On this road trip, we’ve passed a few VFW meeting places in little towns. They seem a big deal for social connection, something besides church. The old men meeting there are glad to have something to come together about, I imagine. Staying connected through their shared pasts.
The VFW sign on each building can be simple or fancier.
“Veterans of foreign wars,” I said. “As opposed to veterans of domestic wars…”
“Is a civil war a domestic war?” Ming asked.
We were in Idaho, driving through an old downtown, just passing through.
“Yes,” I said, thinking of the US’s civil war. “Those people are all ghosts, who fought in the civil war. They can meet informally. They don’t need a building. No body–no building.”
We laughed. Yes, the ghosts can meet outdoors.
“Or the veterans of domestic wars are the cops and the Black people,” I said, thinking of all that violence, cops killing Black people for a long time. Sort of like a war. “Not sure they need a building either…”
stories
Speaking of race and ethnicity, power, and violence as we travel is how we roll. Also I started thinking about things that happened a long time ago with my ex-husband. Ming and I might head to Minnesota after Montana; I haven’t been there since around the year 2000, meeting my former in-laws who never accepted me.
I told Ming stories from a long time ago. A sister’s bariatric surgery and dramatic weight loss, a wedding, a ride out to the house in a taxicab, horses, alliances, rich people stuff I don’t understand. Power in families, like what you can get if you do what they say. The sister’s power from being white with money, then becoming thin, to have more sway in a world where that really matters.
I like to sway as I dance. That’s the main kind of sway I have, right? How about you?
