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So in the course of working with EVET Arts, I've been exposed to some amazing opportunities. Most recently manifesting with the introduction to several Iraqi Refugees. One man in particular, who struggled to mend his dead and dying countrymen, resonates the loudest with me. It seems as if we've lived a life on similar terms -- but in some bizarro alternate universe. The same struggles. The same dreams. Hopes. Fears. The ever-present idea that someday, somehow, someway, things will fall in place. That those dark days in 2003 and 2004 will bolster something positive.
When we're told 22 American Veterans commit suicide EVERY DAY, something is askew. Disjointed. Perhaps it's our candy-ass culture. Its intense focus on feelings and love and care -- virtues of humanity. And when these kiddos step off into the great unknown; the Hindu Kush, the gnarled streets of Fallujah, Khe Sahn, Hue City, etc., the carnage cuts deep. Cleaves rhetoric drilled since kindergarten. Everyone is special. Everyone wants to be happy. Everyone smiles, cries, hopes, and poops. And they bleed red. And their guts blue, fluffy, and spill out en masse. And when they die -- sometimes quick, sometimes long, their eyes dilate. Big, pretty, and in love.
So that's my take. Send a buncha introspective, intelligent kids into the lions den, and WHAM, things get ugly. The survivors come home. Happy, yes. Hyper-vigilant. Edgy. Heartbroken and just plain sad.
And lost.
And lost.
"Suicide is painless," so says the song.
I'm optimistic our current endeavor, Trajectories Part II, extrapolates a meaning for both the Iraq Refugee and US Servicemen. A deeper understanding and a resolution? And that's what good theatre's about -- hitting the soft spots hard. Hopefully we get some Iraq/Afghanistan Vets in the audience. Closure is a good thing...
