Tim O'Brien - "The Things They Carried"

http://wallpaperstock.net/crossroads-in-life-wallpapers_w10124.html

How many of us have come to a “crossroad” in our lives? A life-altering decision needs to be made, but we do not know which way to go or what to do. It seems like no matter which decision we make it will be the wrong one. What are the consequences of choosing? Which one is less painful? Which one will benefit us more? Or not? How will our lives change by our decisions? How will our decision affect the lives of our family and friends? This is the situation that Tim O’Brien faced in his chapter, “The Rainy River“.

As O’Brien finally hit rock-bottom, he felt his only answer was to run. Run fast. Run far. Run away. He needed solitude to help him face the fact that he was either going to war, (possibly to die) or fleeing with his life to another country, possibly never to see his family again. What would people think of him by the choice he inevitably was going to make?

I feel that the moment O’Brien stopped at the old Tip Top Lodge and stood face-to-face with Elroy Berdahl, he was staring at his conscious. During O’Brein’s stay, the old, skinny man asked no questions and gave no advice. As O’Brien said, the man had an “almost ferocious silence”. They worked side-by-side during the day, shared dinner in the evenings without a word being said. No words needed to be said. Yet.
As the days passed, the pressure mounted on his chest. O’Brien was literally sick by the two choices that loomed before him. On the final day of his stay, O’Brien and Elroy take to the river. The moment he realized that they had crossed onto the Canadian side of the river, he knew he was at freedom’s gate. As his past twenty-one years of life flashed before him, so did his future. However, the fear of embarrassment overtook him and he knew he would choose war. He felt helpless.

As O’Brien sits in the boat, loudly crying, and the realization of the choice he has made sinks in further I remember this moment from the chapter most: “His eyes were flat and impassive. He didn’t speak. He was simply there, like the river and the late-summer sun. And yet by his presence, his mute watchfulness, he made it real. He was the true audience. He was a witness, like God, or like the gods, who look on in absolute silence as we live our lives, as we make our choices or fail to make them”.

http://www.illyria.com/tobhp.html

The Sandstorm

My initial reaction to Sean Huze’s play, “The Sand Storm”, was that of shock and sorrow. The characters’ were so honest, their feelings, so raw. Never before have I been exposed to such brutal circumstances. The more I read, the more I felt. I could not stop reading the words of these soldiers. Each and every one has been exposed to a life-altering experience that they will never be able to escape.

I have not been to war, nor do I want to go. I have only seen movies and documentaries about war. Is that an experience similar to that of these soldiers? No, I don’t think so. Did they know when they enlisted they would actually go to war? When our President gave the word that the United States was heading to war, fear was the first feeling I felt. What did that really mean? Were we as a nation about to experience being bombed in our own neighborhoods? In my mind it was possible. However, our enemies were the ones who really had to worry. US Troops invaded their countries and killed their people. Innocent men, women and children being blown to smithereens. As noted by LCPL Dodd, “Yeah, there’d been some “collateral damage”. That’s the nice way of saying we killed a bunch of civilians”. There was no looking back and no time to second-guess yourself. I believe the mentality of these soldiers was “shoot or be shot“, “kill or be killed“, “defend, or die trying“. How does a man feel about shooting innocent people; killing them as if their lives meant less than their own. After reading this play I felt these men put their “human side” up on a shelf and acted as machines. It was the only way they would survive.


"Collateral Damage"


One of these soldier’s experiences stood out to me, gave me goose bumps. Doc Matthews discussed how the Marines ripped through a particular town with no bloodshed, at least not on our side. He came to a burned up car with three dead bodies inside and a man lying outside of the vehicle, still alive. The situation was more than Doc could stand and he breaks down, while hugging and telling the wounded man how sorry he was for killing his innocent family. The man replies, “not your fault. I blame Saddam. You, you Americans are a gift from Allah. You are here to deliver us from Saddam. I only wish I could have gotten my family out sooner.” If I were Doc Matthews, that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I am happy that Doc was able to find comfort in this man’s words.

"...you are here to deliver us from Saddam"

It amazes me how our minds work when faced with such a horrific situation, such as war. For example, CPL Waters tells us of an assault in Al Kut. There were minimal, if any, injuries to civilians. He says, “it was kinda’ nice to look around afterwards and know that the only dead were the ones who deserved it”. While drinking from his canteen he notices a movement. He walks over and finds what is left of an enemy soldier. He begs CPL Waters to kill him. However, that man was not going to be relieved of his pain so easily. CPL Waters recalls his fellow soldiers who were not shown any mercy, why should he? Instead, he finds pleasure in watching this man die a slow and agonizing death. Where else, expect in war, would we justify such behavior?

Although this play opened my eyes to the “truth” that war brings to us, it was comforting to know that the civilians, who just happened to live in the wrong place, at the wrong time, were normal people. They lived in neighborhoods just like me. Their kids played ball in the fields, just like I once did. They had refrigerators and candy and they cooked family meals, just like me. And yet, their country was in the midst of a war that seemed to have no end. They welcomed the soldiers and were thankful for their help. Their kindness helped to “undo” the awfulness they had endured for the past months. As SGT Casavecchia described, “It was kinda‘ nice to feel human again…not some machine void of emotion.”

I can only imagine the struggle these men go though on a daily basis with their thoughts and emotions. How do they “go back” to their regular way of life if/when they return home? How do they express the reality of what they have been through? Can we really comprehend the depth of their experience by reading a play or book? Only a fellow soldier can truly grasp the “truth” that lies within “The Sand Storm”.

images obtained from: www.chris-floyd.com/war/
click here for a link to a page of touching poems about the Iraq war: http://www.chris-floyd.com/war/

http://www.chris-floyd.com/war/

Response to a Poem

photo found at www.secondedition.wordpress.com/2007/09/11

As we approach the anniversary of 9/11 I can’t help but think of all the victims of this horrific event and their families. While reading “Photograph from September 11” by Wislawa Szymborska, it brought back such strong emotions of sadness, fear and anxiety. I remember getting ready for work that day and turning on the television. I was about to witness a plane crash into the second tower and shortly thereafter, I watched the towers collapse. What was going through these people’s mind as this day unfolded right before our eyes? “They jumped from the burning floors -/one, two, a few more, / higher, lower” (lines 1-3). I will never forget the chill that ran through my body as I watched these people jump, never to be seen again. Did they know what they were doing? Were they in such shock that they actually believed by jumping they would survive? “The photograph halted them in life,/ and now keeps them/ above the earth toward the earth” (lines 4-6). To me this describes the end of these people’s lives. Wherever they were in these buildings, whatever they were doing, whatever they were thinking, it is all just a flash that is burned in our hearts and minds. I too can only do two things for them, pray and remember. http://www.history.com/topics/9-11-attacks/videos#911-timeline

photo found at http://www.jennqpublic.com/index.php?s=september+11

“She thinks she will be set free” (line 7). Joy Harjo, describes a desperate and all to common woman, in her poem, “The Woman Hanging From The Thirteenth Floor Window”. This woman is so relatable I feel, not only to me, but to so many women who wish they had done, or not done, various things in their lives. She has regrets, but also joys. She wants to let go, but wants to be saved. She wants to be seen, not just for who she is, but for what she is. A woman. A woman who once was a child without a care in the world, has grown up much too fast, and now struggles with all the demands of her life. She has lost herself in everyone else. Is there anything left of her? “But she is the woman hanging from the 13th floor window, / and she knows she is hanging by her own fingers, her/ own skin, her own thread of indecision” (lines 46-48). She is a woman and she is strong. As she picks herself up and reclaims herself, she is thankful for her life. http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/poets/joy_harjo/biography

Works Cited:

Wislawa Szymborska, “Photograph from September 11” from Monologue of a Dog.

Source: Monologue of a Dog (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2005)

“The Woman Hanging From The Thirteenth Floor Window” from She Had Some Horses by Joy Harjo. Source: She Had Some Horses (Thunder’s Mouth Press, 2006)

Sam Hamill Response

“The poet is the vehicle used by poetry so that it can touch us. From the inside out.” So true are these words. Sam Hamill’s, “The Necessity to Speak” is a story of how we as people relate to the world around us, the people in it, the way we look at ourselves and each other, the way we live our lives, and what we deem “acceptable” in society. I must admit that I have lived a somewhat “sheltered” life. Choosing to ignore issues that are most uncomfortable or embarrassing. I have contributed to Mr. Hamill’s idea that “we as a society establish acceptable levels of violence”. I have experienced a form of violence. Sometimes it is easier to be silent although I do believe as Mr. Hamill notes “our silence grants violence permission”. “The violence we learn at home we take with us everywhere”. Women, nor children, deserve to be victims of violence. Why do we feel compassion for the violator who was once violated as a child? Because our society has accepted this.

I found “The Woman Hanging From The Thirteenth Floor Window” very relatable. Such emotion was written in those words. After reading Sam Hamill’s words, and those of the “Poetry of Witness”, it is clear that the authors all have a strong emotional tale to tell. Poets “are faced with the difficult task of telling people what they already know an do not want to hear”.

image: www.thedrunkenboat.com/hamillview.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violence_against_women