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Polly Mann, W A M M
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Minnesota native Sami Rasouli was just as ingratiating and debonair as ever. But his face revealed the stress of the past few months spent in Iraq – the little wrinkles here and there were deeper and the shadows around his black eyes darker than before. For most of us there on the evening of July 1st it was not the first visit to the delicatessen, Sinbad’s. It has become popular in the peace community during the years of U.S. intervention and sanctions against Iraq when Sami was the proprietor.
Sami was reporting about conditions in the country of his birth: no safe drinking water, no electricity during 140 degree days, damaged schools, massive unemployment, sewage running through the streets, and death on every turn, especially among babies and young children. None of this was new to me. I have read both the carefully crafted paragraphs by embedded reporters (of the mainstream media) and cutting-edge reports from the independent and alternative press.
For over sixty years I’ve kept up with the news about ongoing wars and the hideous incubus that draws its life blood from them – corporate profits. So Sami’s graphic account neither shocked nor stunned me. I’m beyond that. But it did provoke a great dissatisfaction within me, dissatisfaction with myself and my response to situations which should not be tolerated by a society which considers itself civilized.
Because more than 50% of the budget goes to the military and the overall militarism of the government, some people refuse to pay their income taxes. I know that as of yet, I’ve been unwilling to consider that, though a few courageous people do. The government, of course, exacts reprisals. The price is greater than any I’ve ever paid for peacemaking. But I’m not there yet.
Suddenly I remembered the small sign I’d brought home from the June 30th demonstration at the Government Center. I had an idea. I covered it with clear laminate and reduced it to a 12 inch square of white paper which read, “U.S. Troops Out Now.” I then cut two tiny holes about an inch from the top and two inches from each side. I threaded a white shoe string through the holes and knotted it at the back of each. I’d wear this sign on my morning walk around Lake of the Isles. It would look strange, of course. Why didn’t I just go to Northern Sun and buy a tee shirt with a similar message on it? Wouldn’t the effect be the same? No, it wouldn’t. The sign would be much more confronting. I would do it.
The next morning I awoke about 6:30 and at 7:00 was in the lobby of my building. The first few people I encountered on my walk appeared not to notice me. Then a few looked at the sign and glanced away. Once outside, the wind picked up and began blowing my sign, first one way, and then another. I had to hold it down with one hand. A young man came running toward me, smiled, and gave me a “thumbs up.” Then a couple of young women smiled as they jogged past. Next came a couple in matching green shorts. As we drew close, she gave him a mocking smile which he returned. A slightly stout dark-haired woman of about sixty stopped as she saw my sign. I stopped. “The terrorists will take over the world,” she said in an accent I couldn’t place. “No,” I said, “The U.S. is taking over the world and you and I are living well but the rest of the world isn’t and they’ll do worse as we get richer and richer and they get poorer and poorer. That’s what it’s all about.” She sighed. I shrugged. We passed each other. The wind was blowing my sign all around my neck. Many people looked away when they saw me. People talking to each other stopped momentarily. I was walking through a neighborhood alley on my way home. A wiry sun-tanned man with two enormous white dogs was walking in my direction. He stopped. “It’s a terrible war,” he said. “Thank you for wearing the sign.”
As soon as I closed my living room door I headed for my office, discarded my sign and found in the closet a cardboard box holding some 9 x 12 manila envelopes. I emptied the box of its contents, cut the front and back cover into two pieces (several inches smaller than my sign) and scotch-taped them to the back. I am now ready with a wind-proof sign for my next walk around the lake. So if you hear about some demented woman walking around Lake of the Isles with anti-war signs, it would be me. Steady as the wind blows!
Longtime WAMM member Polly Mann serves on several key committees and continually infuses the WAMM community with her boundless energy, wit and wisdom. |
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© 2005 Women Against Military Madness. All rights reserved.
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