Men in Black

I have posted, both here and in my former AOL journal, about the Silent Vigil that is held in the little seaside town of Lewes, DE, every Sunday afternoon. It commemorates those who have died in the war in Iraq and calls for an end to the violence and death. There are also extra vigils on various occasions, candlelight memorials on important days. This vigil has not gone on without antipathy and disruption from right-wing "patriots" and loudmouths, in fact there was a while when things were getting extremely ugly from the group on the other side of the street.

The last time I participated was in December, when we had a float in the town Christmas parade. It was an ingenious float bedecked with strings of stars bearing the names of military personnel who had died up to that point in the war. The group members walked behind the float carrying strings of stars bearing the names of Iraqi children that had been killed in the "collateral damage." It was a deeply moving evening for my partner and myself.

The vigil continues, rain or shine, cold weather or warm, disruption from unfriendly folks or not, with however many of the committed and caring members of the group can make it. The vigil is a visible statement in a place where influential Washingtonians come to vacation. It is a powerful statement of the feelings of young people and retirees, religious folk and atheists alike. Today was the 77th vigil held thus far, and I'd like to share this letter from the woman who began the silent weekly watch all by herself. She continues to be the guiding force that keeps it alive. Patty is an example of what one's soul's determination and belief can accomplish. The email was titled: "The dead teach us that war is not the answer."

Dear friends from the silent vigil:

I’ve been away for a few weeks but am grateful for the space that continues to be created on our little street corner for remembering the human costs of war.

I’ve bumped into several of you since I got back who have let me know they can’t make the line for one reason or another but that their thoughts are with us and that they are grateful for the vigil…and that they will be back or they will come when they can. So I’ll couple this remembering and holding the space with a dream I had when I got back.

It was about another parade in which the silent vigil was supposed to participate--warmer weather, bigger town, near a body of water. The planning for our float wasn’t going well (I won’t get into that). In fact, the parade was getting ready to start and we had nothing done and in my dream I had given up that we would be in the parade. However, out of a great commitment from the group that we had to do something, one man jumped onto the float, spray painted himself totally black, fell to the floor and lay there without moving. He was the “unknown soldier.” Four other men painted themselves black and stood on each corner of the wagon. This was our float, a simple message. A dead black man lying without a coffin on a black floor, surrounded by buddies who were witnessing his death.

There was a trememdous catharsis. You had to be all in black to ride on the float. The rest of us walked solemnly in front of the wagon. Someone began to sing a hymn and we all joined in. Everything was spontaneous. We were moved, we were crying. It was riveting to the group and to the crowd.

So back to the real world. Here we go with our 77th vigil. 2,242 American soldiers are dead because of the war in Iraq. 16,548 are wounded. The war has been going on for 1,046 days.

Keep it simple. Stay present whether you can come or not. Meet you there if you can.

Patty