I went to Walden on Sunday to pick wild apples and swim.

On the way, just outside of Hardwick, I noticed I was following a big, shiny black van with license plates that said: GOVERNMENT. It was also sporting a “Vermont National Guard” decal.

I knew where they were going:  To home of the Walden man, Tristan Southworth, who died last week in Afghanistan as a member of the Vermont National Guard.

And I guess I’m getting old, too. Because calling the 21-year-old Tristan “a man” seems odd. He did, after all, only just become legal to buy a cold can of beer at the same Hardwick Quick Stop that I stopped at on Sunday afternoon.

Tristan’s home is about a half mile from our camp in Walden. Or about a mile from the home we lived in for nearly a decade while dutifully serving our Walden Time.

Walden, of course, is wicked cold, isolated (No store! No post office! And nobody seems to notice!), and economically challenged. It is, therefore, prime recruiting ground for young men and women like Tristan who are looking for some way to “stick around.”

Frankly, we should be ashamed of what we are offering our youth.

Imagine, for example, if a young man like Tristan was offered a chance to serve the country by helping to truly protect it from the real boogeymen: poverty and its sinister and willing accomplice, greed.

Sticking with that theme, consider these words from the Vermont National Guard’s mission statement:

[To] p rovide to the State of Vermont trained and equipped personnel to protect life and property, preserve the peace, order and public safety. Add value to our communities by involvement in local and state programs.

Please, which part of this mission involved sending a Walden boy to Afghanistan?

I only met Tristan once, as far as I can remember. He was a little boy, probably about six. His mom was friends with Steve Hale, a friend of mine too, the fella who first called me,  “Moike.”

Steve was about as local Walden as local Walden can be. But we hit it off really well. We organized the “locals vs. the flatlanders” softball game. Yes, game. Because, quite frankly, we (flatlanders, duh) were so bad that it was hardly worth the effort.

Steve invited the Southworth family to be on his side. And that’s when I met Tristan.

Like I said, I didn’t know him. But following the government van to Tristan’s house on Sunday made me want to try and remember him.

I gathered apples throughout the day, looking down the hill toward Tristan’s house from time to time. You could hear the cars coming and going.

It was a rare but perfect Walden day: sunny, warm, no bugs and the water looked thick in the late-summer light.

I picked apples. I swam. And I thought.

The best I can report is: This sucks.

We were fooled. We refuse to admit that we were fooled. And we continue down a national warpath that is killing thousands of U.S. citizens like Tristan and hundreds of thousands of Afghanistan and Iraq citizens, many innocent civilians.  

Until we realize that war is the most pathetic and misguided place to channel our so-called patriotism, we will continue to be fooled. Time after time.

Worse, many good Democrats will be fooled again tonight by President Obama’s speech to the nation regarding “the end of the Iraq War.” They will allow themselves to feel better about the new rhetoric and the timelines. Oh, the timelines!

But they will be fooled. Because from the moment President Obama says that, “the combat mission is over,” there will still be 50,000 U.S. soldiers in Iraq and twice that many “military contractors.”

“Wink, wink, nod, nod,” is what Obama is offering the nation tonight.

Because he can. That’s what we, the people, tolerate: Strong leaders! And liars! Well, as long as the liars are on “our team!”

Sadly, the script for tonight has already been written – and well-rehearsed: The Good Democrats will cheer that “their man” has a plan for calling war something not so unpleasant and The Good Republicans will jeer since “their man” isn’t able to do the same (and better!), damn it.

Did you detect the difference? Good. Keep it in mind in November. Or not.

Otherwise, just keep saying this to yourself in the mirror whenever you hear “the parties” speak: Keep fooling me. Bring it. I like it. Over and over. Go team. Better than YOUR team.

And, whatever you do, don’t admit that Tristan in Walden had absolutely no business being in Afghanistan doing what he was dutifully doing for a U.S. military/industrial complex that is being led by a man from one party while the members of the “other” party happily play along.

Ah! Two-party bliss!

The same two-party bliss that led to the policies that took Tristan Southworth from the wilds of Walden to the all-too-different wilds of Afghanistan.

Support the troops? Hear, hear, cried the party faithful. Both parties.

Whatever you do, don’t spoil the mood.  The two-party mood, as in: Support the Troops! (Read: And the absolutely incomprehensible and simply unsupportable reasons to support the mission that these troops are – wink, wink, nod, nod – trying to carry out.)

Got that? Good.

But the truth of the matter is: Tristan Southworth should have been picking apples with me on Sunday in Walden.

Which is to say: Stop the wars. Now.

Rest in peace (yes, peace), Tristan.

[cross-posted at Broadsides.org]