Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Patricia's Vigil at the White House
See http://windchimewalker.blogspot.com/ for the full account of Patricia's vigil.
Several days ago, Patricia Lay-Dorsey set out alone in her van (modified to accommodate her disablility) from Detroit to Washington. There she began a solitary vigil, to speak for the Lebanese people, who are being invaded and killed by the hundreds in the current war of aggression by Israel. These folks are not terrorists. They are the ordinary citizens who, like you and me, have no real say in what is going on in the "higher circles" of their government, nor any way to control the extremists who have assumed sigificant power in their country.
Patricia, as you may recall, befriended a Lebanese family earlier, when after 9/11 the father was summarily picked up by U. S. security forces (in front of his wife and terrified children), taken by the "authorities" to an unknown destination, and held in solitary confinement for many weeks, not even being allowed to contact a lawyer or let his family know where he was. His "crime"? He was co-founder of one of the two largest Arab humanitaran organzations in the world, and as part of his work was responsible for collecting money for their aid work among refugees in Afghanistan, Kosovo and other war-torn countries. He was never brought to trial, in fact, never even charged. After nineteen months--sixteen of them spent in solitary confinement--he was secretly deported, and his wife and four young children were deported two weeks later.
Then, some seven or so months ago, Patricia traveled alone to Lebanon to visit this lovely family, who welcomed her as their own. She has described that visit eloquently in her journal.
So, when the invasion began in Lebanon, Patricia felt as though her own family was threatened. First, the wife and five children fled to their mountain summer retreat. When that also was threatened, they made it out of the country into Syria, and ultimately into Kuwait where she has family. The father was out of the country on business when the attacks began and was unable to get back into Lebanon to help.
At first, Patricia was virtually the only protester (against the invasion) at her post before the White House. Her daily blog accounts of her experience engaging in dialogue with people from all over the world is fascinating reading. Now, apparently, more people are growing interested in her and her personal witnessing for her own deep felt truth. Here is her blog from yesterday. I think the look in the eyes of the young returned soldier in the last picture would bring tears to the eyes of anyone whose heart is not totally hardened. (See her blog for the pictures, which would not reproduce here.)
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Day 6 of my Lebanon Peace Initiative
This was a day full of media interviews, lots of activity in front of the White House, an organized protest opposing Israel's wars on the Lebanese and the Palestinian people, and an heart-connecting encounter with a young American soldier recently returned from fighting in Iraq. A BIG day!
It started with an 11 AM appointment with Christina Ramirez, a reporter with the Scripps Howard news service, at my post in front of the White House. She'd heard about me and my vigil through a sister Michigan Womyn's Music Festival festi-goer who had read my post on the MWMF online bulletin board about needing to sell my festival ticket. Christina expressed the desire to write a "profile" on me, so we had a long, wide-ranging interview as I held my sign in front of the White House fence. She'll let me know if/when/where it is published.
For several hours there were more ""suits" (Washington's power people) and media folks going in and out of the White House than I have ever seen. Code Pink was also out in full force with banners, bullhorn, chants and cameras following their every move. Iraqi Prime Minister al-Maliki was visiting President Bush and everyone wanted a piece of it...myself included. My agenda was visibillity for my sign, and there was plenty of that.
Just as Christina had finished taking her last picture, a man came up and asked if he could interview me too. This was Alec Russell, Washington Bureau Chief of The Daily Telegraph of London, who wanted to know why I was the only person out there with a sign about Lebanon. He said the people in the UK are terribly upset about what is happening there, yet he sees little concern being expressed by the American people. We discussed my countrymen and women's tendency to accept the sound bites fed them by such media sources as Fox News, and talked a bit about why I was doing what I was doing. He took notes as we talked but I don't know if anything will come of it. It was interesting for me to hear his perspective. I'm learning by standing in this spot where the world converges, that Europeans, as a rule, are MUCH better informed and more critical thinkers than their Ameriican counterparts.
I then got my meal of the day--I've gotten into the habit of eating just once a day--and went back to my hotel room for a little time out.
At 4 PM I was on the road again, this time off to Metro Center to take the train over to the Van Ness/UDC stop where I plannd to join a "funeral" protesting Israel's concurrent wars in the Middle East. It was sponsored by the Anti American Anti-Discrimination Committee, the Arab-American Institute, and a coalition of other organizations. It promised to be large. On the way over I received a call from Walid, a filmmaker whom I'd met in front of the Senate Office Building on Friday. He'd been trying to hook up with me to film me as part of a documentary he was doing on peace. We agreed to meet at the demonstration.
When I scooted out of the Metro elevator at Connecticut & Van Ness, I found dozens of black cloth-draped cardboard coffins being constructed by a willing crew of volunteers. I also met up with Walid, his two sons and their black lab named Princess. Wald and his youngest son filmed an interview with me before turning their cameras on the growing crowd of participants and media from around the world. I guess that's one of the perks of being an activist in the nation's capitol--when you get media attention, it is worldwide not just local.
We marched down Connecticult Avenue, and then through residential streets to the Israeli Embassy, a huge complex on Van Ness Street. On the way, I met two Lebanese-American women with whom I resonated deeply. We talked as we walked/scooted. When we stopped in front of the embassy for a rally, Rula introduced me to her two daughters. I've invited them to bring signs and their friends to the White House one day this week and join me at my vigil in front of the White House. They seemed taken with the idea.
I must admit I was turned off by some of the chants, and am discovering that I might have outgrown the mass protest mentality. It seemed more for the cameras than for us, and was appealing to the lowest common denominator of our humanity. I did not feel uplifted or effective as I do when I'm dialoguing with individuals, or even just siting silently with my sign. Nothing against this demonstration, the organizers and participants; it's just that I've changed.
On the way back to the Metro, I scooted with Danielle, an activist sister I'd first met at the Saturday vigil in front of the White House. On the way we met three young Palestinian men. One of them, Mohammed, gave me his card and asked that I email him my blog address. They expressed profound gratitude for all that I am doing here in DC.
What happened next is what I will never forget.
After I'd gotten back to my neighborhood, I decided a little ice cream would go good. I'd seen a Giffords ice cream shop a block from my hotel, and had wondered if their ice cream was as good as I remembered from my growing-up days in Falls Church, Virginia. I soon found that it is. But it was not the ice cream that I'll remember, it was the young man I met and ended up spending time with as I ate it.
Joey had asked me about my sign when I'd first come into the shop. After I'd gotten my cup of lemon and coconut ice cream and scooted over to an empty table, he came up and started talking about war, in his case the Iraqi war. I invited him to sit down. For the next hour, this 21 year-old American soldier opened my mind and heart to te realities of what it's like for our young men and women over in that hellhole George W. Bush and his folks have created.
This was Joey's first night off the psych ward at Walter Reed Army Hosptial where he's been since returning to the U.S. last Thursday. He told me it is crazy over there and it made him crazy. We talked at length and depth about his experiences in Iraq, his buddies who were killed, the commanding officiers who didn't give a damn about him or his buddies, the Iraqi people who scared him to death, his assessment of Mr. Bush's disaster, a bit about his earlier life in Kentucky and his young wife who worries.
For an anti-war activist who says she wants the troops home but has never even talked to one of them before, it was a moment of epiphany. For the first time I saw that these young men and women we're putting into harm's way, and sometimes turning into murderous monsters, are tender shoots who are being yanked from the soil where they were meant to grow and tossed aside like rubbish. They do not deserve this any more than the Iraqi innocents deserve what happens to them.
After awhile I invited Joey to join me for a walk. I took him over to the White House. It was obvious that he was much impressed. When he asked if I thought George Bush would meet with him, a returning soldier in the war he had begun, I said, "Why don't you go see." So Joey walked up to the guard desk. A young White House staffer was there saying goodbye to a couple who were leaving the grounds, and Joey asked her if he could talk to the president. He said he'd just gotten back from fighting for our country in Iraq and thought he should have the right to see the man who had sent him there. He was respectful but firm in his request. She smiled, thanked him for defending his country, and said he'd have to call a certain number to request an appointment. Joey didn't even write it down. As we left he said, "I should think I'd have the right to see the man who made me crazy." But of course, he didn't.
I ask you to hold in your hearts Joey and all our young men and women whose bodies, minds and spirits are being damaged and, in some cases, destroyed, by Mr. Bush's war on Iraq. They deserve better than this.
My photos follow. From having read my entry, I think you can figure out who is who.
Note: Unfortunately, I cannot reproduce the photos here. But I urge everyone to go to her blog site and look at these (and all the earlier entries and pictures.) The look in the eyes of this young man is enough to bring tears to the eyes of us all.
Please read Patricia's blog. Please hold Patricia in your heart and send her messages of support. She is to my mind the representative of all of us who cannot be there in person, but support the cause of innocent victims of violence, wherever that may be.
Several days ago, Patricia Lay-Dorsey set out alone in her van (modified to accommodate her disablility) from Detroit to Washington. There she began a solitary vigil, to speak for the Lebanese people, who are being invaded and killed by the hundreds in the current war of aggression by Israel. These folks are not terrorists. They are the ordinary citizens who, like you and me, have no real say in what is going on in the "higher circles" of their government, nor any way to control the extremists who have assumed sigificant power in their country.
Patricia, as you may recall, befriended a Lebanese family earlier, when after 9/11 the father was summarily picked up by U. S. security forces (in front of his wife and terrified children), taken by the "authorities" to an unknown destination, and held in solitary confinement for many weeks, not even being allowed to contact a lawyer or let his family know where he was. His "crime"? He was co-founder of one of the two largest Arab humanitaran organzations in the world, and as part of his work was responsible for collecting money for their aid work among refugees in Afghanistan, Kosovo and other war-torn countries. He was never brought to trial, in fact, never even charged. After nineteen months--sixteen of them spent in solitary confinement--he was secretly deported, and his wife and four young children were deported two weeks later.
Then, some seven or so months ago, Patricia traveled alone to Lebanon to visit this lovely family, who welcomed her as their own. She has described that visit eloquently in her journal.
So, when the invasion began in Lebanon, Patricia felt as though her own family was threatened. First, the wife and five children fled to their mountain summer retreat. When that also was threatened, they made it out of the country into Syria, and ultimately into Kuwait where she has family. The father was out of the country on business when the attacks began and was unable to get back into Lebanon to help.
At first, Patricia was virtually the only protester (against the invasion) at her post before the White House. Her daily blog accounts of her experience engaging in dialogue with people from all over the world is fascinating reading. Now, apparently, more people are growing interested in her and her personal witnessing for her own deep felt truth. Here is her blog from yesterday. I think the look in the eyes of the young returned soldier in the last picture would bring tears to the eyes of anyone whose heart is not totally hardened. (See her blog for the pictures, which would not reproduce here.)
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Day 6 of my Lebanon Peace Initiative
This was a day full of media interviews, lots of activity in front of the White House, an organized protest opposing Israel's wars on the Lebanese and the Palestinian people, and an heart-connecting encounter with a young American soldier recently returned from fighting in Iraq. A BIG day!
It started with an 11 AM appointment with Christina Ramirez, a reporter with the Scripps Howard news service, at my post in front of the White House. She'd heard about me and my vigil through a sister Michigan Womyn's Music Festival festi-goer who had read my post on the MWMF online bulletin board about needing to sell my festival ticket. Christina expressed the desire to write a "profile" on me, so we had a long, wide-ranging interview as I held my sign in front of the White House fence. She'll let me know if/when/where it is published.
For several hours there were more ""suits" (Washington's power people) and media folks going in and out of the White House than I have ever seen. Code Pink was also out in full force with banners, bullhorn, chants and cameras following their every move. Iraqi Prime Minister al-Maliki was visiting President Bush and everyone wanted a piece of it...myself included. My agenda was visibillity for my sign, and there was plenty of that.
Just as Christina had finished taking her last picture, a man came up and asked if he could interview me too. This was Alec Russell, Washington Bureau Chief of The Daily Telegraph of London, who wanted to know why I was the only person out there with a sign about Lebanon. He said the people in the UK are terribly upset about what is happening there, yet he sees little concern being expressed by the American people. We discussed my countrymen and women's tendency to accept the sound bites fed them by such media sources as Fox News, and talked a bit about why I was doing what I was doing. He took notes as we talked but I don't know if anything will come of it. It was interesting for me to hear his perspective. I'm learning by standing in this spot where the world converges, that Europeans, as a rule, are MUCH better informed and more critical thinkers than their Ameriican counterparts.
I then got my meal of the day--I've gotten into the habit of eating just once a day--and went back to my hotel room for a little time out.
At 4 PM I was on the road again, this time off to Metro Center to take the train over to the Van Ness/UDC stop where I plannd to join a "funeral" protesting Israel's concurrent wars in the Middle East. It was sponsored by the Anti American Anti-Discrimination Committee, the Arab-American Institute, and a coalition of other organizations. It promised to be large. On the way over I received a call from Walid, a filmmaker whom I'd met in front of the Senate Office Building on Friday. He'd been trying to hook up with me to film me as part of a documentary he was doing on peace. We agreed to meet at the demonstration.
When I scooted out of the Metro elevator at Connecticut & Van Ness, I found dozens of black cloth-draped cardboard coffins being constructed by a willing crew of volunteers. I also met up with Walid, his two sons and their black lab named Princess. Wald and his youngest son filmed an interview with me before turning their cameras on the growing crowd of participants and media from around the world. I guess that's one of the perks of being an activist in the nation's capitol--when you get media attention, it is worldwide not just local.
We marched down Connecticult Avenue, and then through residential streets to the Israeli Embassy, a huge complex on Van Ness Street. On the way, I met two Lebanese-American women with whom I resonated deeply. We talked as we walked/scooted. When we stopped in front of the embassy for a rally, Rula introduced me to her two daughters. I've invited them to bring signs and their friends to the White House one day this week and join me at my vigil in front of the White House. They seemed taken with the idea.
I must admit I was turned off by some of the chants, and am discovering that I might have outgrown the mass protest mentality. It seemed more for the cameras than for us, and was appealing to the lowest common denominator of our humanity. I did not feel uplifted or effective as I do when I'm dialoguing with individuals, or even just siting silently with my sign. Nothing against this demonstration, the organizers and participants; it's just that I've changed.
On the way back to the Metro, I scooted with Danielle, an activist sister I'd first met at the Saturday vigil in front of the White House. On the way we met three young Palestinian men. One of them, Mohammed, gave me his card and asked that I email him my blog address. They expressed profound gratitude for all that I am doing here in DC.
What happened next is what I will never forget.
After I'd gotten back to my neighborhood, I decided a little ice cream would go good. I'd seen a Giffords ice cream shop a block from my hotel, and had wondered if their ice cream was as good as I remembered from my growing-up days in Falls Church, Virginia. I soon found that it is. But it was not the ice cream that I'll remember, it was the young man I met and ended up spending time with as I ate it.
Joey had asked me about my sign when I'd first come into the shop. After I'd gotten my cup of lemon and coconut ice cream and scooted over to an empty table, he came up and started talking about war, in his case the Iraqi war. I invited him to sit down. For the next hour, this 21 year-old American soldier opened my mind and heart to te realities of what it's like for our young men and women over in that hellhole George W. Bush and his folks have created.
This was Joey's first night off the psych ward at Walter Reed Army Hosptial where he's been since returning to the U.S. last Thursday. He told me it is crazy over there and it made him crazy. We talked at length and depth about his experiences in Iraq, his buddies who were killed, the commanding officiers who didn't give a damn about him or his buddies, the Iraqi people who scared him to death, his assessment of Mr. Bush's disaster, a bit about his earlier life in Kentucky and his young wife who worries.
For an anti-war activist who says she wants the troops home but has never even talked to one of them before, it was a moment of epiphany. For the first time I saw that these young men and women we're putting into harm's way, and sometimes turning into murderous monsters, are tender shoots who are being yanked from the soil where they were meant to grow and tossed aside like rubbish. They do not deserve this any more than the Iraqi innocents deserve what happens to them.
After awhile I invited Joey to join me for a walk. I took him over to the White House. It was obvious that he was much impressed. When he asked if I thought George Bush would meet with him, a returning soldier in the war he had begun, I said, "Why don't you go see." So Joey walked up to the guard desk. A young White House staffer was there saying goodbye to a couple who were leaving the grounds, and Joey asked her if he could talk to the president. He said he'd just gotten back from fighting for our country in Iraq and thought he should have the right to see the man who had sent him there. He was respectful but firm in his request. She smiled, thanked him for defending his country, and said he'd have to call a certain number to request an appointment. Joey didn't even write it down. As we left he said, "I should think I'd have the right to see the man who made me crazy." But of course, he didn't.
I ask you to hold in your hearts Joey and all our young men and women whose bodies, minds and spirits are being damaged and, in some cases, destroyed, by Mr. Bush's war on Iraq. They deserve better than this.
My photos follow. From having read my entry, I think you can figure out who is who.
Note: Unfortunately, I cannot reproduce the photos here. But I urge everyone to go to her blog site and look at these (and all the earlier entries and pictures.) The look in the eyes of this young man is enough to bring tears to the eyes of us all.
Please read Patricia's blog. Please hold Patricia in your heart and send her messages of support. She is to my mind the representative of all of us who cannot be there in person, but support the cause of innocent victims of violence, wherever that may be.
