakes slither through the grass, and the heat and humidity are still as much a part of the region as it ever was. It virtually knocked you down, said returning veterans. The warriors have come home except for those still missing in action. We're paying for the war in many ways, but not to belabor that point, it's a given and we're all to familiar with that fact.

The times and the situations were not fair, and the phrase, although true, resounds four decades after weapons have been laid down: poor men's sons fought a rich man's war. But, I guess I've learned that fairness is not part of a fallen world. The people involved made decisions, some bad, some good, and many indifferent. Fairness and maturity demand me to cut some slack to those persons because I cannot imagine what they went endured, but I can grieve with them.

I've mellowed, I've grown, and have found an almost new sense of compassion. What's happened is not the fault of one individual, but of many people. From here on, it's up to me to be an entity of healing, and not division, to understand and empathize, not judge. I'm thinking this was a summer of personal renewal in some ways, where grace again found its way to my heart, a heart that had pretty much made its made up that my way of thinking was the way it really was.