MAY 8, 2020 – On the 75th Anniversary of V-E Day, I wonder: should I think of “V-E” as “Victory in Europe” and dwell upon its lessons or . . . should I view today as “Very Easy” and live obliviously?
If like Simon the Simpleton I don’t care about the portents of history and the reality of politics, my benefits are resoundingly abundant. I’m more cheerful, more open to the probabilities of a splendid future. My pulse slows, my blood pressure declines, my digestion improves, my productivity soars, as I hop mindlessly like the Robin on the backyard grass and not scowl anxiously like the owl perched high in the old oak tree.
Good or not good . . . if the adjoining neighborhood is rioting and ablaze.
If, on the other hand, if I do care—when I read too many articles pointing this way or that about current events, bad things happen to my psyche. My facial muscles twist into a red rage as black smoke blows out of my ears. My heart races, my hands shake. I hallucinate. I become Captain Outrageous piloting a World War II B-24 “Liberator” on a low-level bombing run. He shouts, “Victory!” as a 1,000-pound F-bomb falls down upon the entire Republican Party. As he banks hard to starboard and climbs for the return to base, a bogey at 4:00 unleashes a heavy burst. His vitals spike.
Good (the F-bomb on target) or not good . . . if the plane goes down.
To be Captain Outrageous or Simon the Simpleton, that is the question—or so it seems.
As the Captain sweats, Simon whistles and strolls down a country road awash in warm sunshine. Sheep graze in the pastures along his route. The bucolic surroundings slacken his pace. He reaches a grove of olive trees on a gentle hillside beside the way. Birds chirp merrily in the branches above. He lies down nearby for a good look at the springtime sky of promise.
Meanwhile, the village on the other side of the ridge yonder is aroar in flames. But Simon cares not for what worries him not. Rising smoke mingles with the puffy, summer clouds—unless Simon sees the fire, he can’t tell smoke from clouds. In perfect bliss he imagines unicorns and friendly dragons among the cotton balls aloft.
Oblivious to assaults on the rule of law, to suppression of voting among Democratic constituencies, to the absence of integrity in government, to falsehoods directed by foreign influence and domestic partisans, Simon drifts into sweet slumber as the Village called Democracy burns in agony.
Let the Captain and his crew survive their predicament and fight another day. Let them drop the F-bombs, the incendiaries, the leaflets that promise wholesale destruction in the absence of wholesale surrender. Let them save Democracy.
“Let them” or pray that they will? That is the question. But then who should I be—Captain Outrageous or Simon the Simpleton?
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© 2020 by Eric Nilsson
