AMERICA, LAND OF THE … VICTIMS

These days, I'm having a hard time figuring out conservatives [well, I'm having a hard time figuring out liberals, too...but that's a different topic for a different day]. It seems it's now fashionable for them to decry “victimhood” while at the same time they are embracing it.

What the hell am I talking about? Tune into ANY conservative radio talk show [as if there was any other kind, other than sports radio talk shows], and the subject will ALWAYS turn to a look at America, and how sad it is that we've become a nation of victims. Of course, these talking heads are referring to folks on welfare, or to folks who are unemployed, or to minorities, or to anyone, apparently, who is not “them.”

But if you take a moment to analyze what these talk show hosts are saying—and, unfortunately, what a lot of Americans are buying—their rants boil down to the fact that THEY [and those who think like them] are ALSO victims. Interesting that these folks go on and on at great length about how America needs to shed this attitude of “victimhood,” and yet if that were to occur overnight, these radio hosts would have NO audience at all.

It appears that conservatives think they are victims of the people on welfare. They are victims of those on unemployment. They are victims of government spending, unless it's spent in their district on a project they approve of. They are victims of high income taxes, and of estate taxes even when no one close to them has died with an estate valued highly enough to trigger the “death tax.”

But most recently, they are victims of the propose building of a mosque and an Islamic community center within blocks of the site of the former World Trade Center. Supposedly, the mosque would “desecrate” the “hallowed ground” of what they refer to as “Ground Zero.” They take personal offense at what they perceive to be a symbol of Islamic victory over “infidel” America.

I find it quite ironic that the same people express ZERO outrage at Islamic services being held DAILY not just near, but INSIDE the walls of The Pentagon, another target of the September 11, 2001 terror attacks. But if the building of a mosque just blocks away from their hallowed “Ground Zero” is an outrage, then exactly WHAT about the holding of Islamic services INSIDE not only one of the buildings that was targeted, but the HEADQUARTERS of the ENTIRE US MILITARY ORGANIZATION is LESS offensive?

No, it's not the symbolism of the Muslims establishing a beachhead, if you will, inside the command center of the US military that offends these folks. It's the idea that the Muslims would be so insensitive as to build a mosque in the vicinity of the LARGEST MONUMENT TO AMERICAN VICTIMHOOD SINCE PEARL HARBOR.

On September 11, 2002, my workplace shut down for 30 minutes to hold a ceremony in honor of what's commonly referred to as “9-11.” I refused to participate. It's not that I wanted to show a lack of respect for those who died in the terrorist attacks of a year before; rather, I refused to be a part of a CELEBRATION OF AMERICAN VICTIMHOOD. I stayed on my job, and worked the production line until it was empty at my station. To me, THAT was how we best honor those who died on 9-11: by NOT giving into the celebration of victimhood, by continuing to work and produce goods and services, to show the terrorists and their sympathizers that they in fact did NOT cripple America with their attacks, that America continues doing what it has done so well for so many years DESPITE the actions of radicals and fanatics.

It turned out that I was a minority of one that day. My colleagues instead actually embraced an anniversary of mourning, a celebration of America's victimhood. And in that respect, on that day the terrorists won. They managed to disrupt America's lifestyle, to show that the America that for years had triumphed over tragedy was over.

Somehow, America cannot get past the victimhood of 9-11. When the American fleet was the victim of a dastardly surprise attack at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the American reaction was so different from the 9-11 reaction. First there was outrage, then there was sorrow at the loss of life...and then America got to work doing what America does best. We didn't have national days of mourning on December 7th, and we didn't have gatherings “celebrating” our victimhood. We went about building planes and ships, and gathered our national resolve that THESE COWARDS WILL NOT WIN. After the war, we built homes and cars and TV's to show these folks that they didn't stop the American way of life, and during the Cold War we showed a national resolve that WE WOULD NOT BACK DOWN from those who would try to destroy us and our way of life.

How totally different from today.

Now, we are still arguing about the shape, size, and scope of the monument we plan to build to 9-11, the day America became a nation of victims. We curse and shout and cry about plans to build a mosque several blocks away from the “hallowed ground” of America, the nation of victims. Instead, we should be telling Muslims everywhere: “BUILD YOUR MOSQUE WHEREVER YOU WANT. BUILD AS MANY AS YOU WANT. THE AMERICAN WAY OF LIFE, AND OF FREEDOM, WILL NOT BE SIDETRACKED BY WHATEVER ACTIONS YOU CHOOSE TO TAKE. AND WE REFUSE TO BE A NATION OF VICTIMS...ESPECIALLY VICTIMS AT THE HAND OF ANY RELIGION.”

Unfortunately, that will never happen. Those words will never be spoken by any American leader...elected, appointed, or even self-appointed, such as the hosts of the talk radio programs. They're too busy decrying America as becoming a “nation of victims,” while at the same time they embrace the concept of America as a nation of victims from 9-11, and apparently are unwilling or unable to move forward as long as the fear they sell, the “victimology” they sell, remains popular. During the dark days of the Great Depression, President Franklin Roosevelt inspired America with his words declaring that the only thing Americans had to fear was “fear itself.” Now, it's fear—particularly fear of Islam, but also the sense of fear inherent in the idea that since 9-11 we are all victims—that “inspires” us. But it is inspiring us toward our darker nature, to the idea that freedom is BAD, especially when it comes to allowing Muslims the freedom to build their mosque and cultural center wherever the laws allow them to build.

And when we allow these fears to curtail the exercise of freedom, guess what? Game over. The terrorists have won. They have managed to take away that which made America special: our love of freedom. And they will have done it by converting the hearts and minds of Americans...not necessarily to their religion, but to their idea that freedom, such as practiced in America prior to 9-11, is inherently evil. And those who cultivate the culture of America as a nation of victims over 9-11—yes, the Rush Limbaughs and the Glenn Becks and the Sean Hannitys—shall have been their [I would hope] unwitting accomplices.

It IS A Wonderful Life

Survived the big Day-After-Christmas family get-together pretty well, all things considered. The only ugly spill was when 75-year-old Aunt Ellie, the Altzheimer's patient, took a bad step and stumbled/tumbled/slid down the 4 steps between the dining room and the living room. No injuries, just an embarrassing moment...glad she wasn't wearing a dress, or it could've gotten really ugly really quickly.

All the food we cooked turned out delicious, and everyone had plenty to eat. We had lots of good conversation, but I kinda feel for my brother-in-law, Les, who had his afternoon/evening monopolized by Unk, the retired asphalt plant specialist and civil engineer from the Illinois State Highway Department. If Les retains even 10% of what Unk told him, he'll be qualified to work in an asphalt plant for the rest of his natural life. I guess I can't blame Unk, though. After all, with Aunt Ellie' Altzheimer's, sometimes he has to tell her what day it is, several times a day, several days a week...so yesterday was probably the longest adult conversation Unk has had in the past four months. Kinda makes me understand where my brother--the one we nicknamed "Earoff"--gets it, if longwindedness has a hereditary component to it.

Mamaw pretty much sat in one spot--but then, it's not like you're gonna get up and play Twister with your great-great-grandkids when you're 98, y'know--and took in a lot of the conversation. She asked for, and got, current addresses for both of my kids, because she insists on sending out those birthday cards, just like her dad did until he was well into his 90's as well. We had to help her negotiate the two steps at the stoop, but she's doing pretty well with steadying herself with a cane...something she's only need for the past year or so.

Maw was...well, she was pretty much Maw. She went on and on about how good the coffee was, and I really hated to tell her it was from one of those gift sets that we'd never used until this week. [I believe it was called "Branson Blend," for those who, like Maw, simply "must" know.] Maw apologized for not having any presents--of course, she never shops for anything but her groceries, so we really weren't expecting anything but her company--and then she handed me a DVD of the local Saddle Club's 100-Mile Trail Ride, which includes photos from the early years, from back when Papaw and some other club members started the trail ride back in 1963. Maw didn't realize it, but that one gift nearly brought a tear to my eye.

Brother-in-law Les was as helpful as possible, as he and sister-in-law Rhonda brought a table and some folding chairs. Along with Mamaw's card table that Unk brought,and the extra chairs that my daughter and her fiance brought, it worked out perfectly.

So now after the food's been eaten and the gifts have been exchanged, everyone's gone home and all the leftovers--the ones not sent home with others--are put away. [Thank the Lord for disposable plates and cups and plastic forks.] The wife is taking a short nap to recharge her batteries. And I'm sitting here with a short glass of Wild Turkey American Honey on the rocks, with a Diet Pepsi for a chaser if I need it [so, far, I haven't needed it]. I'm realizing that, with all its trials and tribulations, real or imagined, it truly IS a dadgum wonderful life.

So here's to you, Jimmy Stewart...a toast to George Bailey and what he taught me about philosophy, life, and the relationship between the two. If we ever meet down at Martini's Bar, the first one's on me.