Monday, May 25, 2009

One boy spoke up and said, "Preacher come on, eat your supper with us." (Day 171)

Happy Memorial Day.


Just take a minute, at least the Americans, to think that despite what your opinion is of the wars currently happening or how popular it is to write it off...there's still people in desert trenches fighting to stay alive. Do no forget that. That's what it boils down too, and whether these wars are about oil, or terror, or whatever...that's not quite the point, is it? Even if this, underneath it all, turns out to be a war about oil or power, be grateful that at the time men and women, sons and daughters, wife's and husband's, brothers and sisters...you're best friends or worst enemies, put all of their lives aside to assure what they felt needed to be protected. Don't forget that for one minute.

We say the recession is so awful, yet we're out barbecuing, we still have amenities and luxuries afforded to us that many others do not have, and that came with the heavy price of nearly an entire generations worth of blood.

I hate the commercialization and overt idiot patriotism and stigma that comes with the typical American view. At least to me, when I think about what America means to me, I cannot look at the landscape with out imagining that on one fretful day they stormed the beaches of Normandy. Not for anyone's personal gain. Not for anyone's romanticized ideology of progression or pride. The world, not one country...the entire world (just imagine the actual weight of that) relied on Nations putting aside any differences they had, to help ensure that their generation and their generations lineage would be able to be free.

It's more to me, freedom I mean, than just a flag shirt and napkins made in Japan (Oh, the irony.) It's more than that, it's more than picnics and everything along with it. Don't get me wrong, we should celebrate with friends and family. I think out of all the options, this is the most appropriate given the depth of the reason why it is we all have a Monday off.

My father is old enough to have lived through World War Two. I realize that all soldiers past and present deserve to be viewed with admiration and reverence today (and any day, honestly) and that every war should be recognized. But in speaking of terms of the weight of today, World War 2 is the reason why we can even recognize all the rest in the first place.

But my father lived through World War 2. He wasn't quite old enough to have served, and when the Korean War rolled around, he wasn't medically able. His brothers and my mothers Uncle both served in the latter, though. Unfortunately, this was is referred to as the Unknown or Forgotten War often, given it's predecessor (World War 2) and it's successor (Vietnam). A lot of men died there, though, and it's still tragic. Leroy Van Verth, my friend who was stabbed to death nearly a year ago served in both of these wars, providing comfort to those in their last moments, while being shot at and bombs exploding. That to me is the mark of heroism. To be scared witless, and still marching forth despite whatever outcame may be. And to provide comfort to those dying, and still living with that stigma, and that blood that will never come off, no matter how long it's been since the red actually came off...it's an amazing thing, to me, to think about.

I can't imagine having lived through that era of World War 2/Korean War. Growing up in a time frame in a pretty much burgeoning country that America still was (and still is, to an extent) with all the uncertainty you could muster. Somewhere across that big blue ocean was a man with a rigid pose, funny looking mustache, and every intention of implementing a Third Reich to last for thousands of years. With every intention of exterminating homosexuals, gypsies and Judaism as whole.

I don't believe in it much, but I truly feel that that time frame, that individual, if there is a God and things like good and evil are black and white, and therefore quite pertinent to existence, that that man was quite indeed evil. The full embodiment.

Think about how Adolf Hitler came to rise in prominence. World War One was still a very vivid memory for the entire world. Much of Europe was still in shambles, yet every once of the worlds anger after that particular conflict fell down upon Germany. They were given a debt, that even by today's standards would be impossible to pay off (nevermind the inflation since then) and were sentenced to a lifetime of guilt, shame and exodus from the world stage.

When someone can sling hope and prosperity to those desperate enough to listen, and if you can even make some kind of headway on that promise, at least for the moment, they'll do anything they can to follow and fight. In that respect, Hitler gave Germany a taste of their dignity back. Eventually even they saw him for what he truly was, but when you back something into the corner...Hell, even the most timid of animals will fight back.

I fear we're doing that today with Iraq and Afghanistan. With our implementation of torture, and now we're not calling it that anymore, but *wink wink*, and with Guantanamo Bay not existing anymore, but *wink wink* it does, just "someplace else" and the detainees being held for indefinite amounts of time...without trail, but *nudge nudge* look the other way, here's that change you were hoping for...I feel as though we're sowing the seeds for one of these Nations to pull off an act of tragedy and call to arms that which the world has yet to even imagine or see yet.

Today is about the memory of those dying on foreign soil, and soaking it with their blood and life force so that we may continue to build dreams upon our own. For their sacrifice, bravery, courage and ability to realize that at that moment in time they mattered more than they could ever imagine.

They say that the true mark of intelligence and maturity is being able to decipher where you stand in the following statement: "A foolish man willingly dies for what he believes in while a noble and wise man stays and fights for it." I don't know if that's even applicable to a realistic world. It takes a casualty count to secure the lives of others. That's tragic, but I also feel that in it's tragedy...it's nothing short of true.

Nobility might be the mark of someone who will fight, and who will willingly die for what he believes in. Not openly give up mind you, or go out with the idea of being a martyr, but rather putting themselves aside completely, and the outcome of themselves in the very end being a thought that's prevalent, but not determining in their actions.

I'm thankful. I truly am. I'm thankful I can make stupid decision, and ones that aren't so dumb. I'm grateful I can pursue whatever my heart desires, instead of that decision being made for me before I'm even born. I'm thankful I can live in a country that, despite how slowly it can come to make a change, will still do so eventually.

Today's lyrics come from the band Lucero. The song is called the War, and it's off of their album Nobody's Darlings. It's told from the perspective of his grandfather who fought in the war. The war that he eludes to is World War 2. He wrote the song after reading old letters from his grandfathers trunk.

I think it's the most honest take on war, period. From that perspective of someone who fought, who was scared, who was an average American boy at the time of something much greater than youth. So often we envision those going off to war as stoic, strong and able to shake things off, that don't bat an eyelash in the face of the repeated exploits of death. I think we forget that these were, for the most part, just kids. Barely out of High School, just kids. Children. Fighting in a conflict they might not even truly understand entirely, but having earned enough world knowledge at this point to know it was important.

I'll be posting the lyrics to the song. Take from them what you will, I know what I've taken from them.

Lucero - The War:
--------------------

I got drafted at 19
Me and a bunch of boys from home.
January ’43, drove out to Pine Bluff and signed on
Went to basic south of Birmingham
Put me on West Coast bound train.
Spent three days out in San Diego
And they shipped me back East again.
Left a port out of New York
Slept for months in British rain
Tore it up down in London town
And they shipped me back out again.

The preacher said, “Boys, he who is killed tonight will dine with the Lord in Paradise.”
One boy spoke up, said “Preacher come on, eat your supper with us."

Never talk about those first days.
Lots of friends left behind.
But I made it all the way across France
And I fought at the Maginot line.
Rode a tank into Belgium
Like them better than the French.
Like my daddy, thirty years before
I did my time in a trench.

Lots of days there’s no water
But the liquor kept me warm.
The cellars were stocked to the ceiling with booze
So I carried a bottle with my gun.

The preacher said, “Boys, he who is killed tonight will dine with the Lord in Paradise.”
One boy spoke up said, “Preacher come on, eat your supper with us.”

Three times I made sergeant.
I’m not that kind of man
And pretty much just as quick as I could
I get busted back to private again.
Cause taken’ orders never suited me;
Giving them out was much worse.
I could not stand to get my friends killed
So I took care of myself first.
Now, I know that don’t sound right.
Don’t think too bad of me
Now it keeps me up nights
What I could have done differently.

The preacher said, “Boys, he who is killed tonight will dine with the Lord in Paradise.”
One boy spoke up said, “Preacher come on, eat your supper with us.”

I’d be no guest at the table of the Lord
His food was not to be mine.
‘Cause I cursed His name every chance that I could
And I reckon that’s why I’m still alive.



Enjoy today! Have fun, have some drinks, watch some sports, spend it with those you care about deeply, and enjoy every single solitary moment you can squeeze out of life as a whole. That's the best memorial anyone could ever pay tribute someone. It's great to be alive, and it's great to be free.

And to everyone who sacrificed, or who does now...thank you.

-Until tomorrow.

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