One of the factors that separated Ken Burn's recent opus on World War II from the horde of ever-sombre celluloid reliquaries that fill the cable channels was the focus on events on the home front. A thousand things -- some tiny, others far from it -- reminded even those who never donned a uniform that their nation was at war. There were the kids who collected rubber, and blackouts at night. There were nickels that weren't nickel because that metal was needed for the war, and automobile factories filled with women welding together aircraft. There was a shortage of sugar on the table, and gold stars in windows. It was hard for any American to go a day, or even an hour, without encountering some sacrifice being made for the war.

In our own struggle -- the messy, uncoordinated scramble some political pundits on the right have been quick to dub "World War III" (or even "World War IV") -- many people have been struck by the idea that we are being asked for no sacrifices on the home front. We drop some supplies in the "Any Soldier" box at church. We sympathize with friends, relatives, and co-workers asked to go to Iraq again. And again. But those of us without a uniform in this fight have been asked to sacrifice by... shopping. Honestly, if Iraq and Afghanistan were to fall into the great abyss of media forgetfulness (the one that readily swallowed New Orleans), would we know we were "a nation at war?"

But the truth is, we are being asked to make sacrifices.

We're being asked to sacrifice privacy in all our communications. We've been asked to sacrifice morality. We're being asked to ransom the future of our children to pay for the national shopping spree in Iraq. Many of the sacrifices of World War II were open, shared, and in a sense, unifying. The sacrifices of today are secret sacrifices, hidden losses, that pit Americans against each other not by accident, but by design.

Perhaps the greatest sacrifice we've made on the home front is simply one of depleted attention given to things not Iraq. We all have only so many hours in our day. We all have a limited quantity of outrage we can express, before that outrage sours into ennui. I don't want to imply that the invasion in Iraq was plotted only as a distraction, but it is a distraction. And while we've kept so much of our attention focused over there, others have taken advantage of that distraction.

For the last two weeks, I've been writing almost daily about the struggle to save the Appalachian Mountains from the depredations of mountaintop removal (and I'm about to do so again, so if you're disinclined to follow, this is a good place to get off). Is mountaintop removal the most important issue before us? It is, if your house is located next to a mine setting off blasts on the same scale as a small nuclear weapon. It is if you live in a town wedged into a narrow Appalachian valley, downstream from a leaking dam made from piles of mud and rubble. But for most of us, even those of us who care deeply about environmental issues, mountaintop removal has taken a backseat to Iraq. And those who want to expand mountaintop removal know it.

That's why the Bush administration has chosen this moment to relax the rules on mountaintop removal mining. They're convinced that they can slip this change in now, hand out permits like candy, and have the mountains down before you've taken your eyes off the news from Anbar province. As I've put out the diaries on this subject for the last fifteen days, almost every day has been greeted by at least one comment saying that this issue wasn't important, that it is only a distraction from Iraq. I agree. It is. But dammit, we're going to have to learn to split our attention, to remain engaged in Iraq, but to still worry about health care, and energy, and social justice, and the environment. To paraphrase Our Glorious Leader, if we keep all our attention focused over there, they are going to whip our butts at home.

I just want to ask you to do two things this Sunday Morning. First, go read this diary, which is undoubtedly the best dairy on this subject. And for tomorrow, I want you to go shopping. Shopping for more cosponsors for the Clean Water Protection Act, that is. The Act now has 108 cosponsors, but more are needed to get it out of committee and up for vote. Check the list to see if your representative is already on board. If so, thank them and let them know this issue is important to you. If not, it's even more important that you contact them and tell them to sign on.

The struggle against ideological totalitarianism cannot be lost among the ruined cities of Iraq. It can't be surrendered at gunpoint in Kabul. It can only be lost on the home front. Don't start by handing over the mountains.