June, 1975
Philadelphia, PA
Jean Wyatt was watching the riots on television when her father called from prison.
"Jean, you've gotta come bail me out, honey."
The rain was pounding and pounding, and the old house was groaning under it. She'd put out buckets and cups and jars all through the kitchen and the living room to catch the leaks, but it was impossible to get them all. The house was over two hundred years old, it'd been built by her great-great-something grandfather, but it was finally buckling under Philadelphia's endless rain.
Her father's voice was calm, like it always was; but Jean felt the old familiar panic and took a few breaths to quiet herself. She fumbled for a cigarette.
"What the hell? You're in jail? What are you doing in jail, Dad?"
He didn't answer immediately. Behind her the news announcer said: "Commissioner Daley has said that police have cordoned off the area around Freedom Hall and are using rubber bullets and tear gas. Arrests have been made near Logan Square and the Oregon Center. United Nations troops..."
"I tangled with one of those damn commies, honey," he said at last. "I got him, too."
"...assisting Philadelphia police. There are reports of military action..."
Jean dragged on her cigarette and forced calm into her voice. "What do you mean you got him, Dad? Did you kill... ?"
"Yeah, I got him. What was I gonna do, he was all set to shoot me."
"But Dad..."
"Now you listen to me, honey. I was in the war, I know what the rules are. Sometimes you have to get them before they get you. I'm alive, aren't I? Some of the guys I was standing next to, they weren't so lucky."
"But Dad..."
"They were shooting at us, honey."
"Dad, I told you not to go out there."
"Sweetheart, I fought for my country twenty years ago and I'll fight for her today. They can call those troops 'peacekeepers' all they want, but they're the same damn commies we were fighting back then. Just because they won the war doesn't give them the right to come marching in here and meddle in our affairs."
Jean thought, I can't take it, I can't take it, not again. He can't do this to me... She forced that voice into silence. She focused on the news instead.
"In other news, President Kennedy met today with President Nixon. Nixon's visit marks the first time a president of the Free States has visited the United States. After meeting for half an hour, the two presidents issued a joint statement expressing sadness at the riots and violence in Philadelphia, a city which, they say, holds a great deal of shared history and importance for both the Free States and the United States. President Kennedy added that the US military and police forces were cooperating with UN peacekeeping forces to quell the violence and..."
"Sweetheart, are you still there?"
"They said Nixon and Kennedy are meeting today, Dad."
"What, you're listening to the news? Nixon's the reddest commie on the planet, and he's got the UN in his pocket. Kennedy's a good man, but he knows he has to meet with Nixon or there will be 'peacekeeping' bombs dropping on Washington. Anyway, come on honey. Turn off the news and come bail me out."
She tried one more time. "Dad, this isn't like the war. You're not a soldier. This is riots. And you're not a policeman. If you shoot someone, they're going to get you for murder. Did you really kill somebody?"
"I did. And I'm not glad about it, but if I hadn't, you'd be getting a call from the morgue instead of the police station."
Jean sighed. "Ok, Dad. I'll be there as soon as I can."
She drove through the rain, a muddy rain coming in off the Atlantic, so thick that Mt. Penn was invisible. The radio said that thirty-six had been confirmed dead in clashes with the UN peacekeeping forces.
Showing posts with label United Nations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label United Nations. Show all posts
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
And Touch the Face of God
March, 1986
Philadelphia, PA
Usually gardening was Jean Wyatt's best way of relaxing. She loved seeing the perennials come back year after year, the roses that reminded her of her dead mother, the yarrow that reminded her of her dead father. Not today, though. It was a gorgeous Saturday evening, perfect for gardening, but there was a hazy disquiet on her mind, and she found herself sitting and listening, or standing staring into space, thinking of nothing, as if waiting for a signal.
At last she gave it up, went inside, poured herself a drink, flopped on the couch, and turned on the television.
President Reagan was giving a speech. He was good to see. But he had become old and tired; the fire that drove him when he was elected six years ago (was it just six years?) was gone, and his hair was almost white.
"My fellow Americans," he said. And there was that voice that she loved, that sounded so much like her father's, an honest and proud voice; and when he said "Americans" there was a bit of a lilt, like he wasn't saying "Americans" but "family" or "beloved".
"Six years ago," he said, "you elected me because you believed in our country. You believed in our nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the freedom and equality of all before the law. You believed in a new dawn. Through all her history, America has always fought for freedom and justice. We have not won all our battles, but we have never lost faith that, with God beside us, and with courage and honor unwavering, we would eventually win the war."
He paused and looked at his notes. And suddenly she could feel what he was going to say, and the haze disappeared from her mind. Her fingers clutching her glass pricked with foreboding.
"And we will never relinquish that faith," he said, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat and said, louder, firmer, "We will never relinquish that faith. We will never give up that battle. But I am here to tell you today, my fellow Americans, that it is time to forge a new path to liberty."
Again he looked at his notes. When he spoke next, his voice was soft and tired. "I have decided, after long study, and long prayer, that we must enter into a new partnership with the Free States of America. For too long have we been adversaries. For too long -- for over sixty years -- our continent has been divided by trenches, barbed wire, machine gun nests, and checkpoints. For too long we have been one people, divided."
He gave a little cough and stared at his notes a long time, as if afraid to look her in the eye. But now she know what he was going to say.
He would say that the Free States and the United States would be entering into an equal partnership. He would say that there would be an easing of trade restrictions (which meant FSA cooperatives taking our jobs and livelihoods), and a sharing of military duties (as if the UN had allowed the US to have a proper military at all for the last thirty years), and a new joint commission to work toward eventual political reunification. Maybe he'd even call it a new Continental Congress. And then he'd quote Abraham Lincoln out of context, to make it seem like that great man would smile on this unholy union. But it would just be the final victory of the South over the North, and the Indians over the White Man.
Jean knew what he was going to say, so she barely listened as she went to the gun cabinet and unlocked it.
Jean knew there would be plenty of people who would see through Reagan's pretty rhetoric, who would realize that this was not a "new path to liberty," but a final acquiescence to communism. But their hands were tied; they could do nothing now, because Reagan was so popular.
And God knows, Jean thought, I love the man. He brought us back from the brink after Kennedy was shot in '79. I voted for him, my father voted for him. He was a fighter.
Now the fight has gone. He's given up.
But I haven't.
"In the words of Abraham Lincoln," said Reagan, "this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth..."
If Reagan were removed, this madness would end.
Yes. Her guns, and her father's guns, and even her grandfather's guns, were here. They taught her how to use them, and she kept them ready, always in working order. It would take just one bullet.
"Let us reach out to our sister nation," he says. "Let us reach out to the new future that beckons. Let us reach out, and touch the face of God..."
One bullet. ...And a plan.
Philadelphia, PA
Usually gardening was Jean Wyatt's best way of relaxing. She loved seeing the perennials come back year after year, the roses that reminded her of her dead mother, the yarrow that reminded her of her dead father. Not today, though. It was a gorgeous Saturday evening, perfect for gardening, but there was a hazy disquiet on her mind, and she found herself sitting and listening, or standing staring into space, thinking of nothing, as if waiting for a signal.
At last she gave it up, went inside, poured herself a drink, flopped on the couch, and turned on the television.
President Reagan was giving a speech. He was good to see. But he had become old and tired; the fire that drove him when he was elected six years ago (was it just six years?) was gone, and his hair was almost white.
"My fellow Americans," he said. And there was that voice that she loved, that sounded so much like her father's, an honest and proud voice; and when he said "Americans" there was a bit of a lilt, like he wasn't saying "Americans" but "family" or "beloved".
"Six years ago," he said, "you elected me because you believed in our country. You believed in our nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the freedom and equality of all before the law. You believed in a new dawn. Through all her history, America has always fought for freedom and justice. We have not won all our battles, but we have never lost faith that, with God beside us, and with courage and honor unwavering, we would eventually win the war."
He paused and looked at his notes. And suddenly she could feel what he was going to say, and the haze disappeared from her mind. Her fingers clutching her glass pricked with foreboding.
"And we will never relinquish that faith," he said, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat and said, louder, firmer, "We will never relinquish that faith. We will never give up that battle. But I am here to tell you today, my fellow Americans, that it is time to forge a new path to liberty."
Again he looked at his notes. When he spoke next, his voice was soft and tired. "I have decided, after long study, and long prayer, that we must enter into a new partnership with the Free States of America. For too long have we been adversaries. For too long -- for over sixty years -- our continent has been divided by trenches, barbed wire, machine gun nests, and checkpoints. For too long we have been one people, divided."
He gave a little cough and stared at his notes a long time, as if afraid to look her in the eye. But now she know what he was going to say.
He would say that the Free States and the United States would be entering into an equal partnership. He would say that there would be an easing of trade restrictions (which meant FSA cooperatives taking our jobs and livelihoods), and a sharing of military duties (as if the UN had allowed the US to have a proper military at all for the last thirty years), and a new joint commission to work toward eventual political reunification. Maybe he'd even call it a new Continental Congress. And then he'd quote Abraham Lincoln out of context, to make it seem like that great man would smile on this unholy union. But it would just be the final victory of the South over the North, and the Indians over the White Man.
Jean knew what he was going to say, so she barely listened as she went to the gun cabinet and unlocked it.
Jean knew there would be plenty of people who would see through Reagan's pretty rhetoric, who would realize that this was not a "new path to liberty," but a final acquiescence to communism. But their hands were tied; they could do nothing now, because Reagan was so popular.
And God knows, Jean thought, I love the man. He brought us back from the brink after Kennedy was shot in '79. I voted for him, my father voted for him. He was a fighter.
Now the fight has gone. He's given up.
But I haven't.
"In the words of Abraham Lincoln," said Reagan, "this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth..."
If Reagan were removed, this madness would end.
Yes. Her guns, and her father's guns, and even her grandfather's guns, were here. They taught her how to use them, and she kept them ready, always in working order. It would take just one bullet.
"Let us reach out to our sister nation," he says. "Let us reach out to the new future that beckons. Let us reach out, and touch the face of God..."
One bullet. ...And a plan.
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