When an essayist collects miscellaneous items for a Bits and Pieces essay, it is inevitable that some of the items have to do with thoughts we would all like to avoid. For nearly two years now, for example, the United States has been engaged in wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. This sort of adventure inevitably means that death becomes one of the subjects that we are forced to deal with. But this essay is about more than the deaths incurred in our engagement in the Middle East. It asks a question about why is the end of life presaged by diminished performances or failures in the other organs of the body than the initially afflicted one. When a person falls prey to one bodily failure, why is it the case that often other failures also make a debilitating appearance.
And so this section of Bits and Pieces poses a conundrum about piling on. We will try to make the subject as palatable as possible.
PILING ON – A PHILOSOPHICAL CONUNDRUM
If Merriam Webster is to be believed, a conundrum is a question having only a conjectural answer. It may be said that my conjectural answer is no better or worse than anyone else’s conjectural answer. In short, there are no real answers to conundrums.
This conundrum goes along this line. When the end of life is approaching, why is it often the case that the “soon to die” person finds herself or himself burdened by other ancillary ailments?
When a man is dying of heart problems, why, for example, is it necessary to burden him further with a loss of hearing or diminished eye sight? When an aged person who has trouble merely walking, might also find himself or herself dealing with complications of electrolyte imbalance. Why is that so? When my older brother was bedridden with Parkinson’s disease, why did he have to endure blindness and stomach problems? Even his preachers had no satisfactory answers.
Children have a word for this situation. It is called piling on. In a football game, when the runner is brought down by a tackle or by tripping, it is considered the height of un-sportsmanlike behavior to pile on. Penalties are assessed for such conduct.
In war, when a soldier is mortally wounded by enemy fire, he is permitted to spend the few remaining moments or minutes of his life in as much peace as the situation may offer. Even enemy soldiers would not attempt to kick him or to stab him. Again, why pile on? But in the general population, piling on happens all the time.
Old folks have enough problems without being burdened by other disabilities or ailments. There is a certain randomness about who is afflicted with additional illnesses to go with the cause of their initial disability. Why all this happens is a matter of conjecture and guessing. There is no real answer. About all that may be said about the randomness of piling on is that it affects every class, every race, and every economic group. A rich religious person may find himself in the same hospital ward with a tapped out horse player who rejects the idea of any religious thought. So perhaps piling on might be called the great leveler.
Speaking of randomness, a great many of us were born at a time when it was necessary to grow up during the Great Depression. The Depression, of course, was followed in 1941 by the Second World War. Nearly all the men known to me came out of that experience with a distinct aversion to the needless sacrifice of young lives. The pre-emptive war in Iraq has now taken 920 American lives as well as 122 others in the coalition. Best estimates are that there may be 20,000 casualties on the Iraqi side. The current administration tells us that these lives are being sacrificed to make us feel safe. The same administration almost daily warns us of an impending attack because they hear “chatter” on the Islamic and Arab networks. There is no reconciliation of these dire warnings which come from the same administration.
So on top of growing older with all the attendant pains from the diseases of the aging, we have the threat of war. Perhaps this is the ultimate example of piling on.
Eric Bogle was born a Scot who emigrated to Australia. He has written some outstanding anti-war songs that express the futility of armed conflict. He wrote a song called, “No Man’s Land.” It is also called, “The Green Fields of France” and “Willie McBride.” This is a song about the First World War, the war that was supposed to end wars.
The song is about a young Irish Private, Willie McBride, who was killed in that war at age 19 in 1916. Bogle has written a powerful thought at the end of the first verse. The lines are:
“Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean,
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?”
Perhaps all of us would prefer our ultimate demise would come in Eric Bogle’s words, as “quick and clean” rather than as “slow and obscene.” But unfortunately, many of us go the slow and obscene route for no apparent reason. Why this is so is unknown to all rational human beings. Religionists may give you an answer, but whatever they say is nothing more than a conjecture at best.
And so the philosophical conundrum remains with us. Why is there a need to pile on? That is a question whose answer is now largely unknown to man.
A final thought that also comes from Eric Bogle. It has to do with prolonged suffering. This line comes from his, “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda,” another anti-war song.
In the First World War, Winston Churchill was the Defence Minister for the British Empire. Churchill was an ardent advocate of the idea that the best way to attack Germany was to invade in the “soft underbelly of Europe.” The “soft underbelly” was in the vicinity of Gallipoli in Turkey, which is located on the Sea of Marmara. The Australian-New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) was picked to neutralize Gallipoli and surrounding territory.
The ANZAC’s met fierce resistance. Bogle said it “nearly blew us right back to Australia.” In his song, Bogle speaks of a soldier who lost both legs. The song says, “Never knew there were worse things than dying.” If he was a young man, the agony and prolonged suffering probably extends over decades. The conundrum has to be why did it happen this slow and obscene way.
The prolonged suffering continues. Consider Max Cleland who lost both legs and his right arm at age 25 in the War in Vietnam. He is now about 60 years of age. Cleland went on to serve a term as a U.S. Senator from Georgia. He must know all “about piling” on a prolonged basis.
In Part II of this Bits and Pieces essay, there is no glib and happy way to end this short discussion of a subject that is not a pleasant one. What we have tried to project is a pragmatic look at a miserable subject. Perhaps laughter and enjoyment will come from a subsequent essay.
E. E. CARR
August 1, 2004
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This isn’t even a proper B&P essay, since it only has one topic. I feel somewhat cheated; this is just a regular, sad, essay. I wonder what motivated Pop to write this one.
It’s a pretty song, at least.