My response from Mary, she seems to have changed her tone a bit.
January 22, 2009
Mr. Roger Harkness
1908 Hughson Avenue
Oklahoma City, OK 73141-1042
Dear Mr. Harkness:
Thank you for contacting me about U.S. foreign policy. Understanding your ideas and concerns is important to me, as it helps me to better represent you and the Fifth District of Oklahoma.
I am committed to representing your views and working with other Members of Congress to make a positive impact here in Washington. I have made a note of your comments and will keep them in mind in the future.
Thank you again for taking the time to share your ideas and concerns. As the 111th Congress addresses the many challenges facing our nation, I hope you will continue to share your thoughts and views with me. However, due to increased security measures, mail delivery may be delayed for up to two weeks. Accordingly, I encourage you to visit my website at www.fallin.house.gov to contact me via email in the future. While visiting my site you may also sign up for my e-newsletter as well as find useful information about issues facing the 5th District.
Sincerely,
Mary Fallin
Member of Congress
***************************************************************
Dear Mary
I can’t call you honorable right now because you keep sending me emails telling me that Israel has a right to terrorize innocent civilians. But innocent civilians are not hurting them and revenge is never a right and I believe Israel has had their revenge, they can stop now.
It is to my shame both you and my tax dollars support this. But maybe you watch Fox News and don’t really know what is going on over there. So I thought I would share with you some REAL NEWS:
”
Still Breathing
By Caoimhe Butterly in Gaza
January 16, 2009
The morgues of Gaza’s hospitals are over-flowing. The bodies- in their
blood-soaked white shrouds- cover the entire floor space of the
Shifa’a hospital’s morgue. Some are intact, most horribly deformed,
limbs twisted into unnatural positions, chest cavities exposed, heads
blown off, skulls crushed in. Family members wait outside to identify
and claim a brother, husband, father, mother, wife, child. Many of
those who wait their turn have lost numerous family members and loved
ones.
Blood is everywhere- hospital orderlies hose down the floors of
operating rooms, bloodied bandages lie discarded in corners, and the
injured continue to pour in- bodies lacerated by shrapnel, burns,
bullet wounds. Medical workers, exhausted, and under siege, work day
and night and each life saved is seen as a victory over the
predominance of death.
The streets of Gaza are eerily silent- the pulsing life and rhythm of
markets, children, fishermen walking down to the sea at dawn brutally
stilled and replaced by an atmosphere of uncertainty, isolation and
fear. The ever-present sounds of surveillance drones, F16s, tanks and
Apaches are listened to acutely as residents try to guess where the
next deadly strike will be- which house, school, clinic, mosque,
governmental building or community centre will be hit next and how to
move before it does. That there are no safe places- no refuge for
vulnerable human bodies- is felt acutely. It is a devastating
awareness for parents- that there is no way to keep their children
safe.
As we continue to accompany the ambulances, joining Palestinian
paramedics as they risk their lives, daily, to respond to calls from
those with no other life-line, our existence becomes temporarily
narrowed down and focused on the few precious minutes that make the
difference between life and death. With each new call received as we
ride in ambulances that careen down broken, silent roads, sirens and
lights blaring, there exists a battle of life over death. We have
learned the language of the war that the Israelis are waging on the
collective captive population of Gaza- to distinguish between the
sounds of the weaponry used, the timing between the first missile
strikes and the inevitable second- targeting those that rush to tend
to and evacuate the wounded, to recognize the signs of the different
chemical weapons being used in this onslaught, to overcome the initial
vulnerability of recognizing our own mortality.
Though many of the calls received are to pick up bodies, not the
wounded, the necessity of affording the dead a dignified burial drives
the paramedics to face the deliberate targeting of their colleagues
and comrades- thirteen killed while evacuating the wounded, fourteen
ambulances destroyed- and to continue to search for the shattered
bodies of the dead to bring home to their families.
Last night, while sitting with paramedics in Jabaliya refugee camp,
drinking tea and listening to their stories, we received a call to
respond to the aftermath of a missile strike. When we arrived at the
outskirts of the camp where the attack had taken place the area was
filled with clouds of dust, torn electricity lines, slabs of concrete
and open water pipes gushing water into the street. Amongst the
carnage of severed limbs and blood we pulled out the body of a young
man, his chest and face lacerated by shrapnel wounds, but alive-
conscious and moaning.
As the ambulance sped him through the cold night we applied pressure
to his wounds, the warmth of his blood seeping through the bandages
reminder of the life still in him. He opened his eyes in answer to my
questions and closed them again as Muhammud, a volunteer paramedic,
murmured “ayeesh, nufuss”- live, breathe- over and over to him. He
lost consciousness as we arrived at the hospital, received into the
arms of friends who carried him into the emergency room. He, Majid,
lived and is recovering.
A few minutes later there was another missile strike, this time on a
residential house. As we arrived a crowd had rushed to the ruins of
the four story home in an attempt to drag survivors out from under the
rubble. The family the house belonged to had evacuated the area the
day before and the only person in it at the time of the strike was 17
year old Muhammud who had gone back to collect clothes for his family.
He was dragged out from under the rubble still breathing- his legs
twisted in unnatural directions and with a head wound, but alive.
There was no choice but to move him, with the imminence of a possible
second strike, and he lay in the ambulance moaning with pain and
calling for his mother. We thought he would live, he was conscious
though in intense pain and with the rest of the night consumed with
call after call to pick up the wounded, the and the dead, I forgot to
check on him.. This morning we were called to pick up a body from
Shifaa hospital in Gaza city to take back to Jabaliya. We carried a
body wrapped in a blood-soaked white shroud into the ambulance, and it
wasn’t until we were on the road that we realized that it was
Muhammud’s body. His brother rode with us, opening the shroud to
tenderly kiss Muhammud’s forehead.
This morning we received news that Al-Quds hospital in Gaza city was
under siege. We tried unsuccessfully for hours to gain access to the
hospital, trying to organize co-ordination to get the ambulances past
Israeli tanks and snipers to evacuate the wounded and dead. Hours of
unsuccessful attempts later we received a call from the Shujahiya
neighborhood, describing a house where there were both dead and
wounded patients to pick up. The area was deserted, many families
having fled as Israeli tanks and snipers took up position amongst
their homes, other silent in the dark, cold confines of their homes,
crawling from room to room to avoid sniper fire through their windows.
As we drove slowly around the area, we heard womens’ cries for help.
We approached their house on foot, followed by the ambulances and as
we came to the threshold of their home, they rushed towards us with
their children, shaking and crying with shock. At the door of the
house the ambulance lights exposed the bodies of four men, lacerated
by shrapnel wounds- the skull and brains of one exposed, others whose
limbs had been severed off. The four were the husbands and brothers of
the women, who had ventured out to search for bread and food for their
families. Their bodies were still warm as we struggled to carry them
on stretchers over the uneven ground, their blood staining the earth
and our clothes. As we prepared to leave the area our torches
illuminated the slumped figure of another man, his abdomen and chest
shredded by shrapnel. With no space in the other ambulances, and the
imminent possibility of sniper fire, we were forced to take his body
in a body bag in the back of the ambulance carrying the women and
children. One of the little girls stared at me before coming into my
arms and telling me her name- Fidaa’, which means to sacrifice. She
stared at the body bag, asking when he would wake up.
Once back at the hospital we received word that the Israeli army had
shelled the Al Quds hospital, that the ensuing fire risked spreading
and that there had been a 20-minute time-frame negotiated to evacuate
patients, doctors and residents in the surrounding houses. By the time
we got up there in a convoy of ambulances, hundreds of people had
gathered. With the shelling of the UNRWA compound and the hospital
there was a deep awareness that no-where in Gaza was safe, or sacred.
We helped evacuate those assembled to near-by hospitals and schools
that have been opened to receive the displaced. The scenes were deeply
saddening- families, desperate and carrying their children, blankets
and bags of their possessions venturing out in the cold night to try
to find a corner of a school or hospital to shelter in. The paramedic
we were with referred to the displacement of the over 46,000 Gazan
Palestinians now on the move as a continuation of the ongoing Nakba of
dispossession and exile seen through generation after generation
enduring massacre after massacre.
Today’s death toll was over 75, one of the bloodiest days since the
start of this carnage. Over 1,110 Palestinians have been killed in the
past 21 days. 367 of those have been children. The humanitarian
infrastructure of Gaza is on it’s knees- already devastated by two
years of comprehensive siege. There has been a deliberate, systematic
destruction of all places of refuge. There are no safe places here,
for anyone.
And yet, in the face of so much desecration, this community has
remained intact. The level of social solidarity and support between
people is inspiring, and the steadfastness of Gazan Palestinians
continues to humble and inspire all those who witness it. The level of
sacrifice demands our collective response- and a recognition that
demonstrations are not enough. Gaza, Palestine and it’s people
continue to live, breathe, resist and remain intact and this refusal
to be broken is a call and challenge to us all.
———-
Caoimhe (pronounced “Cueeva”) Butterly is an Irish human rights
activist presently in Gaza working in Jabaliya and Gaza city as a
volunteer with ambulance services and as co-coordinator for the Free
Gaza Movement, She can be contacted on 00970-598273960 or at
sahara78@hotmail.co.uk.
—
Voices for Creative Nonviolence
1249 W Argyle Street #2, Chicago, IL 60640
Phone: (773) 878-3815
E-mail: info@vcnv.org
web: www.vcnv.org”
This will also be posted to my blog peacefulvet.net/blog