A Short Poem of Man and Moon

OUR AMERICAN MOON, MAN

If the moon is made of cheese
ours is in a can
under pressure to perform
by directive of the Man.
"Get on this cracker here!"
"And by 1969!"
That seems about as good a year
as any other time.
And with that, have we won?
Or are we off to see the Sun?
But careful there, read: Beware!
Contents in a can, under pressure,
may explode.

The War of our Subconscious

It seems like it is uniquely American to categorize any type of problem that needs surmounting as a “War.” We are a very War minded people. We are conducting a War on Drugs, a War on Poverty, a War on Aids, a War on Crime and a War on Terror--some with more enthusiasm than others. And let us not forget our current War in Iraq, though our President says the war is over. Besides, we've taken to calling wars "conflicts" these days, to blunt the blade that is real war. How did we become a people of such a war-mind?

Maybe it began with our country. The foundation of our American Revolution. But war has continued throughout so much of our history: The War of 1812; The Mexican-American War; The Civil War; The Spanish-American War; World War I; World War II; The Korean War; The Vietnam War; Desert Storm; Enduring Freedom; Iraqi Freedom. A full 16 percent of our history--37 years--have been spent in war. The longest we have been without is 33 years. Which war was your war?

Every American who has lived an average lifespan has lived through a war, though many Americans did not live through them at all. Because of our history, it is difficult to think of a future without war. My grandparents grew up with WWII, my parents with Vietnam and I with the Persian Gulf--what did that do to shape our conscious mind?

It has always been our intention to save lives with war, not simply end them. It is our desire to reach a peaceful resolution to these problems...and for that, we may need a certain level of understanding of what peace really is to begin with. Are we bound by the framework of a war-conscious culture, and a war-conscious mind?

Lately, it seems that war has left our conscious minds. We have had enough, seen enough, and felt enough of war; it is out of site, out of mind. Even in the land of the freedom of the press, our press have come to censor themselves. All of us have seen enough. The images overseas are too much, and so we censor them for ourselves--send them to our subconscious. While this war rages on in Iraq, while American flags wave high at home, so too do they cast long shadows as the sun goes down. The dead cast shadows on us all.

The Cig that Stoked the Smoker's Hack

In Minneapolis, MN...
Well, the cigarette smokers have finally had it. It seems they've resorted to stealing cars and slamming into storefronts, in what police are calling "Crash and Grab" robberies. Lt. Greg Reinhardt of the Minneapolis Police Department says the thieves are targeting convenience stores and tobacco shops. "It's a very hot commodity...they are taking other items, but for the most part, it's cartons of cigarettes" (As reported by Minnesota Public Radio on Thursday, May 19).

One can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with the May 17 ruling by the MN Supreme Court upholding a 75 cent per-pack "health impact fee." Or perhaps it's the Hennepin county law that doesn't allow smoking in bars. As a former smoker, I know how irritating it is to be confronted with a new tax or law, wheezing around every corner. Then again, as a former smoker, I was generally irritated at nearly everything.

But this might just be the brink; the cig that stoked the smoker's hack, so to speak. In Minneapolis, smokers have already been banned from bars, relegated to the so-called great outdoors. When I smoked I couldn't stand fresh air. I think most smokers would agree--it's part of reason we smoke. Don't remind us of the little things in life we don't enjoy; my mom always said to take time to "stop and smell the flowers." Well, I did. And I'm allergic to pollen. Turns out, I'm also allergic to tobacco, but my incredible willpower kept me smoking for many years after realizing that fact.

So now what do smokers do? They get kicked out of bars, and then drive around, most likely a bit soused, crashing into storefronts to steal cigarettes. Why not? They stand to make a fortune selling them on the street--soon, they'll make about 75 cents more per pack.

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors

Something there is that doesn't love a wall...

The Senate voted last week to put up a fence on our border to the South. The legislation calls for 350 miles of fencing and 500 miles of vehicle barriers. Senator Jeff Sessions, a sponsor of the bill, said "`It sends a signal that open border days are over.'' "Good fences make good neighbors.''

He pulled that last quote, of course, from a poem by one of our greatest American poets, Robert Frost. The poem is called "Mending Wall" and begins "Something there is that doesn't love a wall." It's not the first time I've heard that quote used to support the building of a fence, rather than the tearing down of one. But here it is, out of context again; like a loose stone fallen from a wall, the text has fallen from its poem.

It is certainly ironic that the poem he's quoting by Frost was meant to teach us to question the building of a wall. Old Bob is probably grinding his woodcutting axe somewhere on a farm in the sky right about now. While the wall in Frost's poem is made of stone, it does not keep hunters from passing over, from his land to his neighbor's.

Our own wall will be fence and razor wire, but whether or not it will do as is hoped is just as questionable. A friend of mine was once a security guard at a prison. One day he witnessed an inmate trying to escape past four layers of razor wire fence. The inmate had tied magazines tightly all over his body, but before he made it to the fourth layer he was bleeding to death, several of his limbs having become nearly severed.

Things like this will likely happen on our fence, and though those passing through will be guilty of a crime by law, it is most often a crime of desiring a better life for self and family, which is not a crime we are told, so long as one desires on his side of the fence. "Stay where you are until our backs are turned!" continues the poem.

In Mending Wall, while the stone division is literal, the lesson speaks of a symbolic separation of two neighbors. This wall we are building will be seen by many, and certainly by the world opinion we have increasingly come to ignore, as a symbol consistent with our growing isolation.

Honestly, I'm not sure what the answer is. Illegal immigration is a growing problem, but as to the causes, I'm uncertain. The solution won't be simple though, I'm sure of that. But it's important to really search for more than symbolic answers:

"Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence."

Sometimes it's a good idea to read the whole poem.