War, what is it good for
Last night, we watched War Horse, don’t ask me why. Somewhere I read a good review of it and added it to our Netflix list and there it came right after the storm and we were wanting to watch a movie and so next thing you know, we’re watching War Horse.
Tear jerker from beginning to end and afterwards, when the credits rolled, and Steven Spielberg’s name came up as Director, we both simultaneously said, “Spielberg, of course.”
The story was a deliberate sob fest from beginning to end, manipulated by the endearment of that horse that was independent, loyal and beautiful. Of course.
But what later haunted my sushi dreams was war, and men who conceive, launch, fight and dream about war. I watched the images of men marching in formation heading off to kill other men and for the life of me, I could not replace them with women. I cannot fathom women conceiving, launching, fighting or dreaming of war.
I can see them marching in formation to the gym, to the mall, to the green market, but war? Come on.