The War We Wanted To Lose?

Yesterday an additional 80 people were killed in Iraq.

Last November, the United States electorate made a clear statement, No More War. This is a stark contrast to the election of 2004 when the nation solidly stood behind America's most famous frat-boy and his fellowship. What makes our citizenry staunchly pro-war and then two years later, not?

People romanticize war. We hadn't had a war of this magnitude since we lost "the war we wanted to lose" as my dad used to call Vietnam, The Original when I was a child. By the way dad, what the hell did that mean? I guess since we decided to pull out and not fight in a dead-end war, we wanted to lose. Touche!

I have friends my senior who talk about protesting Vietnam, The Original in the 60s. They talk about the era with a whimsical nostalgia akin to describing your first boyfriend or a good spring break trip in college. They see the famous frat-boy as their chance to re-capture the era. While I appreciate the good intentions, I would have preferred they remembered why they originally protested and stayed on top of things so that we didn't have to go through Vietnam, The Sequel.

Just like The Original, as time passed, The Sequel left a bad taste in peoples mouths. Death isn't romantic if you are intimately involved. As more time passes, more people become involved.

Being a post-Vietnam era child of the 70s and 80s, I wasn't there, to young to know, but old enough to care. I googled "1960 love peace war music." My intention was to find out why, after such a large movement that my senior friends speak so highly of, we still ended up making the same mistake? Surely at the very least, the music would live on and remind us why this was such a bad idea. That is the intention of music, to live on and to bring emotions to life.

The first Google result listed was a really cheesy children's site that listed the lyrics from 1960s anti-war tunes. Which is fine. Just give me a break with the frenetic keyboard music. They're children, not drunk old men doing the chicken dance at their accountant's wedding. Which, by the way, isn't romantic either.

Here is a protest song my six-year old daughter loves and it doesn't remind me of the old chicken-dancing drunk:

Steve Earl - The Revolution Starts Now

The music lives on and brings her to life. I'm going to make a deal with her. I won't romanticize death and destruction in the name of patriotism and nostalgia, if she keeps listening to the music. I'll make this deal with her when she is old enough to understand why peace, love and understanding is romantic. After school today.