Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Is that a 1000-yard stare or were you catatonic last night?
I recently went to a” Parent’s Day Weekend at my daughter’s college. I was invited to speak at a “Rock the Vote” event while I was there. I was excited about speaking to the college crowd and I was looking forward to spending the weekend with my daughter. I had no idea that I would be transported back in time before the weekend was over.
On Saturday we attended the school’s football game and went to an evening concert. A recently resurrected rock band was scheduled to play. I didn’t think much about it before the weekend; my thoughts were on writing and delivering a non-partisan speech for my “Rock the Vote” appearance.
The group was called Creedance Clearwater Revisited. They are a reconstituted group of musicians including a couple of the original members from CCR, Creedence Clearwater Revival. They were very popular during the Vietnam War and many of their songs hit the charts here and overseas. The resurrected rock group played their old songs really well, much too well as I soon found out.
The dark arena, the cheering crowd, the war, and the swamp rock music all came together for me. When the band played “Suzie Q.” I got goose bumps and the hair on the back of my neck stood out. I stared at the band as Vietnam -era-memories from my life flooded back.
I remembered the anxiety, of being a student, the suddenness of my friend’s departure into the Army after they were drafted and the anger when a government agency made us take an intelligence test at our college. I recalled the frustration of not knowing what to do to help stop the war. (This emotion was not far below the surface given the current situation in Iraq)
Back then I was also upset at not knowing what was happened to my friends serving in Vietnam. (I still have those same feelings, about different friends, in a different war.)
Most of all, I remembered my life’s limited choices as the war continued.
I sat there transfixed while others around me clapped and rocked to the music. I finally broke away from staring at the stage after they sang “Who’ll Stop the Rain. “I noticed two men about my age sitting near by, with blank stares as they faced the stage. They looked like they had the “1000 yard stare. “
The 1000-yard stare was a term coined during the Vietnam War. The stare says, "I have been there and beyond, and I know." It was also called the Thousand Yard Stare in a Ten Foot Room.
I turned back to the stage as the band went on to play “Fortunate Son” and I suddenly shivered as I heard them sing:
"Some folks are born, made to wave the flag
Ooh they're red white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief"
Ooh they point the cannon at you Lord"
Did those other two men also remember their times as civilians who were also ready to be drafted or did they remember napalm so close they could feel the heat?
Did the words “jungle rot” come into their minds?
Did they recall the ground shaking during mortar attacks in Da Nang; did the group’s music jog their memory of a million frogs croaking at night?
Did they suddenly remember how the water from stagnant rice paddies, felt as it swirled around their boots, or did they remember the feel of jungle vines, and elephant grass as it wrapped around their arms and legs?
Did they recollect feeling the oppressive heat, the unending-sheets of rain during the monsoon season? Did they suddenly recall the sickening smell of blood and feces?
"It ain't me it ain't me I ain't no senator's son.
It ain't me it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one no
Yeah!"
Were either of them working on a hot tarmac where the aviation fuel fumes permeated everything on the base including the food? Did they spend time on a Vietnam airfield working in sweat soaked t-shirts as they patched up bullet-ridden helicopters, when they heard CCR on their radio play:
"Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord don't they help themselves oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,"
At the end of the concert I strained to keep track of the two men as the crowd stood up to leave the dark auditorium. I struggled to stay close to my family as the flowing crowd buffeted us. I wanted to ask them if they were, "in country" during the Vietnam War. I wanted to confirm my suspicions but they had quickly melted into the crowd and disappeared as we went out through the doors into the cool dark October night. I kept looking for them as people spilled out onto the college campus but without any luck. The moment seemed lost anyway; somehow the cold night brought me back to 2004 where we have a new war going on.
I remembered how naive I was back then. Once upon a time I thought the nations of the world had the capability to live in peace. It took several years to become cynical and realize that many people in power are too lazy to deal with the details of peace and choose war instead. (I am paraphrasing Thomas Mann.)
I wondered if 40 years from now some parents will go and see a much older version of Green Day in concert. And will they recall the war they fought in Iraqi? Will they remember the talcum-powder –type-sand, the red mud, the oil fires, the oppressive heat, the IED’s and the sickening coppery smell of blood, when they hear the following words of the song “American Idiot”?
“Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new media.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mindf*ck America.”
“Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Convincing them to walk you.”
“Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.”
“Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Convincing them to walk you.”
“Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information nation of hysteria.
It's going out to idiot America.”
“Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Convincing them to walk you.”
On Saturday we attended the school’s football game and went to an evening concert. A recently resurrected rock band was scheduled to play. I didn’t think much about it before the weekend; my thoughts were on writing and delivering a non-partisan speech for my “Rock the Vote” appearance.
The group was called Creedance Clearwater Revisited. They are a reconstituted group of musicians including a couple of the original members from CCR, Creedence Clearwater Revival. They were very popular during the Vietnam War and many of their songs hit the charts here and overseas. The resurrected rock group played their old songs really well, much too well as I soon found out.
The dark arena, the cheering crowd, the war, and the swamp rock music all came together for me. When the band played “Suzie Q.” I got goose bumps and the hair on the back of my neck stood out. I stared at the band as Vietnam -era-memories from my life flooded back.
I remembered the anxiety, of being a student, the suddenness of my friend’s departure into the Army after they were drafted and the anger when a government agency made us take an intelligence test at our college. I recalled the frustration of not knowing what to do to help stop the war. (This emotion was not far below the surface given the current situation in Iraq)
Back then I was also upset at not knowing what was happened to my friends serving in Vietnam. (I still have those same feelings, about different friends, in a different war.)
Most of all, I remembered my life’s limited choices as the war continued.
I sat there transfixed while others around me clapped and rocked to the music. I finally broke away from staring at the stage after they sang “Who’ll Stop the Rain. “I noticed two men about my age sitting near by, with blank stares as they faced the stage. They looked like they had the “1000 yard stare. “
The 1000-yard stare was a term coined during the Vietnam War. The stare says, "I have been there and beyond, and I know." It was also called the Thousand Yard Stare in a Ten Foot Room.
I turned back to the stage as the band went on to play “Fortunate Son” and I suddenly shivered as I heard them sing:
"Some folks are born, made to wave the flag
Ooh they're red white and blue.
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief"
Ooh they point the cannon at you Lord"
Did those other two men also remember their times as civilians who were also ready to be drafted or did they remember napalm so close they could feel the heat?
Did the words “jungle rot” come into their minds?
Did they recall the ground shaking during mortar attacks in Da Nang; did the group’s music jog their memory of a million frogs croaking at night?
Did they suddenly remember how the water from stagnant rice paddies, felt as it swirled around their boots, or did they remember the feel of jungle vines, and elephant grass as it wrapped around their arms and legs?
Did they recollect feeling the oppressive heat, the unending-sheets of rain during the monsoon season? Did they suddenly recall the sickening smell of blood and feces?
"It ain't me it ain't me I ain't no senator's son.
It ain't me it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one no
Yeah!"
Were either of them working on a hot tarmac where the aviation fuel fumes permeated everything on the base including the food? Did they spend time on a Vietnam airfield working in sweat soaked t-shirts as they patched up bullet-ridden helicopters, when they heard CCR on their radio play:
"Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord don't they help themselves oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,"
At the end of the concert I strained to keep track of the two men as the crowd stood up to leave the dark auditorium. I struggled to stay close to my family as the flowing crowd buffeted us. I wanted to ask them if they were, "in country" during the Vietnam War. I wanted to confirm my suspicions but they had quickly melted into the crowd and disappeared as we went out through the doors into the cool dark October night. I kept looking for them as people spilled out onto the college campus but without any luck. The moment seemed lost anyway; somehow the cold night brought me back to 2004 where we have a new war going on.
I remembered how naive I was back then. Once upon a time I thought the nations of the world had the capability to live in peace. It took several years to become cynical and realize that many people in power are too lazy to deal with the details of peace and choose war instead. (I am paraphrasing Thomas Mann.)
I wondered if 40 years from now some parents will go and see a much older version of Green Day in concert. And will they recall the war they fought in Iraqi? Will they remember the talcum-powder –type-sand, the red mud, the oil fires, the oppressive heat, the IED’s and the sickening coppery smell of blood, when they hear the following words of the song “American Idiot”?
“Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new media.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mindf*ck America.”
“Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Convincing them to walk you.”
“Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.”
“Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Convincing them to walk you.”
“Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information nation of hysteria.
It's going out to idiot America.”
“Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
Convincing them to walk you.”
# posted by Thomas @ 12:31 AM 
