I can’t remember when I first learned about peace. The word seems always to have been there, in prayers and benedictions (Peace Be With you, Pax Vobiscum), in songs sung at school, camp, church (Peace I Ask of Thee O River, Silent Night) and then the vast slew of songs in the ‘60s and ‘70s that either ratified peace or critiqued violence and war. My school had been a Quaker school and had carried on Quaker traditions and practices; we learned early about pacifism, and sometimes the hard way. Our great headmistress Miss Speer had lived in China in the ‘30s and saw a man on a horse get his head sliced off at the neck, yet he kept riding the horse for a few hundred feet. (Shipley friends—haven’t you carried this image with you forever?) Then there was the Assembly when members of the American Friends Service Committee came to talk to us about Vietnam. The talk consisted of showing us a film depicting what napalm did to the human body, including children. Girls ran screaming and crying from the gym. The headmistress, who may have been Mrs. Epes by then, another great, defended it, saying we needed to know what was being done in the world in our name. I agreed with that, but I also wondered why the concept of peace wasn’t persuasive on its own. Nothing made as much sense.
Whoa. I must have repressed Miss Speer's story. To your point, one would hope that peace would be compelling on its own without need of underscoring the hideous consequences. Even with both before us, apparently those who lead fall back on ancient ways. It has been one of life's sad disillusions that the world is as it is now when the movements of our youth (peace, feminism, animal liberation, etc) seemed so surely the wave that would carry us to a better future. Prior to Christmas, I started including in my prayers, "Peace on earth, Good will to men." Now, after the holidays, it stays in.
Peace Train has always made me cry. The line “join the living” always rang inside me to combat depression. This version has me weeping for its sheer beauty and the world. Thank you for all the hope in this post. Xo
Well, didn't you tie up everything in a Tiffany blue box, missing only the Kleenex? I don't know what will make me (good) cry more this time of year forever: your piece or Little Drummer Boy which gets me Every. Effing. Time. Happy New Year, bebe.
Amazing how those early experiences can get into our bones. In public school, over on the planet of Queens, Miss Oppido, the principal, spoke to us only once, to tearfully announce the president was shot. I have no idea what her views were on anything other than that she was capable of grief. And yet, I hope for peace, yes, please, let’s at least move toward it in 2024.
Whoa. I must have repressed Miss Speer's story. To your point, one would hope that peace would be compelling on its own without need of underscoring the hideous consequences. Even with both before us, apparently those who lead fall back on ancient ways. It has been one of life's sad disillusions that the world is as it is now when the movements of our youth (peace, feminism, animal liberation, etc) seemed so surely the wave that would carry us to a better future. Prior to Christmas, I started including in my prayers, "Peace on earth, Good will to men." Now, after the holidays, it stays in.
I’d love to read more about your schooling and the headmistresses
Peace Train has always made me cry. The line “join the living” always rang inside me to combat depression. This version has me weeping for its sheer beauty and the world. Thank you for all the hope in this post. Xo
Well, didn't you tie up everything in a Tiffany blue box, missing only the Kleenex? I don't know what will make me (good) cry more this time of year forever: your piece or Little Drummer Boy which gets me Every. Effing. Time. Happy New Year, bebe.
Happy new year, Alice! I’ve loved reading your newsletter this year.
Peace. I took a very deep breath at the end of your essay.
Best New Year’s eve message.
Amazing how those early experiences can get into our bones. In public school, over on the planet of Queens, Miss Oppido, the principal, spoke to us only once, to tearfully announce the president was shot. I have no idea what her views were on anything other than that she was capable of grief. And yet, I hope for peace, yes, please, let’s at least move toward it in 2024.
Peace. Yes. Peace on Earth-