My Dad - 14 May 1925 --> 18 January 2007
Annyonghashimnika, KIA!
Ginger Bear reporting for duty! Annyonghaseyo, Gingers!
In 1862, during the US Civil War, General Daniel Butterfield wanted a new melody for “lights out.” And so, without any musical training, he composed one in his head.
Years later, the general wrote, “I called in someone who could write music, and practiced a change in the call of ‘Taps’ until I had it suit my ear, and then . . . got it to my taste without being able to write music or knowing the technical name of any note, but, simply by ear, arranged it.” General Butterfield gave the music to the brigade bugler, and the rest is history.
While there are no official lyrics to the hauntingly familiar strains of “Taps,” here is a commonly accepted version of one verse:
Day is done, gone the sun,
From the hills, from the lake, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
What a comforting lyric as faithful members of the military are laid to rest! And what hope in the acknowledgment that God is near, even—especially—in death!
At a time when death and evil reigned, the prophet Isaiah anticipated a day when death itself would die. “Your sun shall no longer go down,” he wrote to Israel, “for the Lord will be Your everlasting light” (60:20).
Notice the teeth . . . we are part vampire!
I remember when it was called “Decoration Day”, but only because my elders grew up calling it that. =)
Today I met an awesome young man who came home from Iraq just last week. I expressed my respect and gratitude to him. Then I gave him a hug.
He thanked me for my appreciation, and then said: “It’s not such a big deal. I was just doing my job.”
I thank God for such young people. There is plenty of hope for this nation, so long as we have such wonderful folks!
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free dixie,sw
That is an absolutely beautiful beginning table, Star!
Thank you for doing this thread for our fallen heroes!
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Thank you, troops! Love you all!! Happy Memorial Day!
Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC
WHAT IS A VET?
Some veterans bear visible signs of their service: a missing limb, a jagged scar, a certain look in the eye.
Others may carry the evidence inside them: a pin holding a bone together, a piece of shrapnel in the leg - or perhaps another sort of inner steel: the soul's ally forged in the refinery of adversity.
Except in parades, however, the men and women who have kept America safe wear no badge or emblem.
You can't tell a vet just by looking.
What is a vet?
He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel.
He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.
She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang.
He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL.
He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.
He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand.
He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.
He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep.
He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.
He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.
He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.
So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.
Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU".
Remember November 11th is Veterans Day
"It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.
It is the soldier,
Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protestor to burn the flag."
Father Denis Edward O'Brien
USMC
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Hi, Kathy.
As usual, I’m late. Couldn’t get to the computer yesterday. Hope you had a nice M.D. weekend.
I just heard that great patriot, tireless protector of our southern border and 20 year veteran Henry Dillon Jr. died Saturday of a massive heart attack. He posted here for many years under JackelopeBreeder. May he RIP.
