« Our Nation's Capitol | Main | Showing the Colors »
April 05, 2004
The Reflecting Pool
LAUREL, MARYLAND - I still don't know what we're fighting the Iraq war for. I don't especially know what we fought the Vietnam war for, either. But I have a hunch it wasn't so I could see the depressing display of humanity at the D.C. Vietnam Memorial wall today.
I know I was a tourist, too - I took pictures, and I am never sure if that's showing the proper amount of decorum and reverence. But at least I can take comfort in the undeniable fact that I was more respectful than:
- The guy who got his three brats to pose in front of a list of casualties with a "Big Smile!"
- The old guy on a Chinese tour group who blew his nose, loudly and visibly, right onto the sidewalk. Both nostrils. I don't think it was a statement; I guess some guys just aren't handkerchief-ready.
- The two friends, yapping and carrying their show-dogs down the entire length of the Wall and back.
- Any number of loud obnoxious middle-school groups from all over the nation, prone to saying things like, "Danny! There's a dead guy here with your name!"
So I sat on a bench betweeen the Wall and the also-packed Lincoln Memorial, and just reflected. On how the Vietnam Wall was designed as a stark, powerful monument to actual dead people who would still be alive today if the war never happened, and now it's just another item on a tour-group checklist. On how the "names of the dead" has become almost the minumum requirement for any memorial park, thus diluting its potency. On how the memorial to Bush's Iraq War will look thirty years from now, and how many names will end up being on it. And on all the majestic events that have happened in Washington, and how the current era isn't living up to history's promise (for example: read the words of Lincoln at the Memorial, and compare it to the crap that comes out of the mouth of our current pResident). And it's just sad.
Also gnawing at me is the fact that I forgot Kurt Cobain died ten years ago today. I was coming back from a CD store in Philly (ironically, buying a Pearl Jam disc) when the news came on the radio in 1994. I never fully bought into Kurt-as-icon-for-my-generation, but that hurt. A lot.
Filed Under: Travels | Permanent Link, Comments (0) | Linking Blogs
