I did not begin to see any of the Grand Lie of the US mythology from the Puritans to the Founding Fathers to the Constitution to Manifest Destiny, etc., until spring 1969 during my first few weeks in Viet Nam at an old age of 27. (I was drafted at age 25 out of graduate school, dumbed down to the hilt.) It seemed, however, that as I began to see the first glimpses of the lie in the lives and bodies of Vietnamese villagers, its various and multiple layers began to rapidly unravel, over a period of four months. It was as if a guillotine suddenly had chopped off my ideological head. I was no longer able to walk the line, even as I initially really wanted to continue walking the path of American bliss. Just couldn’t put the lie back into the bottle as you all know in your own life experiences. My once proud parents were now embarrassed, resentful, and ashamed of their “lost” son. They were angry with my “bad attitude.”

But, still, it has taken many years to fully grasp the diabolical nature of Western industrial civilization, of nation-state-ism, of USA Disney, and it leaves me with grave questions as to how to recover my humanity while waking up each day in a culture of make believe and pretend, and bombings over and over and over.

On September 1, 1987, many of my family and friends (nearly fifty of whom were present as witnesses near the tracks at Concord) fully expected routine arrests of us three vets involved in the blocking action that day; we were fully aware we were risking a year in prison and $5,000 fine for interfering with movement of federal munitions trains. The lie of America, and all the moaning and suffering in its wake had been searing in my soul for 18 years by that time. I knew when that munitions train got by our block — the last obstacle to this death train being able to move lethal weapons to Central America with only one purpose, that of maiming and murdering impoverished people — real human beings worth no less than us would be maimed, murdered, displaced, and only a few people in my own country cared or gave a shit. The three train crew members, civilian employees of the US Navy, it turned out were also Viet Nam veterans, but they were still following orders of the Man which, on that day, said NOT to stop for us veterans. (This is literally true.) Unbeknownst to us at the time, Duncan Murphy and I were both on the FBI’s domestic terrorist suspect list due to our participation in the Veterans Fast For Life one year earlier.

And as I witness with all of you the United States’ continued historical pattern of barbaric war-making (well over 560 military interventions with troops since 1798; 28 countries bombed since 1945, Syria will be 29), I feel sickness in my stomach as I hear Obomber’s lead cheerleader, John Forbes Kerry (who was in Viet Nam’s Mekong Delta as a Navy Lt at the same time I was in the Delta as a USAF Lt) declare that the US must take the “moral high ground” to directly respond to Syrian “moral obscenity.” Kerry and I first met in 1971 at VVAW’s anti-war actions in DC in response to the moral obscenities being committed by the US in Southeast Asia. From 1982-1987 I associated with Kerry: first when he was Massachusetts Lieutenant Governor, then worked on his first campaign to become a US Senator in 1984, then served on his veteran’s advisory council once elected. Once in office, I soon became so disgruntled with Kerry that by 1987 I resigned from his advisory council. Though he sent condolence balloons to my hospital bed after I was nearly killed by the train (this is true), we have never seen each other since. Nevertheless, his campaign staff asked if I would work on his 2004 presidential campaign to defeat Bush II, hinting that if Kerry won I would be appointed to some position with the VA. Geez, these folks just don’t get it.

Kerry and I followed such different paths though both of us were anti-war when first out of that war in Viet Nam. But here is a case where power and ego can so smoothly lead to one’s adherence to diabolical behavior equivalent or exceeding the behavior we once renounced with vigor. And, isn’t it interesting that both our Secretary of State (a Delta Swift Boat commander) and Secretary of War (a Sergeant in the 9th Infantry Division, also in the Delta), are Viet Nam veterans who have said at various times that the US needs to learn from our “mistakes” in Viet Nam.

The diabolical pattern continues, and in some ways we are all complicit unless and until we collectively amass in the streets making governing/business-as-usual impossible, or in the alternative, totally withdraw our support by transitioning to local self-reliant communities possessing some autonomy—or some combination of each. Our country is unreformable and irredeemable, founded on the forceful dispossession of hundreds of Indigenous nations of real human beings in order to steal land, killing millions with total impunity; the forceful kidnapping of hundreds of tribes of Africans comprised of real human beings in order to steal labor, killing millions with total impunity; the forceful theft of raw materials and resources from around the world, killing and impoverishing millions with total impunity. These three holocausts have enabled us to believe we are an “exceptional” society. Rather, we are like spoiled adolescents who have never been held to account for our systematic criminality. The wool has not been pulled over our eyes. The wool IS our eyes.

The consequent pain and suffering caused by this historical pattern of US wealth built on massive exploitation has been outsourced out of our feeling field, out of our view, and still remains unspeakable. Yet the facade is cracking, as evidenced by the Occupy movement, and the repressive crackdown of that movement revealed how terrified the system is of people power emerging outside the claustrophobic box of acceptable reality. The official responses to the revelatory acts of people such as Bradley (Chelsea) Manning and Edward Snowden, show how really unbearable the truth is to the system; not surprising, since it has always operated on the lie, on pretend. Pretty incredible to watch how it runs for cover when faced with such dreaded transparency.

I celebrate 26 years of surviving a murder attempt that has left me walking upright on two prostheses, a plate in my skull protecting my damaged frontal lobe, with the grand opportunity of now having arm-powered myself more than 65,000 miles on handcycle. Today, Becky and I cycled to the rally against bombing Syria where we were inspired as we met many Syrians and other young people who totally get the lie. Yahoo!

Find your tracks, define your train, find others, and make your stand. Dignity trumps longevity.

— Brian, walking and handcycling in my 73rd year. Hard to believe.

September 11, 2011. Veterans For Peace at Arlington West memorial next to pier in Santa Monica, California. L–R: Michael Lindley, Ron Kovic, Frank Dorrel, Becky Luening, S. Brian Willson. Photo by Myla Reson.

The handcycling itself, from venue to venue, is a radically different experience than traveling by car. That fact alone made this leg of my book tour a thrilling trip. We cycled Hwy 101 from Coos Bay, Oregon to Cloverdale, California, with a little sag wagon assist south of Crescent City. At times it was a bit scary because 101 does not always have wide shoulders. In Northern California, about 40 trucks (many carrying cut redwood trees) passed us every hour, and on those sections where there was virtually no shoulder, there was often only about 2 feet between my left elbow and the truck. Thus, I had to be fully engaged with all my senses, focused on staying as far to the right as possible while avoiding any bumps on the road that might throw off my front wheel and at the same time constantly checking the rear-view mirror attached to my helmet. I averaged about 40 miles a day.

There was no set formula for my book talks. They became spontaneous expressions of the whole process of writing the book, stories from my life and summaries of various themes in the book, and occasional selected readings. Audience response was wonderful. The average attendance was 50, ranging from 0 at one disappointing event to 170 in Berkeley, California. Books were purchased by about 40 percent of attendees at any one event, which I am told is higher than average. I returned home happy and exhausted and am now resting up for the Veterans For Peace convention, to be held at Portland State University August 3-7, 2011.

I neglected this blog while on tour, as it took every bit of energy I had just to stay focused on the cycling and the book events. After a few days rest I hope to post more stories from the road.

–[post dictated by Brian]

Brian and Joel check their map somewhere along the road between Salem and Corvallis.

Thanks to The Book Bin in Corvallis, and to local organizers, VFP Chapter 132 members Leah and Bart Bolger, Brian enjoyed a wonderful book talk event and reception in that town. This came as no surprise to me; on our Veterans Ride for Peace in 2006 I remember the Corvallis gathering as the best potluck I have ever experienced in my entire life. Thanks to Brian’s friend Mike Hastie for these photos. More shots can be found on the Blood on the Tracks facebook page.

Leaving Salem

A young fan

Waffles the Clown travels in style

Good turnout at the Corvallis Book Bin

Brian signs books

Leah Bolger: Her shirt says it all.

This sign says a lot too.

Brian talks in front of The Book Bin in Salem, Oregon

About 10 people came to Brian’s  talk at the Book Bin in Salem, which was held on the sidewalk out in front of the store. Four people bought books and the bookstore bought an extra four for their inventory. Salem host John Roy Wilson, a fellow Viet Nam veteran, served as a medic in Viet Nam. John Roy will be delivering a small number of Blood on the Tracks books to the Annual Northwest Regional Conference hosted by Western Washington Fellowship of Reconciliation July 1-4 at Seabeck Conference Center in Seabeck, Washington. Also present at the event was Michelle Darr, whom Brian met in Corvallis during his 2006 ride through Oregon. He reported that Michelle has started a small pedicab business. Brian was also pleased to report that his old friend Josh Dostis, a.k.a. “Waffles the Clown,” from Western Massachusetts, was able to hook up with Brian and plans to be present at Corvallis and Eugene events as well.

Next: Corvallis. Stay tuned…

I think the best way to convey the unfolding of Brian’s book-tour adventure is to share a few photos (all taken by Mike Hastie, unless otherwise noted). Beginning with the “sneak preview” fundraiser at the Metanoia Peace House where Brian read on June 11. The living room was filled with like-minded folks who came to listen and were moved by the intensity of the stories Brian chose to read. His reading was well received and it was a great way for him to break the ice.

Brian's first book event at fundraiser for Veterans For Peace Chapter 72

A view of the room at Metanoia Peace House where Brian gave a "sneak preview" of his upcoming book on June 11th

It’s always hard to tell how many people will show up at a public event, because there’s always so much going on in this town, but there did seem to be a bit of a buzz going around, a lot of excitement building and information going out in a variety of channels. We weren’t disappointed when 80-90 people showed up at People’s Co-op for the big Book Launch on Friday evening (June 24). It was hard to get an exact count because people kept coming up the stairs and then backing out because of the lack of room. Brian was seemed a bit nervous but he soon hit his stride. He told some stories, chose some passages to read, and then fielded a lot of followup questions before finally signing and selling at least one case of books, maybe two. Here’s a few pics from that night:

This is why they call it a "book reading"

Brian points out his cycling companion, Joel Finkelstein (in orange jacket) at the standing-room-only crowd at his June 24th book launch event at People's Co-op.

Brian signs books at People's launch event

Although I accompanied Brian and Joel to the site of their cycling kickoff on Saturday morning (June 25), I missed the actual event because I had to rush off to my third day at the Focus on Book Arts conference in Forest Grove, Oregon. When I talked to Brian later, he told me about 15 people turned out to see him off, including a couple on a tandem.

The trip to Newberg was about 25 miles. Of those who cycled along with Brian and Joel, most dropped off within a mile or two; four went four or five miles; and one accompanied them all the way to Newberg—Tim, a mechanic who works for City Bikes. They left Portland city center at 8:30am, a half hour later than planned, but still managed to make it to Newberg right at noon, as scheduled, where host Bruce Freeman escorted them all up to his house which is at the top of a long, steep hill. I remember riding up that hill during another bike ride we did in 2006, and I can attest to its steepness.