The flaw in President Bush's whole premise for warring in Iraq is now, once again, made obvious. To repeat, his whole rationale for destroying Iraq and its peoples (his STATED rationale), was "to fight the terrorists over there so we don't have to fight them here at home."
The concept was to control Iraq, install democracy and so remove the roots of terrorism. Since the war was to make us safer at home the presumption is that our welfare is all important, that our health, our life, our liberty, our "pursuit of happiness" is so essential that it trumps the welfare of innocents in the lands we destroy in order to preserve that essence. Just last week, in fact, did Bush repeat this justification for the war.
Now, just today, news reports tell of an impending Bush veto of a bi-partisan plan to increase health care insurance for children, adding $35 billion over 5 years to the Child Health Insurance Program so as to cover more of the nation's 8 million uninsured children.
So half a trillion dollars to kill nearly a million Iraqis, displace 4 million more for the illusory fairy tale that it will make us safer is acceptable, but a relatively paltry 35 billion dollars to insure more, not all, just more, of our children is unacceptable.
Further, the war was to preserve our welfare, including that of the uninsured children. But without this eminently affordable health insurance, their welfare--allegedly preserved by a huge expenditure on violence--is endangered by a failure to make a relatively small expenditure on compassion.
No, the war in Iraq has nothing to do with making us safer, as indeed no such act of illegal immorality can ever do. President Bush has always known this.
Worse, it is obvious that his disregard for innocent lives half a world away is matched only by that for those here at home.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Saturday, September 08, 2007
On Junior, John and Jesus
One thing about big families is that there are inevitably, if you stay alive long enough, lots of funerals. Thursday my cousin and I went to Hazard in the hallowed grounds of eastern Kentucky near Jenkins, where my paternal grandparents began their new Kentucky home 100 years ago.
The occasion was the funeral for John Dishner, a prince of a guy, father of young Blake, and husband to Melissa, daughter of our first cousin, Sondra, who is the daughter of my dad’s sister, Mary and her husband, the late Ed Dawhare. John died at age 36 of cancer, which he contracted a year ago. He had lived in Lexington, but as this magical mountain land has done for many of its own it did for John and his family, drawing them back to the wellspring of their youth.
So it was in this small town setting that it seemed the whole community came. All ages, all walks of life, gathered in this spirit-filled setting atop, ironically, a reclaimed coal mine, a by-product of mountaintop removal*.
From Lexington we take I-64 just past Winchester, then that famous veer right onto the Mountain Parkway, the path I’ve traveled hundreds of times since the 60’s on what I always considered the road to Kentucky’s Oz, the wonderland of Whitesburg, where I was raised. (Happy Chandler, who I loved, called it “the road to nowhere.” His assessment actually heartened me as an emerging young adult for it showed me that even great men make major misjudgments).
About halfway down the Parkway is an exit to Natural Bridge, deep in the Daniel Boone forest and one of the nation’s top sights. It is also where the Junior T. Williamson rest stop sits which is not only why we exited, but the inspiration for this writing.
My cousin, Joe, told me the story about Mr. Williamson. Turns out he was from Pikeville, where Joe grew up (his father, the late Warren Harding Dawahare, ran our store there after WWII until his death in 1966). Junior had a game leg and was a very simple, yet giving man. He worked at Pikeville High with the sports teams pretty much as an equipment manager. He washed jock straps and cleaned football cleats. He served.
Later, he went to Frankfort where he tended the legislators. He’d shine shoes and generally took care of them. He served.
In fact Joe said he did about all he was capable of doing—serving, serving literally hand and foot to others his whole life, with a smile, and with joy. His whole life he humbly served those who got the glory. But as Joe said, HE'S the one with the monument.
Then Joe added, “It's like Jesus said, “those last on earth will be first in heaven.”
*Ask the good people of Hazard about this controversy and they will earnestly show you the other side, the incredibly valuable flat land that enables so much new commercial and residential opportunities, such as this burial ground, hospitals, schools, restaurants and homes. There most certainly are two sides to the strip mining issue and we must honestly consider them all in order to fashion optimal policy.
The occasion was the funeral for John Dishner, a prince of a guy, father of young Blake, and husband to Melissa, daughter of our first cousin, Sondra, who is the daughter of my dad’s sister, Mary and her husband, the late Ed Dawhare. John died at age 36 of cancer, which he contracted a year ago. He had lived in Lexington, but as this magical mountain land has done for many of its own it did for John and his family, drawing them back to the wellspring of their youth.
So it was in this small town setting that it seemed the whole community came. All ages, all walks of life, gathered in this spirit-filled setting atop, ironically, a reclaimed coal mine, a by-product of mountaintop removal*.
From Lexington we take I-64 just past Winchester, then that famous veer right onto the Mountain Parkway, the path I’ve traveled hundreds of times since the 60’s on what I always considered the road to Kentucky’s Oz, the wonderland of Whitesburg, where I was raised. (Happy Chandler, who I loved, called it “the road to nowhere.” His assessment actually heartened me as an emerging young adult for it showed me that even great men make major misjudgments).
About halfway down the Parkway is an exit to Natural Bridge, deep in the Daniel Boone forest and one of the nation’s top sights. It is also where the Junior T. Williamson rest stop sits which is not only why we exited, but the inspiration for this writing.
My cousin, Joe, told me the story about Mr. Williamson. Turns out he was from Pikeville, where Joe grew up (his father, the late Warren Harding Dawahare, ran our store there after WWII until his death in 1966). Junior had a game leg and was a very simple, yet giving man. He worked at Pikeville High with the sports teams pretty much as an equipment manager. He washed jock straps and cleaned football cleats. He served.
Later, he went to Frankfort where he tended the legislators. He’d shine shoes and generally took care of them. He served.
In fact Joe said he did about all he was capable of doing—serving, serving literally hand and foot to others his whole life, with a smile, and with joy. His whole life he humbly served those who got the glory. But as Joe said, HE'S the one with the monument.
Then Joe added, “It's like Jesus said, “those last on earth will be first in heaven.”
*Ask the good people of Hazard about this controversy and they will earnestly show you the other side, the incredibly valuable flat land that enables so much new commercial and residential opportunities, such as this burial ground, hospitals, schools, restaurants and homes. There most certainly are two sides to the strip mining issue and we must honestly consider them all in order to fashion optimal policy.
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