CSotD: Stark truths in a peninsular war
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Leading off today with Non Sequitur and a bit of a fantasy.
Not the Godzilla part. The cutting yourself off from the world part.
I'd like to retreat back to the 19th Century, when you worked hard, yes, and I'd have probably died from my appendicitis 30 years ago, but it's attractive to think of living back when you worked your fields and the "news" was what was happening within about a 50 mile radius, plus corn prices perhaps, and everything else was just something that was out there someplace.
It's hard to know where to place the blame for our connectedness, but the railroads and the telegraph lines are certainly guilty parties. Recruits in the Civil War talked about "going to see the elephant" because it was like going to the circus: A chance to see amazing things you'd only heard about.
Cynics sang that, when the bear went over the mountain to see what he could see, "the other side of the mountain was all that he could see," but even so, some people had to go have a look.
In the early days of our country, that meant cutting all ties beyond an occasional letter.
Those days are long since passed, and not just for Americans.
A half century ago, serving in the Peace Corps meant an isolated stretch in the Third World, but today that rare postcard, stained and wrinkled from a two-week journey through god knows what systems, has been replaced by a Skype conversation from any spot on the globe.
There are few shadows in which to hide.
Jefferson Airplane said, "No man is an island — he's a peninsula," but even that degree of separation must be fought for.
Frederick Jackson Turner declared the frontier over in the 1890s and he seems to have been right. One of the things that surprised me in "The Virginian," Owen Wister's 1902 prototypical Western novel, was how often the characters got on trains and went back East to visit family, while Laura Ingalls Wilder wandered from Wisconsin to Kansas to the Dakotas to Florida to Missouri before the 20th century had dawned.
These days, you can't help but know what's going on, and so "isolation" really means persuading yourself not to care.
I happen to know that Wiley Miller has separated himself from Facebook and declares himself far happier for it.
But I also know he has only renounced needless aggravation and hysteria, not the world itself.
John Stark, the New Hampshire hero who said, "Live free or die, boys. Death is not the worst of evils," was a true Cincinnatus in that, despite his bravura service in both the French and Indian Wars and the Revolution, he repeatedly tried to go home and just run his farm, but kept being called back to wage the good fight.
Those retreats to the farm were occasioned by disgust with the bureaucratic, childish rivalries in which he continuously found himself mired, not a rejection of his country's need for sacrifice.
If Benedict Arnold had shared Stark's ability to walk away from such things, he'd be remembered as a hero, too.
Meanwhile, by contrast …
I'm tired of pointing out the obvious, so go to this collection Africartoons has put together and you can click through the proud image of America the world is seeing.
It will make you wish you'd warned people on social media … what? You did?
Well, that was time well spent, then, wasn't it?
And yet
The holiday reminds us that there is good in the world, and that maybe, like John Stark, we just need to be lured back one more time, and this will be the time it works.
There are many cartoons today that feature quotes from Martin Luther King, but I chose Jeff Koterba's because he combines an honest acknowledgement of our present darkness with a message of optimism.
It's important, however, not to put King on too high a pedestal and turn him into a plaster saint.
There was a streak of John Stark in his clear and certain knowledge that death is not the worst of evils.
And Dr. King also knew that his challenge was not to turn the hearts of the bigots — an impossible task — but to awaken the hearts of decent people who, if they couldn't be islands, were far too willing to be peninsulas.
And let's throw in Anne Frank and the context of her oft-cited quotation:
It's difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It's a wonder I haven't abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. It's utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I'll be able to realize them!
True, she died before that happy day arrived.
As did Martin, though he anticipated it:
Like anybody, I would like to have a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will.
John Stark was lucky. He lived to 93 on his farm, having won his battles.
But note that he only retreated to his farm permanently once the battle was won.
He was never hiding, and he understood, as Dr. King understood, the relative values of longevity and justice.
Meanwhile, Ann Telnaes explains eloquently why this is no time for any patriot to go back to the farm:
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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