Still Melvin – Jan 2012
Out of the blue comes email from my old high school friend, Melvin Ash. I haven’t seen him in decades. We were the Viet Nam Moratorium Committee of 1970 in our little New England town of 3,000 people. We held a peace rally after school- 10 people came. We had a candlelight march ending with readings at the big white church – 6 people came. I played guitar and lead singing. Melvin found the readings and the news stories more truthful than the main media.
One spring day all juniors and seniors were herded into the high school gym for the military recruiters to pitch their enlistment deals. This was unannounced. We had no plan. After they explained all the good reasons we should join they asked for questions. I had two brothers already in Viet Nam and had been preparing my conscientious objectors statement. Melvin asked why they needed so many soldiers, was it as if all the nations were against us? They are against us said the Marine recruiter. That’s really paranoid, said Melvin. I said we were young and didn’t want to fight and die since we were only 18. Nobody wants to die, said the Army recruiter. Then tell us what we really want to know, I said, tell us how to stay out of the military.
Well, mouths fell open like we had suggested everyone walk naked down Main St. Some students and teachers didn’t speak to us. The recruiters thought we were traitors to our country and spoiling their work, which was on commission. Some of those kids did sign up and never came home again. Most got deferments from college or military manufacturing. We were satisfied that we had responded honestly to the war machine snatching up young lives.
And now decades and several wars later comes news that he and his son were part of Occupy Oakland and were beaten and gassed by the police while running. How little has changed.
He is an artist and illustrates his own books. He is the author of The Zen of Recovery, Shaving the Inside of Your Skull, and Beat Spirit. He is the one who said, Let’s go to Quaker Meeting. And here I am 44 years later at home among Quakers. And all this time later we are still pushing to the left, away from the madness of war, towards spiritual life. Some friends make such history.
