A stunned grandmother

In my mother's time, war efforts made sense and army troops filled with innocents, marching off to glory to the Front and pride fluttered in all the gals' hearts as they saw their husbands and lovers set off for probable death or possible luck and then guilt for having survived. "Kill the bastards" was on the breath of the mothers, the sisters, the children and was the soldier's mantra. It was moral, it was necessary, it was duty for freedom and the North American way of life.

Now - i don't even know an active soldier, although there are many. I know one veteran of the WWII and he's a dear soul, a good man who followed his heart in his time and made the right decision then to enlist and fight. Now - i am aghast at Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Kosova and the Serbs, Kenya, Uganda and wonder why i'm not more in solidarity with the military's efforts to quell totalitarianism and racism.

My mother saw propoganda films of the evil that Germany represented then. Her family hovered around the radio to hear reports written by the military press of the success (but rarely the failures) of soldiers efforts - but my grandmother knew (but could not speak out) - war was taking her babies, killing off her sons - she just didn't know the reality of the horror that the men were going through to achieve their ends.

I see (in news reports, on television) real footage of suicide bombers and battlements protected by rifle-toting men and women. I see African babies with large bellies and flies hovering around their infected eyes. I hear, from immigrant Bosnian women the terror of rape and torture they endured during their war. I see civilians rallying for freedom, beaten to death for their beliefs. There are still mass graves and men in power who believe in ethnic cleansing.

My grandmother bought her son's toy rifles and handguns, helped them build forts and make plans to kill the enemy. Now we buy our sons and grandons Star Wars laser dueling swords and rationalize water guns and hope that Bob the Builder and Dora excite them for as long as possible.

Eventually Nintendo seduces them and we buy simulated war games for them and unbelievable sadistic tales play out while they stack up points and play with their peers over the internet. But this is not to imitate life - a war their fathers' are fighting. It imitates what we pretend to think of as art - television and horror films. It's not based on a moral imperative to protect the freedom we enjoy. It is based on gratuitous violence in the t.v. they watch and the senseless violence they see committed in home communities (school shootings, etc.).

I watch my four year old grandson calmly watch on t.v. a North Amercian truck being blown up in Iraq and people flying out with arms torn off. I watch him watch rifles shooting and killing real targets and real people falling to the ground. I watch while he plays with his blocks and then gaze at the television as if it represents his every day life and then back again to his toys.

I'm just a stunned grandmother who grew up as a hippy pacifist who had pride for Canada's peackeeping forces and now i stare at yellow ribbon stickers on the backs of cars telling me to support our troops and i cringe. But i do support the men and women. I really do. I just don't support war.

But, i'm also an apathetic, armchair commentator who doesn't put any action toward my beliefs. Do i write letters to politicians and army generals? Do protest at city hall? Do i travel to afflicted countries and help the poor and wounded? Do i even attend to the injured and maimed soldiers who return home? No.

Sigh. I'm just a stunned grandmother who grew up as a hippy pacifist.