Remembrance Day ...
... is a bit stupid. I realized I wasn't the only one who thought that the other day. Canada is the only place that makes a big deal about wearing the poppies, and you definitely get some comments (or at least some looks) if you're not wearing one.
I never wear one.
Not because I'm against the idea of remembering people who killed or aided in the killing of other people (sorry, I mean "people who fought for our freedom"), but because it's ostentatious. It's like the people who apparently would tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree.
Also, I'm pretty sure I had (long time ago, they're dead) relatives who were the ones shooting back at Canadians, so who am I remembering, anyway?
But people get so uppity about it, especially those who've never been shot at or had their "freedoms threatened". I even have one person in mind who would get choked up with emotion thinking of her grandfather who was briefly captured by Nazis back in the day. Not for long, mind you, but he was a prisoner for a little while. He seemed to be pretty okay with it, but she'd get all upset on his behalf. That's the kind of misplaced emotion I'm talking about.
Not that I think it wasn't genuine, that she was getting upset. Just that it seemed an inappropriate response. People often think symbols and the things they symbolize are interchangable, and they're just not.
I'll leave the symbols to the symbol-minded.
Plus, my midnight special guard didn't show up last night so I pulled a double. I may be a bit cranky. That said, here's the obigatory moment to ponder this November eleven:
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
by Randall Jarrell
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from it's dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
"A ball turret was a Plexiglas sphere set into the bell of a B-17 or B-24, and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved with the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with cannon firing explosive shells. The hose was a steam hose." -- Jarrell's note.
I never wear one.
Not because I'm against the idea of remembering people who killed or aided in the killing of other people (sorry, I mean "people who fought for our freedom"), but because it's ostentatious. It's like the people who apparently would tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree.
Also, I'm pretty sure I had (long time ago, they're dead) relatives who were the ones shooting back at Canadians, so who am I remembering, anyway?
But people get so uppity about it, especially those who've never been shot at or had their "freedoms threatened". I even have one person in mind who would get choked up with emotion thinking of her grandfather who was briefly captured by Nazis back in the day. Not for long, mind you, but he was a prisoner for a little while. He seemed to be pretty okay with it, but she'd get all upset on his behalf. That's the kind of misplaced emotion I'm talking about.
Not that I think it wasn't genuine, that she was getting upset. Just that it seemed an inappropriate response. People often think symbols and the things they symbolize are interchangable, and they're just not.
I'll leave the symbols to the symbol-minded.
Plus, my midnight special guard didn't show up last night so I pulled a double. I may be a bit cranky. That said, here's the obigatory moment to ponder this November eleven:
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
by Randall Jarrell
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from it's dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
"A ball turret was a Plexiglas sphere set into the bell of a B-17 or B-24, and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved with the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with cannon firing explosive shells. The hose was a steam hose." -- Jarrell's note.
posted by Rimmy at 18:11
1 Comments:
I think of Rememberance Day as a time to rememeber people who died in vain in stupid wars. I don't think its a time to mourn "Those who fought and died for our freedom" , I think it's a time to remember how terrible wars are. And you don't need a blood plastic flower to do that.
I Sing Sing Sing
War is a Horrible Thing
So I Sing Sing Sing...
Dinga linga Ling....
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