Folks Of Interest Memorial Day

I posted this last year and am posting it again for those who missed it.
I hope this is not too long. It was written by Bill Shaffer, the scoutmaster of Troop 26 in Tulsa, OK. He was my scoutmaster years ago (and just celebrated 47 years as SM and still going strong). His parents lived in Bartlesville, OK when WWII started. His dad went into the Air Force, became a highly decorated pilot. The Bartlesville paper ran regular articles about how he accompanied and protected bombers on their runs. But his luck ran out, and he died when his plane was shot down. His body was never found. Bill never met his dad, as he was born after his father's death. What he wrote for Memorial Day (written in 2006) is worth reading, in my opinion:

"Memorial Day"

A national holiday. Picnics. Ultimate frisbee. Hotdogs and burgers.
Watermelon. Softball. People headed for the lake. Little kids in
waterwings. Splashing and laughing. The grill. The backyard. Hope the
weather cooperates with our plans for Memorial Day.

People doing what they want.

At what price?

America. The superbowl of democracies. The best game in the world.
Sure, some people have better seats but you can always work hard and
upgrade. Everyone can dream about the luxury boxes. Some people have
premium parking and some take the bus. Some have to walk. Sure, some
people get too loud but the ushers handle that and protect your ability
to see the game. There is a lot of stuff to buy out in the tunnels.
You can't afford all of it but someday you might. There are two teams
playing and you can support whichever one you want. You can yell and
clap and stand and cheer. Somebody sings a song at the start of the
game and some guys walk out on the field with some flags. But you don't
have to sing. You don't even really have to stand up but most people
do. Some even take their hats off.

Its a great game, this superbowl of democracies. But as exciting as the
game is, you can't get in without buying a ticket. But in America,
we're lucky. We can walk right in because somebody else has already
paid the price of the ticket. We ought to thank them but more often
than not, we don't know their names. Out of sight, out of
mind....right? We just walk right in and participate in the superbowl
of democracy and don't give it another thought.

Today, I wonder who bought my ticket. Sure, I like hotdogs and
watermelon. I like to play horseshoes and football and softball. But I
want to know who bought my ticket. You don't get anything in this world
for nothing and I have a lot to be thankful for. Who paid? Who made it
possible? Who bought the ticket for me?

Was it a guy at Concord and Lexington. A guy who really wanted to be a
farmer but decided to get his rifle down off the wall above the
fireplace because he believed in a new idea for his children. Did he
stand there in the street, watching the most powerful army in the world
walking towards him, dressed in bright red with flags flying, pipes
playing, sunlight gleaming off the tips of thousands of bayonets? Was
he scared? Did he think of his family as he fell?

Was it a guy in 1812? Watching from across the road as the White House
burned. Do you think he wanted to keep this grand idea of democracy
alive a little longer so that his children could live in freedom. Do
you think he wondered if these men dressed in red coats would ever leave
him alone to raise his family in peace?

Was it a guy who watched his brother fall at Gettysburg? Was he scared
too? Did he cry when the man next to him fell? Did he think about
running when the officer he respected was blown off the horse he was
riding? Did he have a wife? Did he have a son? Was his last thought
of them?

Was it a guy in World War I? Lying scared in a trench. Waiting for the
signal to get up and run towards an unseen enemy who was right at that
very minute pointing a gun in his direction. Do you think he thought
about his childhood in Alabama or Texas or Maryland? Do you think he
might have liked watermelon?

Was it a guy in World War II? A guy who watched as some Americans on a
distant hill struggled to raise a beautiful red, white, and blue flag
amid a hail of bullets from an enemy who was dedicated to destroying
this grand idea Americans had grown to love.

Was it a guy in Korea? Charging up Pork Chop Hill and taking it, then
losing it, then taking it again.

A hill. A man giving his life for a hill. Anybody know where Pork Chop
Hill is? Or that street in Lexington? Or that trench in France?
Anybody visited Bataan lately or visited Normandy? Anybody vacationed
at the spot where Douglas MacArthur stepped out of the boat when he
returned to the Philippines? Or the spot where George Washington got in
the boat to cross the Delaware. Anybody watch the people playing
frisbee with their dog at Valley Forge and give a single thought to the
men who froze there for this grand idea. Anybody head for the local
picnic ground and drive past the silent fields of Gettysburg. The
gentle breeze and the calls of songbirds in the lush forests are all
that remain of the place where blood ran like rivers, where men in blue
and men in gray lay side by side in death.

Was it a guy in Viet Nam? A guy who left his family to fight a war
nobody liked. A guy who shed a tear as he was pushed in a wheelchair
through an airport lobby, listening as people laughed and pointed at
him, flinching as a hippy stepped up and spit on him, the spit landing
on the spot where his leg used to be.

Was it a guy in Desert Storm or Desert Shield. A guy standing in a
place whose name he couldn't pronounce. A place covered in sand. A
place where death could come in the form of a child.

Was it a guy who rode the first tank into the Nazi death camps? Was it
a guy who watched General Lee sign the surrender at Appomattox? Was it
a guy who watched the Japanese sign their surrender on the deck of one
of America's war ships? Was it a guy who found the leader of Iraq
cowering in a hole after being responsible for the deaths of millions of
his own countrymen? I wonder if those countrymen dreamed of America.
Was it a guy who walked home to the farm from the Battle of Lexington,
put his rifle back up on its place above the mantle, picked up his
little son, and stood on his porch, looking at a land that was free for
another day.

Who bought my ticket? Who made it possible for me to chose my path in
life? Who made it possible for me to live in a country without fear? I
want to know. Before I eat that hotdog or throw that frisbee. Before I
head for the lake. I want to know.

And I want other Americans to wonder too. I want Republicans and
Democrats to wonder who bought their tickets. I want the Dallas Cowboys
and the New York Yankees to wonder who bought their tickets. I want the
Dixie Chicks to wonder who paid for their tickets.

As we see all those little men with their VFW hats on with all their
medals and pins, proudly displayed on bodies with missing limbs ,
wrinkles and liver spots, I want Americans to wonder how many tickets
they bought. Those little men with tears on their faces as they
remember fallen comrades and places with funny names where they left
their youth, I want Americans to look at them and wonder about the
tickets they bought. I want Americans to look at these little men and
remember them as the giants they once were. And when we see Arlington
Cemetery and the places in France where the white crosses stand in row
after row as far as the eye can see, we should all think of the men and
women who paid the ultimate price for a ticket.

When I have taken the time to think of these men and women, when I have
taken the time to think of the price they paid for my ticket, when I
think of the families and children that they left behind to live in a
land that is safe and free, when I think of all those little boys who
were never coached by their dad or had their dads see them hit a home
run or score a touchdown, when I think of all those little girls whose
mothers will never see them in their wedding dress or see the birth of
their grandbaby, when I think of all those men and women in uniform who
left their families to go to foreign shores in search of my ticket,
when I stop what I am doing and celebrate the gift of freedom and
remember the people who gave that gift to me.....
then.....and only then......will I eat that hotdog on Memorial Day.

Thanks Dad! Thanks for my ticket.

Bill Shaffer
Memorial Day, 2006

 

Memorial day makes me remember the guys who didn't come home safe. Even during peacetime, just practicing, to be ready if we were needed, some of the guys didn't go home at all, let alone safe.

 

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915

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.

 

And the story behind the poem. HRP

During the early days of the Second Battle of Ypres a young Canadian artillery officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, was killed on 2nd May, 1915 in the gun positions near Ypres. An exploding German artillery shell landed near him. He was serving in the same Canadian artillery unit as a friend of his, the Canadian military doctor and artillery commander Major John McCrae.

As the brigade doctor, John McCrae was asked to conduct the burial service for Alexis because the chaplain had been called away somewhere else on duty that evening. It is believed that later that evening, after the burial, John began the draft for his now famous poem “In Flanders Fields”.

 

Me and my family want to thank all our veterans for their service to this great country. God bless America and god bless you all.

Sent from my XT1080 using H.A.M.B. mobile app

 

Appreciate the effort of the fallen , hey..fuck war and killing..let's build some customs....who's with us...

 

The true meaning of Memorial Day is in honor of those who gave their lives while serving our Country. To really understand this sacrifice we can learn from our surviving Veterans. A couple of years ago I accompanied my Veteran Uncle along with a group of WWII and Korean War Veterans on Honor Flight mission 39 to Washington DC. It was probably one of the most inspiring events in my life and one that my Uncle continues to reflect upon. The time spent with those Veterans, hearing their stories, seeing their smiles and their tears puts it all in perspective in understanding how and why the rest of us can live the lives we have as Americans.

 

Thank you to all that have and continue to serve. Let us remember those who payed the ultimate price for our freedom. This is their day! GOD BLESS AMERICA!

 

I totally AGREE!!!Bruce.

 

.... and to the stars and bars we fold into the nameless stars of the CIA Wall of Heroes.

God bless .... 113 stars and counting.





@loudbang ..... hooorah sir.

 

HRP, you do a good job of reminding folks that freedom isn't free. This day always makes me think of a good friend I went to ELT school with and who was lost when the SSN 589, the Scorpion, went down in 10,000 feet of water off the Azores with all hands lost. Cecil Mobley, MM2(SS) , may God speed you on your eternal patrol!

 

My grandmother wrote this poem in 1972...about her only brother...and who I was named after.....

"Twenty Seven years ago,
St. Patricks Day, March 17, of 45'
An Iwo Jima Marine did leave this earth,
To live with God in mansion his own.

He like so many other boys,
Went out to fight that foe,
What happened on the awful isle,
Is something I'll never know!

There must have been some vacant spot,
In heaven so high above,
For He took our boys to fill it full,
With their courage, bravery and love.

When day is slowly ending,
And evening shadows still fall,
Just close your eyes,
You can just see a figure straight and tall.

Standing there among his friends,
A smile is on his face,
Dear God, you've made him safe,
Up in that wonderous place.

We, dear Lord, give thanks to you,
For keeping them safe up there,
And maybe you'll let them know,
We miss them still in our evening prayers.

I know, dear God, you understand,
The things I want to say,
So tell our proud Marines to look down on us,
On every solemn Memorial Day.

*in memory of PFC Raymond Enouf~~~ front line infantry rifleman/ stretcher-bearer ...d. March 17, 1945

----------listening to my grandmother recite this all those years ago, still brings tears to my eyes. They are gone from sight, but not gone forever.

 

Unfortunately some people have no respect for veterans. In Henderson, Ky they put 5000 crosses in a park with the name of a deceased vet on each one and some clown intentionally drove his car through them and damaged or destroyed many of them. WTF?

http://www.11alive.com/news/nation-now/arrest-made-in-memorial-day-cross-display-vandalism/219988145

 

God bless the men and women who have died to provide me the freedoms I enjoy each day. God bless their families also.

 

I don't think that most of the present generation realize that the life they enjoy is because many a military man lost his life in efforts to insure freedom for the the citizens of this country.

 

I wonder if you would allow me a quick story, if you will I can post and leave before my glow goes dim too much. I don't deal with Memorial Day or Veteran's Day very well I am ashamed to admit but it is what it is.

This morning my missus took me out to buy flowers to plant. While we were in the flower dept. at the local lumber/big box store there was also an Asian family there, I am guessing granny, daughter and grand babies. I didn't pay them much attention. Sounded like they were speaking Lao so I am guessing that they must have been Moung. Anyway I digress, humor an old man for a moment if you don't mind.

We get to the register as they are headed out, they looked like ducks to me, all the little kids in tow. The lady at the register asks if my name is Joe, I said nope. The lady rang up the flowers and told the missus your plants are paid for mam. Then she handed me this scrap of paper. It said "Thank you Joe."

I haven't heard that phrase in probably 40 years, it was nice.

 

We thank the veterans who served and remember those who died for our freedom and rightly so.
At the same time we should remember that the freedom and democracy we enjoy is not strictly an American thing and is enjoyed in many countries around the world who have a hand in keeping our freedoms intact.

God bless everyone regardless of nationality who have give their lives and those who continue to do so to protect our freedom and way of life.

 

GOD BLESS AMERICA

 

The two days of the year that are extra special to me are Memorial Day and Veterans Day.
My Father and his older brother served in the trenches in WW1.What makes Nov 11 so special is that was my Fathers birthday.11-11-1896.Was getting ready to return to the front when word came down that the Armistes was signed.He said that that was best birthday present this old fart had ever gotten.Thanks for the memories Dad.God bless ya.
Leo

 

Just saw your post, Jim, with a familiar name and a '46 Ford coupe in your avatar. Could it be . . . ? Yes, it must be the same fellow I "met" by 'phone interview for a feature story on his fantastic Morado purple custom in the old American Rodder magazine a couple of decades-plus ago. Drop me a PM with your e-mail when you can and if you like; I'd like to do a follow-up on you and the car for my own files.
Mike Bishop

 

To the guys who died in the pacific, say the 4th Marine division,at Roi-Namur, Saipan , Tinian, Guam, Iwo Jima, or the Raiders on Guadacanal,or the Battling Bastards of Bastogne, the bomber crews who died over Europe and the guys whose remains are still being found in Laos, Vietnam and the other hellholes they were sent to. God bless their souls.

 

And this has what to do with memorial day? there is a time to do business but this is not it. Get a fuckin clue.

Sorry fellas sometimes I am a mean drunk.

 

My grandfather was in the 6th US Calvary WW1.He survived getting Chlorine gassed in the trenches, to be killed while changing a flat, by a bus, outside of Vicksburg Mississippi

 

My grandad was in the 6th in WWI survived a gas attack, maybe they knew each other too late to find out now I suppose. He had a brother who I never met who ventured away from family tradition and was a Master Chief on the Arizona. He now resides with Davy Jones. if he was anything like my granddad he was a good man, we lost a lot when the Arizona went down. Too damned many good men have left us we should not let their sacrifice be in vain. Live free your debt has already been paid.

 

Thanks to our fallen soldiers. Such great men.
Lived and died for our country and any freedom still left in the world.
They owe no apologies.

 

My Nephew Dan May makes his living as a well known and talented artist. He started a project this year where he is doing one drawing from his popular Gentle Creatures each day for 365 days.
This was his 151st offering titled "For The Fallen" that he created on this Memorial Day.

 

The crosses at this location were erected as a visual reminder that men died fighting for our freedom and way of life,unfortunately in a split second this guy decided to desecrate the site.

HRP

 

I saw an interview with the guy. One of his relative's name (Father or grandfather) was one of the crosses and he said he really doesn't know why he did it. He said he didn't mean to, and wasn't sure what came over him. He apologized and helped clean up and set up for the event they were having. Very strange.

 

Arkiehotrods - The "memorial day" words written by your scoutmaster are amazing. It really causes one to consider the sacrifices that have been made in our honor. I DARE you to post that every year.

Porknbeaner - Dammit Beaner! You brought a tear to my eye. Thank you, Joe.

Thank you all for this thread and for acknowledging the ultimate sacrifices made. Like super heroes, they literally gave their lives to save the world from evil. Wouldn't be any hot rods or much of anything else worth a crap to enjoy otherwise.