In Honored Glory

"Here rests, in honored Glory,

an American Soldier,

Known only to God"

Architecturally, it is a simple sarcophagus, crafted in white Vermont marble to stand atop a Virginia hill overlooking the Potomac River and Washington, DC.  It is also a place of special reverence to those who served in time of war and to their families. The words, graven deep into the marble say it all "Here rests, in honored glory, an American Soldier, known only to God."  

We know nothing about this soldier, not his name, his age or his background.  We know not whether he came from the country, a small town, or a teeming city.  We can't identify the unit he served with, whether he was married, single, or had a sweetheart.  And we know nothing of how his family mourned him when they heard he was lost and not coming home.  

We know only that he was an American who enlisted and served and whose life ended in battle somewhere in France during what was then called the Great War.

We know not if he was of great courage or a coward, but he has been awarded the Medal of Honor and  the highest military decorations of our allies for his actions.

"Here rests in honored glory, an American Soldier."  In a sense, he stands for all the American soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen, known and unknown, who gave their lives serving this nation.   

The resting places of many are well-marked by stones in countless church yards and national cemeteries.  The resting places of others are overgrown and forgotten by all except their Maker.  Some rest in the deeps of the ocean, and others amid a pile of scattered wreckage deep in the jungles of New Guinea or southeast Asia or any number of remote and often desolate places around the globe. 

The names of many have disappeared from the memories of men, but all rest in honored glory, and all are known to God.

Veterans' Day is a time to commemorate the living;  Memorial Day is a time remember and give thanks for the sacrifice of those who gave their country the last full measure of devotion.

How will you spend your Memorial Day?

How will you honor those who now rest in honored glory? 

Not Ready for the Rocking Chair

"My heart's not ready for the rocking chair."

    -- song by Martina McBride

Where I work, on major service anniversaries the employee gets to select an appropriate award. Thus, five years ago, after twenty-five years of service, I selected the traditional gold watch. This year, after thirty years of service, I selected the traditional "Boston Rocker". It was delivered this week and has already assumed a place in our living room. It's pretty to look at and sits very nice, but I'm not ready to assume a place there quite yet.

For some reason, rocking chairs have become symbolic of long service and pending retirement.  The porch at Grandma and Granddad's house had two rocking chairs side-by-side overlooking the road.  My grandparents would sit there on warm summer evenings and hold hands and talk and watch the world go by. I have fond memories of sitting there with them, but to assume their place in the rocking chair is not my nature. Maybe occasionally, once in a while, but not as a steady diet. My heart is not yet ready for the rocking chair. 

No, I'm still working on the lay-away plan, trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and doing my best to be all that I am intended to be.

I may have slowed down a bit. Age does that, and, like an old horse, I may have been ridden hard and put away wet a few too many times. But slow doesn't mean stopped.  

My priorities may have subtly shifted. Age and events do that too. The mortgage is gone.  The kids are out of the house, each assuming his or here rightful place as a responsible and productive adult member of society. And grand kids are a whole different set of emphases and priorities. 

My curiosity and interests are wider and more varied than ever. I not only find myself doing new things, but enjoying familiar things more. Instead of asking "Why?" or "How", I increasingly find myself asking "Why not?"  

A mission trip to repair and paint widows' houses and plant potatoes? Why not? 

A raised-bed garden in the back yard? Why not? 

Serve on the board of a non-profit?  Why not?

Do more ham radio? Why not indeed?

Life is good. Life is full.  I may not have decided what I want to be when I grow up, but each day beckons me with near-infinite possibilities and I intend to take advantage of each and every one of them.

My heart is definitely not ready for the rocking chair. There's way too much interesting stuff out there; too much to discover and do.

Will you join me?

To what possibilities is your mind saying "Why not?"

Why not take advantage?

Why not indeed?

Clouds from Both Sides

I have observed that
It's the clouds that give sunrise
Its brilliant colors.

And adversity
That gives life its character,
and people greatness.

For the past thirty years, my daily commute has followed much the same route.  In the morning, I drive east into the rising sun and in the evening I drive west. As a result, I have been allowed to witness half a life-time of sunrises, each one wonderful and each one different from the last.

Clear days begin with a graying in the east, followed by a pink, salmon, or orange pre-dawn and the emergence of the sun as a great red ball. Beautiful, but lacking interest; one crystal clear dawn appears much the same as any other.  Overcast and partly cloudy dawns, however, are brilliant. 

On even the most gloomy and overcast of mornings, dawn begins with a faint pink glow as the clouds reflect light from a sun not yet above the horizon. Sometimes, there is only a thread of color before silver light  increases into a gray morning.  However, on days when the overcast is less than complete, the clouds reflect the light of the rising sun in pinks and reds an oranges of hues and an intensity that defy description. The day that follows may be cloudy or light, but it's opening is brilliant! At such times, I find myself thankful for the clouds, for it is the clouds that make the experience memorable.

We dream of dawns without clouds and uncloudy days. I have sung, and Willie Nelson even recorded a song entitled "The Uncloudy Day". In life, uncloudy days mean smooth sailing. But we humans crave variety and excitement and however nice it is, smooth sailing rapidly becomes as unexciting as a cloudless dawn.

And, even as clouds brighten a dawn, challenge makes life interesting, and adversity causes growth. 

Heroes emerge from struggle.  The greatest heroes are those who have overcome the greatest obstacles and prevailed.  

What challenges or obstacles are you facing?

What will you do to overcome and prevail?

Just DO It!

My talent for putting things off amazes even me.  I can know something needs to be done.  I can have more than enough time to do it.  I can have all the resources needed to do it. It could even be fun to do, and yet I find myself putting it off. 

Rarely, I put things off because other things have a higher priority at the moment.  But that's rarely.  Most of the time I put things off because of some sort of mental block, not against doing them, but against getting started. 

This post is a perfect example.  My goal is to publish one post per week on Friday or Saturday.  I have faithfully accomplished that goal for over six months.  Yet here it is, Sunday afternoon and only now am I starting to put words on paper (or electrons on the screen if you want to be accurate).

And the problem was not that I had no subject.  I maintain a list of potential subjects and am prepared to write on any of them.

No. The problem is that, like a child avoiding his homework, I found myself actively avoiding doing the one thing that would accomplish my goal.  For two days, I avoided opening Blogger and typing in a title and opening paragraph. I wasn't going to do it, and nothing could make me.

And the one thing that got me started was to remember the sentence "Just open the computer and type the first sentence.  And smile."  

Just open the computer.  Just do the first physical action and follow it with the second that's enough to get started. The next action follows, the ideas start flowing and I fall into the rhythm of writing.

Smiling simply makes it more pleasant.

After many years, I have learned that true motivation comes from within.  No one can motivate anyone to do something they don't want to do.

And I've learned that staying motivated requires that one take the first step, and then the next one, and so forth in order to completion.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. And then the next, and so forth.

What project do you need to complete? 

What is the first small and simple thing you must do? What is the first step?

Why don't you just do it?

Do it now.

You Can Take the Boy Off the Farm...

You can take the boy off the farm

But you can't take the farm out of the boy!

The US Department of Labor has drawn quite a bit of fire recently by proposing that child labor laws apply to farm kids as well as their city cousins.  Farmers and farm kids were equally enraged by this intrusion.  Under the proposal, since withdrawn, farm children under the age of 18 would be forbidden from performing a long list of chores on their families' land.  Under the rules, most children under 18 could no longer work “in the storing, marketing and transporting of farm product raw materials.”

“Prohibited places of employment,” a Department press release read, “would include country grain elevators, grain bins, silos, feed lots, stockyards, livestock exchanges and livestock auctions.” The new regulations would also revoke the government’s approval of safety training and certification taught by independent groups like 4-H and FFA, replacing them instead with a 90-hour federal government training course.

As someone who has been there and done that I also find myself enraged. 

I grew up on a farm -- not a livestock farm, but a dirt farm.  Our main crop was tobacco, a labor intensive crop and one requiring a great deal of detailed hand work.  Like most of my rural chums, I had chores. When I was very young, these included keeping the woodbox behind the kitchen stove full.  When I got older, I also became responsible for chopping the wood with which I filled the woodbox. With an ax!

I learned to drive on a John Deere model B tractor at age ten, and from age eleven on, I spent summers in the fields and tobacco barns with my Dad and Grand Dad, making the new crop and preparing the old for market.

I can truthfully state that at age 12 I would have welcomed imposition of the child labor laws.  Looking back now, I find myself glad that they didn't apply. Working on the family farm did much to set my world view and make me into the man I am today.

Growing up on the farm impressed on me the truth of the words "If a man does not work, neither should he eat."  It also impressed me with the absolute miracle of being obtain food from the ground.  But before the food could be harvested, it had to be planted (at the proper time), cultivated, and then harvested (again, at the proper time) and then stored.  And the farmer was wholly responsible for getting the work done at the proper time.

Growing up on the farm taught me self reliance.  We ate what we grew and stored.  If we wanted more, we grew more.  If we wanted less, we grew less. Whether we grew more or less, what we had depended on what we did. I still look on life with the idea that the outcomes I get depend on what I, and not on what  somebody else, might happen to do.

Growing up on the farm taught me independence.  Our farm operated independently from the farms around us.

Growing up on the farm also taught me interdependence and the value of being a good neighbor.  In out community neighbors got together to help each other at harvest time or on major tasks.

Butchering in the fall was closely coordinated to ensure that the meat could be processed and stored in the limited time before it spoiled.  So, Uncle Tal would butcher this week, and Cousin Junior next and Mr. Day the week following.  It all worked together and it all got done.

That way of life has largely disappeared from the area where I grew up, and I miss it.  When my children were growing up, I had to find other ways to teach responsibility, self reliance, and independence without the farm experience.  Somehow, I feel that they may have missed out on something valuable.

To the US Department of Labor, I say, "Leave the family farm alone.  The lessons learned there loom large in our national character and should be reinforced rather than diminished."

To the family farmer of today I say "Keep on keeping on. What you're doing is right and good and needs to be passed on to the next generation.

And to you all, I say "Thank God, I'm a Country Boy!"

What parts of your early life were most influential in shaping your character?

What are you doing to pass those values and life lessons on to your children and grand children?

Sometimes...

I have a confession to make.

Sometimes, I really don't want to sit down and write this blog.

Sometimes, there are better or more important things than sitting at the keyboard and pounding out lines of deathless prose.

Sometimes, those things disappear if not done at the moment.

This weekend was one of those times.  The weather was gorgeous, the grass was knee-high, and the lawn demanded attention.  Further, after a week of travel followed by work, the soul demanded renewal.

Long story short, I blew off writing in favor of being out doors in the sun. I blew off writing for the thrill of guiding my anemic lawn mower across uneven tufts of grass and broad-leaf weeds, making them all even.  And I blew off writing in favor of digging in the dirt.

This weekend, I spent some quality time living in the moment, surveying my small lot, picking up sticks and, yes, watching the grass grow.  In my head, I drew plans for flower and vegetable beds to come.  I made a list of materials I will need to make the vision into reality.  And in those simple acts, I was renewed.

It began to rain shortly after the work was completed. It has been raining ever since.

For me, gardening is an act of renewal.

For you, there may be other activities, other sources for gaining or regaining perspective. Some people golf, or watch baseball, but for me, it has long been gardening.

What do you do to gain perspective?

What do you do to feed your soul?

The Men Stayed at Charlie

Today, it's a footnote in history.  In April of 1972 it was national news.  Today, it is remembered mostly by  men who were there. And when Fire-base Charlie in the central highlands of the Republic of Vietnam fell forty years ago I was there.

Fire-base Charlie was situated athwart a North Vietnamese infiltration route in a mountain pass northwest of Kontum City.  It was manned by the 470 officers and men of the 11th Airborne Batallion, Army of the Republic of Vietnam and one American adviser.

From almost the moment it was occupied on 12 April 1972, Charlie was under continuing vicious attack.  Over those three days, the ground defense was bolstered by air strikes and Army Cobra helicopter gunships controlled by the American adviser, call sign Dusty Cyanide.  By the afternoon of 15 April, conditions on Charlie were desperate.  Defenders, out of ammunition, held their positions using hand grenades, knives, clubbed rifles, Air Force tactical air and Army attack helicopter support.   

I flew in support of Charlie twice on April 15th.  After a mission early in the afternoon, we were replaced by another team from my company, the Pink Panthers, who, when they expended, were replaced by a team of Cobras from the 57th Assault Helicopter Cougars. The Cougars were relieved by another team of Panthers and we were launched on a second mission at dusk. We followed battle by radio as we flew northward.

We checked in with Dusty Cyanide in time to hear "You broke the attack!" and "Shoot 50 meters north of the big fire."  The problem is, we could see no less than three big fires an and three or four smaller ones.  Otherwise, the mountains were pitch black.  We settled things by putting a pair of rockets 50 meters north of the largest fire in the middle and were told "That's it Panther - put it right there!" and, a pass or two later, "OK Panther, you broke the attack." and "We abandoning position" and, I think a direction of egress."  We put the rest of our load between the big fire an the assumed position of the friendlies.  The next thing we heard from the out-of-breath voice below us was "You broke the attack. We're clear, heading down the mountain," and then nothing.

When the survivors had been recovered, Dusty Cyanide, sent us his gratitude via newsman Peter Arnett.  The message was "Those first guns were good.  They broke the attack.  But that last team was shit hot. They broke things up and covered our escape." Peter Arnett came by our Company Club to deliver the message in person.

For his actions on Firebase Charlie an in getting the survivors off the mountain, Major John Duffy, Dusty Cyanide, was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.  He deserved more.

The 1972 South Vietnamese Literature Award went to a book titled "The Red Flames of Summer" by Phan Nhat Nam. The book was based on survivor accounts of the actions at Charlie.  A popular song called "The Men Stayed at Charlie" followed.

Of the 470 men who initially occupied Charlie only 35 walked off.  

The rest stayed at Charlie.