The first thing I read in today’s news was this:
Molly Ivins: America’s Jericho Voice
by Maya AngelouUp to the walls of Jericho
She marched with a spear in
her hand
Go blow them ram horns she cried
For the battle is in my hand
The walls have not come down,
but they have been given a
serious shaking.
That Jericho voice is stilled now.
Molly Ivins has been quieted.
Maya Angelou’s elegant eulogy of Molly Ivins, who died on January 31st, made me cry.
I didn’t cry simply because I think the world lost one of its great journalists.
I cried because I have allowed myself to forget how important it is to keep shouting, in my own “Jericho voice.”
The other day, I posted a weary complaint about useless anti-war demonstrations. I called Jane Fonda a “pampered bitch” because she said “the time for silence is over.”
Although I think her remarks are years overdue, Fonda is correct. To be fair, I suppose she was addresssing those who’ve been silent about Iraq, until now.
However, I still cannot fathom why so many have waited so long to speak out.
I still feel comtempt for the rich and famous cowards who kept silent because they were afraid of the label ‘traitor.’ This was back in the days when Mr. Bush had so much “political capital” to spend. Capital he squandered very quickly, thank God.
But in the end, we are only responsible for ourselves. My blaming Jane and friends for not getting out sooner does not absolve me from doing nothing now, just because I’m tired, weary, and have little faith in the Democratic Congress.
In her essay, Maya Angelou cited the following Molly Ivins quote:
“We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. Every single day every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. We need people in the streets banging pots and pans and demanding, ‘Stop it now!’ “
Okay. Here’s one for Molly Ivins. Pass it around!
PEACE. NOW. BRING THE TROOPS HOME.
That’s my Jericho voice. Let it shout, let it assail, against the walls of the politically arrogant warmongers — until they, too, fall down.
Blessings,
Morgan Wolf
