Mobley: Maze becomes metaphor for misguided war in Iraq
To meditate on Iraq, I went to Oconee County. To the Washington Farms corn maze.
I started with the corn cannon near the parking lot, a pneumatic tube that shoots half-ears of dried corn about 50 yards on a low arc. The two painted targets made a particularly Athenian axis of evil - Osama bin Laden and a Florida Gator.
I picked Osama. He's still at large.
I drove around to the corn maze entrance, parked. Being male, I didn't ask for instructions or directions or a map. I just walked right in, seduced by the ease of the first long, gently curving path.
In most places, the corn was only about as tall as I am. Being large, I thought I had an advantage over the kids running and laughing in another part of the maze.
But soon I realized the maze was bigger than even me. I don't have much hate in my heart, and I'm not violent, but I was ready to throttle the guy who cut this maze out of the cornfield. The person who took me in circles and drew me into dead ends. The one who made the 50-foot distance from where I was to the center of the maze seem a mile of twisting paths and roundabouts.
There were hints - signs with multiple-choice trivia questions that had "right" or "left" added to every choice. Pick the correct answer and then turn that way. But how am I supposed to know how many times the word "corn" appears in the Bible?
The weather was spectacular. The kind of late fall afternoon when the time of day and the season mirror each other, and every color of the autumnal rainbow is somewhere if you look long enough.
A rumbling drum line from a distant marching band announced that game time was approaching, but I could no more make that kickoff than I could fly.
Many years ago, pathetic attempts at sailing and kayaking showed me I have a particular gift for coming about, which we on land call turning around.
I did similar circles in a corner of the maze, listening to the wind rippling through the withered brown leaves.
The challenge of a maze is as mental as it is physical. To have enthusiasm for going back the way you came and retracing your steps with a smile on your face. Or at least with a sense of resignation not heavy enough to slow you down.
When I first saw this maze online, how it has "Support our Troops" and "Remember the Veterans" carved into the field, along with a ribbon and a tank and other symbols, I thought mostly that the farm operators are patriotic.
The longer I was out there, the more the medium and message seemed well-matched.
Our country marched into a labyrinth without a map. We thought our size would be advantageous. But we were asked questions we didn't anticipate. And to add insult to injury, the guy in charge put on a flight suit and a show to tell us we were done, when we weren't even halfway there.
Yes, we should support our troops, who deserve the best training, equipment and security we can provide.
They also need to be guaranteed that when they enlist, they'll be sent to do work that needs doing.
And we must know for sure that we're being protected, not that we're going fishing for who knows what with our men and women as bait.
The corn maze is there through Halloween. Every man, woman or child who walks in is - after some glorious frustration - going to walk out.
Many of our people in Iraq won't.
Maybe it's time to retrace our steps.
• Mark Mobley is a freelance writer based in Jefferson. Send e-mail to markmobley@gmail.com.
Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 102106
I started with the corn cannon near the parking lot, a pneumatic tube that shoots half-ears of dried corn about 50 yards on a low arc. The two painted targets made a particularly Athenian axis of evil - Osama bin Laden and a Florida Gator.
I picked Osama. He's still at large.
I drove around to the corn maze entrance, parked. Being male, I didn't ask for instructions or directions or a map. I just walked right in, seduced by the ease of the first long, gently curving path.
In most places, the corn was only about as tall as I am. Being large, I thought I had an advantage over the kids running and laughing in another part of the maze.
But soon I realized the maze was bigger than even me. I don't have much hate in my heart, and I'm not violent, but I was ready to throttle the guy who cut this maze out of the cornfield. The person who took me in circles and drew me into dead ends. The one who made the 50-foot distance from where I was to the center of the maze seem a mile of twisting paths and roundabouts.
There were hints - signs with multiple-choice trivia questions that had "right" or "left" added to every choice. Pick the correct answer and then turn that way. But how am I supposed to know how many times the word "corn" appears in the Bible?
The weather was spectacular. The kind of late fall afternoon when the time of day and the season mirror each other, and every color of the autumnal rainbow is somewhere if you look long enough.
A rumbling drum line from a distant marching band announced that game time was approaching, but I could no more make that kickoff than I could fly.
Many years ago, pathetic attempts at sailing and kayaking showed me I have a particular gift for coming about, which we on land call turning around.
I did similar circles in a corner of the maze, listening to the wind rippling through the withered brown leaves.
The challenge of a maze is as mental as it is physical. To have enthusiasm for going back the way you came and retracing your steps with a smile on your face. Or at least with a sense of resignation not heavy enough to slow you down.
When I first saw this maze online, how it has "Support our Troops" and "Remember the Veterans" carved into the field, along with a ribbon and a tank and other symbols, I thought mostly that the farm operators are patriotic.
The longer I was out there, the more the medium and message seemed well-matched.
Our country marched into a labyrinth without a map. We thought our size would be advantageous. But we were asked questions we didn't anticipate. And to add insult to injury, the guy in charge put on a flight suit and a show to tell us we were done, when we weren't even halfway there.
Yes, we should support our troops, who deserve the best training, equipment and security we can provide.
They also need to be guaranteed that when they enlist, they'll be sent to do work that needs doing.
And we must know for sure that we're being protected, not that we're going fishing for who knows what with our men and women as bait.
The corn maze is there through Halloween. Every man, woman or child who walks in is - after some glorious frustration - going to walk out.
Many of our people in Iraq won't.
Maybe it's time to retrace our steps.
• Mark Mobley is a freelance writer based in Jefferson. Send e-mail to markmobley@gmail.com.
Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 102106
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