Before I get into more Lakewood-related topics, there's something I would like to share. I have tried my best to be honest with you, and to bring you as much opinionated information as possible. I wish that I could tell you more at times, but if I did so, legal issues could result. They say that you can't be sued for an opinion, but there are gray areas--and these often serve to blunt freedom of speech far better than some dictator.

On the other hand, there are times when perhaps we should say more than we do, and although I have really enjoyed writing columns, I will tell you that the struggle of WHAT to say and HOW MUCH often causes me to have white knuckles at my keyboard.

One such topic is the war in Iraq. At one time, I intended to share a protest song that I wrote about the war in another periodical. I did not share it. This was partly due to my having friends and former students in the Armed Services, and partly due to not wanting to use the war to push a song. As well, in no way did I want to criticize our dedicated uniformed men and women or their honored service to our country.

Additionally, this topic was such an open wound on the soul of America, that well-meaning people had already discussed just about all sides of the conflict in the public forum.

So I was silent, and wrote about a protest song that didn't. And it was a cute article...nobody was offended...at least I didn't hear about it.

We went to war...(or did we? I do not recall that we declared it as such). We saw that "Mission Accomplished" sign...Since that time, thousands of Americans have died, with so many more wounded...and untold others on the other side, as well...and what about those in our supposedly protective custody?

And I was silent...

And yeah, one of those who died was a former student from my school. It seems like only yesterday that I saw him happily running through the halls. Not long ago, I stood numbly by his casket, along with his bereaved family.

And I was silent...

Maybe my song could have raised awareness, changed a mind, saved a life? Probably not...maybe so.

And I was silent...

Three thoughts came into my mind about all this. One was the painting, "The Scream," by Munch. Remember it? That curvaceous person with hands to ears and mouth, opened in silent horror, yet we do not hear.

Silence...

Also, the words attributed to Pastor Martin Niemoller, persecuted in Nazi Germany. Remember? I think he said that first the Nazis came (for other groups)...and he did not speak up. Then they came for him, and there was no one left to speak up.

And I, too, was silent...

And I seemed to remember hearing some stern and scary words from history... I think from some old Nazi propaganda newsreel...something about how a nation's VOLK (folk) must sing with one voice.

And I was silent...

Even now, I am certain there are readers who would prefer to return to a discussion of Lakewood streets, squirrels, elephants and deer, and I suppose we will...but not right now. I'm particularly good at writing about stuff that DOES NOT REALLY amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world...or maybe it does.

But I was silent...

Perhaps there are those, even now, who would prefer to limit controversial discussions. Perhaps they are right...Yet where are opinions welcome today?

And now, I've been seeing something that I've never seen before in this country...people who criticize you for raising any constructive voice that might be in opposition to the status quo.

What does all this have to do with Lakewood, you might ask? This is, after all, a local paper. Don't we have enough to discuss concerning local issues?

Well, there's a sacred monument in Lakewood Park with honored names on it. That's about as local as it gets. There's one of those in just about every town in America, I suppose. That's local....real local.

Did I say that I had been silent? I think I probably should have screamed.....or at least SANG...and with my OWN voice...whether I was right or wrong.

And now? They're sending even more of our young men and women over there. What about you...and your own voice? I don't know about you, but I'm picking my guitar back up.

My silence stops now.


An earlier version of this article was used in the Folknet publication CONTINUUM.