Holocaust Memorial Day

Holocaust Memorial Day began at sunset Sunday, April 27, 2014 and ends at nightfall Monday, April 28, 2014.

The enemies of Mankind, the very same ones who slaughtered 6 million innocents, hope we will forget. Because in forgetting we ourselves will set the stage for history to repeat itself. 

I take this day to remind myself and to renew my pledge.

 

 Never Again.

Six

9/11

The war is not over. No, far from it.

We also remember those service men and women who have given so much that we may prevail over those who would see us servile or dead. Selfless service deserves selfless service.

And as always for Ken. May you soar with the eagles forever. We will always miss you.

Six

Jars Of Sand

I wanted to post about this day in history but so many better have already done so. I do want to remember and honor those men in my own small way.

My lovely and talented daughter, the DO, was in Hungary for a couple of years. Stationed there with her AF husband and my two wonderful grandchildren. Last year they decided they'd best take advantage of their situation and visit all the places they'd always wanted to see. One of those places was the D-Day beaches. I've always wanted to go and she's sworn that one day she will take me but in the interim, in case I never make that trip, I had a request. Some sand. Just some sand from those beaches where American soldiers taught the world what the true price of freedom was and then paid it. In cash.

Two small bottles containing some sand from beaches half a world away. Utah in Red. Omaha in Blue. The sand isn't the same that those men scrambled over and died upon. No, that sand, like their lives, has been washed away to be replaced with the new. Their blood and sweat never stained these grains. But their spirit remains. It is as tangible as the kiss of wind on my face. I dare not touch it. I am unworthy. But I can sit and hold the bottles containing the remembrance of valor and struggle and death and victory and imagine and remember and honor. June 6th, 1944. Freedom's victory.

They did not die in vain. This country shall not fall. Their spirit remains alive in America today. I can feel it. There is still honor and courage and sacrifice and duty. We shall keep those flames alive. In their memory.

Two small bottles of sand from beaches half a world away. Collected and presented to me by a daughter who knows and understands because she has herself served. They are priceless to me.

Keep the Faith my friends.

Six

Remember Those Who Will Not Be Home This Christmas

In a couple of days we will celebrate the birth of Christ. Christmas day. We'll open brightly wrapped packages, eat til we're stuffed, sing some carols and enjoy friends and family. As we should. As is right and proper. The chance to enjoy this holiday in the warmth and comfort of our homes has been bought and paid for by men and women who will never again feel the embrace of loved ones nor see the joy in their childrens faces upon opening a particularly precious gift. Brought to us by men and women who will spend yet another Christmas away from hearth and home so that we, their beloved countrymen, might have this day in peace. They will ever be in our hearts.




To all those we have lost. How we do miss you.  For all those who are still serving, so far from your loved ones. We love you more than we can say. Thank you for your service and sacrifice. Thank you for allowing me to have those I love best near to enjoy our holiday in peace and comfort. Thank you for keeping the faith.

From my family to you and yours may you have a Merry Christmas. We pray that you will find your homes again safely in the new year. May God bless each and every one of you and may we never forget.

Six
DO
Sarge

First Car

My first car was actually a pickup. It was a 1948 Chev 3100 pickup. It really belonged to me and my 15 months older brother (and was therefore a subject of many fistfights over possession on any given Saturday night). Here's picture of the truck but not my truck. My truck always looked like something a farmer had abandoned in a field.

We lived next door to my mechanical genius, could do anything, former homesteader and Hughes Aircraft Inspector grandfather. We pulled out the six cylinder and three speed and dropped in a 327 and a Rock Crusher 4 speed. Just because we could. During that build we took off the bed, ostensibly to get at the driveshaft to shorten it and get easier access to the transmission. Talk was heard about "body work" and "a paint job" but I think that was mostly youthful fantasy and bragadoccio. In any event, the bed never again saw the frame rails of that truck nor did anything more than rattle can primer touch the cab.

It could modestly be called a Tire Smoker. It'd break loose the rears in any gear with barely more than a thought and a dare. Being severely financially challenged it wore a series of two dollar used tires on the back. Usually about three miles from being bald as Captain Picard. Probably a good idea because we never did get around to a rear end swap. That stocker would have snapped like soft candy if we'd ever on put anything stickier than those bias ply tires that were harder than my head.

We got the truck while I was still, let's just say somewhat shy of the date where a license could be legally acquired (I think the statute of limitations must have run out by now). I remember driving with one of my best friends past the high school and seeing the driving instructor coming the other way. I was scheduled for Drivers Ed. in the next semester so we were motivated to avoid detection. I still wonder what he thought on seeing a totally pilotless pickup pass him. I wonder more how I ever managed to miss a parked car. Thank the Mormons for very wide streets.

We later sold it when it became apparent it was totally uncool (though it'd be awesomely cool to have it now, exactly as I remember it) and we were never going to actually complete any of the grandiose schemes we had for it. I moved on to a 63 Impala SS and later a 69 Chevelle SS. There was a certain Vega in there somewhere that that same mad scientist grandfather dropped a small block into but that's a story for another day. Want to be tempted to throw something hard at me? I later abandoned the Impala. Abandoned it. It was towed by the city and who know what happened to it. I totalled the Chevelle in a head on with a bread truck and sold it for scrap. Kids.

Though I wish I still had a lot of those cars the one I'm most tempted to try again is that 48 pickup. I guess the first girl will always be special.

Six