Amoeba’s Lorica: Fifteen Years After

Boomer LegacyYour Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba remembers the events of September 2001 in these Untied States of America.

“Yeah, I’ll bet, Amoeba. Where were you when the towers …”

At work in Maine. Watching as the then still-fledgling internet crashed under the traffic pressure. Listening to snippets of news from the local National Public Radio station.

But YFNA doesn’t recall the events of 11 September anywhere near as clearly as those of the following weeks.

The vigil in the local church the evening of the 12th, in which YFNA was nearly crucified on the spot for offering prayer for the attackers and a thought to what We Ourselves may have done to bring the attack to pass. Thinking consistent legacy of American arrogance, and the systematic political and economic oppression of not-Us peoples, especially in the Muslim world. Which he expected would get a sympathetic hearing in a ‘progressive’ church. Being heard instead, as YFNA learned way after it was too late, to say we brought this on ourselves because we haven’t exterminated gays.

The eerie, terrifying calm of the next several days. On 18 September, YFNA wrote (shock horror) a poem. It included recollections of a visit to West Germany in the waning days of the Cold War (1987); the German word Rauch (noun) = rauch (verb) means “smoke”, “I smoke them”. And, with apologies to German friends and readers, the pronunciation of this word is about as mean and nasty to American ears as you might imagine …

quiet

in the post of the smoke
there is quiet

the roiling has subsided
busy has returned
people are the same
but not
they are quiet
          counting
          waiting
          gathering
quiet

in cold germany there was quiet
the streets full of busy
with signs for speed limits
and weight limits for trucks
          and tanks
          and guns
the peace of the soldier at attention
the soldier who speaks no german
the people were quiet
          polite
          sober
          restrained
          hidden
quiet

the poster on the pole
not large
for smokes
one figure
young male black leather
in face
Ich rauch dem

quiet

Rauch

quiet

“You don’t know what we’re capable of.”

quail

Then, on the following Saturday (the 22nd), the rally. Practically the entire town turned up. Including the town’s band, which contributed marches and various other noises to the proceedings, and ensnared YFNA as a co-perpetrator.

nuremberg cathedral of lightThere was a parade. There were flags. And there were speeches, proclaimed from the front vestibule of the YMCA, proclaiming us all as proud American patriots who will smoke anyone who gets in our way.

The only things missing were the columns of light pointing straight skyward from the YMCA’s roof.

YFNA remembers that the USA had the sympathy and good will of practically the entire world in the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 attacks … overlooking, for the sake of charity, how the thousands of lives lost on this one, solitary, almost-never-repeated occurrence on American soil was a daily, mostly unregarded (and even unrecorded) event in dozens of places throughout the globe. A good will that, YFNA reckons, it could have held for eons had it held its hand, addressed some of its own ills, and rededicated itself to being a good global neighbor.

Instead …

Fourteen years later, we are still committing troops to Afghanistan, with little discernable effect on the Taliban and allied forces either in Afghanistan or in neighboring Pakistan.

Osama bin Laden is dead, but his organization survives, and has spawned successors that make al Qaeda look like Girl Scouts by comparison, aided and abetted by free military training and propaganda coups (thank you, Abu Ghraib et al.) provided by your American tax dollars and mine.

Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi are dead, only for Us to discover that their regimes, whatever (or because of?) their moral deficiencies, were stabilizing forces in North Africa and the Middle East, and their demise has only made matters worse.

american go homeAnd within two years, citizens of nations that counted themselves among our allies were telling American citizens to get the hell out of their homes and shops, telling Us to go back to the States and take Our disgusting attitudes with them.

Attitudes that, in this, the 2016th year of the Common Era, have given us a choice between two Presidential candidates whom We favor (having rejected all others), one of whom promises status quo ante in Our War against the Rest of the World Terrorism, and the other promises to install that cathedral of light on the White House lawn.

Both of whom grew up listening (and in at least one case, at least pretending to listen fervently) to Joni Mitchell and CSNY sing about butterflies.

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2 Responses to Amoeba’s Lorica: Fifteen Years After

  1. nancy says:

    “…YFNA was nearly crucified on the spot for offering prayer for the attackers…”
    This idea hurts me so.
    Prayer for the attackers would have helped me. No one I was near would have considered it, were it even thought of.
    I think WE have come so far away from prayer that folks have no idea what it’s for anymore.

    • Amoeba says:

      In the middle of the prayer meeting, a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus replied, “What does the law tell you?” The lawyer answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus responded, “That’s correct; do this, and you will live.”

      Then the lawyer sprung his trap. “And who is my neighbor?”

      Jesus said this. “A man was driving from Orlando to West Palm Beach. He stopped for some hitchhikers who proved to be thieves, and they robbed him, beat him up, stole his car, and left him for dead on the side of the road. A Bishop drove by, saw the man, and said ‘It’s a plant, the robbers are nearby and they’ll beat me up too’, so he went on his way. A lay leader was next; he said ‘damn, I’m late for a meeting, and there’s no cell coverage here; I’ll pray for him’ and drove on. Then a poor Mexican drove up in his rickety Ford pickup. He didn’t know if he could get that truck started again if he stopped it, but he stopped anyway, bundled the man into the back, made him as comfortable as he could, and, being fortunate with the engine, rolled on down the road. He had been treated well and kindly at a particular clinic the last time the police had whupped up on him for being Mexican, so he took the victim there, and was grateful that they admitted the man and did not automatically assume that he himself had been the one to administer the beating. He told the clinicians, ‘You contact me if there’s anything I can do, until you find out who he is and who he belongs to’, despite having no particular idea where his own next meal was coming from – and at risk of having the clinic pass his information to INS and getting him deported. Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”

      The lawyer replied, “The one who picked him up and took care of him.”

      Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

      The lawyer exploded, “Like a goddamned illegal greaser?!? Not on your life!!”

      And the prayer meeting, each and every one, took up stones to stone Jesus – but he vanished from their sight.

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