On this Memorial Day

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
~From a headstone in Ireland, via quotegarden

Two years ago, I wrote a post for Memorial Day that I’ve never been able to top. The words came straight from my soul via my heart, and nothing I’ve written since about our veterans — living and dead — and their sacrifices has matched it. In fact, everything I’ve tried to write about Memorial Day since then has been pretty much the same thing, just dressed a little differently.

This is the 5th Memorial Day we have celebrated since El Pollo Loco and his band of minions started an unjustified war. 4082 Americans have died to accomplish a “mission” brought to them by a lying government, a cheerleading press, and a profiteering corporate structure.

I could write something about the troops who have valiantly served our nation – even when our government has chosen to turn its collective back to those who protect and defend her – but it would simply be a derivative of These Honored Dead:

[…] Servicemen and women do not choose their battles, they do not choose their enemies. They are told where to go and what to do by leaders that may or may not have their best interests at heart, by leaders who may or may not have seen combat themselves. And they do the very best they can, under circumstances the rest of us will never be able to comprehend.

My problem is not, and never has been, with the men and women in uniform. It is with those who send those men and women into harm’s way without valid reason, without proper equipment and supplies. It is with those who scream themselves hoarse about supporting the troops, but cut veterans benefits in wartime and order them – in America’s name – to violate international law and their own moral code.

It is those who mistreat the American soldier while calling the rest of us unpatriotic.

What I’d like to address today is not the many sacrifices made by our military and their families. There are many fine places on the web which have excellent tributes today to the men and women who serve.

Instead, I’d like to talk about something else that’s related to Memorial Day. The lack of respect and understanding for our nation’s symbols.

This is a small town, one of those places where you’d almost automatically think, “Mom and apple pie.” Many of our area residents have served or are serving in the military. We have a strong tradition of being there when our country calls. We still have parades on Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day. Our local supermarket’s window boasts pictures of currently-serving service personnel. Once a week, the papers prints all the addresses of those locals who are serving, so people can write and remind them of home, keep them up-to-date on local affars, keep their spirits up. A local group bakes cookies and another collects personal hygiene items for our troops.

So you would assume this is a place where the flag and symbols of our nation and of our veterans’ service are universally respected and treated with dignity.

You’d be wrong. I myself have been stunned again and again by the absolute lack of caring when it comes to these things. It’s not just that people don’t know, it’s that they don’t care to learn.

There was an incident locally that brought this to mind yet again. A cemetery’s caretakers — for whatever reasons, and there are plenty of pointing fingers and loads of excuses — after setting a policy that no “ornaments or decorations” would be allowed at gravesites, removed all the veterans’ markers from the cemetery. These are the markers on which American flags are placed prior to certain holidays – Memorial Day, Flag Day, July 4th, and Veterans’ Day.

Worse yet, these markers were thrown – along with the various “ornaments and decorations” that were stripped from each and every final resting place – into a trash pile in a field across the road.

I am horrified by all of it. To have taken these small mementos at someone’s grave and simply dumped them?

But I am especially angry about the veterans’ markers. My father, his brothers, and my paternal grandfather are buried there, and all were veterans. I’m glad I was not one of those who discovered this horror. I cannot imagine my reaction to seeing the symbols of my family’s service ripped out and tossed in the garbage.

Would someone please explain to me how on earth it is possible for someone to not understand the deep meaning and symbolic value of those markers, to not understand that they are not merely “ornaments and decorations?”

Thankfully, due to enormous efforts by the VFW and the Legion to remap the cemetery and place new markers – each and every veteran’s grave has once again been properly marked.

Sadly, however, this is not an isolated incident. Far, far too many people have no understanding of true patriotism, and they certainly have no understanding of flag etiquette and respect.

Do we blame the schools for failing to teach students the value and meaning behind our flag? The government for failing to live up to the standards of conduct written in the Constitution and for forcing schools to cut geography and history and civics classes in order to teach to meet the standards of the NLCB tests? The media for promoting false patriotism over true debate? All of the above?

How many times have you attended an event and seen almost no one under 40 remove their hats and/or stand for the Anthem? How many times have you seen a ripped and tattered flag on a flag pole? Or seen a flag flying at night with no uplighting? Or a cotton flag flying in the rain?

Last year, I had to call harass the local Walmart for three weeks straight because they were flying the flag in darkness. The reason? The lights had malfunctioned/burned out/didn’t work, and — with the exception of a few people (including my sister) – no one cared. The first three days, the lady who answered the phone was all pleasant and reassuring, “Oh my! We’ll certainly take care of that! Thank you so much for alerting us to this!” Too bad that was her whole reaction. It wasn’t until I spoke to my sister later that I discovered my concerns hadn’t been passed on at all. So I started annoying them. Every. single. night.

Another night, my sister went into work and watched three employees drop two American flags on the floor after they’d been used for Independence Day decorations. Dropped them on the floor. (If you don’t understand why anything in the last three paragraphs is a problem, google “American flag etiquette” or “US Flag Code.”)

This Memorial Day, take time to honor our nation’s veterans of all wars, but also take some time out from the grill and the gardening and the various summer projects you might have to educate someone on the Flag and its handling. Speak up on the proper ways to honor our nation’s heroes, past and present. Talk to your children about why our national symbol and those who died for it must be held in the highest regard and treated with the highest respect.

Counting the Cost

 

 

Politics vs. Reality in Middle America

Sorry for the serious lack of posting. I just couldn’t make myself give a damn about politics and other bullshit.

I should care. I should care about the failures of the Democrats, the obstructions, hatred, and nonsensical positions of the Republicans, the complete and utter lack of caring about the poor and the weak and the needy.

I should be posting three and four times a day, ranting and raving.

But the truth is … I’m tired. I’m just tired and overwhelmed with outrage fatigue, and – quite honestly – depressed. Children die because bureaucrats in an insurance company, safely removed from the consequences of their decisions, decide they aren’t worth saving. Aren’t worth attempting to save.

People are going hungry, going without heat, going without necessities like expensive prescription drugs, struggling to hold on to their homes in a still-collapsing housing market and a tightening rental market, working two or three jobs to provide the basics of food and shelter and clothing and heat – in the so-called “richest nation on earth.”

Where’s the hope? Where’s the light at the end of the tunnel?

In Remembrance II

This Memorial Day, take time to remember and honor those who gave all, and those who are in harm’s way.

Take time to reflect upon the sacrifices still being made upon the altar of Ares; all those yet to die in our name.

*

 

Taps

“Fading light dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar drawing nigh — Falls the night.

“Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky.
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

“Then good night, peaceful night,
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright,
God is near, do not fear — Friend, good night.”

— Composed By Major General Daniel Butterfield

Army of the Potomac, Civil War

*

Jenn’s Sunday Sermon – Memorial Day

From last year’s Memorial Day post, These Honored Dead:

Memorial Day is supposed to be a day set aside to remember the sacrifices of our military in wars – popular and unpopular – throughout our history.

Far too many people forget the meaning of the day, just as they forget the meaning of Flag Day, and Veteran’s Day. To most Americans, this weekend will be about prepping the house for summer, planting gardens, and barbequing. It will be about beer and friends, races and baseball.

I was raised to remember all those who gave ‘that last full measure of devotion’. My father was a lifetime member of the American Legion, and a Post Commander. He was a stickler for the rules of flag-handling, and many other solemn events related to the military and honoring their sacrifices. Before I was ten, I knew more about military ritual than most kids.

When I was eight years old, I was given the honor of leading the attendees of the Legion’s Memorial Day remembrance in reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. I remember little of the experience, except that my father looked very handsome in his Post Commander’s cap, and that there seemed to be a million people in the audience.

From my father, I learned a lot about ritual, but it was from my mother that I learned about the cost of war.

My paternal grandmother sent four sons to war. Three returned to her; the fourth buried with his comrades on a small plain in France. Her mother waited in vain for her son to return from World War I, but like so many, he perished in a foreign land, his final resting place unknown.

My maternal grandmother watched her brothers leave to fight in World War II. Of the four, two came home; one later to become an instructor at the Air Force Academy. Later, she saw her youngest son drafted, in 1964. My mother was fourteen and remembers vividly the pride and the fear the family felt as they watched him leave for US Navy boot camp. She remembers the eighteen months of terror spent waiting for any word, after the Navy reported him missing in action. She remembers the sense of relief and guilt that assailed them all, but especially him, when he came home injured, but not maimed or crippled. Alive, unlike so many others.

Many people often express surprise that I am very pro-military. I understand this – it’s hard for most people to understand that you can hate wars and the reasons for fighting them, but still love, honor, and support the US military.

Servicemen and women do not choose their battles, they do not choose their enemies. They are told where to go and what to do by leaders that may or may not have their best interests at heart, by leaders who may or may not have seen combat themselves. And they do the very best they can, under circumstances the rest of us will never be able to comprehend.

My problem is not, and never has been, with the men and women in uniform. It is with those who send those men and women into harm’s way without valid reason, without proper equipment and supplies. It is with those who scream themselves hoarse about supporting the troops, but cut veterans benefits in wartime and order them – in America’s name – to violate international law and their own moral code.

It is those who mistreat the American soldier while calling the rest of us unpatriotic.

In Remembrance

Fallen Patriots

“Taps” drifting over carved marble stones.
Tiny flags standing in smart ranks like an honor guard
We come this day to remember those who fell
The youthful and the seasoned alike

Volunteer or conscripted, doesn’t matter which
Most did not a hero’s medal gain
Yet all were patriots for what they did
They went; they served and they died

Some realized glory, others saw their duty clear
Yet, not all dreamed a patriot’s dream
Or really understood their country’s call
But all knew well of fear and death

How shall we remember them?
By bugle strain or tear stained cheek?
Or by their bones that feed the grassy roots?
No! By the free air and soil they bought for us
At the highest price of all

But these are not alone
They have brothers and sisters
that do not sleep beneath the stones
Who also went and served
And stand now and remember

Young man, do not scoff at this remembrance
Rather, accept their gift.
They have given you the freedom to scoff if you want
But refrain and remember instead

And as you do, stand a little straighter
Turn your eyes to that banner fluttering yonder
On which they once gazed and still do
And sing the anthem loud,
For the courageous and strong have sung it before you
And were not timid in it.

Now, as you go from this hallowed place
Do not forget them that lie here
Or those that lie in places far distant
While their lives were lost,
Their gift of freedom lingers still.

— David Lawson © April, 1998

Friday Anti-War Song

Today’s a two-fer, since I couldn’t decide which one to use.

— Jenn

* * * * *

Bomb The World
— Michael Franti & Spearhead

Please tell me the reason
behind the colours that you fly
please tell me the reason
you want us to unify
you say you’re sorry
you say there is no other choice
but how can you feel sorry
when you kill people with no voice

You can chase down all your enemies
bring them to their knees
you can bomb the world to pieces
but you can’t bomb it into peace

You may even find the solution
to hunger and disease
you can bomb the world to pieces
but you can’t bomb it into peace

The earthquake of anger
simply brings more of the same
military madness
the smell of flesh and burning pain
so I sing out to the masses
stand up if you’re still sane
to all of us gone crazy
I sing this one refrain

You can chase down all your enemies
bring them to their knees
you can bomb the world to pieces
but you can’t bomb it into peace

I say, power to the people.

* * * * *

Don’t Let the Bastards Get You Down
— Kris Kristofferson

They’re killing babies in the name of Freedom
We’ve been down that sorry road before
They let us hang around a little longer than they should have
And it’s too late to fool us anymore

We’ve seen the ones who killed the ones with vision
Cold-blooded murder right before your eyes
Today they hold the power and the money and the guns
It’s getting hard to listen to their lies.

And I’ve just got to wonder what my Daddy would’ve done
If he’d seen the way they turned his dream around
I’ve got to go by what he told me, try to tell the truth
And stand your ground
DON’T LET THE BASTARDS GET YOU DOWN

Mining roads
Killing farmers
Burning down schools full of children
Fighting communism

And I’ve just got to wonder what my Daddy would’ve done
If he’d seen the way they turned his dream around
I’ve got to go by what he told me, try to tell the truth
And stand your ground

DON’T LET THE BASTARDS GET YOU DOWN

Friday Anti-War Song

Soldier Side
— System of a Down

Dead men lying on the bottom of the grave
Wondering when savior comes, is he gonna be saved
Maybe you’re a sinner into your alternate life
Maybe you’re a joker, maybe you deserve to die

They were crying when their sons left
God is wearing black
He’s gone so far to find no hope
He’s never coming back

They were crying when their sons left
All young men must go
He’s come so far to find the truth
He’s never going home

Young men standing on the top of their own graves
Wondering when Jesus comes, are they gonna be saved
Cruelty to the winner, bishop tells the king his lies
Maybe you’re a mourner, maybe you deserve to die

They were crying when their sons left
God is wearing black
He’s gone so far to find no hope
He’s never coming back

They were crying when their sons left
All young men must go
He’s come so far to find no truth
He’s never going home

Welcome to the soldier side
Where there is no one here but me
People all grow up to die
There is no one here but me

Welcome to the soldier side
There is no one here but me
People on the soldier side
There is no one here but me

Friday Anti-War Song

Today, it’s only appropriate to remember Jonathan Schulze, another casualty of the Iraq Lie and a victim of the BushCo/Rubber-Stamp Republicans’ underfunding of the VA budget.

From BobGeiger.com:

Jonathan Schulze was a United States Marine.

He died earlier this month at the age of 25 — not in Iraq, but back home, in Minnesota.

He died of wounds received during his seven-month tour of duty in Iraq, wounds different from the ones that earned Schulze two purple hearts. This young man died of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, of wounds to the soul and not the flesh. He died because the government that was there to send him far away to fight in 2004 wasn’t there for him when he got home.

Schulze had a harrowing time in Iraq, spending time in the heated battles of Ramadi in April, 2004. While he was there, 35 Marines in his unit were killed, including 17 of them in just 48 hours of combat.

[snip]

According to Minnesota press reports, Schulze went to the Veterans Administration (VA) center in Minneapolis on December 14, 2006, met with a psychiatrist and was told that he could only be admitted for treatment four months later, in March.

On January 11, 2007, accompanied by his parents, he went to the VA hospital in St. Cloud, Minnesota and told people at that VA facility that he was thinking of killing himself. They told Schulze that they could not admit him as a patient and sent him on his way.

The next day, January 12, Schulze called the VA, reiterating that he was feeling suicidal. He was told that he was number 26 on the waiting list.

[snip]

On January 16, Schulze called his family and told them that he was going to do it — he was going to kill himself. His family called the local police, who raced to his house, kicked in his door and found him hanging from an electrical cord.

Attempts to resuscitate him were unsuccessful.

Go read the whole post, then write or call or fax your CongressCritter and tell them to fund the VA properly so no other returning veteran has to hear, “You’re 26th in line.”

Today’s Anti-War Song is from Neil Young’s album, Living With War:

Let’s Impeach the President
— Neil Young

Let’s impeach the President for lying
And misleading our country into war
Abusing all the power that we gave him
And shipping all our money out the door

Who’s the man who hired all the criminals
The White House shadows who hide behind closed doors
They bend the facts to fit with their new stories
Of why we have to send our men to war

Let’s impeach the President for spying
On citizens inside their own homes
Breaking every law in the country
By tapping our computers and telephones

What if Al Qaeda blew up the levees
Would New Orleans have been safer that way
Sheltered by our government’s protection

Or was someone just not home that day?

Flip – Flop
Flip – Flop
Flip – Flop
Flip – Flop

Let’s impeach the president for hijacking
Our religion and using it to get elected
Dividing our country into colors
And still leaving black people neglected

Thank god he’s cracking down on steroids
Since he sold his old baseball team
There’s lots of people looking at big trouble
But of course our president is clean.

Thank God

 

Friday Anti-War Song

Well, if this works, it’ll make Fridays much more interesting. I’ve [finally] figured out how to post videos from YouTube, and – with any luck -I’ll be able to post some kind of video after the lyrics.

I’ll still be posting the lyrics though, since YouTube gives you only a taste of the song.

A friend reminded me of this song, which came out in 1985. We were juniors in high school then, and this video gave sudden weight and reality to what little I knew about my uncle’s service in the US Navy.

19
— Paul Hardcastle

In 1965 Vietnam seemed like just another foreign war,
but it wasn’t.
It was different in many ways, as so were those that did the fighting.
In World War II the average age of the combat soldier was 26…
In Vietnam he was 19.
In inininininin Vietnam he was 19.

(TV announcer’s voice)
The shooting and fighting of the past two weeks continued today
25 miles west of Saigon

(Vet’s Voice)
I really wasn’t sure what was going on

Nininini Nineteen, 19, Ni-nineteen
19,19,19,19,19

In Vietnam the combat soldier typically served a twelve month tour of duty
but was exposed to hostile fire almost everyday

Ninininininininininin 19 nininininninin 19
Hundreds of thousands of men who saw heavy combat in Vietnam were arrested since discharge
Their arrest rate is almost twice that of non-veterans of the same age.
There are no accurate figures of how many of these men have been incarcerated.
But, a Veterans Administration study concludes
that the greater a Vets exposure to combat could
more likely affect his chances of being arrested or convicted.

This is one legacy of the Vietnam War

(Singing Girls)
All those who remember the war
They won’t forget what they’ve seen..
Destruction of men in their prime
whose average was 19
Dedededededede-Destruction
Dedededededede-Destruction
War, War
Dededede-Destruction, wa-wa-War, wa-War, War
Dedededededede-Destruction
War, War

After World War II the Men came home together on troop ships,
but the Vietnam Vet often arrived home within 48 hours of jungle combat
Perhaps the most dramatic difference between World War II and VietNam was coming home…
none of them received a hero’s welcome

None of them received a heroes welcome, none of them, none of them
Nenene Nenene None of them, none of them, none of them
None of them received a hero’s welcome
None of them received a hero’s welcome

According to a Veteran’s Administration study
Half of the Vietnam combat veterans suffered from what Psychiatrists call Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder
Many vets complain of alienation, rage, or guilt
Some succumb to suicidal thoughts
Eight to Ten years after coming home
almost eight-hundred-thousand men are still fighting the VietNam War

(Singing Girls)
Dedededededede-Destruction
Nininininininininin Nineteen, 19, Ni-nineteen 19 19,19,19,19
Nininininininininin Nineteen, 19, Ni-nineteen 19 19,19,19,19

(Soldiers Voice)
When we came back it was different..

Everybody wants to know “How’d it happened to those guys over there
There’s gotta be something wrong somewhere

We did what we had to do
There’s gotta be something wrong somewhere
People wanted us to be ashamed of what it made us
Dad had no idea what he went to fight and he is now
All we want to do is come home
All we want to do is come home
What did we do it for?
All we want to do is come home

Was it worth it?

*

As you watch the video, think about this: Considering the effects of a single 12-month tour and near-daily exposure to hostile fire on many Vietnam veterans, what are/will be the long-term effects of serving multiple tours with near-daily exposure to hostile fire on the young men and women currently serving in Iraq?

 

 

Update: Yes!!! It works!! **doing the Snoopy dance**