Lessons on War We Can't Seem to Learn

On Sunday night, Julia and I went with my lifelong friend Camille to the National Memorial Day Concert held on the lawn of the U.S. Capitol, where her husband Robert McDuffie, a world-renowned solo violinist, played with the National Symphony Orchestra. The annual event was celebrating its 20th anniversary, but the last time I went was for Bobby's previous gig there, nine years ago, when he paid tribute to Schindler's List and his music and accompanying slide show moved me--embarrassingly, I have to say--to sobs.

This time, with Julia, who was wearing hand-me-down red patent leather shoes that are at least three sizes too big for her (but suitably fancy in her mind for the occasion), I kept my liquid emotions in check. 

But I found the whole thing wrenching nonetheless. There we were, with a picnic spread out on the baby blankets Julia had on insisted on bringing, on a beautiful night on the Capitol grounds--the same spot where I watched Barack Obama's inauguration. The Capitol dome was lit up behind us. The top of the Washington Monument stretched above the tree line in the distance ahead. It must be where I go for doses of patriotism.

 

Except that what I was feeling wasn't pride in my country. It was sorrow and disappointment. I couldn't help but remember that nearly a decade ago when we were there, the concept of our country at war was neatly tucked away in the past whereas this time, we were honoring the nearly  5,000 soldiers who have died in Afghanistan and Iraq and the thousands more who are injured in wars that are ongoing as I write. 

Part of the show was a tribute to the mother and sister of one such infantryman, who, when their son and brother was returned to the States with part of his head blow away, moved into Walter Reed Hospital in Bethesda, Md., giving up their jobs and homes to nurse him back to what, in his case, passes for health.

Then Colin Powell spoke, telling us that there are 10,000 adults who have given up their lives to care for their wounded adult children. And if not for them, he reminded us, they would be in Veterans' Hospitals--"or worse, homeless." Nevermind that Powell seemed an unlikely source for this information. Shouldn't our VA Hospitals be like 5-star hotels after what we've put these men and women and their families through?

Flag-waving and pool openings have long become the substance if not the soul of Memorial Day--an updated version of the men, women, and children who dressed in their finery and went out to picnic at Chancellorsville, Va, spectators to one of the early battles of the Civil War that unfolded in the fields beneath them. Not a lot has changed.