Cancelling

Abridged too Far

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A leader unafraid

The latest Erik Larson book, The Splendid and the Vile, chronicles the WWII Blitz of England and how Churchill and the British dealt with it.

It is continually interesting to read how the people of England dealt with privation, fear and death and how their leaders, particularly Churchill, guided both military and civilian responses to the havoc of Hitler and the Nazis.

Fascinating, too, are the details of how the Nazi government – run by madmen – controlled their own people through a sense of false patriotism, bullying and fear. If a German citizen did not adhere to the party line, or even questioned it, they would face repercussions including physical threats, imprisonment and even death.

Burning banned books…sound familiar?
Travel documents, please

One of the most remarkable things going on in England at the time of the Blitz and continuing during the course of the war was the effort to maintain as much of normalcy as possible. Children went to school, businesses were open, factories were working non-stop, pubs remained the neighborhood gathering spot, church services were conducted – sometimes in churches that had been bombed and…tea was still served.

Mass celebrated in bombed church. Trusting in God

Yes, politics, in every sense, were a consideration of the British cabinet, but the overarching goal was clear: defeat Hitler. Churchill made every effort to instill hope not despair, bravery not fear, selflessness not self-centeredness in his fellow Brits. When he would inspect the air raid shelters or tour neighborhoods just flattened by German bombs the people did not blame him for the destruction. No, they saw him as one of their own and cheered his unwillingness to be cowed by the scourge of Hitler.

Churchill visiting bombed Plymouth on 2 May 1941. Copyright: © IWM.

Fast forward to today.

The American people are being deterred from maintaining any sense of normalcy. Why?

Our government and media are fostering fear of everyone and anger at everything. Why?

The breaking point for many came this past week when President Biden stated:

…There’s a good chance – that you’re clueless

“By July the Fourth there’s a good chance you, your families and friends will be able to get together in your backyard or in your neighborhood and have a cookout or a barbecue and celebrate Independence Day. That doesn’t mean large events with lots of people together, but it does mean small groups will be able to get together”.

A good chance we can get together with our families and friends in our own yards? Really, Mr. President?

The Fourth of July commemorates the American people throwing off the yoke of tyranny. Have you forgotten this, Mr. Biden? For it seems, with this statement, you have abridged our rights too far.

Stand up for Something

I

No more. Pray. Be brave, for God and Country.

Cancelling Kristina

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She was skinny and blonde and kind of pretty.  For this 12 year old to even think so must have meant that she was actually, beautiful.

She lived with her parents on the first floor of a six-family house at the end of an alley across from the playground. Her backyard was the parking lot of the A&P where, in the summer, we’d ride our bikes on weekends and in the winter become Kings of the Mountain atop piles of plowed snow.  She never joined in our games, but would sometimes watch through the chain link fence that separated her from us.

We spoke only once. A bunch of us kids had ventured down the alley where she was sitting on the porch. I remember the house being painted green – jail-house green I would think as, years later, I patrolled past the old neighborhood and that house – that was the reminder of my shame.   

“My parents work and I can’t leave the house”, she told us. “Both parents?” I asked.  “Yes, both”.  I had never heard of both parents working before. My dad worked two jobs, but my mother was always home.  The same with almost all of the other kids, too. This was odd, I thought. But, not as odd as the way she spoke. There was something different in the way she said her words. She certainly wasn’t Irish, or French or Italian or Hungarian or Puerto Rican.  I knew those accents.  “Where are you from”, I asked. “Russia”, she answered.

If she had suddenly struck me with a baseball bat her answer could not have shocked or frightened me more.  Russians were bad, I knew. We had drills in school preparing for the Russians to attack us with bombs. The government said they were bad.  They killed people and starved them and didn’t believe in God. They were spies. And my eldest brother was at that very moment stationed in Germany protecting us from…The Russians.  And they thought differently than we did.  And, and…

Surely there must be a better way

“You’re a Commie”, I blurted. “No”, she said, “We got out”. It didn’t matter. She was a Russian. A spy. I just knew it. We all ran. And left that little girl sitting alone on those green steps of her new home, in the land of The Free.  In today’s parlance, she was Cancelled.

Her name was, I think, Christine. Or, perhaps, Kristina. She was, after all, A Russian. If I could only do it all over. But, I can’t. And, the thing is, despite my fear, my sheer ignorance – I knew better. And that is the cause of the shame that still, to this day, haunts me. I knew better.

If thoughts could fly through the air, mine would somehow reach Kristina and she would know that I was and still am, sorry.

And, if thoughts could fly through the air, I would send them out to anyone thinking of acting as foolishly and hurtfully as did I those many years ago. Be Kind.  The memory of our actions and of those we Cancel or Dox today may haunt us for a long time to come.