Today is Veterans’ Day here in the US.
I can remember when it was called Armistice Day, after the treaty that ended World War I, a.k.a. “The War to End All Wars.”
I wonder how many soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen/women and other military personnel go into battle hoping that their battle, their war will be the last. I think that’s what I would hope. “Hey, let’s not do this shit again, OK?”
And then swords would be beaten into ploughshares—and mortar into bicycle parts.
The other morning I took a ride to Fort Totten before work. Those 45 miles (72.5 kilometers) of pedaling—into the wind for most of the way out—were just what I needed to help me with my post-election trauma. It might be a reason why the class I taught was easier than the two I taught the day before, the day after the election.
I am happy to report that some things haven’t changed
yet. I hope that someone doesn’t discover petrol under Long Island Sound or anywhere in this area. I don’t want to see El Cheeto Grande’s campaign donors “drill, baby, drill.”
