The movie Good Morning, Viet Nam was not filmed until
1987 but was set in Saigon, 1965. If not for Robin Williams and the story line
involving pop music vs Lawrence Welk’s orchestra, I could not have sat through
it. The humor relieved tension as specific images brought me to tears: the convoys,
the jungle attacks, the napalm bombs, the screaming civilians. The movie’s
action was early depicted against Martha and the Vandellas’ classic “Nowhere to
Run” and concluded by juxtaposing Louis Armstrong’s “It’s a Wonderful World.”
Today, amid news of coronavirus and COVID-19, I hear
number of cases, number of patients on ventilators, number of dead,
refrigerated trucks serving as temporary morgues. It's so dire, it's hard to comprehend, such as the depth of the Vietnam war as I dropped by tween classes at the Henderson State student union, 1966-69.
This week, some say, data may show the “apex” in NYC. While Arkansas’ results have been far below prediction,
medical professionals suggest the peak in states sparsely populated is not far
off. I am both encouraged and wary. It is a wonderful world, but the world is
in a pandemic.
Here I sit on the deck with a slight breeze and the buzz
of bumble bees begging to be swatted into next week. An iced beverage to my
right and trees of green before me. Robins hop through the clover in search of
supper where I just plucked several of the four-leaf variety for my collection.
I revel in the vibrant pink and purple Wave petunias I planted yesterday. This
morning, a hummingbird checked on my supply of nectar and a walk provided time
for reflecting on the beauty of the day against the trials of Holy Week.
And then, I came face to face with a gorgeous dogwood
tree, its blossom the symbol of Christ’s cross. Holy week spirals headlong into
despair and shudders at that moment Jesus gave up the ghost. Saturday, though, I
will pause, I will wait because I know that Sunday’s coming.
It is a
Wonderful World.
