A Strong Rough Cut

It was my junior year of college, back in the Spring of ‘97 when I made a last ditch effort to save myself and traveled back to my elementary school, P.S. 44 on Staten Island to make a short documentary about the school’s Principal Albert F. Quinn. I had become very depressed that year after my daughter's mother left me for what I thought was a friend. She and I had lived together with our daughter the previous year. Those were dark days for me. I thus developed a taste for Vodka and bong hits, my work and grades slipped, and I was very close to falling below the C average I needed to keep my scholarship.  But the depression wasn’t so much about losing a girlfriend but that she took the baby with her. She left me the cat.

 

Public School 44 is in Mariner's Harbor, the neighborhood where I grew up until I was 13 years old. The school was two blocks away from the projects and most of us walked to school except for the kids who lived in the "white" projects on Continental Avenue. The "white" projects are in fact made of white bricks but it was also a fact mostly white folks lived in those buildings. Mr. Quinn was the Principal of the school then and by the time I made my returned he had amassed 20 years on the job. He was a Navy man that, as a Principal ruled the school with an iron fist. With the G.I. Bill he studied at Columbia and taught math at Curtis High School one year before becoming Principal of 44. Our very own Frank McCourt. – One day I took a swing at Mr. Quinn in the auditorium, one of those Mike Tyson’s Punch Out type leaping upper cuts, I must have been only 10 years old, he towered over me with his big round, silver topped Irish head, and when I missed he dragged me kicking and cursing all the way to his office on the second floor with my arm in a chicken wing. Good times.

 

When I visited Mr. Quinn to film the doc he revealed something to me in an interview. He had very much a “tough love” style and he said when reflecting on us rugged kids from The Harbor as potentially becoming “either a major general or a general nuisance.” His mission was to influence the former. When I rolled out on my last mag of film, off camera he pulled me close, wrapped his arm around my shoulders and whispered to me, “Thank you for being who you are.” I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that. I wasn’t even sure what I was really, but his words meant a lot to me. He was the closest thing I ever had to a father aside from my Uncle Charlie. Mr. Quinn’s words of thanks let me know I was at least becoming the man I should be. Those were the last words I can ever remember him saying.

 

I shot the doc with the help of my friend Kelly Riley and although I didn't finish the film in time for the junior show my professor John Terry gave me a much-needed B+ after screening a strong rough cut. Thanks Kelley and thanks John.

 

On this Thanksgiving Day we think back into our minds to remember those nouns we’re thankful for. Spending this holiday in Afghanistan I can’t help thinking how problematic the memory can be when it comes to war. My own mother was diagnosed with PTSD simply because of growing up on the same island as me, and a few of my other relatives have also been diagnosed with mental illness. I’m thankful today that I’ve been able to avoid the psychologist since I was 17 as not to be diagnosed with something myself.

 

Considering this national holiday and my current geopolitical position, I thank all those who fought to preserve my liberties, even when I didn’t ask, and those who wrestled with history and philosophy giving us reasons to fight. I give thanks to those who struggled and battled with the people and government of my own country to ensure I didn’t get lynched for procreating with a white woman. I'm thankful to know I have a wonderful daughter. Lastly I wish to thank American military service members who unconditionally fight for us, either sacrificing their lives, their families, their careers and financial gain, their youth, or sometimes their sanity; sometimes all these things.

 

Thank you for being good Soldiers and Marines.

Thank you for being good Sailors and Airmen.

Thank you for being who you are. 

Rummy Cake

A friend of mine back home posted a comment on Facebook mentioning that administration officials in Washington were cited two days ago in The New York Times projecting that it would cost US taxpayers at least $1 million per soldier to provide General McChrystal his requested 40,000 additional troops. The Facebook comment was about the ugliness of putting a price tag on the lives of American troops and whether the statement encourages The Taliban and Al Qaeda to put an equal bounty on their heads. That got me thinking.

Last week when Gordon Brown called Jacqui Janes - the mother of a British soldier that died in Afghanistan - Jacqui was quoted saying to the Prime Minister "Many, many years ago, in 18-something, somebody said the biggest enemy of our army was our Treasury... They were so right." The problem for Brown is he didn't start these wars. Obama is in the same exact position. Back in the 1980's Saddam Hussein bankrupted Iraq attempted to invade Iran for 8 years. War of choice... '03 was exactly that. So now Brown and Obama are stuck with a job unfinished here in Afghanistan; a war perhaps inescapably under-resourced due to fatigue, greater commitments in Iraq, and the Global Economic Crisis. Believe me, I would love to have a few more brothers and sisters in uniform taking care of business out here. One million dollars per... not a tactful statement... insensitive even, but the fact of the matter is these twin wars, Iraq and Afghanistan cost money. Will sending in more troops win the war here? Will that be the cure to the corruption that plagues Afghanistan and hinders the effectiveness of security operations and aid programs? No matter what the financial or human costs?

We as a nation fight to protect our freedom, liberties and lifestyles at home and abroad although most of us aren't willing to sacrifice those values in order to preserve them. Our soldiers and their families most certainly do. We now know The Pentagon initially ran this puppy on the cheap and unfortunately the shower of flowers in the streets of Iraq (that we never got) isn't paying down the national debt, medicare and social security right now. It takes more than the exchange of blood and sweat, and hearts and minds... it takes money to pay for a war, let alone two, and generating cash is like picking cotton: it's not easy! 

Most of us can begin to imagine the challenges our service members face during and after deployment and I'm sure most of us are experiencing the pains of this Great Recession, but I'm not so sure everyone has paid their financial dues to preserve this union of ours. Do you think there are a million people in the US who can afford to forfeit $40,000 to the war effort? Or do you think we could find 40,000 Americans that can afford to forfeit $1M to the war effort? Which reminds me... I have four more months until my next bonus.

No Rain No Rainbows

This morning… I wake to my cell phone beeping. The battery was dieing. Half asleep now, the phone beeped again. This time it’s a text message from one of my coworkers, “No movements today.” That tells me there’s a security threat and we’re staying at home for the day. I fall back asleep.

 

It’s Friday, the High Holy Day and my day off. Ninety minutes later I was woken up by my roommate entering the room, “You missed all the excitement,” he tells me. Come to find out there was a VBIED at Camp Phoenix, the one US installation we typically visit to drop mail off or run to the PX for anything we need to buy. The news drained me, a car bomb at Phoenix when just five days ago I went through that same check point to send a hard drive back to the states. A group of brothas where working the gate, about 4 or 5 that day. I can’t say I knew them but it was very sobering.  

 

I went to brunch. Since the news my mood has been a dark blue. I sat by myself. I’ve gotten sick of sitting with my coworkers. Nothing against them, I’ve just begun to be more reclusive. I finished eating and even though he saw my plate was empty a friend of a friend sat down. No mind, I was planning on getting a cup of coffee anyway. He’s a Kiwi. I asked him if he heard anything about the “Vbid.” He said all the details weren’t yet clear to him but he heard the attack occurred just before 8am, about 8 or 10 casualties and the Army cleared the wreck out pretty quick. He made it sound like a routine car accident on the Mass Pike. I mentioned the Army’s security detail, the soldiers at the checkpoint. He didn’t think the car exploded at the checkpoint, probably still on the main road and the only casualties were Afghan civilians. I know a lot of cars drive down the road off the driveway to the checkpoint. People on foot, motorcycles, and bicycles are always an obstacle when making the turn in. 

 

A car bomb went off at another military installation that he said you could still see where the bomb went off because the trees nearby had all the leaves blown of. He made the comparison with a car bomb in Iraq, “if that was in Iraq those trees wouldn’t be there anymore.” Car bombs kill in the range of 50-100 people in Iraq, here they’re in the range of 10-20. In both cases usually local nationals better known as civilians.

 

Kiwi had just gotten back from shopping at the markets in town and was enjoying his extra helpings of sausage and Canadian style bacon. The threat certainly didn’t deter him from doing a little Friday morning shopping. I think he’s a good guy all in all. He once aptly called an asshole for the asshole he was, so I respect Kiwi’s thoughts.

 

Yesterday there was a controversial leaked statement from the US ambassador Karl Eikenberry stating he did not recommend sending more US troops here until Hamid Karzai started fixing corruption within his government, which dove tailed into what I heard earlier that morning that Karzai had announced he had a list of 100 people he was ready to fire. That tells me they’re on the same page the list of 100 seems only token. Real reform is going to need a lot more than 100 people taking early vacations.  Kiwi said it’s common knowledge that one of Karzai’s brothers is a known drug dealer in the heroin trade. Another of his brothers owns a major bank in Afghanistan and when the government auctioned off the cement factories a few years ago, hours before the auction was conducted it was required that any buyers needed to pay in cash. Of course Karzai’s brother was the only buyer that showed up with cash and he now controls the cement industry here.

 

Before the most recent election the Ministry of Defense (MOD) and the Anti Narcotics Police arrested about 5 men dressed in police uniforms, driving a police vehicle and transporting a bunch of heroin. Afghan security forces were proud of a job well done and the good press, the five men were charged and convicted (yeah) but where promptly pardoned by Hamid Karzai. It turns out one of the five drug dealers was Karzai’s nephew.  Another guy, the Minister of Defense was a former Taliban military commander who saw the light quickly after the “Liberation of Afghanistan,” got down with the program here and has not been an ally of Karzai’s, that could be good… could be bad. According to Kiwi this guy, the current Minister of Defense had been on the CIA’s payroll to the tune of a quarter million in cash a month and when he took the top position in the MOD he gave his son the money to purchase a large fleet of tactical vehicles that were then leased to the MOD. Sounds like something out of Dick Cheney’s playbook.