Monday, August 15, 2005
The rain in New OrleansI've been in drought country for months now -- Chicago suffered through
two dry months in June and July, and then I was in LA, where summer
drought is not extraordinary in the slightest but rather expected. Here
the rain comes and comes, and it is such a relief to me. I had started
to dream of rain and my one day home in Chicago I mistook the sound of
sprinkler spray on my window for a summer shower. I got what I wanted;
as soon as I backed the car out of the garage Saturday afternoon a
thunderstorm opened up over the city and it followed me all the way to
Champaign. It was dry, dry, dry again until New Orleans, where the
streets were flooded and the trees dripped wet when I arrived late last
night. 4:16:18 PM | This is my third trip here without S and still it surprises me. I expect to see him walking home from class on St. Charles, so I instinctively slow down in front of campus, just as I expect to find him in the kitchen noshing on Italian bread and sharp cheddar cheese, or a batch of microwave popcorn. He's at a new FOB northeast of Asadabad, one that is run by special forces, a relief to him because they are experienced soldiers and there's a gym on base. I got a brief email from him this morning apologizing for not being able to call. It is as if the military wants to break itself. Several soldiers were rotated out the past few weeks and a handful of others were brought in to replace them. With the in and out, the brass shuffled the rest around, matching new with veterans, and in doing completely separated them again. S is with a whole new group of Afghans and Americans. None of the men he's trained with the past six months are at his new FOB. Does that make sense? I spent the night in Osceola, Arkansas on Saturday night during my drive down, at a Days Inn that promised internet access. It didn't work, but there was cable. I haven't watched TV in months. First there was Charade on Turner, then Bruce Springsteen on PBS (who always reminds me of S because he too is from New Jersey), then Max Cleland on C-Span from 2002. Cleland talked about how during Vietnam soldiers arrived in country alone, and they left alone. They didn't have the support of a cohesive unit and this attributed to the amount of PTSD many vets suffered. I thought about how this is not so different than what S is experiencing. He was called up with three other guys from his unit. They were sent to Ft. Hood and trained together there for a month (that's a story...I'll definitely write about my visits to Killeen, TX), but were separated as soon as they arrived in Afghanistan and haven't seen each other since. How is that good? Unfortunately I don't have internet access at the apartment anymore, so I'm here at the Fair Grinds cafe in Mid-City to post. I don't have much time to write today. I'm going to my poetry workshop tonight, the one I've missed the past six months, and I don't have a poem worthy of them yet. I have to work on it. The women in this group are such strong writers I feel I have to present my best poems every time. It's not a best poem yet! And I have only an hour or so left... Please read Cindy Sheehan's recent posting at michaelmoore.com. She's still there and Bush is still himself -- finding time for two hour bike rides and no time to speak to a grieving mother. When questioned about Cindy Sheehan and the hundreds of other protesters, he lamented about the difficult job of being president of the United States and said he couldn't meet with her because "I think it's also important for me to go on with my life, to keep a balanced life." If only Cindy and the others who grieve were so lucky, to be able to turn off the grief and go for a long ride on the ranch. 
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Last update: 9/1/05; 10:08:58 AM .
