My wife had been trying to lure me into a nail salon for several years. I told her over and over that I was not going to be the only male in a nail salon, sitting in a chair to pay someone to cut my toenails. Although she had described several times in vivid detail all the delights of a pedicure, I remained resolute in my conviction. The Saturday before Easter about seven years ago she called from her salon and said, "I'm the only one in here. Now would be a great time for you to come." I relented and drove to the salon. By the time I arrived so had another female patron, but I was committed. After that marvelous experience she never had to cajole me again to get a pedicure and a manicure. More often than not, I'm the one to suggest we go.
My wife was working yesterday. I had some time on my hands so I drove up the road to a local nail salon. The technician was someone I had used before. Since she speaks very little English very few words had ever passed between us. Today we talked very little during the pedicure. During the manicure since we were face to face, she asked me if I was already off for Thanksgiving. And that started our feeble, yet somewhat successful attempt, at polite conversation. In those few minutes I learned that she has been in the states less than a year. She explained that "her country" is very hot and here it's very cold. Although the temperature had only dropped into the 40s, she said "It's very cold." I kidded that she should move to Florida. I could tell she didn't understand me, but she laughed politely. I also learned that the only family she has here is her husband and that they have been married ten years and that they have two boys. I asked her who kept her boys and she said, "My husband."
Although she and I had much trouble understanding each other, she had no trouble understanding the other technician. I find the Vietnamese language to be one of the most beautiful languages in the world. I so enjoy the rising and falling of the sustained cadence of musical sounds. It's hard to imagine that all those sounds that sound alike to me form actual words that have meaning like English words have meaning to me. But if the way they talked and laughed was any indication, the words meant quite a lot to them. I'm sure they sounded like home.
Since I had just then finished reading The Earth is Weeping about the American Indian wars and the cruelty of humans toward each other was fresh on my mind, I couldn't help but be a little sad thinking that just a generation ago the Vietnam War was scorching her homeland with napalm and killing its citizens. Over 50,000 American soldiers lost their lives in Southeast Asia. It is estimated that over 3 million Vietnamese, Laotians and Cambodians were killed during the twenty year conflict. We called it the Vietnam War. They called it the American War. Our infantry and Huey pilots fought bravely, but Saigon fell and the war was lost. Because of my technician's Western features, it is not unreasonable to imagine that her father was one of our GIs.
Because of some rumors of trouble, on the evening of December 28, 1890 on the Pine Ridge Reservation, South Dakota, members of the 7th Cavalry surrounded a peaceful settlement of Lakota Sioux Indians near the Wounded Knee Creek. Snow was falling and the temperature was well below zero. What happened the next morning went down in history as The Wounded Knee Massacre. There are many accounts of what exactly happened and who started the skirmish. Most accounts agree that three cavalry sergeants were trying to forcibly remove a rifle from an old deaf Indian who had been waving it over his head when the gun accidentally discharged. Bedlam ensued. As the melee cleared, the skirmish became more organized. The Indians had a few weapons that had not been recently confiscated.The soldiers were well-armed including four Hotchkiss mountain guns capable of firing sixty-eight rounds per minute at an accuracy of 2,000 feet. That's one bullet per second. As the battle ensued the Indians were outflanked and outgunned. After the shooting stopped and the soldiers halted their relentless pursuit several hours later, and the smoke cleared from the barrels of the Hotchkiss cannons, over 300 Lakota Sioux lay dead. Their bodies and blood were frozen in grotesque shapes where they fell in the frigid snow. Blood red took on a literal meaning against the white of new-fallen snow. Over half of those killed were women and children whose bodies were mangled from the machine gun fire and the butt of rifles to their heads. The wounded were taken to a nearby Episcopal Chapel of the Holy Cross. The chapel was decorated with festive green garlands. The wounded lay under a banner that read, "Peace on Earth. Goodwill to Men."
Nelson A. Miles was a decorated Union lieutenant during the American Civil War and was now a major General. He was well-liked by the Lakota on the Pine Ridge Reservation. Although he was nearby, he was not directly involved in the debacle at Wounded Knee. Two days after the event he wrote to his wife "This was the most abominable criminal blunder imaginable and a horrible massacre of women and children."
A few days after the massacre Chief Kicking Bear dismounted, walked toward General Miles clutching his rifle. The two stared at each other a few seconds and Kicking Bear laid his weapon at Mile's feet. The Indian wars for the American West were over.
But wars weren't over. During or after the Indian wars the United States fought in the The French and Indian War, the War of 1812, the Civil War and the Spanish American War. Albert Einstein said, "As long as there are men, there will be war."
For whatever reason Vietnamese nail technicians are constantly wanting to apply clear coat to my nails near the end of the wonderful process. I always say "no thanks." Today she didn't ask. She started applying "clear" to my toes before I could say anything. Turns out you really can't see it and maybe it will provide a little protection for my nails for the winter. I can't imagine what it feels like to be so far away from home experiencing winter and the American holidays for the first time. I'm grateful that she has her husband, her two sons and I'm sure a community of friends. Although we don't entirely understand each other, it gives me great hope that if we try we will learn that we are not that much different. We both need and want basically the same things. We especially need our tribe no matter how small that tribe has become. We need a common language and a culture that we are familiar with. Although strife between tribes and nations seems inevitable, it becomes much harder to go to war against a friend. Maybe "Peace on Earth. Goodwill to men", though remote, is still not impossible. Meanwhile, "peace on earth" can only happen when we have peace in our own hearts and when we have "goodwill to men." And when she asks "clear"? Just go with it.
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