By Bob Hoyt / Chronicle contributor
July 01, 2008 06:18 pm
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The Fourth of July was near. The Kid and the Cub had volunteered to trim bushes and weed flower beds in the veterans memorial park. The Kid occasionally nibbled at a tasty leaf. The Cub was unusually quiet.
“What’s bothering you?” the Kid asked.
“I’ve been thinking,” the Cub answered.
The Kid paused and chewed leaves. “About what?” the Kid said.
The Cub pawed a little dirt up around a rose bush. “Am I wrong, or does it seem that most humans who worry about abortion and embryos and stem cells and birth control don’t say much against war?”
The Kid was puzzled. “Yes, it does, but most humans don’t think much about war. It’s too far away. They’re used to war because their daddies went. Or, they go because their president decides there’s some big problem that young humans should be proud to die for. What started you thinking about it?”
The Cub seemed almost embarrassed to explain what he meant. “Well,” he said, “working here in this park I remembered that we’ve had over 4,000 men and women killed in Iraq. That doesn’t include Iraqis. And some humans say the war isn’t even necessary. If the average age of our casualties is around thirty, and they had lived to be at least seventy, then each one lost 40 years of life. That’s 160,000 years of human life. Can you picture all the children who might have been born if their daddies hadn’t died before they found their mamas? How many things might have been invented by those men and women? How many graduations might they have cried over? How many fish would they have caught and how many cool autumn mornings could they have spent in the mountains? It seems to me that we should be hearing a lot more about shortened young lives, if people truly believe that we should ‘respect life’ and ‘all life is precious’ like they say to each other over and over. They may sport yellow bow bumper stickers and pray a little for men and women over there getting killed and wounded, but they carry big picket signs for embryos. It doesn’t make sense.”
The Kid tried to be kind. “Maybe it is just that they know less about war than they know about making babies. I’m not sure we should be talking about this,” the Kid said, looking around for nearby listeners.
“Why not?” the Cub said. “You’re the one who’s always goin’ on about freedom of speech and stuff.”
The Kid felt awkward in his reversed role. “That’s right, I do,” he said, “but humans don’t want their beliefs questioned.”
The Cub growled, softly. “It’s not our fault if their religion won’t stand a few questions.”
The Kid was becoming more worried. “No, it’s not our fault, but humans have strong feelings about this stuff. They have their own ideas about freedom of speech, who is entitled to speak their mind and what the rest of the world should believe. They don’t want questions, they just want everyone to nod and agree and get along and be happy and be first to get to the fried chicken after church.”
The Cub protested. “Don’t talk about frying animals! That really upsets me!”
“Sorry,” the Kid said. “That was a bad example, but humans don’t fry young tigers, not around here anyway.”
The Cub sniffed. “Well, you’re my friend, and humans do barbecue young goats. So I guess you’re right. It’s just good sense to avoid giving them ideas about who to barbecue if they hear us talking and decide we’re their enemies.”
The Kid agreed, much relieved, as he nipped off a large bull nettle growing in a flower bed. “Okay, let’s pretend we’re old retirees. We’ll make up stories about golf games of long ago and how we did things better up north.”
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