How Building a Saudi City Made a Lefty Out of Dick Underhill, VFP

PASD. That’s Post Awareness Stress Disorder. It’s what happens to you when you’ve been raised all your life to believe the story that the slaveholders and merchant pirates who founded the USA were good people and that the government of the USA is the best in the world.

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What you don’t see so much in the tip of the tremendous iceberg that Cindy Sheehan has thrown in front of the President’s war cruiser is the long years of preparation, the weekly vigils in Tucson, the courses in history, the film festivals, the fund drives, the chores and newsletters that finally fuse enough people together that they can move in under Cindy Sheehan and make sure she stays afloat as long as it takes.

Even Underhill thought the scene looked pretty desolate when he passed through Crawford Sunday afternoon (was that just two days ago?) and saw this one lonely tent pitched against the Texas prairie. Although by that point Underhill knew that the Crawford Peace House had thrown open its doors and CodePink had mobilized its network, “It didn’t look too powerful.”

“But you know what?” says Underhill, pausing for a while at home between his support trips to Crawford. “I think this has shaken the whole globe. I have a friend in Germany and he says it’s on television there. This has blown wide open.” Tuesday morning campers watched ABC camera crews hang through the rain to get dawn shots for the evening news. Something about Cindy Sheehan is bringing out the poetry in everyone’s imagination.

“And you know if we had anybody else out there, nobody would care,” he says. “This is all about Cindy.” And Cindy is all about Casey (May 29 1979-April 4 2004). Not in his name, Mr. President. Not. In. His. Name.

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