Veterans Day Reflection

                I suppose I should write something patriotic seeing as yesterday was Veterans Day.  In the morning we had a nice assembly with Sgt. Long and Gen. Burton from the Utah National Guard.  I always get a little misty when I ponder the freedoms I enjoy and those who have made that freedom possible.  A rousing rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner” always gets the tears flowing.

    Dad always springs to mind first, since he was active duty USAF while I was living at home.  He retired around the time I graduated from high school, and was gone quite often for military training.

                The summer before I started high school he had been stateside (We were living in England) for several weeks.  When he returned to RAF Mildenhall where he was stationed, he learned that his squadron had been mobilized and were headed down to Saudi Arabia and Kuwait for Operation: Desert Storm.  He spent two days with us and then was gone.

                Those nine months were tough.  I gave up watching the news.  Avoiding reading about it was harder, as I delivered the Stars and Stripes in my neighborhood.  Eventually he returned, but then spent the next several months alternating between temporary duties in Russia, Germany, Turkey, and home.  I have to say that it was crazy not knowing if he would come home or not.

                I am grateful for him, his sacrifice, and for the opportunities I have had as a result of his assignments around the globe.  I have been places, witnessed events, and met people that have influenced my life.  I count myself fortunate to have been an Air Force brat.  It is part of who I am.

                And when thinking of other veterans who have made a personal impact on my life, I can’t forget my mom, grandfathers, uncles, in-laws, friends, and even random strangers.  The men and women who helped me to grow, especially when Dad was gone, who served their country in many ways—security, mechanics, intelligence, etc.—will never be forgotten as they are a part of who I am.

                Earlier this year I had the chance to visit Arlington National Cemetery with my wife, her father, and her brothers while we enjoyed an extended family vacation and reunion in Washington D.C.  It was the first time I had ever visited the hallowed ground, and it was every bit as inspiring as had been advertised.

                Shortly after the experience I tried to express through writing the awe and majesty I felt while strolling through the waves of marble markers—only broken by a few larger memorials—but I feel that I failed miserably.

The following six paragraphs are another attempt to capture that moment, which will most likely also fail because I don’t believe that words exist to describe the pride, the richness of history, tradition, and honor, or the reverence for the past that I felt as I ambled across those hills above the western shore of the Potomac overlooking the capital of our nation.

The air hung heavy with humidity, but as we hiked up the grounds double-time toward the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a light sprinkle began, further dampening those few spots on our bodies that were not already wet with perspiration. 

               Before we could catch our breath from the forced march, the changing of the guard began, and I was privy to one of the most awe-inspiring rites I have ever witnessed.  Pondering the symbolism, the simplicity, and the crisp elegance to which the soldiers performed their duties, I stood as the gravity with which these duties were performed washed over me.

                Shortly, the ceremony was over, and the newly charged Marine resumed his solemn vigil.  As we moved away to find the Confederate Memorial, I juxtaposed this experience with that of the occasion where I witnessed the pomp and pageantry that surrounded the changing of the queen’s guard at Buckingham Palace: bright reds and blacks and whites, thronging tourists’ camera flashes.  Although that in itself was quite the spectacle, it lacked the reverence displayed on a rainy, summer afternoon in Arlington.

               We continued our visit by visiting several memorials and gravestones—some famous, like Abner Doubleday, supposed inventor of baseball, complete with homages of weather-worn baseball shrines left by diehards—others not so famous and perhaps forgotten.  I submit that these, almost overlooked in the endless tide of white marble, were perhaps some of the most touching.  Each one represented an individual, but together they formed a powerful force to be reckoned with--equally on the battlefield in life and also in death, serving as a reminder to those who linger on this earth of the sacrifices required for freedom.

                The flame at President John F. Kennedy’s memorial reminded me of the fire that burns in Philadelphia and in other historic sites, representing past sacrifice and symbolizing the ever-present need for good men and women to step up when required and do their duty to God and man.

At the top of the hill, at Arlington House, we ran into one of my former students.  I seriously can't go anywhere (even 2200 miles away) without running into one of them, can I?  It was still cool to see Maddy and realize how big an impact one seemingly insignificant individual like me, an English teacher in Utah, can make on the future of our nation.  Despite all the screwy things that happen in our country and in the world, regardless of the corruption that runs rampant through all aspects of life, there are some things that are good and proper and right.  And Arlington Cemetery helped me put them back into perspective that gray afternoon in July.

Later on that same trip, to kill time on a Sunday afternoon, my brother and I took our families to visit a small Confederate graveyard in Jonesboro, Georgia, just outside Atlanta.  Here someone had forgotten the dead.  Without the kids noticing, my sister-in-law and I picked up a dozen or so empty forties.  It upset me to think that so much disrespect existed, especially in a land known for its tradition and proud heritage.  Still, it was nice to see the rest of the cemetery well preserved.

              After a summer of patriotic events and traversing this magnificent country we live in (23 states and the District of Columbia in 25 days), I appreciate the sacrifice of our veterans even more than I have before.

Canned Snippets (Not Quite as Long a Shelf Life as Vienna Sausage

I've tried to blog several times since the end of last school year.  Honestly, I'm getting so frustrated that my writing groove took a hiatus (beware the groove), that I'm almost desperate.  Like Macklemore, I'm ready to take your grandpa's style (Can I have your grandpa's style?) and raid the thrift shop for some hand-me-downs.  I'm not all the way back yet, but I thought I would drop a couple snippets since I haven't posted in three months.

13 August 2013

Writing with fresh ideas is like cooking with fresh ingredients.  You don't have to reconstitute anything.  No adding water or thawing needed. Sure, you can cook some pretty darn good stuff with mixes out of a box or can, but there's nothing like fresh, original thoughts.  This post, for example, had to be put on ice since I'm traveling and don't really have a way to do anything but preserve my thought in a few notes.  Yes, I'll get to it by and by, but it won't hold the same appeal (or nutritional value) of using it when it was fresh.

(...as self-fulfilled by me posting this two weeks later.  I've had some other ideas percolating, but either I haven't had the time or the energy or the right pictures.  Yes, folks, I will be posting pictures in the near future.)  Here are a few more rambles that didn't really go anywhere.

29 July 2013

Last night I attempted to write about my experience at Arlington National Cemetery, and the over-used adage about missing something one day and I feel it, missing two days and those close to me can feel it, missing more than that and the general public can tell; well, anyone who might still be reading this should be able to tell by now that I am off my groove with most everything (except eating, that is).  Writing comes in at the top of the list; however, even reading for pleasure has been more of a chore lately.  I realized this as I forced myself to stay up late to read Doyle's "The Speckled Band" over two nights, when it's normally one of my favorite Holmes mysteries.  It should only take me 20 minutes or so.  How sad is that?

As I type and retype and retype this in my WiFi-deficient hotel room, I reconfirm all theories and postulates and such regarding the need for consistent literary practice. To show you how bas it really is, I don't even know where a pen is at this moment.  And I usually carry one everywhere!

So now, as my family sleeps soundly, and I fumble in the dark on my too-small iPad keyboard, I resolve to never let myself become so deficient with my reading and writing again.

To start out, Ill try to get back on track by blogging a little more.  Some of you have noticed that I haven't done that since May.  Yikes!

28 July 2013

After lunch, Amy, Kevin, Brad, Brian, and I visited Arlington National Cemetery.  I had never been, and I have to say, that it was a very cool experience--one that I will always remember.

The sporadic drizzle that broke through grey skies felt refreshing in the high humidity, which, by the way, soaked us more than the light rain.  I haven't sweat like that in quite a while.  And it was only around 87 degrees.

Arriving 15 minutes before the changing of the guard, we hoofed  it (and huffed) across the grounds to witness one of the coolest rites I have experienced.  Pondering the symbolism, the simplicity, and the crisp elegance to which the soldiers performed their duties, I stood as the solemnity washed over me.  As we hiked up to the Confederate Memorial, I commented to my brother-in-law that I think (and I still think) that I was more impressed with this changing than that of the guards at Buckingham Palace.  Sure, the pomp and ceremony is overwhelming--bright colors, giant crowds, fuzzy hats-- (SWITCH THIS PARAGRAPH AROUND).

On a lighter note, we ran into one of my former students at Arlington house.  I seriously can't go anywhere (even 2200 miles away) without running into one of them, can I?

We also saw the gravestone of Abner Doubleday.  And I honestly don't care if he wasn't really the "inventor" of baseball, it was just cool to see.  Some loyal fan left an homage of two baseballs on its ledge.

The flame at JFK's grave reminded me of the flame for the soldiers' monument in Philadelphia.  Wet, hot, but very cool.

Despite all the screwy things that happen in our country and in the world, regardless of the corruption that runs rampant through all aspects of life, there are some things that are good and proper and right.

Blah.  More thoughts are on the way, and despite all my less-than-adamant protestations that writing about what I did over summer vacation being boring and pointless in most cases, I'll even let y'all in on the goings on of the fam.

P.S.  Check back later and I may have added some pictures to this post as well.  Then again, maybe not.

I'm NOT Writing about Vacation!

So you’d think that now that I am done with this (endless) summer semester, and now that I am free from grading papers for two weeks, that I’d actually have time to write something exciting or half-way interesting on my blog. Well, looks like we were both wrong.

You get stuck with me not writing about burning my leg on a motorcycle. This is also me not writing in detail about capsizing on a trip down the Provo River with my friend, who I hadn’t caused trouble with for many, many years. My solitary drives up the local canyons will stay trapped foe my five senses only. I’m also not going to chronicle watching RSL destroy San Jose or the road trip to Atlanta with Zac, my father-in-law, and my brother-in-law to sit through a rain delay only to end up losing to the Pirates. Nor am I going to complain about how much the World of Coca-Cola tour cost. And forget about me sharing the several trips to the beach with the family. It’s just not going to happen.

I have to save some material for when I write with my students in less than three weeks. Holy crap. There will not be any adequate pacing or zooming in on details or revision, or anything of the “what good writers do” practices until later. Maybe I’ll do another Dark Emily installation later. Any requests?