I'd Like to Thank All the Little People

'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo.

'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.' (Fellowship of the Ring)

You can get a lot of satirical mileage out of The Lord of the Rings -- Wizards, Elves, silly names like Frodo and Bilbo, and Tom Bombadil. If a person is the cynical, mocking type, as I usually am, LOTR is a goldmine. Yet, I get the nearly the same twinge from people mocking Tolkien that I get from people mocking the Bible. On those exceedingly rare occasions when their cleverness is actually clever and amusing and not very tired and cliched, I may even chuckle. Still, I would rather they not do it. There are things we need to take seriously.

The values that Tolkien expresses are serious. In fact, I would say that the power of Tolkien lies somewhat in the tension between the silly and serious. The idea that a small, child-like creature with a nonsensical name would have to carry the fate of the world is what ultimately makes the story break our hearts, as Lewis once said. The reason is that, when we are honest with ourselves, we realize we are more than a bit nonsensical.

If you are ever driving on Highway 60 across southern Missouri, you will see an exit for a little town called Norwood. If you were to take that exit and drive north, you would be able to turn on a gravel road that leads you to Oak Grove Cemetery. There you would find a marker for a man named Ova Kelley. Ova Kelley has his own page in Wikipedia. Why is that? Because he is one of the few Americans ever to be awarded the Medal of Honor, though, like the majority, it was awarded to him posthumously.

The citation reads:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Before dawn, near the edge of the enemy-held Buri airstrip, the company was immobilized by heavy, accurate rifle and machinegun fire from hostile troops entrenched in bomb craters and a ditch less than 100 yards distant. The company commander ordered a mortar concentration which destroyed 1 machinegun but failed to dislodge the main body of the enemy. At this critical moment Pvt. Kelley, on his own initiative, left his shallow foxhole with an armload of hand grenades and began a 1-man assault on the foe. Throwing his missiles with great accuracy, he moved forward, killed or wounded 5 men, and forced the remainder to flee in a disorganized route. He picked up a M-1 rifle and emptied its clip at the running Japanese, killing 3. Discarding this weapon, he took a carbine and killed 3 more of the enemy. Inspired by his example, his comrades followed him in a charge which destroyed the entire enemy force of 34 enlisted men and 2 officers and captured 2 heavy and 1 light machineguns. Pvt. Kelley continued to press the attack on to an airstrip, where sniper fire wounded him so grievously that he died 2 days later. His outstanding courage, aggressiveness, and initiative in the face of grave danger was an inspiration to his entire company and led to the success of the attack.

Private Kelley from Norwood died fighting in the Philippines, a long, long way from home. He was a little country boy -- only 30 when he died -- with a funny name. I grew up on the Central Plateau just a little further north of where Ova Kelley was laid to rest. I knew a man named Ova Clark, but he was always called "Ovee". In fact, in the Ozark dialect, an ending 'a' is almost always said as 'ee'. Imagine a grown man being called "Ovee". It's almost as bad as "Sue", or maybe "Frodo". Somehow I don't think the Japanese were laughing.

I think there are still people like Ova Kelley. I know there are. Some have died just recently in places as far from Oklahoma City or Fayetteville or Pratt as Leyte was from Norwood. The names may have changed, now it's Mark or Justin or Jason, the hearts are the same. The love of country is the same. The love of right is still the same.

We may be simple people. We may go to Wal-Mart. Our reading habits may run more to Zane Grey than Foucault or Beckett. If we are a Burroughs fan, we are probably talking about Edgar Rice rather than William. We may have gone to a cow college instead of Columbia. We may drive a Silverado or an F150 -- but it will have 4-wheel drive and maybe nice after-market wheels, along with a rust spot and maybe a dent where we slid off that backroad and into a post oak a few years ago. We like minding our own business, and we like being free. Modern conveniences are nice, but we can do without them. We can make stuff, fix stuff, grow stuff, and kill stuff if we need to. We know what a sucker hole is, and we understand the fine art of grabbing.

Perhaps, now that Health Care Reform is the unconstitutional law of the land, the simple people, the Tea Partiers, and the rednecks will shut up and let it go. They have beaten us. We are only protesting, so they say, because we are hate-filled, racist, and stupid. They know what is best because they say so. They are in power so they get to make the rules and do what they want. They tell us there is nothing we can do about it.

Maybe we will believe them. The state-approved news outlets are shouting the benefits -- but not the costs -- of the new and historic reform. We have already been told we are all socialists now. Maybe.

Maybe not.

I think that across this country there are funny-looking little men and women with nonsensical names, people who have been mocked and ridiculed by Hollywood and Washington, D.C., by news readers and professors and PBS presenters. We are not cool, and we are not flashy, nuanced, or trendy. We are also not Europeans. We are also the people who build your houses, drive your trucks, program your computers, grow your food, mine your coal, and fight your wars. We go to church. We are the guys and gals you want on your side when the transmission goes out, when the storm hits, when the sandbags need to be filled, or when you need blood. We are the people who will stick when no one else will. Because we are nice and not loud, obnoxious narcissists and exhibitionists, they think they can push us around. And they can. Up to a point. But they have pushed us into a corner then pushed one more time. I think we will not stay in our corner. I think we will be coming out -- around them, over them or through them -- whichever they like.