THE MOVING VIETNAM WALL

On and on they go, not just the names, but the stories of people who have come to find a special name on a special wall in Washington D.C. Conceived in one veteran’s mind after seeing a movie – The Deer Hunter – and birthed in the controversy over its design – a black hole in the ground – the Vietnam Memorial has become one of the sacred spots in the nation’s, and its individual citizen’s, mind and heart. It is the most visited memorial in Washington D. C.

No disrespect is intended by the phrase, “black hole in the ground;” ironically, just as the Vietnam War was the focus of intense controversy, the architectural competition to determine what the monument would look like aroused strong feelings.

The winning design was that of Maya Ying Lin, a Yale architectural student at the time. She is has been cited as saying she intended it to be ”a quiet place, meant for personal reflection and reckoning.”

It became that, in the end, but the acrimony surrounding the design choice was so intense, that James Watt, Secretary of the Interior at the time, refused to issue a building permit for the memorial.

This wall in Washington D.C. started as a grass roots movement, initiated by  Jan C. Scruggs, the man who was reminded of the turmoil of the war by a movie – The Deerhunter. He was joined in his idea by Robert Doubek  and John Wheeler. He held at a press conference to kick off fund raising on May 28, 1979. It made the New York Times: “Vietnam Veterans to Seek $1 Million for a Monument.”

The next month, June, some poignant letters had come in with small donations, but “Roger Mudd reports wryly on the CBS Evening News that only $144.50 has been collected.”

They garnered the support of Sen. Charles Mathias jr. of Maryland and then Sen. John Warner of Virginia – who at the time was married to Elizabeth Taylor –  came on board. In July, 1981, one year after the announcement of the $144.50 collected, President Jimmy Carter signed legislation to provide a site for the memorial.

It was finally  dedicated on November 13, 1982 and one opponent to its design, Milt Copulos, later admittedc that although “the wall of the memorial could have been a wall between us, it instead “became a bridge.”

Maya Ying Lin’s design was built in black granite deliberately chosen because of its reflective quality. All cutting and fabrication was done in Barre, Vermont – the Granite State. Lin’s concept is “that while a visitor looks upon the wall, their reflection can be seen simultaneously with the engraved names, thereby bringing the past and present together.”

Now the right-angled black wall of gleaming granite stretching 493.5 feet and  etched with names – 58,249  of them – has been embraced by the country to the point that a half-size replica travels around the U.S., painstakingly erected and disassembled for each move by local groups, most often consisting of members of veteran’s organizations.

The idea for this wall that would travel around the country came from three veterans in California: John Devitt, Garry Haver and Norris Shears. It was another grassroots evolution and the three started out by pooling personal funds totaling a bit over $2,500.

Devitt, a helicopter crew chief in the First Cavalry Division (Airmobile) called the project the Vietnam Veterans Memorial (Mobile). But in 1985 a visitor drew on the two meanings of “moving” and dubbed it “The Moving Wall.”

The Moving Wall consists of 74 aluminum panels, treated with a highly-reflective gloss black polyurethane. And the names? The names are silk-screened on using the negatives of the original stencils made for the actual wall in Washington.

Completed on October 11, 1984, the Moving Wall was first erected on October 15, 1984 in Tyler, Texas and soon the request for visits necessitated the production of a second wall in 1987 and a third in 1989. The original wall has now been retired in 2001.

Information provided by the wall’s website says, “By 2006, there had been more than 1,000 hometown visits of The Moving Wall. The count of people who visited The Moving Wall at each display ranges from 5,000 to more than 50,000; the total estimate of visitors is in the tens of millions.”

The Wall in the Capitol and The Moving Wall were both paid for by donations from the public.

And the grassroots beginnings of both Walls is repeated with each visit to each town: money is raised and volunteers contribute work. This year for Chautauqua Days in Rome City, the Sylvan Lake Association is donating the money and Rome City American Legion Post 381 is putting it up.

Hours of work will have to be put in and the people who manage The Moving Wall know that it will take muscle and  preparation. They advice, in  terms that seem to reach beyond instruction to inspiration for a sacred task:
“After building the platform, have a few of your strongest people attempt to pull the platform from the ground. Let them pull hard, just as when a strong wind will put tremendous force on the platform.”

And they look out for the workers like soldiers watch our for each other:
“Driving the wooden stakes into the ground can be extremely hard work. Try to get a few young people to swing a 16 lb. sledge hammer. If the weather is hot, be sure to have plenty of cool water for the workers.”

And then there is the other side of volunteering. Jim Schueckler wrote of what the did when The Moving Wall came to  . . ..“My job as a volunteer “visitor guide” was to help people find names on the Moving Wall Vietnam Veterans Memorial. More importantly, I gave visitors a chance to talk. While searching the directory or leading a visitor to the name they sought, I would quietly ask “Was he a friend or a relative?” Over the six days, I began conversations that way with several hundred people. Only a handful gave me a short answer; almost everyone wanted to talk. Each had their own story to tell. For some, the words poured out as if the floodgates of a dam that had been closed for thirty years had just burst open. For others, the words came out slowly and deliberately between long pauses. Sometimes, they choked on the words and they cried. I also cried as I listened, asked more questions, and silently prayed that my words would help to heal, not to hurt.”

Local names could have been used in this story –  members of the American Legion, Sylvan Lake Association members, Chautauqaua Days planners, but the emphasis here is on the names on the monument. Those names, in their turn, blend together – no one more important than another.

Jan Scruggs, who began the journal for a Vietnam Veterans Memorial identified them further on Veteran’s Day, 1979, “I recently came across some lines from a poem by Archibald MacLeish, “The Young Dead Soldiers,” which may give that sacrifice some meaning: “They say: We were young. We have died. Remember us. ”
Jan C. Scruggs
November 11, 1979

My husband’s first cousin was killed in Vietnam; his name is on The Wall.
www.themovingwall.org/

UPDATE: I voted.

From Late Shows when I was young to all these years later, I have been familiar with the MGM lion. I not once gave any thought to the actually filming of him. And as we entered the computerized, digitized age, I gave it less thought than none.

BUT, out of the blue, I came across this:

PICTURE

As the election year goes by, one calendar page at a time, I find myself being enlightened, and not really by politics. True, I think there’s been a heck of a muddle with entire last two years of political jockeying, but it seems like child’s play as I realize how sheltered I have been. But, the hell with that; it’s time to get a grip and stop being shocked.

What then do I write about? Everybody and his brother is writing about politics and it’s hard to trump that. Of course, that was an awful, embarrassing pun, but, I have a reputation to keep up here. I can’t suddenly just start ignoring bad puns or suddenly begin to spit out sublime ones. It would be too shocking.

I did read a free book on Kindle and half-way through declared that it was just trash without being trashy. There was no Red Light District stuff in it; it was just 2nd grade level passing itself off as an adult novel. It was like a four piece jigsaw puzzle, to be generous in my review. I think I’m being generous in not identifying it. This all begs the question of why did I keep reading it; well, I did not. I have learned how go to the last few electronic pages of a Kindle with the same flourish of disgust and rolling of eyes that I used with a book with paper pages. I did decide not to hurl the Kindle across the room, however.

If I knowingly want to use reading as an escape, I would prefer it be a well-written character study or a mystery with an ingenious plot. I do not want a DUD. I can’t stand duds. You can find duds everywhere, and I imagine in some categories, I am a DUD, but we should have a protective cloak we can grab.

I have almost decided on days I wake up with the duds, to put a sign around my neck telling people to beware or the DUD ZONE.

I have mentioned before that I have been at one event where one of the major players was so much of a DUD, it was all I could do to keep from standing up and screaming DUD. I did, afterwards, talk with people using the word DUD 50% of the time.

Maybe tomorrow, I will walk into the voting booth and write in DUD. Too bad I didn’t get this idea earlier; I could have started a grassroots movement and DUD would get our votes at the convention.

If I could carry a tune, I would write a song in which all the lyrics were DUD   DUD  DUD    DUD   DUD  DUD     DUD   DUD  DUD      DUD   DUD  DUD.

Drat, I’ve had it.

Oh, I see I did not get on an uplifting topic. Well, once more for old time’s sake: DUD.

I can do better than that:

DUD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, that’s my mood today. I have errands to run and that’s the fun part.

Holy Moses, that was one short post.

I seldom cite remarks, slogans, pieces of wisdom, sarcastic asides and whatever that I stumble upon while checking out someone’s page. But this time, the words describe the feeling so exactly, capture the angst so vividly, I just can’t resist.

I try to keep liquids away from my computer, but sometimes I will take a drink of something as I am reading or typing. I did that this morning. I glanced at a picture, turned my head to get a mouthful of tea, read the caption under the picture and ALMOST SPIT MY TEA OUT OVER THE KEYBOARD AND SCREEN. One of those reflexive reactions that just happen.  Fortunately, I was able to turn my head in the nick of time.

I think I need to post something akin to the warnings about machinery use at the top of my screen to remind me to not bring a mouthful of potentially damaging tea anywhere near my computer.

I don’t like it when people do what I have just done – refer to something that made them become aghast, because the natural response is to ask, “What?” Shoot the backstory is too long and complicated, just like most backstories  – or outright stories in this political year, to spontaneously strike anyone’s funny bone or outrageous meter.

I suppose astonished violent spitting(as long as it’s not over electronics) is better than my reaction I had two days ago when I encountered a similar situation. I partially choked and tea pushed out and rolled down my chin and then the coughing began.

Ronbo and I were talking on the phone about stress and he referenced the last two lines of a poem and they question arose, “Who wrote it?” Well, it was a fellow named Henley . . . William Ernest, 1849-1903. Wikipedia gives an explanation of the genesis of the poem and I have cited it below.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gait,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.^[1]

From Wikipedia:

Henley’s literary reputation rests almost entirely on this single poem.^[6] In 1875 one of Henley’s legs required amputation due to complications arising from tuberculosis. Immediately after the amputation he was told that his other leg would require a similar procedure. He chose instead to enlist the services of the distinguished surgeon Joseph Lister, who was able to save Henley’s remaining leg after multiple surgical interventions on the foot.^[7]

While recovering in the infirmary, he was moved to write the verses that became “Invictus”. This period of his life, coupled with recollections of an impoverished childhood, were primary inspirations for the poem, and play a major role in its meaning.^[8]

Influence

• C. S. Lewis included a quote from the last stanza in Book 5, chapter 3 of his early autobiographical work The Pilgrim’s Regress (1933).
• In a speech to the House of Commons on 9 September 1941, Winston Churchill paraphrased the last two lines of the poem, stating “We are still masters of our fate. We still are captain of our souls.”^[9]
• In the 1942 film Casablanca, Captain Renault, an official played by Claude Rains, recites the last two lines of the poem when talking to Rick Blaine, played by Humphrey Bogart, referring to his power in Casablanca.
• In the 1942 film Kings Row, Parris Mitchell, a psychiatrist played by Robert Cummings, recites the first two stanzas of “Invictus” to his friend Drake McHugh, played by Ronald Reagan, before revealing to Drake that his legs were unnecessarily amputated by a cruel doctor.

Robert and I, like the famous two ships – only in the daylight and not on an ocean and, actually in a kitchen – passed. Hmmn, really, the comparison with the well-known two ships passing is almost lame enough to go back and delete, but I’ve typed it and what would I type in its place.

I glanced over as he passed and told him to stop, that I wanted to take a picture, and I did.

His eyes show some fatigue, but after the past few days that’s to be expected. My mother thought he looked a bit like his great-great grandfather Wesley Wisler, but I don’t know.

I think it was about 44 years ago that I sat on the end of a sofa in Sacramento and read Caesar and Christ, by Will Durant. I was particularly struck by the prose of the first paragraph of the epilogue:

“THE two greatest problems in history,” says a brilliant scholar of our time, are “how to account for the rise of Rome, and how to account for her fall.”¹ We may come nearer to understanding them if we remember that the fall of Rome, like her rise, had not one cause but many, and was not an event but a process spread over 300 years. Some nations have not lasted as long as Rome fell.

I am thinking of this now because yesterday I read and then wrote about the movie, The Fall of Rome. My first impulse was to look for the film and then, as I remembered the above paragraph, to re-read all the volumes of his Story of Civilization. Tabloids are juicier and I scan them at grocery stores, although now I don’t recognize too many of the “famous” names. Well-written novels are fascinating, like a song in your head. This multi-volume set of history, however, makes you feel as if you could reach beyond yourself. Its effect is like listening to Amazing Grace in a church setting. I feel odd saying it, but you feel cleaner.

Occasionally, I will look at websites which list things – all the way from bad plastic surgery to deadly reptiles of Australia. Believe me, there is a lot of stuff that falls in the middle and stuff that hangs off both sides. Today, one thing led to another and I found myself  looking at the some of the biggest losers in epic films.

The Fall of the Roman Empire – not to be confused with Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, which of course one reads and does not watch –  caught my attention. As you can see, if you clicked on the link, it is considered a good film and has actors the caliber of Alec Guinness, who had a famous role in a movie about another empire.

Now, of course, I have decided I have to see this film, and so the search will begin. Oh, how I wish I could walk into the Beavercreek, Ohio GoodWill (across from City Barbecue) and find a VHS copy. That store has a lot of historical films on the shelves, probably because it is close to a university.

I haven’t started an Internet search; maybe it won’t be difficult at all. Actually, it would seem likely I have already seen it since it was made in 1964, right in the middle of my high school years – when students still took Latin and dressed up in togas on Latin Day. But I don’t remember. I do remember taking part in a vocabulary contest at one Latin Day and watching Quo Vadis at another. (Robert Taylor, as in Waterloo Bridge – as if everyone were as old as I. Heavens, I am giggling at myself.