Just a walk

I walked around the little park up the street from my house this morning, listening to The Iliad while a Vietnam Veteran in his motorized chair with an American flag attached to the back rolled around the inner part.  

Wanting to read a few more chapters while sticking to my plan of walking while listening, I went to the big park across town this afternoon.

There I walked through the shade of gnarled old trees as my CD player spun tales of eagles dropping writhing snakes that turned back and bit their captor and ancient shields made of seven layers of hide and then one of bronze or fewer layers of hide and different nails.  I have made drums out of one layer of hide and so those descriptions mean a little something to me.

Listening to all these stories of different shields and how they were constructed made me realize that war has always been a rich man’s game.  The poor cannot possibly afford the fine weapons and shields that the rich take for granted.  Nor can the poor force men to rise and fight for years, sacrificing their sons and future grandchildren in order to protect the spoils of war that only lead to more war.

In the midst of all this listening and thinking, I came to the Vietnam War memorial in our park and walked through it to the World War II War memorial and on to the Civil War memorial!  So many wars!  So many lives ended and others never begun so rich men can salve their egos and feed their coffers.

And in all these years since Homer wrote The Iliad, I am amazed at the similarities.  We still think of eagles when we think of war.  We still fight for the same things.  We still shout the same words, just not in ancient Greek.   My feet are tired from walking over thirty miles while listening to the tales of this ancient war, but my heart is heavy with the knowledge of how little we have learned.