More Death and Carnage

I was saddened by the horrific events in Pittsburgh this weekend. It seems the nuts are coming out of the woodwork, but it's no surprise. The ramped up rhetoric of the past decade is a siren call to the mentally ill; those who would shoot up a church or synagogue, those who would gun down a man playing softball, or massacre a club full of gays having a good time, or badly beat a neighbor out mowing his yard.

It will get worse before it gets better.

I read that the synagogue in question has declared our President persona non grata until he denounces white nationalism. That's not helping, and is only pitting one group of Americans against another yet again.

I don't hang out on FB or twitter much, but I did peek in and noticed a strange silence. My Jewish friends were understandably upset, and my far-left friends and family were virtue-signalling themselves into a sickening self-satisfied dither. But most folks were very quiet. They're horrified by the carnage, and know in their hearts there is more to come.

White nationalists, or more properly American nationalists, are a hard-working, law-abiding bunch that like peace and order. All the shrieking and ridiculousness being crammed down their throats 24/7 isn't sitting well. People that ten years ago would be running to your door with a casserole and a hug during times of tragedy are instead warily peeking out their door to assess friend or foe. It's very sad. Our national motto is E Pluribus Unum, but we have become E Unum Pluribus.

I pray for the victims and their families, and I pray for our beautiful country. May God hold us in His protective hand and heal our broken hearts. Amen.

How The West Was Won

While we are eagerly anticipating a wonderful family post (hint hint) from the lovely and brilliant Magic Fayre, who is currently acrost yon pond, I thought I would whet your appetite for history and historic things. This is a bio of a pioneer woman, written by her daughter in 1921. I will post it as I found it, without editing:

Wee Hours of the Morning

Pull up a chair and let me pour you a glass of wine....







And to soothe a sorrowful soul....





Feel free to add your favorites.






Here's one I'd like to post for him.

Sunday Morning Gratitude

Taps.



This is so beautiful and poignant it brought tears to my eyes. May God bless the brave men and women who keep us free.

The 10th

Happy 10th Wedding Anniversary husband!  The traditional gift is tin/aluminum, which I can live without :)  I'm allergic to tin and I have enough foil to last a year.

Ed the Weatherman once said it would be all over by the 5th!  His predictions were almost as accurate as the weather forecasters...not!

Our wedding dance song:

The Last Crossing

The Last Crossing

   by lady red

This is a story of family, and a story of faith. It is also a story of America, and the remarkable resilience and spirit that forged our fledgling nation.

Our tale begins at, well, the beginning: in the boondocks of western New York, in the decades following the Revolutionary War. During the period of what is now known as the Second Great Awakening, there lived a family named Smith. They lived in the "Burned-Over District", so named for the religious evangelical fervor that was embraced by its residents, led mostly by the Baptists and the Methodists. The Smith family was no exception, and they spent many an evening reading the bible and discussing religion. 

Brooklyn, and The Nation, In Mourning

Two of our men in blue won't be celebrating Christmas with their families. They are dead tonight, ambushed and executed by a low-life scum.

The simmering cold war involving the NYPD and various elements of New York's population just went nuclear when a little before 3:00 PM, reports hit that two NYPD officers were shot in their patrol car, and subsequently died, in what has been dubbed an "execution style" ambush in Brooklyn's Bed-Stuy area. The alleged shooter was chased by police and subsequently died of a self-inflicted gun wound.

Reports are that the shooter, who allegedly killed his girlfriend earlier in the day, took the coward's way out rather than face the music for his utter barbarity and depravity. He posted an Instagram message before carrying out his despicable plan, claiming the executions were in retaliation for Eric Gardner and the thug Mike Brown.

I hope the mayor is fucking happy for throwing gasoline on the fire. I guarantee he won't be welcome at the funerals of these officers.

November 11, 2014

At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, we shall remember them.

2014 is the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of WW1. At the Tower of London 888,246 ceramic poppies have been installed, each one representing a British or Commonwealth fatality of The Great War.

 

 

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
by John McCrae

Remembrance Day 2013

HEROES

 Noel Godfrey Chavasse was born in Oxford on 9th November, 1884. Chavasse was educated at Liverpool College and Trinity College, Oxford . After graduating with first class honours in 1907 he studied medicine. In 1908 Chavasse and his twin brother, Christopher, represented Britain in the Olympic Games in the 400 metres.

On the outbreak of the First World War Chavasse offered to serve in France. He was transferred to the Western Front in November 1914 where he was attached to the Liverpool Scottish Regiment. In the first few months he was kept busy dealing with trench foot, a condition caused by standing for long periods in mud and water.

In March 1915 the regiment took part in the offensive at Ypres, where poison gas was used for the first time. By June 1915 only 142 men out of the 829 men who arrived with Chavasse remained on active duty. The rest had been killed or badly wounded. Chavasse was promoted to captain in August 1915 and six months later was awarded the Military Cross for his actions at the Battle of Hooge. In April 1916 he was granted three days leave to receive his award from King George V.

In July 1916 Chavasse's battalion was moved to the Somme battlefield near Mametz. On the 7th August the Liverpool Scottish Regiment were ordered to attack Guillemont. Of the 620 men who took part in the offensive, 106 of the men were killed and 174 were wounded. This included Chavasse who was hit by shell splinters while rescuing men in no-mans-land. For this he was awarded the Victoria Cross. In February 1917 he was granted 14 days leave in England.

He returned to the Liverpool Scottish Regiment and took part in the offensive at Passchendaele. For nearly two days he went out into the battlefield rescuing and treating wounded soldiers. It was during this period Noel performed the deeds that gained him his second Victoria Cross. After being badly wounded he was sent to the Casualty Clearing Station at Brandhoek. Although operated on he died on 4th August 1917. Noel Godfrey Chavasse was Britain's most highly decorated serviceman in the war.

Americans, On Occassion, ROCK

This is a great story.

Fourteen Marines on their way home from serving in Afghanistan were upgraded to first class on their flight from Chicago to San Diego.

The Marines learned that American Airlines - which has a policy to upgrade servicemen and women in uniform whenever possible - had six empty seats in first class for the group. That gesture was followed by seven first-class passengers who jumped out of their seats for the other Marines so they could sit together.

And it gets even better.

"There must have been 15 Chicago firemen and an equal number of Chicago police and they formed a corridor for the Marines when they got off the airplane," he said.

An expression of faith and love...

Margaret Thatcher planned her own funeral.  She wished it to be "an expression of faith and love".

I hope that the British authorities keep the anarchists in check on the day.  One of the hyms will be the beautiful and  patriotic "I Vow To Thee, My Country".

Thank you Maggie, and RIP.

Federal Workers Feeling The Heat

According to an article published in the Washington Post, some government workers are feeling unloved and unwanted.

"For most of their lives, federal workers in Mantua say, having “United States Treasury” atop their paycheck meant security, pride and a sense of mission. Things change: Now it means having to defend yourself against arguments, from strangers and even from your own relatives, that you’re an overpaid and underworked leech. And in these days of political paralysis, it means that that paycheck suddenly isn’t so secure anymore."

I didn't realize that the disdain of the taxpaying public was playing head-games with some government employees. Heck, when I was a young girl, my mom tried to get a job at the post office; hundreds of people applied for one position. The job was considered a gravy-train of pay and bennies, and required no skills other than being able to read and count change. Alas, she didn't have the connections to be handed the sugarplum. The article captures this view of government work in one quote:

“I don’t know if people will want to go into the government the way it’s thought of now,” Foo said. “For us in the ’70s, it was about security and availability. It wasn’t the highest paid of jobs, but the pay was guaranteed and you couldn’t get laid off.” (bolding mine)

Actually, even back in the seventies, the pay was good.  I've often seen a certain "disconnect" between some federal workers and the private sector, and it doesn't surprise me that a few of them are feeling a bit of animosity from their friends and families. While those in the private sector have been brutalized by the crippled economy and the budget-busting weight of millions of pages of new regulations, the government-class has been fairly well insulated from the pain. It's difficult for people who are living in personal austerity to relate to...well, to THIS guy:

"The professor has already cut back in anticipation of the forthcoming budget slashing: He told a carpenter who was going to build bookshelves in the living room that the $5,000 job will have to be put off, and he told his doggie day care provider that he’ll have to go without that service when the furloughs kick in."

Really? Please tell us more about your tragic personal situation! Or not. Whining will not win the hearts of folks who have seen their retirement savings gobbled up by simple living expenses, their paychecks (if they're lucky enough to have one) remain stagnant, and their taxes go up.

We need a small staff of federal workers; good ones. Strong people. Educated people who take public service as a calling, not a pig trough. They are out there; hard-working, brilliant, and dedicated. I think we owe those people a hearty "thank you", and on the flip side of the coin, they owe taxpayers a hearty "thank you" for the paychecks and benefits the private sector provide.

While it's true that the federal government has an enormous glut of personnel and programs, and that the tail has been wagging the dog to the point of economic collapse, we must be careful, in our fed-up disdain, not to throw out the baby with the bath water.

A Memorable Man

I know that this will be a surprise to regular readers of this blog that I love radio, especially its history. There are some old time radio shows that I really enjoy. About ten years ago, one of my favorite radio actors was to be the guest of honor at a dinner of the Radio Enthusiasts of Puget Sound. Of course I wanted to go, but I wouldn’t know anyone there.

Not wanting to be late, I arrived at the restaurant about forty-five minutes early. I was told that the room was not ready yet but I could wait in the bar. As I entered the bar I saw a man in a suit, an unusual sight in Seattle. What was also unusual about this man was that he stood only four-and-a-half feet tall. I knew I was in the right place.

I must have looked like a fish out of water. This man walked up to me and asked, "Are you here for the REPS dinner?”

After I said that I was, He said, “Well that’s what I am here for, too. Hi, I’m Dick Beals.” I introduced myself and we talked for a few minutes.

I had never heard the name before, but I was to discover that I had heard that voice. Oh, had I heard that voice. Davey from “Davey and Goliath,” Gumby, Speedy Alka Seltzer. If you have ever heard a radio episode of Gunsmoke where there was a young boy, he was the young boy. He played boys in several radio episodes of Dragnet.

It is not his resume that made him memorable to me. What made him memorable was that he was a real, honest, gracious gentleman.  Later in the evening it was still obvious that I really didn’t know anyone in the room. Two hours after our brief conversation in the bar, after he made the keynote speech about the guest of honor, he came over to me and said, “Matt, are you having a good time?” Two hours later,  not only did he come over to see how I was doing, he remembered my name.

In the days following that dinner I found a copy of his autobiography on Amazon.  The book gave insight into what it was like to be a radio actor. The book also told how he managed a Little League team – a team of physically and mentally challenged players – and that team won their league championship. He would not allow anyone to intimidate or demean him. He would treat everyone with respect and expected the same in return. He earned that respect.

Dick Beals was an inspirational man. Even though he stood only four foot six, he stood tall. I only met him that one evening, but it was a memorable meeting for me.

Mr. Beals has passed away at the age of 85. Rest in peace, sir.