Durango – Freedom of speech is a priceless right, but sometimes it’s better to keep quiet.
Organizers of a “wordless” candlelight vigil Monday night wanted to commemorate the loss of all service men and women who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan without any speechifying, protesting, rallying or judging.
Organizer Ricardo Moreno wanted an occasion and a place, just after sunset along the paths of the Animas River leading to Rotary Park, where a community, as divided as any by American policy in the Middle East, could unify to grieve, at his last count, 3,525 dead.
“It’s been difficult for people because the war has been so polarizing,” Moreno said. “But we all can recognize the importance of every individual lost. We have some common ground. Good will come from us remembering this.”
A group of volunteers set up candle-distribution stands around town, from the hardware store to bookstore, coffee shop to farmers co-op.
“We would like to see every soldier who has died represented by someone with a candle,” co-organizer Niara Isley said midday Monday.
It is a tall order for a town of 15,000. It could be, Isley said, that every hand will need to clutch 10 candles.
“Whatever the number of people we’ll have, it will be the right number,” Moreno said.
Isley, a veteran of the Air Force, has a son in the military. When he is in Iraq, she says, she can’t take a full breath. But even people who don’t have loved ones in the war even people who won’t watch news about the war, now four years old feel the losses on some fundamental level, she says.
On Sunday afternoon in Durango about 150 people had marched “for peace” down Main Avenue. They held up signs that read: “War is not the answer,” or, “Drop Bush, not bombs.”
There is a time and place to give your opinion and stand up for what you believe, Moreno said, but it wasn’t at this vigil.
He asked people to walk, from all over town, toward the park with their lit candles. And they did, in knots of twos, threes and fours, along the river trails. People sheltered their flames with cupped hands, handmade paper cones and plastic cups.
They had kids and dogs in tow.
Some wore Veterans of Foreign Wars caps. Some had dreadlocks.
They converged as dusk deepened around the park bandstand. Several hundred candles flickered above grassy hillocks.
A bell tolled to begin five minutes of silence.
The bell tolled again to end it. People stayed still and quiet several minutes longer before slowly dispersing.
“It was sweet. It was sad. It was perfect,” said Martha McClellan.
It hadn’t been completely wordless. Someone thanked people for coming. Children laughed and cried the whole time.
“It’s just essential for us as human beings that we have a solemn occasion of remembrance and shared grief,” Moreno said.
