The Circle
by
Sam Loschavio
"Hey, mister, got some spare change?" That request is becoming a familiar refrain on the streets of urban centres. Perhaps it reflects the society in which we live. When I am approached by an apparently destitute person asking for spare change, my mind flies back to the 'dirty thirties' when thousands of young men drifted from coast to coast in or on top of railway boxcars, in search of work. Wherever the trains stopped, railway and local police were on hand to prevent the men from getting off for fear that they would remain in their town or city and use up the limited resources for social assistance, or relief as it was then called. These men would gather and camp together on the outskirts of cities under bridges or along river banks where they would share their food resources and exchange stories of their travels and experiences. The encampments were called 'hobo jungles'. The word hobo was a pejorative term and was used in a derogatory sense by their fellow citizens who were fortunate enough to have jobs. The young men seeking work were far from being derelicts. Many had skilled trades and some had doctorate diplomas in their pockets. They were the victims of a weak economy in which the wheels of industry had slowed down forcing people out of work.
Then came a solution. A war broke out. Suddenly there was lots of money to accelerate the wheels of industry to produce the paraphernalia of war: tanks, planes, ships, weapons, uniforms. Happy days were here again. The training camp replaced the hobo camp. The unemployed found immediate employment either in the military or the war industry. Women manned the factories in jobs that before had been done by men only. Rosie, the riveter, was created and became most competent. Most of the able-bodied former hoboes who joined the military forces now found themselves well-clothed, well-fed, well-housed, and well-trained for combat. Parades, stirring march music, and patriotic speeches by politicians and gold-braided officers helped to bolster the morale of these modern centurions. For these benefits all that these young men, from whatever country in the world, had to do was pledge to engage in state-approved and authorized murder. Often with the blessing of people committed to the tenets of love your neighbor, forgive your enemies, and treat others the way you would like them to treat you. In the expediency of war, these principles seem to be eclipsed by the imposed necessity to kill your enemy before he kills you, or to use the war as an excuse to justify genocide, rape, and pillage. War makes savages of people who in times of peace would not dream of participating in such atrocities. In peacetime, men with their families pray in houses of worship. In wartime, they would not think twice about blowing up places of worship or annihilating villages, towns and cities full of adults and children designated as 'the enemy'. Unintentional bombing of civilians is called collateral damage. Accidental attacks on one's own military forces is referred to as friendly fire.
The war was over. People rejoiced in the streets. Military personnel returned to their homes and families. Some went to hospitals to have shattered bodies and minds mended as much as possible. Some had their names inscribed on monuments. All were welcomed home as heroes. Medals and ribbons were handed out along with glowing speeches, again by politicians and gold-braided officers. A residual military force was retained to use as world peacekeepers (a euphemistic oxymoron) and to maintain order at home in case of civil unrest or even peaceful protests against injustice. Times were good. People needed or wanted material goods and recreation after the restrictions of a long war. Political promises of a chicken in every pot and car in every garage were coming true. Prosperity was indeed here and not just around the corner.
A new invention helped to bolster the economy. It was called a credit card. People no longer needed cash to purchase goods and services, just plastic. Materialism was in. Prudence was out. It was no longer necessary to save for a rainy day. Rainy days were passé. The plastic card was our umbrella. Happy days were here again.
The years passed. A generation went by. Once a year those who died in war were remembered by their families, friends, and fellow-veterans. They listened to stirring speeches about sacrifice and patriotism by younger gold-braided officers and by politicians who never experienced the horror of war. Business people grumbled at having to close even for a few hours in remembrance. Each year the number of veterans dwindled. The speeches became more strained. Materialism was king. The predominant thinking was to have fun today and to hell with tomorrow. Anything goes! Do whatever you want! You have your values, I have mine!
The wheels of industry slowed down. New words entered the vocabulary: down-sizing, restructuring, reorganization. These euphemisms were intended to dull the sharp edges of the new reality—lost jobs and broken dreams. Soup kitchens were full. Some of the bones from yesterday's chicken in every pot may have stuck in people's throats. Homes were taken away. Credit ratings declined; bankruptcies increased. Family security was endangered, anxiety and stress grew. Panhandlers proliferated.
The circle is complete.