Bridging
the Gap
by Jillian Aldebron
PRESQUE ISLE, May 4 — The most formidable challenge faced by the
five of us who resolutely stood on the bridge for peace today was not
the opposition of passersby — it was a fierce wind that ripped
at our signs and threatened to whisk the smallest of us protesters aloft.
But spirits remained high despite the uncooperative weather: the fact
that we were few in number only added to our pride of perseverance in
what had come to be viewed as a heroic — if not somewhat crazy
— gesture.
Only when the battered old Chevy Impala slowed to a halt in front
of us did
a pall of foreboding descend upon the group. The obviously irritated
drivers
who followed honked their horns and gunned their engines as they swerved
around the vehicle obstructing their lane.
Three elementary school age children looked out with visible curiosity
from
the back seat as a teenage boy rolled down the front passenger-side
window.
The driver, inscrutable behind his dark sunglasses, was a graying,
middle-aged man wearing a tank top and sporting tattoos up and down
his
husky arms. He leaned over through the cigarette smoke to speak his
mind: "I
have a son in the Marine Corp, so I know just how you feel, and I agree
with
you." He had to shout over the roar of wind and traffic. "I
just want him to
come home safe," he added.
It was a classic moment of cognitive dissonance, the kind where one
of those
cultural preconceptions that you never admit to yourself you have is
forever
erased from your repertoire of conditioned mental responses. "Is
he
stationed in Iraq?" I asked. "No. He's still in North Carolina,
but he could
go over there any time," he replied. And then, the ice broken by
this
disclosure, we proceeded to share outraged revelations of our government's
Machiavellian foreign policy, draconian domestic security regime, and
diversion of federal resources away from schools, veterans benefits,
and
healthcare in favor of the reconstruction of a country that we ourselves
destroyed.
Turned out that the driver had been carrying on a continuing webcam
conversation with an Iraqi in Baghdad. Initially, he said, the two of
them
argued bitterly over the devastation wrought by American troops and
the
betrayal of Iraqi hopes for self-determination. As they persisted in
their
relationship, however, the two men found common ground in worries about
the
safety of their children, financial problems, and the future well-being
of
their families. The last time they spoke, he said, his Iraqi counterpart
expressed best wishes for his son's return.
Once again, we vigilers drew satisfaction from the confirmation that
we were
not alone in our desire for peace and social justice. And, better still,
that our presence served to remind others that they were not alone either.
Of course, that's not to say that we wouldn't welcome a little more
company
next Sunday.
— Jillian Aldebron
Back to Peace Talk Index,
Summer, 2003