Unhealthy

 I am old enough that I remember posters that read, "War is not healthy for children and other living things." Were I grew up, these kind of antiwar sentiments were tossed around in a pot that included bumper stickers that read, "Footprint of the American Chicken" next to a peace sign. The search for a moral high road that would bring us all to world peace was a rocky one. I bore witness to a fair number of fistfights that had the Vietnam War in the center. We might think that all you need is love, but what good is that when the other side is bent on world domination through force? 

I am old enough to be the guy out on the playground who continues to counsel using our words instead of hitting. 

I am old enough to remember how I felt the day after the planes hit the World Trade Center. It was hard to imagine that there was another cheek to turn. 

I am old enough to remember when the bad guys I feared were communists. I remember meeting my first card-carrying communist when I enrolled in a teacher credential program and we ended up starting our teaching career together. He was my friend. Not my enemy. 

I am old enough to remember the stories my mother used to tell about World War II and the righteous anger and fear that they felt against the Japanese. I am old enough to remember this was the woman who taught me everything I know about tolerance. It was on her refrigerator that I first saw that poster about war being unhealthy for children and other living things. 

I am old enough to wish that I was old enough to vote for George McGovern. 

I am old enough to remember body counts being part of the nightly news. 

I am still not old enough to remember a time when we could all put down our guns and come together for the sake of the children. The ones who die without ever being old enough to know what they are dying for.