Sometimes it’s really important to get a reality check. We spend so much time worrying about the state of the music industry that we forget that what we do is not the most important thing going on in the world. Yes, it’s important to us and our audience, and occasionally we have some little impact on the greater society, but there’s a lot going on out there in the real world. Yesterday was my reality check.
It’s time to party!!! The Republican National Convention is in town!!! Anyone who has had more than three seconds of interaction with me can just imagine how thrilled I am. I get to wear all my hardcore ultra offensive anti-Republican T-shirts! Yeah!!! My political radicalism was born in 1984. Before that I was a moderate Democrat, but in January of that year I went to, of all places, South Africa, to take part in the 1st International Johannesburg Piano Competition. Needless to say it was an eye-opening experience. Details are too varied to get into here but suffice it to say that I was not thrilled when I came back to the USA to find Ronald Raygun Reagan and Margaret Hatchet Thatcher acting as apologists for the South African Apartheid regime. I found the political center, turned left, and started running. I haven’t stopped. I left the Democratic party in 1996 – simply to incompetent and conservative for my taste – but I harbor a special hatred for Republicans. The chance to voice this directly is one I have looked forward to for a long time. Not very Taoist of me but I’ve given up on trying to be perfect.
When our neighbor Kate mentioned that one of her High School friends was coming to town to organize protests at the RNC, and that she needed some helping hosting the horde he was bringing, we immediately volunteered to help. She described it as a bunch of Socialists coming for dinner. What we didn’t know was that these were all Iraq War veterans from Illinois here as part of a meeting of the Iraq Veterans Against The War group (IVAW). They plan to march down to the RNC this very morning. Suddenly 15 vets were in our neighbors yard, eating our food, playing with our kids. And we got a chance to talk with some of them.
The stories they tell of their experiences in Iraq do not make me very proud of how our armed forces function, especially in regard to how we treat some of our own troops. Many of this group suffer from some level of PTSD and of those most have been denied counseling. Several of the group had been railroaded out of the military for one reason or another. There was an undercurrent of frustration and deeply wounded pride amongst them and I couldn’t help but feel a little sad for how we are treating this generation of soldiers. Despite their experiences they were all great to talk with, wonderful with the kids, and one of them even took our dog for a walk. You could tell they craved some normalcy in life.
There were musical connections as well. The mother of one of the women here volunteers as a Women’s Auxiliary at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, my old job. I’m sure I’ve met her. Another of the vets wanted to see my piano, a lovely 1900 Steinway B named “Nadia” in honor of Nadia Boulanger. He promptly sat down and started in on the C sharp Minor Prelude of Rachmaninoff. The guy had some serious chops at one point and you could tell he just loved music and loved playing. His rep was Rachmaninoff, Chopin, Liszt, and Scriabin – all the stuff I don’t play! Another vet was a dedicated jazz percussionist, and his eyes lit up talking about recording and playing the ‘skins. With the various iPods and MP3 players available today each of these vets would be able to construct their own soundtrack to the Iraq war, and I’m sure many of them did. It’s the first digital war.
Many hours later the evening ended with a game of kickball. It was an unexpected sight to see these vets running around with the kids of the neighborhood, laughing and having fun kicking the ball and throwing people out. It made me very thankful for what I have and the life I get to live. It made me hope that at some point my country will listen to what these courageous people have to say about war, and about how our military goes about its job. And the next time I find myself a party to some musician’s kvetching session I am probably going to remember this day, and it will be hard for me not to mention to them that perhaps, just maybe, this little problem that they’ve staked their professional reputation on is not really very important.
To my brothers and sisters of the IVAW – may your God go with you.