The War and the Waiting : Behavior: Sending letters, prayer, creating support groups may prove ideal therapy for those trying to weather fears of the Gulf War here at home.
It concentrates the mind wonderfully, wrote Samuel Johnson, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight.
Or, he might have added, when a country collides with war.
For when a nation bleeds it is changed forever. Usual thoughts of more ordinary days seem vacant, even silly before news that is fresh, grim and awful. The images of war persist, then become indelible:
Of . . . sad, dazed faces of soldiers beaten into meaningless confession. Also, one young proud, grinning, handsome, vital face to start a new roster of American dead for military histories and hometown monuments. And hometowns that have barely healed from the last war.
Of . . . an ephemeral hope, because it was only months ago when a wall fell and there was glasnost and perestroika and the world said peace had broken out and this would indeed be the best of times.
But now, again, fear at home. “I have to take pills so I can sleep. I’m afraid something very bad is going to happen to him . . . . “
Soberness. “It is not the bright new world as quickly as we thought . . . . “
Confusion. “Mr. Romero, they said one died . . . . “
Anger. “If they saw one face of the women and children they’re bombing they would have to stop this madness . . . . “
Sadness. “The Jewish people have been hurt too many times . . . . “
Resolve: “Appeasement does not bring peace . . . . “
For many Americans at home, the emotional shifting of living in a country at war has come in seemingly small but telling ways.
As elsewhere, sales of American flags and Mideast maps have boomed in Orange County, while business, especially earlier last week, dropped sharply at many movie theaters and restaurants. Even at places like bowling alleys and recreation centers, where attendance stayed about normal, people huddled around the TV monitors, glued to the war news.
Like Steve Fisher, 40, of Huntington Beach, who continued to work out at the Los Caballeros Sports Village in Fountain Valley, where he could ride a stationary bike but keep watching the latest Pentagon press conference on an overhead TV monitor.
“You can’t leave the TV very long, not at this time. We have stayed up late each night since that Wednesday (Jan. 16). The rest of the time, it’s the radio turned on,” said Fisher, an associate professor in accounting at Cal State Long Beach.
Others, like the Brogno family of Mission Viejo, have displayed the American flag outside their home, a standard 3-by-5-foot banner above their garage.
Why? “To show our support of the troops over there, of course,” said Mike Brogno, 32, who is openly disdainful ofthe anti-war groups, saying such protests “make me sick.” “My wife and I tell our (three) kids this isn’t just a war over oil, it’s a defense of our freedom and the freedoms of others from that madman, Saddam,” Brogno said.
But the great common denominator among all Americans, regardless of their war stance, said Pete Major of Santa Ana, is “our great concern over the loss of lives over there.” “Americans may differ where they draw the line in the sand, but all of us want our people back home, safe, as soon as we can,” added Major, 43, an urban planner who has opposed America’s entry into war.
Yet in the daily lives of many Americans, the war has already made profound modifications--such as how to explain the war to the children.
For instance, Major and his wife, Connie, and their three children (ages 8, 10, 12), have watched a lot of TV news. “We wanted to prepare them. But we have always talked things out, and we feel our kids are pretty level-headed,” Major said.
Still, like many other families, the Majors have made sure that they maintain their normal schedule, including a Boy Scout hike last weekend in Rancho Jurupa Park in Riverside County. “You keep up with the news,” he said. “But life must go on. You can’t let it (war) obsess you, or disrupt your life too much.”
And the war has produced an epiphany for one social volunteer who recently turned formal political activist.
Prior to 3:35 p.m., Pacific Standard Time, Jan. 16, Mona LaVine of Santa Monica was concerned primarily with the war on hunger. Her hot meals program serves 300 homeless each night. There are always more homeless than meals.
“So it is interesting that in a very short time our government could house a half-million soldiers in a desert without electricity or plumbing, but they will not house the homeless in our own country,” commented LaVine. “So I am joining the peace demonstrations. I have committed myself to march once a week at the Federal Building in Westwood.”
Such personal involvement, counsels Hyla Cass, assistant professor of clinical psychiatry at UCLA, is ideal therapy for weathering Desert Storm. Especially for those with friends and relatives serving the military.
“Sending letters, creating support groups, being busy in a positive way . . . I think taking an active stand is very therapeutic,” she said. “Prayer is important. I think that when people have a spiritual connection--both their own personal connection with family and community--it gives them a support, as opposed to isolation.
“People become much more disturbed when they are having this experience in isolation.”
Cass offers this emotional survival kit for the home front:
* “Positive things can come out of everything. Seeing our lives in view of life and death, and how important or unimportant our activities are . . . this may be a motivation to put more meaning into our lives, our daily activities and our relationships.”
* “Stay informed. People feel comforted by being informed. Even if the news is bad, the not knowing can be worse.”
* “Reach out to people. Begin to do things that are more significant, particularly things that can ultimately be used to prevent wars. As a psychiatrist, I think that peace begins inside. We wouldn’t have wars if people felt OK about themselves. War is a push to power and power has to do with an inner feeling of powerlessness.
Rebecca Russo, 26, an Indiana University graduate and a child-care aide at the Los Caballeros Sports Village in Fountain Valley, put it this way: “It (war) is absolutely frightening. My generation has never known a war. Thank God, I don’t know anyone who’s fighting there. But I know families who do have people over there, and it’s really rough for them.”
The unique buildup and final countdown of this war, says licensed clinical social worker Maurie Cullen, was a difference producing enormous public apprehension.
“This didn’t catch us by surprise,” she explained. “We were just waiting for the first person to make the first move and I think part of the anxiety came from apprehension . . . of not knowing when that (first strike) would happen.
“Having a deadline date, but never being sure, and always hoping that it wouldn’t come to war. . . . “
But it did come to war. Also to a flood of information, threats from Iraqi leaders, visible precautions against terrorist attacks--and unprecedented hyper-vigilance in America.
“I’m hearing fears that this is not a war that is being played by any particular rules,” Cullen said. “There is security at airports. Concerns for biological warfare. The poisoning of the water supply . . . with people very frightened about these possibilities that are out of their (public) control.”
Cullen says she is working with some “very fearful” flight attendants. “You deal with it openly and say there certainly is a possibility (of terrorist attack) and you deal with the anxiety as it comes up.
“I don’t think I can falsely reassure anybody and say it is not going to happen. We can only hope that it doesn’t. And I don’t think it is healthy to crawl into a shell and hide from everything.”
No, the Ellis family hasn’t changed its schedule; basketball class Saturday and Sunday as previously planned, taking kids to Disneyland. But, yes, otherwise, they are glued to the TV war news or radio.
“You can’t shelter your children from this (war news). They heard about it at school. They see it--the gas masks, the explosions, all that from Baghdad, Israel and Saudi Arabia--on TV,” said Mark Ellis, 35, a title-insurance sales official who lives in Trabuco Canyon in south Orange County with his wife Rodda and sons Christopher, 8, and Tristan, 5.
“They ask about it constantly. They worry we (in the U.S.) might be bombed, about what a terrible person this Saddam is. But we assure them, we are safe here,” Ellis said.”We try to explain to them the war, as best we can. We show them the globe, where the gulf region is, where our troops are stationed. We tell them about the coalition against Saddam and how this is a U.N. effort, not just America alone.”
Rodda Ellis adds: “Kids are affected by this (war) more than we realize. They absorb a great deal. It is vital that you talk it out with them, both at school and at home.”
Both Mark and Rodda Ellis grew up as Marine brats in Twentynine Palms. They were high-school students in the early 70s when their fathers, career Marines, were serving second tours of duty in Vietnam. Mark’s father was a Marine sergeant major; Rodda’s father a Marine officer.
She says: “No, we don’t have family or friends over in the gulf. But we know the feeling. We know the fears, the uncertainties of waiting and keeping up with every detail of the war.”
Mark Ellis adds: “We back our President on this. No one wants war. And like everyone else, we want it to end as soon as possible, our troops back home.”
Yet professional celebration planners see an indefinite moratorium on a popular theme.
They say there should be no Arabian Nights parties for awhile.
Times Staff Writers Robin Abcarian, Michael Quintanilla, Kathleen Hendrix, Jeannine Stein, Herman Wong, Beth Ann Krier and Kathleen Kelleher contributed to this story.