Co-op Insight...

by Jorge Arévalo Mateus

Lest we forget.

Prompted by Papa John’s Commemorative Veteran’s Day Pizza email offer, I would like to share some thoughts on this day; the one day in which the men and women who have served in the nation’s military are, or should be, remembered.

Today, in Middletown, Connecticut, a memorial service was held at Veterans Memorial Park, just off of Route 66. On that small green—regularly driven by, with hardly any thought of what it represents—monuments to World Wars I and II, Korea, and Vietnam honor those who served during those conflicts. Located just across the street from Wesleyan University, which, sadly, was neither represented nor attended by University officials, or any of the young undergrads who have directly benefited from sacrifices made in the name of democracy and freedom, in attendance instead was a small gathering of local veterans from different military campaigns, a group of friends and families who lost loved ones, local dignitaries and politicians, and Middletown’s Finest and Bravest.

Perhaps it was the words that one senior veteran of WWII spoke, or the sentiments expressed by longtime Middletown resident and state legislator Joe Serra, or the dignified presence of a group of Black veterans that made me think about the responsibilities that I, as an artist, have to remember these truly courageous men and women, regardless of my personal political views or anti-war beliefs.

Recently, in a letter widely distributed in the blogsphere, when asked, “Mike, what will you do now that Bush is gone?” […] What will it be like to work and create in an environment that nurtures and supports film and the arts, science and invention, and the freedom to be whatever you want to be?” documentary filmmaker Michael Moore responded:

“We may, just possibly, also see a time of refreshing openness, enlightenment and creativity. The arts and the artists will not be seen as the enemy. Perhaps art will be explored in order to discover the greater truths. When FDR was ushered in with his landslide in 1932, what followed was Frank Capra and Preston Sturgis, Woody Guthrie and John Steinbeck, Dorothea Lange and Orson Welles.

While we bask in this incredible “Anything Is Possible” moment of hope, relishing the optimism and potential collective goodwill that President-elect Obama’s win has fostered, I believe it is also time for artists, too, to not just remember our veterans—all our veterans, including, as one speaker poignantly reminded today’s gathering, we have yet another new generation of veterans; that is, the young men and women returning from Iraq, Afghanistan, and conflicts elsewhere—but to celebrate and show our gratitude in our work, for the lives of those who return, and for those who do not. As Serra put it: “Let us not forget the commitment and obligations that our elected officials have to remember the men and women who have served and sacrificed.” If we, as artists, forget the enormity of a soldier’s sacrifice, we forget a part of ourselves—a part that most of us, thankfully, do not ever have to confront.

Lest we forget, the expression of “truths,” however defined artistically, cannot happen without the humanly created conflicts from which they emerge. Although a world without war is a personal goal of mine, I acknowledge what in Hindusim is known as the Shambala Warrior, that is the human warrior who fights in the name of peace, despite profound and inherent contradictions.

PEACE

Jorge Arévalo Mateus