Author Archive for Iris Law

Obama Turns 48

Head and shoulders of a man in his forties with close-cropped hair, dressed in a dark grey suit, light blue shirt and blue with maroon and white rep tie. On his left lapel is a pin of the American flag. Over his right shoulder the U.S. flag and the presidential seal are a bit out of focus.The 44th President of the United States turns 48 today.  Born in 1961 in Honolulu, Hawaii, he came into the world at the tail end of the Baby Boom.  During the 2008 campaign, much was made of the fact that he was younger than the other candidates.  But did you know that he is actually not the youngest man ever to be sworn in?  A bit of trivia: According to Wikipedia, Obama is the 5th youngest person to be inaugurated as President.  Teddy Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, Bill Clinton, and Ulysses S. Grant, who were 42, 43, 46 & 5 months, and 46 & 10 months respectively at the times of their first inaugurations, beat him out for the title.

Filed under: BoomersFunHistoryNews

Remembering Vietnam: Komunyakaa’s “Facing It” and Other War Poems

Every generation has a war that marks and shapes the years of its coming-of-age. For today’s young people, it is Iraq.  Before that, it was the Persian Gulf.  For those who grew up in the ’60’s and 70’s, it was undoubtedly Vietnam.

In his poem, “Facing It,” celebrated writer and Vietnam veteran Yusef Komunyakaa recalls a visit to the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C.  His language paints a powerful picture of a man whose memories of war have been engraved onto him as permanently as the names carved on the wall.

Facing It
by Yusef Komunyakaa

My black face fades,
hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn’t,
dammit: No tears.
I’m stone. I’m flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me
like a bird of prey, the profile of night
slanted against morning. I turn
this way–the stone lets me go.
I turn that way–I’m inside
the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
again, depending on the light
to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names,
half-expecting to find
my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap’s white flash.
Names shimmer on a woman’s blouse
but when she walks away
the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird’s
wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white vet’s image floats
closer to me, then his pale eyes
look through mine. I’m a window.
He’s lost his right arm
inside the stone. In the black mirror
a woman’s trying to erase names:
No, she’s brushing a boy’s hair.

(source: The Academy of American Poets Website)

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More Poems About the Vietnam War:

Famous Poems About Other Wars, Past and Present:

Filed under: BoomersHistoryLiterature