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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is steaming with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want ALL to thrive in

Saturday, August 01, 2009

ALL of them! to be continued

I have a good 45 minute conversation with a 40 something older white male, tall, beer gut, aggressive, the kind I'm sure has guns and will use them, standing on the side of the road behind one of those huge trucks that often flip me off and attempt to run me off the road, yelling at me from across the road at first, but continues to dialogue as I park and get out the truck to face him on his ground, until we part, shaking hands.

He probably would have hugged at the end; but I wouldn't. He probably hasn't a clue.

I'll write more but he's from the school of "we gotta get them before they come over here and get us", which he declares about 20 minutes into conversation.

After talking for 10 minutes about that mentality - and the reality of who is going around the world "getting people", I ask him to tell me, of all the people in the world - and I sweep my hand and arm around to indicate EVERYONE - of all the people in other countries in the world, exactly how many are you willing to kill in order to prevent them from "getting us".

He does not hesitate, but his eyes slip away from mine, as he declares "all of them".

It's on me!

Escaping the desert heat, I head up to 8000 feet and the stunning (and COOL) Toiyabe National Forest. I pull into a picnic area in the silver mountain forest – and there is a kiosk with a small, young white man with short hair in a brown uniform, collecting fees. He had been about to cross the road when I pulled up so he took himself back to his post, the wonderment glowing like the half moon that lit up the sky last nite.

I exclaim with angst, “Fee??? I didn’t realize there’s a fee”

He told me he was in Iraq, four years. I re-examine his hair cut, which is way too long for active duty. He is wearing sunglasses too so I can’t see his eyes but his voice feels thick and ladened.

I tell him how sorry I am that he was there and how glad I am to see he’s back, safe and appearing okay.

Yeah, he says, not like my buddy. He’s dead. We joined together – we did everything together since grade school. He’s dead he repeats himself.

I commend his choice of jobs, and hope he will be able to heal in this beautiful park.

I explain to him I just want a place to rest for a few hours while the desert is so hot. He appears to be looking at me intently. “I saw your truck and the peace symbol; then I saw the sign “out of Iraq” and I so agree with you ma’am. Tell you what, I’m going to let you come into today and rest. It’s on me!”

He tells me where I should head to, I thank him, and off I go!