Jimmy!

Plenty. “GERONIMO!” Shouted during WWII by U.S. paratroopers to overcome their fear when jumping into German guns, the cry, “Geronimo!” has flipped in American military argot from revered inspiration to terrorist target. And no one seems to notice. Well, not quite everyone. Loretta Tuell, a member of the Nez Perce tribe and staff director and chief counsel for the Senate Indian Affairs Committee, says it is inappropriate to link Geronimo – whom she calls “one of the greatest Native American heroes” – with one of the most hated enemies of the United States. "These inappropriate uses of Native American icons and cultures are prevalent throughout our society, and the impacts to Native and non-Native children are devastating," she said. "It's another attempt to label Native Americans as terrorists," observed Paula Antoine of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe in South Dakota. "Osama bin Laden was a shared enemy," said Jefferson Keel, president of National Congress of American Indians, the largest organization representing American Indians and Alaska Natives. Since 2001, 77 American Indians and Alaskan Natives have died pursuing Osama bin Laden or his al-Qaeda network in Afghanistan and Iraq. More than 400 have been wounded. [AP, Reuters May 3/11] I KILL THEREFORE I AM "Today's achievement is a testament to the greatness of our country the president declared. "We are once again reminded that America can do whatever we set our mind to," he concluded – including, presumably, a $14 trillion deficit, the 83 Americans dying by gunfire every day, and 104,000 Americans killed or injured by guns every year, the one in five kids living in abject poverty, the 18 million American children who wake up and go to bed hungry every day in the Greatest Country In The World, infant mortality topping 29 other countries, 14 million Americans out of work, one of every 75 men behind bars, 7 million Americans on probation, in jail or prison, or on parole (mostly for smoking an innocuous wild plant sold in Amsterdam cafes), the nearly three million Americans who have lost or are about to lose their homes to bailed-out banks… and more than one million grieving families in Iraq and Afghanistan who never hurt or threatened Americans but whose husbands, fathers, wives, mothers, children and grandparents are dead at American hands. "That is the story of our history,” President Obama said. And he was right. "May God bless the United States of America," he added. To Joshua Holland, it sounded like an urgent plea for forgiveness. GETTING THE LESSONS? “We cannot find justice for them, but we can kill and call it justice,” says the author of The 15 Biggest Lies About the Economy. [truthout.org Aug 5/10; Bureau of Justice Statistics: Bulletin—Prisoners in 2005; huffingtonpost.com Oct 31/08] Perhaps the families of Osama bin Laden’s victims will now find some closure. And all those who bought into a decade of cynical fear-mongering will finally be able to walk to their mailboxes without fearing a turbaned bogeyman whose mass marketing even included a cameo appearance in a Harry Potter flick. Now the most violent jihadists have yet another martyr to “justify” another cycle of revenge – and the inevitable counter-terror terror. That is, if they buy that their leader really is mortally fatally terminally dead. Osama insists that he isn’t. A video released soon after Obama’s televised announcement features that other terrorist (the one without drones) saying, "Some of you may question if I'm still alive, so I will give you recent news to prove I am." The emaciated bearded figure turns to a television, then back to the camera saying, "Manchester City still haven't won a trophy." Ah, the power of virtual reality to haunt us forever with every walking-talking visage from Elvis to Evita! Given Manchester City’s record, Osama could have made this tape decades ago. Heavy odds are that he really is fish food. Few are sorry to see this supreme asshole finally get a taste of his own bitter medicine. As Mark Twain remarked, "I never wished a man dead, but I have read some obituaries with great pleasure." Still, in the end killing this latest Geronimo is not that big a deal. Not unless it gives us pause to reflect and repeal our bloodthirsty bent for “permanent” wars on people who have oil and aren’t white. Not unless all those troops deployed under the long shadow of Saddam and his bitter enemy, Osama will finally be coming home. (And leave all those pipelines and oil wells in their owners’ hands?) Even the man who fanned the fervor for Osama bin Laden’s made-for- Hollywood death declared in a press conference on March 13, 2002, "You know, I just don't spend that much time on him." [Inter Press Service May 4 /11] Good riddance to Osama bin Laden and all the wars we rode in on. By William Thomas

JIMMY! What are you up to now? Thanks for your timely Christmas 2011 reminder… Any moment now, we are going to exit our own bodies, just like you did, for whatever comes next. If Hollywood’s got it right, along with our top soothsayers and entrails-readers, then entropy’s final dissipation has been canceled and an energy still coherent enough to be “you” is hanging around watching the new TV you just got hooked up in time to check it out before checking out. Well, that’s cool, I guess. Or maybe not. Not being able to reach out and touch, or feel this north wind on your craggy Alberta face, that’s got to be missed I would think. Yet, if you’re still there on the other end of this disconnected line – hanging out on the other side of a veil thin as a last breath – I bet there are some pretty compelling compensations. Hope so. You never were big on superstitions – whether promulgated by church or state. You always were a straight ahead, straight talking man. Unlike other masters, you chose to have your realizations over a lifetime of adventuring, fathering, and generally carrying on – before sitting on the couch in your own style of silent seated meditation. If a measure of spiritual attainment is the focus and dedication someone brings to their practice, then you were definitely a pilgrim on the path. Your thing was collecting old gas pumps. Why did you like to collect old gas pumps? Because, as you explained it to me, you liked to collect old gas pumps.

You were the real deal, Jimmy, the genuine article, last of the breed. And we already miss you like like an empty well that no Prairie rain will ever refill. As we’d discussed, you were getting out just in time (with myself and the rest of us right behind you) – pulling that big ripcord just ahead of that tsunami of converging calamities. Take your pick. We both knew the list. You seemed to spend a lot of your remaining time sitting quietly in various departure lounges, looking straight ahead. Teevee was often involved in your couch-a-thons. So were books. But there was a lot of just- sitting-still-looking-out-your- eyes that either meant you were awaiting revelations. Or some vital part of you had already departed. Sometimes it looked like you were killing time - until it got even by killing you. So I guess you were okay to leave, not in haste I hope, finally too fed up with your body’s progressive failure to want to even pretend to function. But because it was time. We talked about death. In particular your immediate adventure of dying. Whether it meant meeting some capricious white-bearded sky god – or much better, those rumoured eager virgins– you weren’t much in favour finding out.

Other times, you were fully engaged passing tools and plates, carrying stuff, driving your limmaculate white truck or co-piloting it with Misha. It always announced its arrival well in advance. The wonderful low rumble from that big diesel sounded like one of those old wooden Chris Crafts idling up to a dock… Whenever I’d see you, or call you up, I’d shout your name with such exuberance – JIMMY!!!!! – it filled my entire being with joy. I’m still shouting your name. It still is.