I’m experiencing that rarest of gifts for a parent, peace and quiet. The LightChildren are visiting their grandparents for two weeks. They are with my parents this week, and with LightHusband’s parents next week. They are in Vermont. We are here. Ahhhh. I love those two dearly, but sometimes they leave me with my ears bleeding from all the words I have to hear. The ramp up to this trip was hair-raising. I have to apologize to the BrickDude. He and his lovely wife, GoldenGirl, came to visit and trade cars with us the evening before the LightChildren left. There came a point in the evening when both children were talking at the same time, in ever increasing volumes, about different subjects to BrickDude. It was horrifying. He handled it with aplomb. But they left shortly thereafter.
The next day, packed and ready to go, we set out for the airport. We stopped for lunch at a favored Indian restaurant. We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare for any “unforeseen circumstances,” such as identity needs, long lines, who knows. Nothing happened. There were no “unforeseen circumstances.” With one tiny exception. We checked the LightChildren in at the ticket counter, checked their luggage, filled out the “unaccompanied minor” paperwork, had a lovely chat with the ticket lady (who was very kind and just the tiniest bit frazzled when her key got stuck in the drawer) and then she spoke the words of doom in the most cheerful voice imaginable, “So, which ONE of you will be accompanying the children to the gate?” Me (reeling and looking around and the millions of people and imagining shepherding the children through the masses of evil humanity alone … and remember my lingering panic disorder which gets worse in crowds): “Ummm … One? You mean BOTH of us can’t go with them?” Cheerful Ticket Lady (who’s name was Eva): “Oh no, I can only allow ONE of you to go. So who will it be?” LightHusband is rather desperate to relieve himself of the duty because he had spent all morning with them while I went to a guild event and his ears were bleeding. Really. But I. Just. Could. Not. Go. I also could not stay and not go with my dear children. In the end, LightHusband graciously gave way and allowed me to stay back. We dawdled around as long as is possible in place that is so clearly NOT designed for people to wait. There are no places for sitting, only places for standing in line or walking. One is clearly expected to complete one’s business and go on one’s way here; do not dawdle.
In the end, I found a Cinnabon stand, purchased a tasty treat, a cup of coffee and a couple of magazines to read. It was interesting to me that when he got to the gate LightHusband also bought a magazine to look at. He got Food & Wine. This is a fun magazine. What do I get when I have a few hours to myself in a busy airport? The Economist, U.S. News & World Report, and another magazine about living green. That’s sad; it says something about my inability to relax.
On the other hand, I really enjoyed my little piece of time to catch up on some reading about world affairs. It’s a passion of mine that I’ve had little time to indulge since the advent of children in my life. I’ve even gone so far as to subscribe to the on-line version of The Economist. I used to read it frequently, now I’ll be able to again.
I spent most of my time reading about the current crisis between Israel and Lebanon. It’s a situation that is heartbreaking. Lebanon was just struggling back to her feet. There are times when I’d like to give Syrian president Assad a real talking to. Seriously, the Syrians need to own up to the underhanded work they are doing. A small splinter group in Lebanon has demolished it yet again. The picture that went with the article made me cry.
Then I read this sentence or two:
On each of these fronts the fighting was precipitated by an audacious attack on Israel’s army by fighters belonging to extreme Islamist groups that combine the functions of armed militias—“terroristsâ€, says Israel—and elected political parties.
The phrase, “armed militias,” caught my eye. We bluster on here in the U.S. about our highly touted “War on Terror.” But what was the Revolutionary War? It was many groups of “armed militias” using guerilla tactics against a much larger, colonial power who was trying to take away freedoms that our forefathers thought they had a “right” to.
I’m not sure how far out we or I can draw this analogy, but I have to wonder what tactics our forefathers would have used if they had had the weaponry at their disposal that the Arabs do today. I wonder if we were British would we consider them heros? or terrorists? Just what does it look like when it’s your land, religion and way of life that is at risk?
It’s really hard to define, that.