Chosin. Marne. Khe Sanh. Tet. Ramadi. Anbar Province. Pearl Harbor. Belleau Wood. Bataan. Auschwitz. Nanking. Dresden. Nagasaki. Hiroshima. Leyte Gulf. Mekong Delta. Kirkuk. Baghdad. Countless places of the past, countless places of the present. Guantanamo. Hanoi. Grenada. All places where United States soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, coast guardsmen and women have been detailed for various reasons, from support to front-line defenders. Many did not return from a detail, whether the first detail or the last of many. Many more returned mangled, crippled, forever living within a shell where there is safety. Many went under protest, but went anyway. Some went with vengeance, to repay presumed debts long past. Many went, followed their orders, survived, and just kept going, never returning. Iwo Jima. Battle of the Bulge. Haditha.
Many more never left the States, or if they did leave the States, never saw front-line action, serving instead as supporters of whatever cause was on hand as clerks, radiomen, crypies, corpsmen, aircrews, refuellers, loaders, construction engineers, convoy drivers, instructors, mentors, chaplains.
As John Prine once penned in a song, all the places were "foreign to my body, foreign to my shore," and yet when the need was great, when the task at hand was seemingly insurmountable, the volunteers just kept on coming. The pride, for the most part, was too strong to deny.
Sometimes to write of this eventful day of remembrance is a task I hope not to suffer, yet, to not write of it, however simple or nondescript would be a shame on my part. Therefore.
To all you ladies and gentlemen who have gone before me, with me, or who follow me in service to the greatest country in the world, officers and enlisted, active duty and reserve, support personnel or front line defenders, I can only say Thank You For Your Service. Thank you for standing tall, for representing this country in those foreign countries, for sailing the open oceans with no horizons in sight for days on end, for flying through hostile skies, for continuing to support my country as a safer place to live, a place of peaceful refuge.
Thank You!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Hap, Hap, Hap, Hap, Happy Birthday!
Hap, Hap, Hap, Hap, Happy Birthday! - © Kent Fletcher
August 10, 2008
Just a few short notes, hopefully to a point, about a day of celebration for moi. I rose early, around 0620, due to a little dog bouncing on my bladder, telling me she needed out, too, I suppose, and that the sun was coming up. As I already had my day planned, I hit the floor running, for the back door first, for the bathroom, second, and for the kitchen and a pot of joe, third.
Got the cats fed early, which is most always a lot of fun and excitement for them, and me, too. To watch them vying for a space, for the closest bowl and the first drop of food is always changing. Most everyone gets along well, with an occasional hiss or slap across the face. There are several picky, finicky eaters, having their own special spots to eat leisurely, and I appease them, too, to keep relative calm around the yard.
So I settled on the front stoop to enjoy a brief respite from the heat. A light breeze, a couple of birds flittering about in the trees, the rueful sounds of a train passing town, and the perfunctory ambulance going somewhere, sirens blaring, all on a Sunday morning, before 0800. Didn't eat anything, as the bananas I found a couple of days ago in the store weren't too healthy looking. No muffins to be had, too lazy to do an English muffin, so I just slurped my coffee. Took my regimen of pills and played on the puter for a few minutes.
About 0830 I put on my sandals, a light-colored t-shirt, grabbed a hat and my hanky, headed out to the side yard to unload the truck. See, I had been tasked on Friday by Leona Davis to pick up Davis Caronza around 0900, go out to her house, get her truck and large trailer, along with a big old weed eater and a chainsaw, to return to my neighbor's house to clear out brush and small trees from the fence lines. Got out to her house, and whoops! no trailer. I had called Crystal on Saturday evening, when I went out to feed the animals as to the whereabouts of said trailer, and it turned out Cassidy and Rick (her latest flame) had taken it to do some four-wheeling Saturday afternoon, and had not returned it. Crystal said she would pass the word to Cassidy to get the trailer back by Sunday morning. I guess Cassidy didn't get the word.
Davis and I loaded all the gear - weed eater, chainsaw, and electrical cord into the back of her truck, and headed on back to town. In the meantime I called Cassidy, but I guess she had her phone turned off, so I had to leave a message.
I got Davis going on the fence line, and I was helping a little here and there. After all, it was him getting the money, not me. After I had not received a call from Cassidy by 1100-ish or so, I called her again, paged her, and left another message, telling her I really needed that trailer. In the long run, all my calling was for naught, as one of the tires on the trailer had blown out sometime Saturday and was still not repaired by mid-day today.
Not wishing to wait on Cassiday (you know how young'uns are these days, irresponsible when they borrow stuff), I drove back out to Leona's while Davis continued his work, got my truck and returned to the site. See, I've got a trailer, too, and instead of waiting on Cassidy, it was easier just to use my own stuff, git-er-done. While I think Davis and I could have done the dirty with one trip to the trash pile, it took three with my lil thang.
About 1500, though, I noticed my thermometer on the tree, in the shade, was at 105 degrees. Davis was getting winded, so I called it a day for both of us. Damn, that's hot, folks, especially to be outside working in it. On my birthday. On my day of celebration of freedom for 21 years. Yep, that's what I wrote: Today, August 10, is my birthday, 62 years of longevity, and what am I doing? Yard work. Not that I had planned on a real celebration anyway, but if nothing else I had something gainful to do, with help. But alas, and alack, the job is still not done. And tomorrow, Monday, August 11 is another day.
I'm "relaxing" now, writing this, and drinking a couple of brews. I need to shower, put on some clean clothes and ankle down to Grandview for a body viewing. But thinking about the heat, and how tired I am at the moment, nope, don't think so. That's part of the problem with viewing the dead, they're all made-up with cosmetics, hair is trimmed, freshly shaved, with a suit or dress on. Heck, if the family's would just sport them out in their regular everyday wear to let those who come to view the body as they knew it, it would just be so much better. Besides, when one arrives at the Pearly Gates, does St. Peter really give a hoot or a holler about what clothes one has on?
Happy Birthday, Kent! I hope you enjoyed YOUR day, today!
August 10, 2008
Just a few short notes, hopefully to a point, about a day of celebration for moi. I rose early, around 0620, due to a little dog bouncing on my bladder, telling me she needed out, too, I suppose, and that the sun was coming up. As I already had my day planned, I hit the floor running, for the back door first, for the bathroom, second, and for the kitchen and a pot of joe, third.
Got the cats fed early, which is most always a lot of fun and excitement for them, and me, too. To watch them vying for a space, for the closest bowl and the first drop of food is always changing. Most everyone gets along well, with an occasional hiss or slap across the face. There are several picky, finicky eaters, having their own special spots to eat leisurely, and I appease them, too, to keep relative calm around the yard.
So I settled on the front stoop to enjoy a brief respite from the heat. A light breeze, a couple of birds flittering about in the trees, the rueful sounds of a train passing town, and the perfunctory ambulance going somewhere, sirens blaring, all on a Sunday morning, before 0800. Didn't eat anything, as the bananas I found a couple of days ago in the store weren't too healthy looking. No muffins to be had, too lazy to do an English muffin, so I just slurped my coffee. Took my regimen of pills and played on the puter for a few minutes.
About 0830 I put on my sandals, a light-colored t-shirt, grabbed a hat and my hanky, headed out to the side yard to unload the truck. See, I had been tasked on Friday by Leona Davis to pick up Davis Caronza around 0900, go out to her house, get her truck and large trailer, along with a big old weed eater and a chainsaw, to return to my neighbor's house to clear out brush and small trees from the fence lines. Got out to her house, and whoops! no trailer. I had called Crystal on Saturday evening, when I went out to feed the animals as to the whereabouts of said trailer, and it turned out Cassidy and Rick (her latest flame) had taken it to do some four-wheeling Saturday afternoon, and had not returned it. Crystal said she would pass the word to Cassidy to get the trailer back by Sunday morning. I guess Cassidy didn't get the word.
Davis and I loaded all the gear - weed eater, chainsaw, and electrical cord into the back of her truck, and headed on back to town. In the meantime I called Cassidy, but I guess she had her phone turned off, so I had to leave a message.
I got Davis going on the fence line, and I was helping a little here and there. After all, it was him getting the money, not me. After I had not received a call from Cassidy by 1100-ish or so, I called her again, paged her, and left another message, telling her I really needed that trailer. In the long run, all my calling was for naught, as one of the tires on the trailer had blown out sometime Saturday and was still not repaired by mid-day today.
Not wishing to wait on Cassiday (you know how young'uns are these days, irresponsible when they borrow stuff), I drove back out to Leona's while Davis continued his work, got my truck and returned to the site. See, I've got a trailer, too, and instead of waiting on Cassidy, it was easier just to use my own stuff, git-er-done. While I think Davis and I could have done the dirty with one trip to the trash pile, it took three with my lil thang.
About 1500, though, I noticed my thermometer on the tree, in the shade, was at 105 degrees. Davis was getting winded, so I called it a day for both of us. Damn, that's hot, folks, especially to be outside working in it. On my birthday. On my day of celebration of freedom for 21 years. Yep, that's what I wrote: Today, August 10, is my birthday, 62 years of longevity, and what am I doing? Yard work. Not that I had planned on a real celebration anyway, but if nothing else I had something gainful to do, with help. But alas, and alack, the job is still not done. And tomorrow, Monday, August 11 is another day.
I'm "relaxing" now, writing this, and drinking a couple of brews. I need to shower, put on some clean clothes and ankle down to Grandview for a body viewing. But thinking about the heat, and how tired I am at the moment, nope, don't think so. That's part of the problem with viewing the dead, they're all made-up with cosmetics, hair is trimmed, freshly shaved, with a suit or dress on. Heck, if the family's would just sport them out in their regular everyday wear to let those who come to view the body as they knew it, it would just be so much better. Besides, when one arrives at the Pearly Gates, does St. Peter really give a hoot or a holler about what clothes one has on?
Happy Birthday, Kent! I hope you enjoyed YOUR day, today!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Honest Lies and Other Misguided Thoughts---06-16-08
I get an email or two several times a week from this fella, a friend down in Southeast Texas. This'un is just too good not to post here. You can subscribe to his newsletters if you wish at newt281@embarqmail.com , or you can just write to him at that address.
Grab yourself an iced tea, get a grip on yourself, prepare to be entertained!
---
By Newt Harlan
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Good morning y'all. I trust everyone passed a good weekend and all you fathers were suitably honored on Father’s Day. There’s coffee made on the stove and unsweetened tea and store-bought orange juice in the icebox. For those of you who need them, there’s fixing’s on the sideboard, including artificial sugar in pink packages some of y'all like so well. I remembered the doughnuts this morning, so y'all help yourselves.
Today dawned partly cloudy, hot and muggy. The temperature on my back porch at 5:30 this morning was 79 and it's supposed to get to 97 this afternoon. That won't quite match yesterday's 99, but I'm sure we'll find it plenty hot, and yes, the humidity will still be on the high side to complete our sauna...Hang in there, it's only 3 1/2 months until October.
Y'all might want to pay attention to these warnings today, since we're going to be discussing some fairly sensitive material.
This email is intended for the use of the addressees named above and contains information that is confidential and privileged (especially the part concerning damnyankees). It is definitely unsuitable for overly sensitive persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humor or irrational religious beliefs and should also be avoided by persons of questionable parentage. Persons sensitive to the words "damnyankee" will probably suffer a reaction; in fact care has been taken to assure this.
Those of you with an overwhelming fear of the unknown need to be aware that a hidden message has been inserted somewhere in this issue. Due to your irrational fear, it might be necessary for you to forego reading certain parts of this email, however I'm not at liberty to tell you which ones. Since you've already been exposed to portions, it might be a good idea for you to unplug your computer and light a dozen votive candles placed in a triangle around your monitor in the event that some of the secret message spills out. It will accomplish absolutely nothing, but you'll feel better about yourself.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
You Might Be A Blue Belly
For several years now Jeff Foxworthy and his friends have been entertaining us and I'm fairly sure by now you've heard most of the “You might be a redneck if” jokes. I enjoy most of these and often repeat them to friends and family. Nevertheless, I do resent it when those of the northern persuasion take it upon themselves to place everyone in the South into the redneck category, and look down their collective noses at us as if somehow living in the north makes them more intelligent than we Southerners, or whatever it is they think.
To tell the truth, the way damnyankees act and some of the things they do are just as funny as the antics of so-called rednecks, when they're viewed through a Southerner’s eyes. In order to be politically correct I shouldn't use the term damnyankees, so I'll call them what we've been calling them since the “War of Northern Aggression” – blue belly.
Here are my observations.
You might be a blue belly if...
1. Your last name is Lodge-Berkley or Smythe-Williams and you think it’s hilarious because Southerner’s have first names like Billy Joe, James Lee, Ludie Beth or Martha Fay.
2. You don't understand the concept that a man wearing his newest pair of bib overalls and a starched white shirt is just as dressed up as a man wearing a dark business suit.
3. You've never eaten okra, ever, not boiled, fried or in okra and tomatoes.
4. You think Heinz Hot Ketchup is REALLY spicy.
5. Your concept of roughing it is staying in a “Motel 6” instead of a “Sheraton”.
6. You use a knife and fork to eat fried chicken.
7. You have no idea where over yonder, down yonder or up yonder are.
8. You've never planned a vacation to coincide with the opening of deer season, a chili cookoff or the National Finals Rodeo.
9. You laugh when a group of people is referred to as y'all, but think it is perfectly okay to refer to them as you guys, even when it’s a group of women.
10. You think black-eyed peas are hog food and have no idea what purple hulls, crowders or cream peas are.
11. Your snow blower breaking down is a far bigger problem than your lawn mower breaking down.
12. You even know what a snow blower is.
13. You haven't the foggiest idea what a polecat is.
14. You're a male and can see no reason for owning a truck.
15. You don't know and don't want to know what a “spit-cup” is.
16. You have no problem pronouncing “Worcestershire Sauce” correctly and have never just given up and said, “pass the Lea and Perrins please.”
17. You don't have at least one can of WD-40 and one roll of duct tape somewhere in you house or at least in your truck.
18. You don't have at least 6 or 8 gimme caps advertising a product, company or organization hanging on your hat rack.
19. You can't understand why a head football coach is worth as much money as a university president.
20. You don't smile, speak or wave at people you meet on the street or while driving down the road, even if you don’t know them.
21. You don't understand that fixin’ to is a necessary step to accomplishing something.
22. You think 200 miles is too far to drive to watch a high school football game.
23. You refer to all western-style hats as “ten gallon hats.”
24. You have no idea what a doodad is.
25. You don’t know whether to be pleased or pissed off when someone tells you, “you’re worth about as much as a truckload of postholes.”
26. You can’t understand why drivers of diesel 4X4 pickups, hummers or Suburbans aren’t impressed with your Lexus, Mercedes or BMW. Just try running yours through a bog hole or in and out of a road ditch.
27. You think a stock tank is something the Army keeps on hand in case one of theirs breaks down or something.
28. You think NASCAR is an automobile dealership.
29. You have no idea of the therapeutic value of just sitting in the porch swing at grandma’s house.
30. You don’t understand when I tell you this whole essay is worth about as much as a milk bucket under a bull.
That’s about all I have for now. I hope you got a few chuckles. I imagine many of y’all have some of your own “you might be a blue belly if-----ideas.” If you’d like, share them with me and maybe we can do something interesting with them, even if it’s just to make a bunch of damnyankees wonder what the hell we’re up to.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
It’s obviously time to put a-30- on this attempt at literary mediocrity. I want to offer my usual thanks to y’all who again waded through all the twaddle and endured the blather and drivel until the bitter end. I’m blessed to have friends who overlook shoddy writing while in search of that one flash of literary brilliance…Unfortunately it didn’t appear today either. If parts of this look familiar, it’s probably because I found some of my old notes from back in early 2004 and used some material from them.
On the outside chance you actually enjoyed this effort, please forward it to your friends. In the event you loathed it, you can always forward it to your enemies; can you think of a better way to aggravate them? If nothing else, simply print it out for bathroom reading material and then you’ll have some extra paper in the event of an emergency.
If you have the time, ping me over an email and give me your comments on this effort, good or bad, I have an ego to feed and if I can move you to comment, I will have accomplished something.
Remember while you’re traveling down the road of life; try to dodge the used chewing gum and doggy piles. Be extra good to yourself and surprise someone with a random act of kindness. Remember, when you get to thinking you’ve run plumb out of friends, you haven’t yet… old Newt’s still over here. May God bless you and yours, my brothers and sisters and God Bless America!
My Pledge:
To maintain the highest standards of which I am capable or happen to feel like on any given day, to publish only information that is based on as much fact as I can find or make up, and most of all to have as much fun as possible without offending too many readers. The facts expressed here belong to everyone, the opinions are mine, and it’s your job to figure out which are which.
Newt Harlan
© 06-16-08
-30-
Grab yourself an iced tea, get a grip on yourself, prepare to be entertained!
---
By Newt Harlan
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Good morning y'all. I trust everyone passed a good weekend and all you fathers were suitably honored on Father’s Day. There’s coffee made on the stove and unsweetened tea and store-bought orange juice in the icebox. For those of you who need them, there’s fixing’s on the sideboard, including artificial sugar in pink packages some of y'all like so well. I remembered the doughnuts this morning, so y'all help yourselves.
Today dawned partly cloudy, hot and muggy. The temperature on my back porch at 5:30 this morning was 79 and it's supposed to get to 97 this afternoon. That won't quite match yesterday's 99, but I'm sure we'll find it plenty hot, and yes, the humidity will still be on the high side to complete our sauna...Hang in there, it's only 3 1/2 months until October.
Y'all might want to pay attention to these warnings today, since we're going to be discussing some fairly sensitive material.
This email is intended for the use of the addressees named above and contains information that is confidential and privileged (especially the part concerning damnyankees). It is definitely unsuitable for overly sensitive persons with low self-esteem, no sense of humor or irrational religious beliefs and should also be avoided by persons of questionable parentage. Persons sensitive to the words "damnyankee" will probably suffer a reaction; in fact care has been taken to assure this.
Those of you with an overwhelming fear of the unknown need to be aware that a hidden message has been inserted somewhere in this issue. Due to your irrational fear, it might be necessary for you to forego reading certain parts of this email, however I'm not at liberty to tell you which ones. Since you've already been exposed to portions, it might be a good idea for you to unplug your computer and light a dozen votive candles placed in a triangle around your monitor in the event that some of the secret message spills out. It will accomplish absolutely nothing, but you'll feel better about yourself.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
You Might Be A Blue Belly
For several years now Jeff Foxworthy and his friends have been entertaining us and I'm fairly sure by now you've heard most of the “You might be a redneck if” jokes. I enjoy most of these and often repeat them to friends and family. Nevertheless, I do resent it when those of the northern persuasion take it upon themselves to place everyone in the South into the redneck category, and look down their collective noses at us as if somehow living in the north makes them more intelligent than we Southerners, or whatever it is they think.
To tell the truth, the way damnyankees act and some of the things they do are just as funny as the antics of so-called rednecks, when they're viewed through a Southerner’s eyes. In order to be politically correct I shouldn't use the term damnyankees, so I'll call them what we've been calling them since the “War of Northern Aggression” – blue belly.
Here are my observations.
You might be a blue belly if...
1. Your last name is Lodge-Berkley or Smythe-Williams and you think it’s hilarious because Southerner’s have first names like Billy Joe, James Lee, Ludie Beth or Martha Fay.
2. You don't understand the concept that a man wearing his newest pair of bib overalls and a starched white shirt is just as dressed up as a man wearing a dark business suit.
3. You've never eaten okra, ever, not boiled, fried or in okra and tomatoes.
4. You think Heinz Hot Ketchup is REALLY spicy.
5. Your concept of roughing it is staying in a “Motel 6” instead of a “Sheraton”.
6. You use a knife and fork to eat fried chicken.
7. You have no idea where over yonder, down yonder or up yonder are.
8. You've never planned a vacation to coincide with the opening of deer season, a chili cookoff or the National Finals Rodeo.
9. You laugh when a group of people is referred to as y'all, but think it is perfectly okay to refer to them as you guys, even when it’s a group of women.
10. You think black-eyed peas are hog food and have no idea what purple hulls, crowders or cream peas are.
11. Your snow blower breaking down is a far bigger problem than your lawn mower breaking down.
12. You even know what a snow blower is.
13. You haven't the foggiest idea what a polecat is.
14. You're a male and can see no reason for owning a truck.
15. You don't know and don't want to know what a “spit-cup” is.
16. You have no problem pronouncing “Worcestershire Sauce” correctly and have never just given up and said, “pass the Lea and Perrins please.”
17. You don't have at least one can of WD-40 and one roll of duct tape somewhere in you house or at least in your truck.
18. You don't have at least 6 or 8 gimme caps advertising a product, company or organization hanging on your hat rack.
19. You can't understand why a head football coach is worth as much money as a university president.
20. You don't smile, speak or wave at people you meet on the street or while driving down the road, even if you don’t know them.
21. You don't understand that fixin’ to is a necessary step to accomplishing something.
22. You think 200 miles is too far to drive to watch a high school football game.
23. You refer to all western-style hats as “ten gallon hats.”
24. You have no idea what a doodad is.
25. You don’t know whether to be pleased or pissed off when someone tells you, “you’re worth about as much as a truckload of postholes.”
26. You can’t understand why drivers of diesel 4X4 pickups, hummers or Suburbans aren’t impressed with your Lexus, Mercedes or BMW. Just try running yours through a bog hole or in and out of a road ditch.
27. You think a stock tank is something the Army keeps on hand in case one of theirs breaks down or something.
28. You think NASCAR is an automobile dealership.
29. You have no idea of the therapeutic value of just sitting in the porch swing at grandma’s house.
30. You don’t understand when I tell you this whole essay is worth about as much as a milk bucket under a bull.
That’s about all I have for now. I hope you got a few chuckles. I imagine many of y’all have some of your own “you might be a blue belly if-----ideas.” If you’d like, share them with me and maybe we can do something interesting with them, even if it’s just to make a bunch of damnyankees wonder what the hell we’re up to.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
It’s obviously time to put a-30- on this attempt at literary mediocrity. I want to offer my usual thanks to y’all who again waded through all the twaddle and endured the blather and drivel until the bitter end. I’m blessed to have friends who overlook shoddy writing while in search of that one flash of literary brilliance…Unfortunately it didn’t appear today either. If parts of this look familiar, it’s probably because I found some of my old notes from back in early 2004 and used some material from them.
On the outside chance you actually enjoyed this effort, please forward it to your friends. In the event you loathed it, you can always forward it to your enemies; can you think of a better way to aggravate them? If nothing else, simply print it out for bathroom reading material and then you’ll have some extra paper in the event of an emergency.
If you have the time, ping me over an email and give me your comments on this effort, good or bad, I have an ego to feed and if I can move you to comment, I will have accomplished something.
Remember while you’re traveling down the road of life; try to dodge the used chewing gum and doggy piles. Be extra good to yourself and surprise someone with a random act of kindness. Remember, when you get to thinking you’ve run plumb out of friends, you haven’t yet… old Newt’s still over here. May God bless you and yours, my brothers and sisters and God Bless America!
My Pledge:
To maintain the highest standards of which I am capable or happen to feel like on any given day, to publish only information that is based on as much fact as I can find or make up, and most of all to have as much fun as possible without offending too many readers. The facts expressed here belong to everyone, the opinions are mine, and it’s your job to figure out which are which.
Newt Harlan
© 06-16-08
-30-
Friday, June 6, 2008
Sumthin diffrent
This morning, as I do most every morning, I ran through several websites I've got listed on my toolbar, including a political satire site. http://wwwDaybydaycartoon.com, by Chris Muir. He's usually right on target with his stabs. And he does stab both ways, so everyone is fair game.
Down the page a little, he's started putting links to other places and this one caught my eye: The Mudville Gazette http://www.mudvillegazette.com/archives/030196.html. The first article there was about this Army disabled (now) vet who is touring the country "to meet the people that supported him while he was deployed (camping or sleeping in his truck when he has to)."
This is his blog: http://danielsbigtrip.blogspot.com/?danny . I've read the whole thing, word for word, only took a couple of hours. But it's interesting, for sure.
I hope he comes close to Alvarado, TX, on his return trip, if he gets that far. I'd sure like to meet him. Guess I'd better write him, tell him that, huh?
Down the page a little, he's started putting links to other places and this one caught my eye: The Mudville Gazette http://www.mudvillegazette.com/archives/030196.html. The first article there was about this Army disabled (now) vet who is touring the country "to meet the people that supported him while he was deployed (camping or sleeping in his truck when he has to)."
This is his blog: http://danielsbigtrip.blogspot.com/?danny . I've read the whole thing, word for word, only took a couple of hours. But it's interesting, for sure.
I hope he comes close to Alvarado, TX, on his return trip, if he gets that far. I'd sure like to meet him. Guess I'd better write him, tell him that, huh?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
FW: The end of deployment to Iraq
If you've seen this already, my apologies for repetition, but it's just too informative to not forward.
Best regards,
Fletch
Chuck Jamison wrote:
From: "Chuck Jamison"
To: "Chuck Jamison"
Subject: FW: The end of deployment to Iraq
Date: Wed, 4 Jun 2008 20:40:32 -0700
Here’s some end of tour thoughts from a returning Marine officer.
Cheers
Chuck
Date: Tue, 3 Jun 2008 04:04:08 -0700
From: johnwemett
Subject: The end of deployment to Iraq
Dear family & friends -
My deployment to Iraq is nearly over. This will be my last letter to all of you from Iraq. I'm officially detached from my command and am now awaiting transportation. I'll fly from Baghdad to Kuwait one day and then from Kuwait to Dulles to Tampa the day after. After I out-process at MarCent at CentCom in Tampa, I will fly to Camp Lejeune, NC to do my final checkout. That part will take the longest since I have to turn in all my gear and go through the health and dental screenings as well as all the administrative checklists. But at least I am done with this headquarters staff job and soon will be moving in the right direction - towards home.
Overall, I think I did my part to make a difference in Iraq. It may not have been any kind of significant difference, but I know that I directly influenced some of the Iraqi generals that I worked with and was able to show them better and more efficient ways to manage their programs at MOI Ops (Ministry of the Interior Operations) or in other words, where the police planning for religious events security, as well as elections, took place. I assisted with the planning and execution of the orders written to support those events and for the offensive police operations that took place in al-Kut, Basra, Mosul, and Sadr City in the news the past few months. The main problem with MOI is that its forces belong to the provinces that have Operational Centers established which control all security forces in that province, to include the military and the police. The provinces that don't have OCs have their police forces all controlled by the provincial chief of police. That's quite a deal for everyone except MOI because MOI has to pay its forces and supply equipment but has no operational control over any of them. It would be similar in America to having someone else provide you with an employee workforce for your company that you can control and direct, but you don't have to pay them or provide their tools or equipment. Somehow it works in Iraq, it is what it is, and everyone accepts it. Our best guess is that the Iraqi government has it set up that way in order to prevent any one ministry from becoming too powerful, which is good, because MOI is now easily the single largest employer of adult working age males in this country. If they had full control over all their forces, they could easily shut down this entire country, support a coup, etc.
I've learned that the Iraqi governmental organizational problems involving its structure and processes will only be fixed when the Iraqis see the problem and solve it themselves. No amount of manpower, time, and money on behalf of the Coalition Forces is going to change anything of that nature until the Iraqis fix it themselves.
I've learned that extortion through illegal taxes, governmental corruption from the highest level on down, and kidnapping for ransom is a way of life for the Iraqi people. Places such as Basra have an entire economy dependent upon it. It's ingrained into the culture and is an accepted way of life and a perceived legitimate way to make a living.
I've learned that the Iraqis share no sense of nationalism or pride in being an Iraqi. Their allegiance is to their tribe and region first and foremost. The concept that an American can pick up and simply move from one state to another and begin a new life is an alien concept to Iraqis and they wonder how we can just do that and not worry about giving up the security and protection from our "tribe."
But overall, I've learned that Iraq is what it is. This is the true clash of civilizations, of East meeting West. The English language is heavy on verbs and is an "action" language. Arabic is heavy on adjectives and is a very descriptive language. Western languages can be translated nearly word for word from one to another. Arabic has to be translated in such a way that the meaning and intent of the speaker or writer can be properly understood. Direct translation is meaningless.
The security situation in Iraq has dramatically improved in the full year that I've been here. The numbers prove it. Because it's not a headline-grabbing concept and doesn't fit the media's anti-Bush agenda, you don't hear much about Iraq as you did a year ago. We're winning, we're succeeding, life is better in Iraq for all. If we ensure that the Iraqi government is strong enough and properly trained and equipped and able to handle their own security before we pull out, then this war will have been worth it. If we just pull everyone out and cave in to our American short attention span mindedness because this war has been going on too long, then this whole country will simply implode and erupt in civil war, and all the time, money, effort, and lives lost will have been for nothing. Just like Vietnam, withdrawal because of public pressure before the host nation government is ready will just result in defeat. It's the American public that will decide if we win or lose this war. Complete and early withdrawal before the Iraqi government is fully ready will be a defeat. It's not over, but militarily we have already won. America will lose if we walk away and let Iraq fall. A strong Iraq will keep Iran in check, it always has. To let Iran control this region of the world would be a huge mistake. If you think gas prices are bad now, wait until you see what they would be if Iran controlled and influenced all Middle East oil exports. Controlling Iran is best done through a strong Iraq.
Thank-you for your prayers and support throughout this deployment, especially for my family. This has been a long deployment and not one that we ever want to repeat. I have not been home or seen my family since April, last year. Although this deployment has been informative and challenging, I have no desire to ever see this part of the world again. Hopefully, if things go right and the checkout process is smooth, I will be home in Clovis by mid-June.
Sorry that I don't have a picture attached to this letter this month. All my pictures are now packed and inaccessible at the moment.
Thank-you for your support. Take care.
John Wemett
Col USMC
"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they
made a difference. The Marines don't have that problem."
President Ronald Reagan; 1985
Best regards,
Fletch
Chuck Jamison wrote:
From: "Chuck Jamison"
To: "Chuck Jamison"
Subject: FW: The end of deployment to Iraq
Date: Wed, 4 Jun 2008 20:40:32 -0700
Here’s some end of tour thoughts from a returning Marine officer.
Cheers
Chuck
Date: Tue, 3 Jun 2008 04:04:08 -0700
From: johnwemett
Subject: The end of deployment to Iraq
Dear family & friends -
My deployment to Iraq is nearly over. This will be my last letter to all of you from Iraq. I'm officially detached from my command and am now awaiting transportation. I'll fly from Baghdad to Kuwait one day and then from Kuwait to Dulles to Tampa the day after. After I out-process at MarCent at CentCom in Tampa, I will fly to Camp Lejeune, NC to do my final checkout. That part will take the longest since I have to turn in all my gear and go through the health and dental screenings as well as all the administrative checklists. But at least I am done with this headquarters staff job and soon will be moving in the right direction - towards home.
Overall, I think I did my part to make a difference in Iraq. It may not have been any kind of significant difference, but I know that I directly influenced some of the Iraqi generals that I worked with and was able to show them better and more efficient ways to manage their programs at MOI Ops (Ministry of the Interior Operations) or in other words, where the police planning for religious events security, as well as elections, took place. I assisted with the planning and execution of the orders written to support those events and for the offensive police operations that took place in al-Kut, Basra, Mosul, and Sadr City in the news the past few months. The main problem with MOI is that its forces belong to the provinces that have Operational Centers established which control all security forces in that province, to include the military and the police. The provinces that don't have OCs have their police forces all controlled by the provincial chief of police. That's quite a deal for everyone except MOI because MOI has to pay its forces and supply equipment but has no operational control over any of them. It would be similar in America to having someone else provide you with an employee workforce for your company that you can control and direct, but you don't have to pay them or provide their tools or equipment. Somehow it works in Iraq, it is what it is, and everyone accepts it. Our best guess is that the Iraqi government has it set up that way in order to prevent any one ministry from becoming too powerful, which is good, because MOI is now easily the single largest employer of adult working age males in this country. If they had full control over all their forces, they could easily shut down this entire country, support a coup, etc.
I've learned that the Iraqi governmental organizational problems involving its structure and processes will only be fixed when the Iraqis see the problem and solve it themselves. No amount of manpower, time, and money on behalf of the Coalition Forces is going to change anything of that nature until the Iraqis fix it themselves.
I've learned that extortion through illegal taxes, governmental corruption from the highest level on down, and kidnapping for ransom is a way of life for the Iraqi people. Places such as Basra have an entire economy dependent upon it. It's ingrained into the culture and is an accepted way of life and a perceived legitimate way to make a living.
I've learned that the Iraqis share no sense of nationalism or pride in being an Iraqi. Their allegiance is to their tribe and region first and foremost. The concept that an American can pick up and simply move from one state to another and begin a new life is an alien concept to Iraqis and they wonder how we can just do that and not worry about giving up the security and protection from our "tribe."
But overall, I've learned that Iraq is what it is. This is the true clash of civilizations, of East meeting West. The English language is heavy on verbs and is an "action" language. Arabic is heavy on adjectives and is a very descriptive language. Western languages can be translated nearly word for word from one to another. Arabic has to be translated in such a way that the meaning and intent of the speaker or writer can be properly understood. Direct translation is meaningless.
The security situation in Iraq has dramatically improved in the full year that I've been here. The numbers prove it. Because it's not a headline-grabbing concept and doesn't fit the media's anti-Bush agenda, you don't hear much about Iraq as you did a year ago. We're winning, we're succeeding, life is better in Iraq for all. If we ensure that the Iraqi government is strong enough and properly trained and equipped and able to handle their own security before we pull out, then this war will have been worth it. If we just pull everyone out and cave in to our American short attention span mindedness because this war has been going on too long, then this whole country will simply implode and erupt in civil war, and all the time, money, effort, and lives lost will have been for nothing. Just like Vietnam, withdrawal because of public pressure before the host nation government is ready will just result in defeat. It's the American public that will decide if we win or lose this war. Complete and early withdrawal before the Iraqi government is fully ready will be a defeat. It's not over, but militarily we have already won. America will lose if we walk away and let Iraq fall. A strong Iraq will keep Iran in check, it always has. To let Iran control this region of the world would be a huge mistake. If you think gas prices are bad now, wait until you see what they would be if Iran controlled and influenced all Middle East oil exports. Controlling Iran is best done through a strong Iraq.
Thank-you for your prayers and support throughout this deployment, especially for my family. This has been a long deployment and not one that we ever want to repeat. I have not been home or seen my family since April, last year. Although this deployment has been informative and challenging, I have no desire to ever see this part of the world again. Hopefully, if things go right and the checkout process is smooth, I will be home in Clovis by mid-June.
Sorry that I don't have a picture attached to this letter this month. All my pictures are now packed and inaccessible at the moment.
Thank-you for your support. Take care.
John Wemett
Col USMC
"Some people spend an entire lifetime wondering if they
made a difference. The Marines don't have that problem."
President Ronald Reagan; 1985
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Weighty Things
Weighty Things - © Kent Fletcher
June 1, 2008
In my cruising of the web, I keep coming across weighty things, mostly tons. "Tons" of information, "tons" of fun, "tons" of frivolity. Wow, must be tons of tons of things out there, eh?
Now, herein lies my quandary. How does one weigh tons of information, of fun, of frivolity? How does one weigh flights of fancy, the spoken word, the sung song, the preacher's comments on Sunday mornings? For these items, and others, of surreality, how does one weigh the thought processes? It's confusing to me.
To weigh the physical things, like radioisotopes, or birds, or virii, or ships, or bacteria, now there I can get a grip of the reality. Tiny as they are - the radioisotopes or virii or bacteria - they still have physical characteristics, don't they? And if they have physical characteristics, well, then they would weigh something, wouldn't they? And of course, we all know perfectly well that ships and buildings and water containers and cars and some animals like whales and elephants can and do weigh tons, but I wonder how many specimens of radioisotopes or virii or bacteria would it take to weigh a ton? If all humanity, and all the animal world were taken away, would there be enough radioisotopes or virii or bacteria left on this planet to even weigh a ton, or two? Now there is an interesting subject for some young entrepreneur to work on for a thesis. It would keep him busy for a ton of time, wouldn't it?
Thinking about all this weighs on my mind, on my thought processes, I'm getting a headache. But I will plod along for just a few more minutes.
Here's some thoughts, maybe a ton or two for YOU to ponder, as well:
- How can the weight of the earth be calculated, when all known living things in the universe only reside on this little orb, this minute speck in the sky? Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say, that approximations can be made up in the physical aspects of the elements, tons of rock, tons of water, all those physical things that can be touched, felt, weighed can be guesstimated out, extrapolated for density and volume and given a number. But compared to what? Has anyone ever been anywhere else but the Earth's moon for comparisons? Do we (humanity) have drilling stations set up on the dark side of the moon, out of eyesight of humanity back here at the home base, coring samples through that mass of.... what? How can the weight of the Earth orb be calculated, as we have nothing to really -compare it to?
- We've all heard tell of how things - thoughts, emotions, non-physical aspects - weigh on us, yes? We have "heavy" hearts at times, and we have "light-headedness"? Can someone tell me how to weigh an emotion? How much is a ton of emotion, or thought?
- Somehow, if the "thing" that holds all the universe together (gravity?) were to go away, what would happen to the tons of stuff we can see and feel? Would it all flatten into a pancake form? Would it get bigger? How big would the hole be where it all collects? Hm. Dr. Pepple, where are you?
- How is the weight of the air we breathe weighed? It is so light and fluffy (?), how can one get a grasp, really, on air? If one takes a cube, say a cubic foot of space, of air, and extracts all the air within that confine, can the weight of the cube after the extraction be compared to the weight before? What's left, just a lot of dead air? And would the cube even exist, anyway, because as I understand it, there's tons of air both inside a given space, and outside, and if the air inside is removed, what's to keep the air outside from collapsing the whole thing? Hm.
- How much does a cubic foot of water weigh at 10,000 feet below sea level? There are trenches that deep, I think. Does the weight of an object really increase the closer to the core of the Earth it is? Does a pound of weight on the surface eventually weigh a ton somewhere below that? I'm not asking about the cumulative weight on top, the tons on top, just that one cubic foot of... whatever - water, air, elephants.
- If Superman has super-human abilities, how much does he really weigh? Tons?
- How much space does a ton of air take up?
- How much space does a ton of information take up? Or fun? Or frivolity? In our shrinking environment, can we really afford to have all these weighty things? Will all these tons of information eventually do us in?
Think about all this, will you? Let me know your thoughts, even your tons of thoughts. I've got a couple of cubby-holes it could all be stored in for future generations.
The more I think about all this, the more I draw on my consciousness about "things". How many thoughts make up a ton of thoughts? But I'm repeating myself, so I'll end this, now, with just one more thought.
As I've written elsewhere, and drawing upon an old cartoon from many years gone by, sometimes I sits, sometimes I sits and thinks, and when I sits and thinks long enough, I goes to sleep.
June 1, 2008
In my cruising of the web, I keep coming across weighty things, mostly tons. "Tons" of information, "tons" of fun, "tons" of frivolity. Wow, must be tons of tons of things out there, eh?
Now, herein lies my quandary. How does one weigh tons of information, of fun, of frivolity? How does one weigh flights of fancy, the spoken word, the sung song, the preacher's comments on Sunday mornings? For these items, and others, of surreality, how does one weigh the thought processes? It's confusing to me.
To weigh the physical things, like radioisotopes, or birds, or virii, or ships, or bacteria, now there I can get a grip of the reality. Tiny as they are - the radioisotopes or virii or bacteria - they still have physical characteristics, don't they? And if they have physical characteristics, well, then they would weigh something, wouldn't they? And of course, we all know perfectly well that ships and buildings and water containers and cars and some animals like whales and elephants can and do weigh tons, but I wonder how many specimens of radioisotopes or virii or bacteria would it take to weigh a ton? If all humanity, and all the animal world were taken away, would there be enough radioisotopes or virii or bacteria left on this planet to even weigh a ton, or two? Now there is an interesting subject for some young entrepreneur to work on for a thesis. It would keep him busy for a ton of time, wouldn't it?
Thinking about all this weighs on my mind, on my thought processes, I'm getting a headache. But I will plod along for just a few more minutes.
Here's some thoughts, maybe a ton or two for YOU to ponder, as well:
- How can the weight of the earth be calculated, when all known living things in the universe only reside on this little orb, this minute speck in the sky? Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say, that approximations can be made up in the physical aspects of the elements, tons of rock, tons of water, all those physical things that can be touched, felt, weighed can be guesstimated out, extrapolated for density and volume and given a number. But compared to what? Has anyone ever been anywhere else but the Earth's moon for comparisons? Do we (humanity) have drilling stations set up on the dark side of the moon, out of eyesight of humanity back here at the home base, coring samples through that mass of.... what? How can the weight of the Earth orb be calculated, as we have nothing to really -compare it to?
- We've all heard tell of how things - thoughts, emotions, non-physical aspects - weigh on us, yes? We have "heavy" hearts at times, and we have "light-headedness"? Can someone tell me how to weigh an emotion? How much is a ton of emotion, or thought?
- Somehow, if the "thing" that holds all the universe together (gravity?) were to go away, what would happen to the tons of stuff we can see and feel? Would it all flatten into a pancake form? Would it get bigger? How big would the hole be where it all collects? Hm. Dr. Pepple, where are you?
- How is the weight of the air we breathe weighed? It is so light and fluffy (?), how can one get a grasp, really, on air? If one takes a cube, say a cubic foot of space, of air, and extracts all the air within that confine, can the weight of the cube after the extraction be compared to the weight before? What's left, just a lot of dead air? And would the cube even exist, anyway, because as I understand it, there's tons of air both inside a given space, and outside, and if the air inside is removed, what's to keep the air outside from collapsing the whole thing? Hm.
- How much does a cubic foot of water weigh at 10,000 feet below sea level? There are trenches that deep, I think. Does the weight of an object really increase the closer to the core of the Earth it is? Does a pound of weight on the surface eventually weigh a ton somewhere below that? I'm not asking about the cumulative weight on top, the tons on top, just that one cubic foot of... whatever - water, air, elephants.
- If Superman has super-human abilities, how much does he really weigh? Tons?
- How much space does a ton of air take up?
- How much space does a ton of information take up? Or fun? Or frivolity? In our shrinking environment, can we really afford to have all these weighty things? Will all these tons of information eventually do us in?
Think about all this, will you? Let me know your thoughts, even your tons of thoughts. I've got a couple of cubby-holes it could all be stored in for future generations.
The more I think about all this, the more I draw on my consciousness about "things". How many thoughts make up a ton of thoughts? But I'm repeating myself, so I'll end this, now, with just one more thought.
As I've written elsewhere, and drawing upon an old cartoon from many years gone by, sometimes I sits, sometimes I sits and thinks, and when I sits and thinks long enough, I goes to sleep.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Two Words
Two Words - © Kent Fletcher
May 6, 2008
Green. Diverse. Tiresome, tiresome words. Used, abused, rode hard and put-up-wet-words. Useless words except to the purveyors of the new age of experience. I am so tired of hearing them and they will never return to their original meanings.
Green comes about not as a color per se, but as a movement among the environmentalists, the tree-huggers, the water-huggers, the pacifists who worry more about a snail darter's demise somewhere than the continuance of human life, itself. Green has invaded everyday speech ad nauseam from recycling aluminum to giant windmills, as if those two extremes were not already on the map. And yet, while a community may be suffering because food supplies cannot be garnered in a timely manner, these same environmentalists will stop at nothing to prohibit exploration of new areas of attainment of energy-producing products. While the community is aching for suitable housing - a roof over their heads, a bit of warmth in cool weather, a bit of cool in warm weather, a dry spot in a flood - the environmentalists, the Greens will prohibit the cutting and processing of old-growth forests for the sake of their grandchildren, who indeed may be the ones aching in the future, if not now.
I would hope that more people, at least more adults care more about their surroundings than the general public realizes. I remember driving down a road outside New Orleans and seeing McDonalds wrappers flying willy-nilly out the windows as a family drove somewhere. It disgusted me, but being a newbie to the area, I said nothing. Knowing remotely of the populace in that area, I could have been shot for my concerns. Where I live now, in Texas, I keep the right-of-way on the property I rent as free of trash as I can, going beyond the property line and picking up styrofoam cups, plastic cups, beer cans or bottles, food wrappers, flyers, advertisement sheets from newspapers, sticks of size, whatever out of a sense of pride, if nothing else, for my corner of the world. But today's society is such a throw-away society with a give-a-hoot attitude, it's a wonder there is a clean spot anywhere in the world. Shrink-wrap, plastic bottles and plates and knives and forks and spoons litter the landscape like new-fallen snow at times. Companies have been formed and are quite profitable, hiring unskilled labor (and maybe even skilled labor, too) to walk the highways and byways of this nation to pick up others' trash, and charge the government - city, county, state, federal - for the services. Local governments such as cities or counties have their own readily-available work crews - those incarcerated for trivial reasons, yet sentenced to confinement at the taxpayers' expense nonetheless - out in the hot, hot summertime clearing out ditches of brush and vines. With that I agree wholeheartedly. Reminds me of "Cool Hand Luke", should be more, far more utilization of inmates across the board. What's wrong with a chain-gang, anyway? I know I'll get flack for that, so I say, bring it on.
Diverse means what, not-the-same-old, same old, does it not? From Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary (1913), 1. Different; unlike; dissimilar; distinct; separate; 2. Capable of various forms; multiform.
I look around the Internet on a daily basis and find countless websites wherein folks are looking for diversity when they move. Tell it like it is, folks, why don't you? If you want to find a neighborhood that has both reaches of the wealth spectrum - lower income to higher income, just state as such. If you want to live among those folks who don't have a lot, so that you can feel better about yourself, say so. If you want to live in a gated community, where the riff-raff cannot easily get in, say so. If you want to live in an integrated neighborhood where most everyone is on equal footing, say so. Go for it. But please, give me a break!
If you want to go "green", please, do so, but don't beat me around my head and shoulders about what you want. I've got my own problems to deal with. If you want diversity, open your eyes, go find it for yourself, just don't talk my ear off about it. It's a wide-open world out there, all for your taking! Go live your life for yourself without taking any prisoners!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
