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There are a couple of reasons for Telling Baltimore, and one that I heard bandied around last week was that both Iraq and Afghanistan have outlived the American attention span.
That was about a week ago, at a preview held at the Walters. A lot has happened since. Now Bin Laden and Afghanistan have suddenly moved back into the headlines. How long that’ll last is another question.
If “Telling” reminds us of anything, it’s that there’s a contingent of professionals, in a country where definitions of war and patriotism seem to shift with the 24 hour news cycle. They aren’t all heroes, and many of them never go near combat, but they all have fascinating stories to tell.
Produced by BR McDonald, hosted by Baltimore’s Veteran Artist Program, and written by professional Jonathan Wei, Telling: Baltimore is about ninety minutes. Loosely choreographed, and directed to give the narrative momentum and energy, it’s an affecting, occasional cathartic story of military life in 21st century America.
As all the participants remind us, it’s not always a story they’re in control of. As the world, and the country, and the economy grow increasingly more complex, so do the lives of military personnel. And the seven veterans who appear on stage in this production reflect that. Some entered the military because they had no other options; others did it in a rush of post-nine eleven patriotism. Two of the participants aren’t even soldiers: we hear from Pat Young, wife of a combat veteran, and Tracy, mother of Nicholas Ziolkowski, a Marine who died in Iraq in a firefight in 2004.
As Ms. Miller reminds us, and six others do too, joining the military is not just a career or an adventure; it’s a game changer. The most fascinating moments on stage were being acted out in real time. Veterans and retired officers go up on stage and ask themselves aloud, what their stories are, now that they’re out of the military.
For some, the experience involves something being taken away from them. Pat Young leaves Iraq without a religion and without his close friend. A veteran of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” era, gets a discharge after a decade of being unable to utter the “two words” that were essential to his own identity: “I’m gay.”. Ms. Miller, the mother of a soldier, emerges without a son.
Whatever the story, though, the sense is clear that the people out there are on stage, trying to turn the story of the War and the Military into their personal story. It isn’t always easy to watch. But it’s fascinating.
The attending crowd was largely (but not exclusively) military, but it didn’t leave me feeling like an outsider. I didn’t feel ready to sign up. And my opinions on the wars went unchanged and unchallenged.
I still get a little uneasy about the way the military is getting treated on film or in the movies. As the war heads into its second decade, I wonder whether we’re starting to look at them as players in a game that we’ve convinced ourselves is going to go on forever. There’s certainly a sense here that, even unlike the returning Veterans from Vietnam, these vets are unsure what role their sacrifices play in our nation’s history.
For the moment, without a clearly defined enemy, or without an exit strategy, it’s tough to decide where, in our national story, these two decade-long wars belong. There are plenty of highly placed people now who are trying to figure that one out. But as Telling Baltimore reminds us, the story of our war is, ultimately, the story of the people whose lives are changed by it. Check it out, May 6 and 7, at Stephen Hall Theater on the Towson University campus, at 8 pm.
Tags: Baltimore’s Veteran Artist Program, telling project, veterans
Filed Under: Feature Sights
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