In Memoriam

With Memorial Day around the corner and our troops giving their lives over sees, we should take time to remember the reason for the holiday. Our country was founded on war, and war is not waged without loss of life. To those who has paid the ultimate price and made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, let us truly observe this holiday. Do something in remembrance on that sacrifice whether it is to relish in the freedom they have provided or to pay actual homage to those who have or do serve in the armed forces.

We should all keep in mind the soldiers are not politicians, and that they fight in defense and in the interests on our country. They do not set the policies, they just pay the tab. So if you know a veteran, which most of us do, take the time to personally thank them for their service to our country. You do not have to agree with war or with the motives behind it, but you have to respect those that answer the call of the country, voluntarily, and put themselves in harms way so that we have the absurdly spoiled privilege of complaining about gas prices or who won American Idol.

Our fighting men and women are in harms way right now as I write this post and as many are lying in the down padded beds under a blanket of freedom they provide. It is as it has always been. Let those of us who have not served and who have not put ourselves at the brink lose perspective on what it is that they have done for our country and us.

Tragedy befalls the family who loses a loved one under any circumstances. However, more tragic yet glorified is a death found in combat. Yet, what thought have you given to what happens to them after they die?

I watched a show on PBS about the Guard of the Unknown Soldier and the Arlington Cemetery Funeral detail. This is a little known elite unit of ultra precise drill and ceremony that has a long tradition of pride and honor. To become a Guard you have to pass a super high detail training course and meet a high moral code. A moral code that if you stray from even after you leave the detail, your service on that detail will be expunged. The drill you perform is precise and concise. Your uniform has to be pressed, your medals hung and polished, your belt, hat, glasses, everything worn on your person within a specification within 1/16 of an inch. You must be the epitome of perfection. The drill must be sharp and follow a cadence and tempo that is precise and exacting… it must be perfect. Why? Because we owe it to them. They must see; their families must see that we appreciate the sacrifice they have made and one way we can show them is that we make the best effort humanly possible to pay our final respects. I hope those buried outside Arlington are shown the same respect.

Final respects. What about those that don’t die? Many are injured and for the rest of their lives diminished. Broken physically. What respects do we pay to them?

A man works for me who served in Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom. In his last tour, while on his last tour he was leading a convoy of heavy vehicles and his vehicle was hit with an IED (Improvised Explosive Devise). One of his eardrums burst instantly and during the 20-minute firefight that ensued, he lost some of the hearing in the other. He was in one of those huge armored semi-looking trucks and they shot enough bullets at the Iraqis that they melted 2 barrels on the 50 cal machine gun mounted to the gun turret. He was awarded the Purple Heart. To be honest, I sleep better at night knowing there are people like Jarhead out there protecting me, and my babies. God bless you. God bless you all.

I would like to thank the following veterans in case I do not get a chance to see you over the weekend. The chances are remote that you will see this, but if ever you trip across it, here it is.

William T. Kendall
William B. Kendall
Denys A. Kendall
Lucian M. Cayce
Ian M. Cayce
Jerry V. May
Bruce Miller
Richard Allar
Stephanie L. Spry
Martin Schmit
James Schliefer
Glenn W. Newton
Kenneth Hale
Herb Whittemore
Homer Kelley
Corey Davis
Walter Kanas
John Madeiros
Thomas Scott
Robert Smedley

and all those I have undoubtedly not listed here.

Tag, I'm it.

In the fourth installment of the round robin blog writing challenge started by Gryphon, I have been tapped to take my swings.

Here are the proceeding entries in order to get you up to speed.
First
Second
Third

And away we go...

A pane of glass that separates
the world outside from inner states

so privately I seek out praise
to terrified to meet their gaze

alone I sit in solitude
while mustering the fortitude

to go outside and let it show
that I can dance in Luna’s glow.


Afraid I am to temp the fates
My fear to fail I can’t abate

And still I know my voice must raise
To tell the world they can not phase

this man who can, though it may blow
withstand the force of Ursa’s flow

On to my boy Richard, how I haven't asked if he wants to do this but he is always game for such things.

The TRADEsman

In my family, it seems that we circulate our possession quite a bit. From the outside, it would seem that every couple a years we all throw our keys in a jar and draw lots to see what we will be driving. Granted, this has mostly be pertetuated by me... until recently. Dad got into the swing of being a horse trader when he trade for the beast (our Ford Excursion). I thought for a moment and wondered just how often this happens with us. Here you go.

Kelly started off with a Caprice, and for high school graduation she got an Escort. When she wrecked the Escort, Mom handed down her Tracer to her. Kelly drove the Tracer I think until she graduated from MTSU when she got the Avenger, which she drove until it started dying; upon which she started driving the Voyager that belong to Mom and Dad (and Busha kind of). She drove that until she moved west and bought her new car, a Sebring I think, and gave me the van and the Avenger. One to drive and one to dispose of. Which is funny because I tried to trade her a truck for both years before but it didn't pan out.

I'm just getting warmed up. Dad bought a blazer (1991 S-10), which he drove for years. At some point he and I traded his blazer for my truck (1995 F-150). He drove the truck for a good many years until we traded again, this time truck for truck (1998 F-150). This is the way is stayed for a while until again we traded truck for truck, only with a nw truck in play (1998 F-150 for 1998 GMC). A few years later we traded back, the same two trucks and there we had stayed until he trade the other day. Pretty much I have kept Dad in a new to him vehicle for the last decade without him having to go to the car lot.

It doesn't end at car. The coffee table in his living room used to be mine. The winged back chairs in my living room used to be his... and so on.

The big thing is I think we found out it is cheaper to get "new to you" stuff by trading within the family than to go out and buy stuff.

Anyway, on a separate note; aren't blogs a strange thing. If work is the thing in your life that is most affecting you, you are not free to write about it because it might affect you at work. Funny stuff, that.

Sadly Enough

Even though I am sure I have long lost my readership, I have decided to finally start blogging again. It used to be something that I did at break time at work, but since I don't get breaks at work right now, it makes it hard. And typing on this keyboard at home sucks.

I have become more and more like my father in not some much the good ways. I found grey hairs in my beard and I have lost all patience for poor manners at the dinner table. For those you dined at our table when my sister and I were growing up, please forgive the painful flashbacks I just induced.

I have however reached the 26 pound mark in my weight loss journey. Long after Dad reached his 30, but I'll take it. 30 more to go... what a fat ass.

My debit/credit card went tits up. It gave years of heavy service and just couldn't make it to it's expiration date later this summer, so I called and requested a new one. While I was on the phone with the bank I read the back of the card and saw this; "If this card is lost or stolen after regular bank hours, call 1-800-XXX-XXXX." Exactly how in the hell am I going to do that? If the card is gone, so is the number.

Put the garden in last weekend. Well, most of it. I have to work up more ground for the okra, carrots and sunflower seeds. So far we have tomatoes, squash, zuccini, cucumber, cantalope, watermelon, green onion, purple onion, strawberries, brocolli, cabbage, and egg plant. I actually ate a hand full of ripe strawberries out of the garden this afternoon.

With gas prices doing what they are doing, it may get back to the point where produce will be something you have to grow yourself if you want to eat any of it. While I expect a better yeild than last year, I am still no master gardener. I am still young yet, lots of springs to practice.

Some info for Kel, if she still reads. (According to the National Weahter Service)

As reported from the Nashville Airport:

Rainfall today: .73"

Rainfall this month: .73"

Rainfall this year: 17.03"

As reported in San Diego, CA:

Rainfall today: 0"

Rainfall this month: 0"

Rainfall this year: 3.71"

What's a foot of rain anyway?