My best friend fought cancer for eleven years. The last time we had a quiet “best friends” conversation – I’d gone over to her house because I was worrying more about her. So thin. Weaker. Harder to keep the pain under control. As I sat on her bed, my boyfriend called – “It’s started. The war.” We turned on the TV. She said, “That fucker. I can’t believe he really did it.”
She died two weeks later. Two years without my best friend and two years of a pointless, horrible war. Her death couldn’t be helped. She fought. Medicine did all it could. But how many have died for this mistake – this lie, this war?
The email I sent to my friends about the march on Saturday said, “Well, I guess we never learn. Isn't it deja vu all over again? I've always said that I wasn't really an activist against the Vietnam war, but that I'd show up if there was a protest. Well, there'll be one next Saturday (different war, same insanity), so . . .”
[All of the really good photos - like this one - were taken by my friend Rick. McMurtry one after the jump is spectacular, isn't it?]
to jump, click here.
[posted on 3/19/05]