The True Cost of Our Long War

We do not bear the cost of war.

We are not encouraged to consider the cost of war, nor do we encourage one another.

When the overinflated picture of normalcy upon which many of us were gazing was attacked, we were so genuinely shocked by the unbelievable nature of terror and death that we gave all of our time to mourning and none to contemplation.  Perhaps, had we thought it through, we would have realized that our bombs, if dropped, would only be the first to fall, but certainly not the last or the only ones.  Perhaps we would have asked our grandfathers what might happen if we stir up multinational conflict.  Perhaps we would have considered the true cost of war, the sacrifices that will eventually be demanded of each of us, and the shores to which this growing fire may very well spread. 

But we did not. 

We quickly fired back, justifiably angry, but also pretty drunk on prosperity.  Things had never been so good, and it seemed as if they could only get better!  With less people on welfare and more money in the bank than ever, we were doing quite well.  America was strong.  Americans were dreaming.  But suddenly, under attack, we trembled.  We feared.  We froze.  And while we were frozen, a decision was made.  Bombs fell, and we remained mostly frozen.  When we could finally move again, we found that there was little to be done other than that which we had always done.  We still had our jobs.  We still had to go to them.  Bombs fell, and we went to work, because there was still work.  Bombs are still falling, and there are a few less people here and there, but it’s hard to tell.  And that makes it easy to ignore.

So we go about our business, most of us, and occasionally we look a little more nervous than we once did, but we just keep going.  The auto makers keep making autos.  People keep going on vacation.  Drastic measures are, so far, uncalled for.  The long lines to give blood, the boys rolling tin foil into balls for collection, the women working their absent husbands’ machinery , and the yellow ribbons 'round the oak trees have not yet been seen.  But will it stay that way?  Will our incursions not force us again to labor solely for the war effort? 

As we consider the way forward, as our burdens grow heavier and we begin to tire, we must weigh the cost of continuing to defend aging notions.  The American dream can be realized modestly and moderately, and hopefully, if we don’t melt it down and turn it into a centrifuge, it can go on living just a little longer.

RW