I am writing this on March 18, the day before Bush's ultimatum runs out on Saddam Hussein. Thirty-six hours from now and we will most likely be at war, because I personally see no likelihood of Saddam or any of his cronies or family just vacating the premises. And I am scared, more so than any other time. I truly felt scared for the first time yesterday, on the seventeenth, St. Patrick's Day. I was standing on line to file my taxes so this country can do things like wage war without my permission. In my downtown post office, they usually have a 24 hour news cable station going on, so people don't die of boredom as they wait for the line to crawl forward. The footer on the bottom proclaimed "Breaking News," and I thought, great, what the heck happened now. I knew it wasn't any good when I saw ambassador after ambassador from the UN marching by saying how disappointed they were for they could not agree on a resolution, one that would stop war from happening.
I already knew that was the beginning. I could feel it and smell it. War looming on the vista smells like arid air that cannot fill the lungs fully. Dry and dusty like the deserts that American, British and Iraqi troops will fight in, all thinking they are doing the right thing, yet how can both be right when it leads to such violence? In his "exclusive" interview with Dan Rather, Saddam Hussein pauses an interview so he can engage in one of his five-times-a-day prayer with Allah. George Bush prays every day to his version of the Methodist god. Both the traditions these two men ascribe to originate with Abraham, so supposedly they are praying to the same God. How is it that each is so sure that God is on his side saying the other is wrong? Either God has a bad case of dyslexia or something is going wrong here on earth. I won't even bother to make the judgment that it has something to do with the prayer lives of either of these individuals. Maybe their prayer lives are genuine, maybe they are false; I really have no idea. I'm sure there are people siding with the Iraqis saying that Bush is not on God's good side and I know there are people in this country that would say the same thing about Saddam. But I don't know. I can't be in the position to say who is evil, when as a Christian, the Bible I read makes it clear that absolutely everyone is astray, no exception. So who am I to say who is more evil when I am in the same moral quagmire as they? I don't know what is going on in their minds. Come to think of it, I don't want to know, considering how both think SCUD missiles and MOABs are some kind of security blanket against the other one. Maybe it's better off I'm just this little blob in the American quilt just pretending to go about my business while the national terrorist alert glows orange like the sunset, with red on the horizon.
I finished my fiscal duties to the IRS after the ambassadors vacated the scene and the media wrapped their spin on the impending war. I wasn't really paying attention to their pundits. As a budding journalist who is supposed to be on the lookout constantly for some juicy tidbit, drifting off is probably a no-no, but I really didn't care. I felt it was more important to focus what I had to do rather than think about something that was beyond my control. I had to pay my taxes, even if there was a war going on. And I had to go to the drug store to pick up my photos from the one-hour development section, and get something for lunch. Everyone else on the postal line had things to do as well. They had to pick up packages and drop off mail to keep their businesses and homes going. The postal workers had signs at their jurisdictions instructing them of the HAZMAT rule. They were instructed to ask questions like, is there anything explosive in this package? I can't imagine someone like Mohammed Atta saying, yes, there's anthrax, but it's intended for Tom Daschle, not you, so be careful with it. But I guess you have to feel like you're doing something. Like lighting up the world with orange security signals.
The world I walked into after leaving the post office hearing the defeat of peace was like a carnival. Though it was a Monday, it was still St. Patrick's Day. St. Patrick's Day in a college town is normally a day of festivities, but this holiday, the weather was sunny and in the sixties. It was one of the first days of spring weather after a harsh winter had buried the region under mounds of snow, ice and cold. People who had been hidden under layers of clothing were stripped down to T shirts, some even in shorts. The bars that were laden throughout town were already drenched in business and green beer by ten am, and swarms of people walked around wearing hats that looked like Dr. Seuss' Cat in the Hat, except in green, green garland around their necks and green paint on their faces. There was more green on the city streets than in the hills, which were still flecked by gray dying snow, or brown lawns still dazed and confused from being buried so long. As the day went on the city got louder and louder. Girls in spandex shorts wore T-shirts announcing, "Kiss Me, I'm Drunk." It was like a festival of carpe diem--the old eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die.
That evening, prime time went on hold while Bush announced the deadline that Saddam must follow or face dire consequences. He seemed pretty sure of himself, which I guess is supposed to allay the fears of the American people. Hey, the Prez seems to think this tactic will work, so it must be okay. The president announced the that the UN had failed to hold its end of the bargain in stopping Hussein. He quoted the resolution that they squelched, which was somewhere in the 587 or 588 range. From the sound of it, the resolution seemed to have been passed just after the first Persian Gulf War. The current resolution was up at 1441, so a lot had gone on in the last dozen years. Yet all that busywork, and there is still genocide, war, and human rights abuses. I wonder what those 800 plus resolutions were that the security council had been so busy passing. Number crunching?
The media added their footnotes to the commander-in-chief. I wasn't listening to them again. I'd heard enough; we were going to war, and no media would do anything but remind me that I couldn't do anything about it. I was talking to my husband about the prospect of war. Maybe tomorrow we'd go out if the weather was nice. We were sick of the winter, and heck with terrorism, it would be our last chance, maybe. Maybe bin Laden would come out of hiding and show us his version of shock and awe. Maybe the sky would fall down. Who knew anything anymore?
The primetime show I was watching that had been pre-empted took stage after the media exited. It felt like no interruption took place, other than I couldn't use the clock as a guide to how much more time there was before the exciting conclusion. I was watching Fox's Boston Public. During commercial break you were advised to stay tuned to Married By America, as the featured couples embarked in their journey of arranged engagement. And come back tomorrow, as the finalists on American Idol would be whittled down. Fear Factor was playing on NBC. Earlier that day, Oprah had the Bachelorette Trista Rehn with her fiancee and winning contestant Ryan on her show, and she offered to pay for their wedding. Oprah also featured Sara, the runner-up from Joe Millionaire. Sara warned people to be careful with these reality shows, because you could get really burned. The third Bachelor was going to find his true love starting the following week. The President had spoken and we were going to war. Reality TV at its best.
My newspaper the next day reported on the President. Dear Abby contained letters by people who thought that children shouldn't be part of the bouquet toss at weddings because it was too humiliating for the kids to deal with the garter tradition. The stock market went up because the President promised a short war. I am reading a book on World War I. When the British and Germans started out in 1914, they thought that war would be short, too. They thought that victory was theirs for the taking. Instead there was trench warfare and mustard gas.
In Britain, the supposed polls claim that up to ninety percent of the populace was against war, especially without UN approval. The numbers in America have not recorded anywhere that high, but are the fifty percent who are ostensibly against the war really against it, or just ambivalent about it? As for the fifty per cent that are for war, do they really believe in its objectives, or would they just rather believe the President knows more than they, so just leave it up to him? 401Ks have been KO'd. Duct tape sales might go up again with the orange alert. An expert on Arab relations gave her expert opinion on the news. She said she had no idea if al-Qaeda would react in the event of an American led war. Maybe they would be glad that Saddam was gone so they could put a fundamentalist in, like Ayatollah Khomeini in 1980's Iran. Or maybe they would rally behind Saddam, unifying in some pan-Arab alliance, the enemy of my enemy is my friend sort of thing. The expert had no idea. That was what an expert had to say.
It's Tuesday. The sand in the hour glass drains its last grains. Tomorrow we will probably go to war. People will go to school. People will go to work. Some people will get laid off. Some people will die for some cause that someone else defined. Some people will pay their taxes so it can all continue. The next American Idol will be chosen. It's all in the name of freedom and American unity. The tears of blood will weep on the orange sunset whether we waken or slumber.
