...And the Writing Goes On.....

                                                            Introduction

 

            Here we are in 2002. The mood of the country has changed subtly since September 11, 2001. An enemy turned America against itself and used American aircraft to destroy American life and property. We have become alert and suspicious. Our innocence is gone. Those with ugly intentions toward children have become more brazen; those with honorable intentions, more intense.

 

            Although none of my family was affected by the catastrophe of 9-11, my mind's eye goes back to a time when I saw something like this coming. The panic I experienced then almost cost me my life.

 

            More than twenty-five years ago I was a forty-year-old mother of four. Despite efforts to interest me in world politics on the part of my German father who had served in WWII, and the fact that my husband was a U.S. military man, I had no enthusiasm in such matters. All I knew was that I had absolutely no power to affect the decisions of those leaders who had their hands on the nuclear buttons, anyway. My attitude was, "Leave me alone and do what you want!" The idea of such powerlessness caused me some uneasiness about the future, but I found my personal raison d'être. I loved my family and didn't want it destroyed, so I cared for each child as if the future of the world depended on his or her survival. I loved America (warts and all) because I was free to do that here, so I gladly subjugated my own desires to the needs of my country. I packed up and moved my home seven times in seven years. I always went where the Air Force sent us and restarted our routine. Suddenly, my simple patriotism and heart-felt love were shaken to the core.

 

            The following story chronicles the way my personal life and the life of America have interacted since the mid-seventy's.  

 

            Once my husband was retired from the military, we settled down in a nice suburban community. All the kids were in school and my husband worked at a second job, so I decided to take some classes at the local community college. I wanted to improve on my English and perhaps learn to write. Some professors actually taught me practical skills, but some professors made me question my own attitude toward life on Earth. A general anxiety about "crises" seemed to pervade every lecture: the energy crisis, the education crisis, the drug war, the health care crisis, etc. etc. When I tried to express my thoughts in an assigned essay, I was accused of being a "cop-out." What had I neglected to do? Was I really a "cop-out?" How could little old me possibly change the world? Hadn't I already done enough for the country? I was a simple housewife with no other mission than to support my family. What else was I supposed to do?

 

            My mind wandered back to my grandmother's place in German society before Hitler proceeded with his evil deeds. Could she possibly have affected the outcome of the holocaust if she had publicly expressed her private displeasure with the events of the time? She had no power, just like I had no power. Despair overwhelmed me, and I began to die.

 

            The faces of my family lost their smiles. Their only concern was that they might lose their wife and mother. They didn't worry about war, pollution, crime, or the energy crisis. They couldn't understand why those things meant anything to me. Their love healed my soul, and soon I was ready to take on the world.

 

            My choice of weapon was a typewriter. I had not learned to type very well in high school. When I was trying to type my first letter to a U.S. Senator, I started to cry after I had pulled out the third messed up copy. My ten-year-old son asked me innocently, "Why don't you just write it?" My penmanship wasn't much better than my typing, but I was immensely comforted by his naiveté.

 

            Once I gained some confidence in my typing, spelling and composition abilities, I wrote letters to lots of important people. My main purpose was to learn why or whether some things hadn't been tried in the solution of the energy crisis. I also wanted to know why or whether there were so many people dying in convalescent hospitals (contrary to the implication in their name) despite our excellent medical advances. The ensuing correspondence is the subject of this book.

 

            I also continued to take college courses and eventually earned a degree from UCBerkeley and California teaching credentials. I am currently teaching Special Education at a local middle school. My four children have grown into wonderful healthy adults with families and homes of their own. My husband is fully retired and enjoying lots of golf. Life is good, I think.....