History Repeats Itself

In her later years, my paternal grandmother, Mary Murdock Miller, compiled a Book of Poems, Late Flowers. This lovely little family treasure, compiled in the early 1940’s, contains poems reflective of the time she lived. Just think – she was born in 1863 – the middle of the United States Civil War, a bitter battle North vs. South. Her children were born in the later years of the century. She was a female participant in the First World War through her work with the Red Cross. And in her final decade she experienced the Second World War. Some of her poems reflect that history. One poem in particular caught my attention this morning as I thought of all the current debate over U.S. policy in assisting Israel with arms.

Here is my grandmother’s poem:

The Schoolboys

(When Finland asked for a shipment of arms and we refused.)

As home from school they made their way

John, Russ, Fritz, Sammy and others

They talked of incidents of the day,

Of their cousins, fathers and brothers..

But talk grew tiresome, play grew rough.

Fritz snatched Checky’s coat and cap.

John cried, “Please don’t get tough.”

And Fritz knocked Checky off the map.

Then Polly trembled and tried to hide

But Fritz and Russ ganged up on her

And John and Franky could not abide

Injustice rank, nor long defer

Action to punish the bullies bold

So shoulder to shoulder they marched in

To settle the matter the tale is told.

Then Russ tackled poor little Finn.

The air was filled with many a rock

As from combatant’s hands they flew;

Full many a head received a sock.

And many a nose was bloodied too.

By the stone wall our Sammy stood

Clothing spick and span and neat;

Viewing the scene with neutral eyes

Alertly erect on steady feet.

Poor little Finn in need then cried,

“Oh Sammy bring me some stones.”

Shall Sammy smugly say with pride

“I must keep the peace and save my bones?”

Life of the body or life of the soul,

Which shall it be in time of stress?

Shall we refuse the weakling aid

Rather than bring on us distress?

The peace of the nation its pride may be

If earned by efforts free from blame,

But fear for the body, it seems to me

Buys a craven peace, a country’s shame.

As I reread this poem I also think of the ongoing controversy over sending aid to Ukraine.