![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
hrm. Well, you can all blame Livilla....
For making me think about article-y things I could do for the Life during wartime photo...
http://lyssie.the-family-archives.com/manipu/dts/sgnews.jpg
And the text of the 'article'.
Life during wartime: Tulsa, hippies, and the inevitable nature of peace.
(AP - 1969)
"Make love not war" is their slogan, they raise it on banners and shout it in the squares. Hippies, whether a derogatory term, or one which embodies the youthful enthusiasm of personal expression, are among us.
Someone had to direct me to the open market, an impromptu fair. The woman wouldn't give her name, but she demanded the police do something about the "unwashed masses leaving their filthy" stuff all over her city.
The stigma of being peace-loving goes both ways, and some of them even get it.
I arrive at the site and watch the wandering (and quite colorful) crowds for a while before beginning to speak to them.
Talking to them is like listening to puzzle pieces of the past.
There's a massive, painted bus that grabs the eye.
"I don't think war is the answer to everything," Danny (a man from Chicago who smiles and flirts with the best of them while still having the sadness of too much life in his eyes) says.
He tries to build pictures with words as he describes the atrocities being committed by both sides. "There has to be a better way than this."
"They're just soldiers, doing their jobs." Jack breaks in, his tone curt. Jack is also a Chicago native, and the years have obviously worn him hard. "Soldiers..."
It's interesting to watch the interaction between these two so diametrically opposed men. A synthesis, if you will, of friendship and a bond that goes deeper. A bond shared by more than these two.
"Following orders isn't always the best duty to one's country." This from Sam, whose blonde hair and brilliant smile gives way to a strange tension in her shoulders during times like this. "Sometimes..."
She never finishes the sentence, because Jack looks at her.
It is Murray, the fourth in this strange partnership (which implies there are only two, but here there are four), who answers, "A soldier may only see their portion of the battlefield. The commander sees all."
Stiff and unemotional words from the black man who claims to also be from Chicago, yet speaks with the studied calmness of a Buddhist monk raised in the Himalayas.
The mood breaks, Jack says something sarcastic about life reflecting Sam's inability to cook. Danny rises to her defence, and the conversation is dropped for amusing banter.
Others ebb and flow around the group. Jenny, an architectural student from Nevada, and her lover Michael stand to the side, and talk in parables and social equalities. Michael has been drafted, but he's going for one last fling.
Michael is the epitome of the slacking, free-thinking hippy. He moves with a fluidness that shows his youth. "It's, like, the man, y'know? There's oppression and war. And we just all need some time."
"Give peace a chance," Jenny offers, smiling shyly.
Sometimes, that's all we can do.
From Tulsa, I'm Suzy Diega.
http://lyssie.the-family-archives.com/manipu/dts/sgnews.jpg
And the text of the 'article'.
Life during wartime: Tulsa, hippies, and the inevitable nature of peace.
(AP - 1969)
"Make love not war" is their slogan, they raise it on banners and shout it in the squares. Hippies, whether a derogatory term, or one which embodies the youthful enthusiasm of personal expression, are among us.
Someone had to direct me to the open market, an impromptu fair. The woman wouldn't give her name, but she demanded the police do something about the "unwashed masses leaving their filthy" stuff all over her city.
The stigma of being peace-loving goes both ways, and some of them even get it.
I arrive at the site and watch the wandering (and quite colorful) crowds for a while before beginning to speak to them.
Talking to them is like listening to puzzle pieces of the past.
There's a massive, painted bus that grabs the eye.
"I don't think war is the answer to everything," Danny (a man from Chicago who smiles and flirts with the best of them while still having the sadness of too much life in his eyes) says.
He tries to build pictures with words as he describes the atrocities being committed by both sides. "There has to be a better way than this."
"They're just soldiers, doing their jobs." Jack breaks in, his tone curt. Jack is also a Chicago native, and the years have obviously worn him hard. "Soldiers..."
It's interesting to watch the interaction between these two so diametrically opposed men. A synthesis, if you will, of friendship and a bond that goes deeper. A bond shared by more than these two.
"Following orders isn't always the best duty to one's country." This from Sam, whose blonde hair and brilliant smile gives way to a strange tension in her shoulders during times like this. "Sometimes..."
She never finishes the sentence, because Jack looks at her.
It is Murray, the fourth in this strange partnership (which implies there are only two, but here there are four), who answers, "A soldier may only see their portion of the battlefield. The commander sees all."
Stiff and unemotional words from the black man who claims to also be from Chicago, yet speaks with the studied calmness of a Buddhist monk raised in the Himalayas.
The mood breaks, Jack says something sarcastic about life reflecting Sam's inability to cook. Danny rises to her defence, and the conversation is dropped for amusing banter.
Others ebb and flow around the group. Jenny, an architectural student from Nevada, and her lover Michael stand to the side, and talk in parables and social equalities. Michael has been drafted, but he's going for one last fling.
Michael is the epitome of the slacking, free-thinking hippy. He moves with a fluidness that shows his youth. "It's, like, the man, y'know? There's oppression and war. And we just all need some time."
"Give peace a chance," Jenny offers, smiling shyly.
Sometimes, that's all we can do.
From Tulsa, I'm Suzy Diega.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Yay! Damn, I'm proud.I mean, bad me. Bad.
It's very insightful for such a short piece. And especially from a period of time so unlike the one we live in.
no subject
And it was totally your fault, you replied to my comment, and I was shaking my head and going, "I don't even know what I would write..." and my brain went *click*, and I figured out the Daniel line, and went on from there.
no subject
*beams* Go me. Brain's usually have that annoying tendancy to give us lines for fics and articles and such, even if we think they're a bad idea to write. *scowl* And usually in the middle of something really important. Like a wedding or a Maths test.
Uh, but anyway, glad you wrote this still!
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Oh, it so was not!
*waves piece of toast threateningly*
It was all about the OT4 love! How the four of them are really hippies who live in a commune and sleep together, and there's lots of sex! And Michael and Jenny are CONFused by them, because they are really from a planet called Transexual...
no subject
Aaaah. Okay, I buy that.
Write me Sam/Teal'c. :) Please?
no subject
no subject
So, in other words, nm. :)
no subject
I will... poke at something unfinished in the hopes of finishing it (OMG!!! I get Claudia Black beating Daniel tonight!!! *squee*)