Childhood Hunger

Bill Shore’s Letters

Letter From the Pentagon

September 2001

Dear Friend,

I'm writing you from the Pentagon's south parking lot. The smoke has cleared but not the acrid smell. From where I stand at the very base of the building, the men walking and working on its roof seem small, like miniature toy soldiers. The building is that massive. Cranes pick at its gash like vultures tearing into a wound.

There's no running and shouting anymore. Instead the parking lot that surrounds the Pentagon looks like the site of a convention, or public safety flea market. Tents have been erected. Salvation Army and Red Cross vehicles bearing license plates from Virginia, Maryland, North and South Carolina, Texas, Tennessee and a dozen other states are parked side by side with local ambulances. A mobile McDonald's has been erected, complete with Golden Arches. Enough Gatorade has been stacked on pallets to quench the thirst of the entire armed forces. Volunteers resting on folding chairs find shade and share stories, exchanging business cards. It is possible to forget that 180 bodies lie trapped beneath the rubble just yards away. But not for long.

I came to perform the smallest of chores: hauling 500 pounds of charcoal briquets from the back of my Jeep to the huge grill constructed by our friends at Tyson Foods. The plant manager who supervises 600 employees at their Berlin, Maryland factory brought his team members and an eighteen-wheeler loaded with chicken. They are going through more than 8,000 pounds of chicken a day, feeding as many as 2,500 rescuers and volunteers. Share Our Strength facilitated their participation here, though nothing could have kept them away. When they run over to express their gratitude for having some role to play, I know just how they feel.

Beyond managing grief, the toughest challenge for those of us who are not firemen, doctors, or ironworkers has been finding a way to help. Against a catastrophe of this scale, it's almost impossible to do anything that feels significant. So the small things count. I stack the briquets with extra care.

The headlines shout what our hearts already knew: the world has changed. But we're left alone to figure out what that means for each of us and what it means for the work we do. Twice this week I've been told: "The issue isn't hunger and poverty anymore." How can we expect our work to be a priority when America is engaged in what the President has called the first war of the 21st century? I'm sure colleagues in other organizations are also second guessing the relevance of their missions.

I have a different view.

America is about to unleash the greatest demonstration of military might in our history. Pray it succeeds in securing peace. But military might cannot make a nation strong. It can only protect the strengths already existing within. A concerted campaign to end terrorism will take years, and requires America to stand united. True national unity means more than a chorus of support for military action. That is merely the minimum requirement. A sustained campaign also requires unity of experience, ability, purpose, and outlook.

A nation rent by deep divisions between black and white or rich and poor is not sufficiently united. Children weakened by malnutrition or missed immunizations, or dilapidated housing and dangerous schools are not what a nation defending its borders can afford. During peace and prosperity such conditions challenge our notion of justice. During war they threaten our very security. (As you know this was why Congress created the school lunch program after World War II.) Non-profit organizations addressing these issues, and the philanthropy that supports them, must not take a backseat now, but redouble their efforts instead. We all must work to ensure that the foundation of these organizations are secure, that their programs do not crumble.

The fact that our national leaders will be almost exclusively focused on achieving victory over foreign adversaries makes our work to achieve domestic victories not less relevant, but more so. This may not be obvious or convincing in the hours immediately before or after America's initial retaliation. But as time passes in what is certain to be a lengthy effort it will become our national truth.

As 35,000 reservists are being called up. So, in another way, are you and I. As hard as we've worked in the past, every effort large and small to build the capacity of nonprofits fighting for America's communities, counts more now. A strong country, like a strong business, organization, or team is one in which everyone does what he or she does best. This is the vital role for each of us in the days ahead. Whether we work in law or literacy, baking or banking, teaching or technology, there is more at stake than ever in doing it well, inclusively, and in a way that reflects America's truest values.

Let's hope this is the last time I write from ground where blood was spilled. We are blessed to be protected by men and women of uncommon bravery. What we can pledge in return is a common commitment, a universal devotion to serving others so that America not only has the strength to defend itself, but the strengths we cherish and are proud to defend.

« Previous letter | Main | Next letter »