To Sing Frogs Chapter 29b

Before the seeding of the clouds the sky was full of black clouds. This is from our hotel room, after.

I was less smug while Celeste sat on my lap watching the parade on television. President Putin sent military planes up and seeded the clouds effectively punching a hole through a fifteen-mile diameter to the sun.

I empathized with the guy being interviewed as I watched the wind-up for the parade on BBC. The seventy-nine year-old Ukrainian veteran was disgusted when refused entry to the parade because he wasn’t invited.

I wondered, would Russia allow me to return in my old age? Would they see merit in what I had done even though it was for selfish purposes? If they did see value would it influence their decision?

“I didn’t need an invitation to go to the front!” the old man stated indignantly to swarms of reporters.

The parade began with a single Russian flag of white, blue, and red bars. It was followed by scores of yellow hammers and sickles on red flags, many proudly displaying the CCCP of former times. The replica trucks we saw on Friday were now filled with octogenarian veterans who were reliving their transport to the fighting. Backs of the trucks were loaded four people wide by five long. Rows of women were dressed in light blue uniforms with matching hats. Men were joined in groups, separated by different shades of dark uniforms and light colored shirts, according to their various divisions. Heavy chests were laden with medals and those who wore them waved red carnations at spectators including at least fifty heads of state. Vladimir Putin was seated front and center with his wife on his right and President George W. Bush on the left. First Lady, Laura, sat by his side.

I thought about the resources spent on a presentation to the world, celebrating the end of the event that was responsible for an epidemic of orphans in Russia. Children from the casualties of World War II went to the orphanages where they were fed and clothed in those institutions. They were never taught how to function in families. Without the example of mothers or fathers they never learned how to be parents. Consequently, orphanages were used to raise the offspring of many of those unfortunates as well. As the population of children who grew up without parents increased, so did the epidemic. Russia now has more orphans than they did at the end of the Great War. The situation can only worsen until children learn to live in families rather than institutions.

I am the first to admit that there is a time to go to war. I believe in sustaining armed forces to defend homelands. When is enough, enough? When should countries direct money away from preparations to kill people and divert them to teaching their citizens how to live? Surely money spent on seeding clouds, replicating military trucks from six decades earlier, and every other expense that it took to put on such an expensive display, would have been better spent placing children in homes.

It’s not just Russia. Screwed up priorities rule our world. As long as the world is led by politicians who continue to keep their heads in places that would seem anatomically impossible, that situation isn’t going to change.

Celeste and I watched divisions of soldiers in various military uniforms step to patriotic music played by marching and stationary bands. Some divisions goose-stepped others did not. Their boots pounded on tightly fitted cobblestones as they approached St. Basils. In the end, all turned away from the church.

Then our room began to rumble. It wasn’t an earthquake. It was a vibration that grew louder and more intense until it shook my heart. I jumped to my feet wondering if Chechens had made good on their promises to rain terror on V-Day celebrations.

Of course that wouldn’t happen. No matter how much anyone desires to spoil the outcome, no expense is spared to keep propaganda seamless in that part of the world. No one rains on government parades in Russia.

I quickly sat Celeste on the floor and rushed to the window to see what was going on. A formation of nine Russian fighters blew past the hotel rattling glass and shaking walls. They immediately showed up on the screen of the television. In a grand finale three more jets followed. They respectively spewed white, blue, and red smoke, laying out a Russian flag above the colorful onions topping Russia’s most famous cathedral.

 

Go to other sections of To Sing Frogs

Go to John M. Simmons’ blog