Suzanne Fields

The Labor Day weekend marks the official end of summer, usually offering a final burst of reflection, with the singing of the crickets of late August bathing consciousness in a sad symphony of vague melancholia. We yearn to remember summer through the haze of lazy, happy days when nothing much happened. Not this year. News of suicide bombs in Iraq, horrendous wind and high water in our own South and anti-war protest in Texas seize our attention. Reflection this year carries high anxiety.

 The destruction of New Orleans breaks the hearts of everyone; never in our history, not even in the Civil War, have we seen a great city abandoned. Not even the most churlish critics of our military begrudge the dispatch of thousands of National Guardsmen, Navy ships and Coast Guard cutters to deal with pain and loss. At least not so far.

 Tragedy on the Gulf Coast washed Cindy Sheehan off the front pages and the television screens. The skirmishes at Prairie Chapel Ranch are quickly forgotten, and where are the correspondents assigned to Aruba and the search for Natalee Holloway now? For once, the cable-TV networks have dropped their pursuit of obscure crimes to follow a bigger story.

 Self-inflicted farce surrounds Cindy Sheehan, a mother whose grief over the death of her son in Iraq made her a perverse celebrity. She began her vigil to compel President Bush to grant her a second audience to talk about the war in Iraq, but at summer's end she pronounced herself "happy" that the president had declined to meet her again because otherwise she never would have become the icon of antiwar sound and fury. Who does not sympathize profoundly with a mourning mother? But she turned herself into an embarrassing rival only of Jane Fonda as a would-be maker of national policy.

 Now there are new appeals to America's enormous and generous heart. Infusions of money, blood and medicines must answer the pleas for help for the helpless displaced by Hurricane Katrina. Flood and destruction allow ordinary Americans to make sacrifices the war in Iraq has not demanded. Pent-up frustrations over the war seek an outlet, with the urgency of Lake Pontchartrain breaching the 17th Street levee, to do something for those suffering.

 Not many of us want to hear appeals for sacrifice to save Iraqis, no matter that saving them is in our own interests. George W. Bush frequently compares the moral rightness of the war in Iraq to the righteous war fought by "the greatest generation," and it seems to me that he's correct that taking democracy to Iraq is as important as taking democracy to Japan six decades ago. But he should be more eloquent in explaining why.

Suzanne Fields

Suzanne Fields is currently working on a book that will revisit John Milton's 'Paradise Lost.'

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