I know it so well and yet I was moved yet again. Especially the first verse which was sung in three separate parts. Here too is a confession which isn't going to endear me to any of your youthful commenters - it meant more to me because PP&M were dressed in a way that added dignity to what they were singing. Blowing in the Wind isn't an an in-your-face protest song for which raggedy-arse jeans and unwashed hair are necessary adjuncts; it's a reflective, infinitely sad observation (or at least it is when sung this way) and takes strength from the fact that the singers are not at odds with their audience.
It may be the result of forgetfulness but this is the first I've heard about Tom. My sympathies are always with those who are required to do the face-to-face killing (even I'm afraid with those on the other side, as well) and their situation must always be separated out from those who decide that war could be a good thing. The French still use the phrase tirer le chapeau - tip my hat - which we may regard as outmoded but works for me because of having had to do National Service. I was lucky to be required only to repair radios; if I'd been unlucky I might have found myself pushing my way through the Malayan jungle, carrying a shot-gun. Tom, I tip my hat.
BB: The best messages of peace and brotherhood are those delivered without the rage and anger one feels, but with dignity and a modicum of restraint. Angry shouting and loud drum beating have their place, but this song's message gets lost at higher volume, ear-splitting decibels.
I am the eldest of my mother's six children. I tend not to write about my siblings out of respect for their privacy, although I have posted about them in the past, tangentially.
I joined the Navy because of my brother Tom, and what happened to him. I felt I owed him something, but, as I have alluded to before, there was an element of "Look at me, Mama. I can go to war, too!" in my decision. I wanted her to be as proud of me as she was of him. However, it is a very good thing I did enlist. I was exposed to the effects of war without having to go into battle. My experiences during my short time in service began my journey toward pacifism that becoming a Quaker completed.
Somewhere along the way, before I married the Quaker who introduced me to the religious society, I began trying to see "the other's" point of view. It would take many more years and two divorces before that lesson became part of me. (Not perfected yet, but working on it.)
"The tumult and the shouting dies; The Captains and the Kings depart: Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget lest we forget!"
I have a great deal of respect for the Quaker viewpoint, but it is one that must take courage and strength to follow perfectly. Much harder to be a conscientious objector than to just ride along with the throng.
I have in the draft section of my blog a post about my time in-country. I can't post it, I find it impossible to write more than a couple of sentences at a time. It's sat there since I started my first blog about my son's emails from Iraq and Afghanistan. It was so long ago, thank god.
9 comments:
So many. So many. We must remember them all.
I know it so well and yet I was moved yet again. Especially the first verse which was sung in three separate parts. Here too is a confession which isn't going to endear me to any of your youthful commenters - it meant more to me because PP&M were dressed in a way that added dignity to what they were singing. Blowing in the Wind isn't an an in-your-face protest song for which raggedy-arse jeans and unwashed hair are necessary adjuncts; it's a reflective, infinitely sad observation (or at least it is when sung this way) and takes strength from the fact that the singers are not at odds with their audience.
It may be the result of forgetfulness but this is the first I've heard about Tom. My sympathies are always with those who are required to do the face-to-face killing (even I'm afraid with those on the other side, as well) and their situation must always be separated out from those who decide that war could be a good thing. The French still use the phrase tirer le chapeau - tip my hat - which we may regard as outmoded but works for me because of having had to do National Service. I was lucky to be required only to repair radios; if I'd been unlucky I might have found myself pushing my way through the Malayan jungle, carrying a shot-gun. Tom, I tip my hat.
Steve: I hope we never forget.
BB:
The best messages of peace and brotherhood are those delivered without the rage and anger one feels, but with dignity and a modicum of restraint. Angry shouting and loud drum beating have their place, but this song's message gets lost at higher volume, ear-splitting decibels.
I am the eldest of my mother's six children. I tend not to write about my siblings out of respect for their privacy, although I have posted about them in the past, tangentially.
I joined the Navy because of my brother Tom, and what happened to him. I felt I owed him something, but, as I have alluded to before, there was an element of "Look at me, Mama. I can go to war, too!" in my decision. I wanted her to be as proud of me as she was of him. However, it is a very good thing I did enlist. I was exposed to the effects of war without having to go into battle. My experiences during my short time in service began my journey toward pacifism that becoming a Quaker completed.
Somewhere along the way, before I married the Quaker who introduced me to the religious society, I began trying to see "the other's" point of view. It would take many more years and two divorces before that lesson became part of me. (Not perfected yet, but working on it.)
Listening to the radio this morning, I hear, "Say thank-you to a vet," and think my impulse is instead to say, "I'm sorry".
I'd love to read more about your journey to the Quakers. (Maybe you wrote about it earlier on this blog?)
Kipling summed it up, I think:
"The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget lest we forget!"
I have a great deal of respect for the Quaker viewpoint, but it is one that must take courage and strength to follow perfectly. Much harder to be a conscientious objector than to just ride along with the throng.
As an ex soldier I salute you, Tom.
Crow and Tom, thankyou and I am sorry...
I am sorry too. What more can I say?
I have in the draft section of my blog a post about my time in-country. I can't post it, I find it impossible to write more than a couple of sentences at a time. It's sat there since I started my first blog about my son's emails from Iraq and Afghanistan.
It was so long ago, thank god.
Mike
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