Dear Editor
The man most responsible for the size of our Vietnam Memorial Wall, Lyndon Johnson underwent a serious surgery during his term as commander-in-chief. True to his good ol’ boy nature, just out of the hospital, Johnson lifted his shirt wide to show journalists the long track of stitches twisting from abdomen to ribs.
Seven months later,a clever cartoonist reenacted the event, converting the emerging scar into a map of Vietnam. How long will it be before we see an architectural drawing of the White House Ballroom Extension with the dance hall converted to a swollen index finger?
The finger is thrust at frugal parents who voted for reasonably priced groceries, not ballrooms, in the fall of 2024.
The finger goes to the Trump supporters who defended the president’s “extra-judical” Caribbean killings until he pulled the rug, pardoning a genuine, drug-running kingpin.
The gesture goes to all of us because all of us have accepted defeat at the cardtable or the ballfield. We shake the hand of the victor firmly because self-respect is as golden as self-worship. Besides, children may be watching.
In a large sense, the gesture goes to the Vietnam era troops whose feet were firm enough for boots, who abided by the martial “rules of engagement,” taking prisoners, sparing men clinging to driftwood, because a good soldier understands that tables turn, that he, or a brother, might soon enough find themselves alone in a foxhole surrounded by the enemy.
When the dodge was done, Donald’s feet gree fleet and millions now marvel at his debtless dance. The Chief owes nothing to those who gave him power. He owes nothing to the partisans who do not blush defending him. The teachers who taught him and the honorable young men who fought for him were lucky to have had the chance.
People, high and low, do not seem to learn from their mistakes until they summon the courage to admit them. The finger is thrust at the straightforward ways and respected rules that allow for salvation, not least among them the Sixth commandment, which is said to have been etched in stone, like the 50-some-thousand names on our Memorial Wall.
Sincerely,
A Local Yokel
(Name withheld by request)
