Photo Finish (Repatriation Redux Edition)

 

 

As has been observed and commented upon often, those who fought in Vietnam, unlike their World War II counterparts, returned to civilian life with very little fanfare, which can happen when the enemy forgoes an unconditional (or any kind of) surrender. Yet there was a notable exception to this lack of enthusiasm: Operation Homecoming, the 1973 Paris Peace Accords-negotiated return of 591 prisoners-of-war that began on February 12 and ended about two months later. Whether it was because of so many men in uniform coming back to the U.S. in such a relatively short amount of time (unlike non-POW servicemen, whose return from 'Nam was spread out over several years), or because it was a more agreed-upon hellish experience that better fit the requirements of a pro-America morality tale (unlike, say, My Lai); the POWs' repatriation was a major media event, best exemplified by the above Pulitzer Prize-winning picture, titled Burst of Joy, snapped by Associated Press photographer Slava "Sal" Veder on March 17, 1973 at Travis Air Force Base in Salano County, California. 

On the left is USAF Lieutenant Colonel Robert L. Stirm, whose plane was shot down over Hanoi in 1967, upon which he was taken prisoner and not released until three days before this picture was taken. Running toward him with arms stretched is Stirm's 15-year-old daughter Lorrie. I haven't been able to track down ages of his other children but suffice to say I think they're all minors and were even more so minors when their father was shot down. That's son Bo Stirm (Robert L Stirm Jr) right behind Lorrie; daughter Cindy, wife Loretta (soon-to-be Stirm's ex as the absence failed to make her heart grow fonder), and lastly son Roger. Upon winning his Pulitzer, Veder made sure that everyone depicted received a copy of the photo.

Speaking of dollar gains, it's been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but is it worth a thousand $$$$$$$? We now go to that bastion of capitalism, PBS, for an answer to that question: 

Watching that, I get the distinct impression Lorrie Stirm Kitching never had any attention of selling either the photo or her father's POW mementos. She just wanted to share with us some of that picture's thousand words.

Vital Viewing (Cultural Exchanges Edition)

 

Actor Tom Berenger was born on this day in 1949. I tend to think of him as an almost-movie star. He had--has--the talent and the looks and was in a number of hit movies in the 1980s, but never seemed to quite reach that celluloid summet. Even when he played the main character in a film, I can't remember him ever getting that screen idol-defining above-the-title billing. So it was with some surprise, of the pleasurable sort, to find out that he not only may still be considered famous, but that his fame has apparently spread to, of all places, ...

...the Middle East. About six years ago Berenger went to the Kingdom of Jordan to conduct some kind of acting workshop and while there sat down for this interview, where he proves to be every bit as amiable as he is talented, and, even as an older gent, good-looking. Watch:

Since Hollywood largely has moved away from celluloid, as mentioned in the above clip, maybe there's still time for Berenger to reach the digital summit, without that click-click-click to hold him back. Before that happens, though, I want to return briefly to an era when film was still shot on film, and for that we need to leave Southwest Asia, and go to...

...Southeast Asia.

(It was actually filmed in the Philippines, but that's still Southeast Asia.)

Let me set up the following scene. Amiable actor Berenger, in the role of the less-than-amiable Staff Sgt. Barnes, finds that he's the target of a possible murder plot, retaliation for Barnes own murder of a fellow serviceman. Charlie Sheen portrays the main plotter. Watch: 

Sometimes I feel deprived about having mostly missed out on the 1960s. But not when I watch this clip.

Sterling Structures (Memorial Day Edition)

 

 It used to be much simpler to build a monument. The roll of honor on bronze tablets, or the statue of the fallen warrior holding a flag appeared predictably on the village green. Anonymous generals and unknown soldiers furnish innumerable traffic islands. Forgotten heroes dot the nation's parks. The uniform changes, the heroes sit or stand or occasionally ride a horse, but the message remains the same: a noble cause well served.

Nowadays, though, patriotism is a complicated matter. Ideas about heroism, or art, for that matter, are no longer what they were before Vietnam. And there is certainly no consensus yet about what cause might have been served by the Vietnam War.

But perhaps that is why the V-shaped, black granite lines merging gently with the sloping earth make the winning design seem a lasting and appropriate image of dignity and sadness. It conveys the only point about the war on which people may agree: that those who died should be remembered.

--The New York Times

I thought about what death is, what a loss is. A sharp pain that lessens with time, but can never quite heal over. A scar. The idea occurred to me there on the site. Take a knife and cut open the earth, and with time the grass would heal it. As if you cut open the rock and polished it.

--Maya Lin 

At the age of 21 and not yet graduated from college, Maya Lin won a national design competition for the planned Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. This was back in 1981, and while she's done a lot of worthwhile architectural designing since then, the memorial remains her most well-known work.

  

 

Credibility Gap

My previous post was a comically exaggerated attempt to show how the counterculture of the 1960s eventually found its' way to us elementary school-age kids, often through, of all things, Saturday morning TV. Today's post is about another aspect of the 1960s, but this time I'm going to try to write about it with a minimum of exaggeration. Remember, however, that I was seven, and this was 40 years ago.

In either the fall or winter of 1969, my school had an assembly--remember assemblies? That's when the gym was converted into an auditorium, and us kids got out of class to watch something either entertaining, like a movie, or, more often, vaguely educational, but that was all right since we weren't going to be quizzed on it. This particular assembly was about Vietnam. Not the Vietnam War. Just Vietnam. The country.

A man walked out on stage and, with the help of slides, told us all about the Vietnamese countryside, Vietnamese food, Vietnamese clothing, Vietnamese customs, Vietnamese holidays, and how the Vietnamese went about earning a living. The war was never mentioned.

Once he was finished, the man on stage asked us kids if we had any questions. A couple of seats from where I sat, a classmate of mine raised his hand.

"Yes, young man," said the older man on stage.

"Isn't there a war in Vietnam?"

The man on stage immediately started laughing. And when the man on stage immediately started laughing, so, too, did all the teachers start laughing. And when all the teachers immediately started laughing, so, too, did all of the kids start laughing. And when all of the kids immediately started laughing, so, too, did I start laughing. And I genuinely found my classmate's question funny. Hilarious, even. Forty years later, I wonder why. It was, in fact, a good question. I don't remember what the man on stage said once he finished laughing ("out of the mouths of babes" would be a good bet.)

Forty years later, I also wonder what in the world made the adults in charge think they could put on an assembly about Vietnam in 1969 without ever mentioning the war. Yes, we were a bunch of ignorant six-, seven-, eight-, and nine-year-olds, but the events of the day nevertheless trickled down to us.

I think some common sense went MIA that day.