Johnny America

A hundred or more years ago when I was a different person I wrote poetry as a means to the end of becoming a rock star.  Alas, I’m neither poet nor rock star but I still remember a bit of the chorus to this one song – can even still play it [just did quite loudly]…two major and one minor chords (and I wonder why I’m not a rock star?) 

       “My name is Johnny America,

                   I got my face shot off for you…”

That’s all I can remember tonight.  I’ve turned my house inside out looking for that little piece of nonsense scrawled on the back of something else that was less important for the last hour or so.  It’s just as well probably.  I’m confident that it wasn’t as outstanding as I remember and I’m okay with that. 

I do remember recording it [one cannot hope to be a rock star without a demo tape after all] with a rather sophomoric preamble about hot dogs and mustard and cold beer and misaligned priorities or something – wrote it and recorded it on a long ago Memorial Day. 

I was just a kid at the time, but I got it you know?  For all the piss and vinegar I have in my heart for what this country has become, I’ve never forgotten the countless thousands of dirt naps taken for me to voice that opinion.  And when I say that I disagree with this thing or that or I’m pissed off about this and I don’t believe in the other it doesn’t mean that I don’t value the sacrifices that have been made. 

As I’ve said before, I’ve got bros in the shit for the last (15) + it seems.  Most of them know I don’t believe in the war they are fighting but they all know that I believe in them.  They all know what’s in my heart.  And as many times as they are willing to go back into harm’s way it is a million more times than it would even cross my mind to do the same.  One doesn’t have to fight or die to be a patriot, but a patriot of even the most radical ilk could not exist without those who are willing to fight and die.  I wouldn’t be able to have any opinion without them. 

I consider myself a patriot of the highest order, but I hate what America is.  I love the guys that have made it possible for me to say that.

My personal experience with war is limited to what the History Channel and Hollywood has shown me.  I’m prolific at quoting the catch phrases – “the horror”, “I am in a world of shit” – but I don’t have a clue what it’s really like in a hot zone.  I don’t know what it’s like to jump in front of something that might kill my best friend or not jump and watch my best friend die.  I can’t even kick my over-active imagination into a place where I can imagine what that hell must be.

These words aren’t meant to be political, but if there is one thing that all of us no matter our political leanings can agree on I think it is this – bring our boys home.  If we can “win” then by all means keep them there, but as of this Memorial Day no one has publicly stated a measurable and / or an achievable objective, so bring ‘em home.    

I have made no secret of my opposition to this or the last (or any other) war we’ve waged.  I’ve made no secret of how dissatisfied I am with the direction this country is going.  I’ve even admitted that I might have made the wrong choice last time (I’m just kidding about that - will def vote O again).  BUT, if we let it, politics will rip this country limb from limb. We don't need that.  We don't need politics – we need Main Street.  Not the Main Street of sad flag-draped-coffin parades, Main Street with parades about nothing more troubling than junior high baseball teams and 4-H or cub scout troops, right? 

Regardless of what I feel at a philosophical level I have always been and will always be in constant and unshakeable awe of the Johnny Americas who came and went before and for those who continue to fight and die among us.

You don’t have to be a poet and you sure as hell don’t have to agree with me to get that.  We all want the same thing.