Thursday, I wrote here about the guy who came and asked if I could tell him where to get a pro-peace yard sign like the one we have, and how I gave him one there and then.
Before he left, he asked how much he could pay me. I told him they cost $5, but really not to bother. Before he left we introduced ourselves to each other: “By the way, I’m Helena”… “And I’m Phil. Nice to meet you.”
Yesterday, I found $5 in our mail box. It was wrapped in a piece of paper saying, “Helena– Thanks for what you’re doing for our country– Phil.”
What a great end to the story.
Today, I came up to NYC by, yes, real metal train. And yes, I did get my bg BR piece almost completely written. 9,600 words. (And yes, that is the short version.)
…Terrible day (again) in Iraq, today. Oh my G-d.
Tomorrow I’m going to a “summit meeting” of pro-peace US and Iraqi women convened by the Global Peace Initiative of Women. Faiza will be speaking there… Maybe they’ll have wifi in the hotel and I can blog it in near real time?
2 thoughts on “Peace train, part 2”
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Helena
Please say Hi to Faiza for me.
Did you see Riverbend has been nominated for a non fiction prize?
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/4847424.stm
Helena,
Primordial chaos. Darkness visible. Points of light. You, Helena…well, I don’t need to spell it out, you know how we feel about you and the work you do.
It’s a commonplace that Bush and the neocons have squandered – pissed it away – a world (the mot juste) of goodwill – summed up in Le Monde’s headline, “We’re All Americans Now.”
It’s actually worse than that.
The 20th century gold standard of us as a people, good and bad, was always World War II.
It was the tent pole. There were of course more than a few rotten guy ropes and ugly pegs – Vietnam, Chile, Watergate, racism, etc. – but the tent pole was true American north, to mix the metaphor.
No more.
The measure of us today, good and bad, is this evil “war of choice” and all the filth – the wickedness – that’s accompanied it.
That’s quite an “accomplishment”. That’s some “leadership”. Unerringly out of the sunlit uplands into the valley of the shadow of you know what.
Mon Dieu.