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Saturday, May 03, 2003
WHICH WAY?
How good is your sense of direction?
That can be important, because we will have difficulty arriving anywhere if we don't know in which direction our goal. It just saves time, too.
I had a friend years ago who displayed a remarkable tendency of not knowing which way to turn. When we lived in a hotel, he turned away from the restaurant at which we took our meals. When he was driving to work, he very often turned the wrong direction once he arrived at curbside from the garage. Once around the block and he became oriented well enough to get to work with minimum of wasted time.
He was aware of his difficulty and used to justify it quite earnestly by pointing out that even birds such as the celebrated, highly honored homing pigeons, very often took off and flew a few experimental circles about the point of departure before heading off into the direction their journey demanded.. Contending that his habit was really one which displayed a sense of caution which assured him of a longer, safer life through the use of caution and a better, safer life because of this tendency he called a “trait” - while we said it was a “quirk”.
Now, looking back at it, I find that he may have been more advanced in much of his thinking and actions than we were ,and have been.
His peer group is pretty well gone by now, either moved away or died. He, himself, is resident in the local cemetery, largely because ,when he became the intended victim of a common killer disease, he took the wrong road to an effective cure.. Just this week some medical authorities issued a statement telling us why women live longer than do men.. They decided it was because a man almost automatically refused to see a doctor when one was needed, whereas the woman does do so with a mere suggestion that something may be amiss.
I''m, truly, a bit ashamed to admit that we called him ”Tardy” a nickname we felt he had earned by a lifetime of delays. That was a cruel thing for us to have done, I will admit, and while I am in such a confessional mood ,I will also attest to the fact in all fairness, that it was “Tardy”, among us all, who choose the most loving and lovable wife of all, it was “Tardy” who took time to be with his growing children as much as possible, it was “Tardy” who settled those little neighborhood disputes we had by not jumping to any conclusions before the problem developed.
It may well be that knowing where you are going is less important than what you plan to get done once you get there.
A.L.M. May 2, 2003 [c697wds]
Friday, May 02, 2003
LOST!
Somewhere along the literary line, I miss-placed a favorite essayist of mine - Annie Dillard.
I remember her first book “Pilgrim At Tinker Creek”, many years ago. It has led me to marvel quite often on how Annie Dillard was able to see so much of genuine interest in tiny Tinker Creek flowing down, uneasily at times, from an odd-shaped Tinker Mountain, near Hollins, Virginia. She saw things and observed wonders in those waters which were never there for me when I lived in Southwest Virginia and occasionally walked along that same stream..
I followed her writing career from those days forward and my youngest son presented me with a copy of her excellent little book of essays dealing with how she went about writing. He, and others, knew that I was drawn to Annie Dillard when it came to reading, and I can remember being excited to find her writing pieces for The Atlantic Monthly. Such a union of two of of my all-time favorites joined together seem logical and predestined to occur.
She moved to New England, I think, at about that time and a subtle change had taken place in her life. She seemed more mature, older - not aged, at all - I don't ever think of Annie Dillard as ever getting old. She was still as reflective as every concerning the teachers which come to us as we communicate with Nature and read it's message. She seemed mellowed a bit by time. That is something which comes to all of us through added years of experience, I'm sure. I heard that she had undergone a unfortunate marriage relationship which probably augmented that which was happening all along.
Annie Dillard was looking at New England - close-up..
Now, a twist.
What does a person do to make upon for such a deficiency in his or her life? It could not be done a decade or so ago, but now-a-days we simply turn to a good search engine. I did that and after just a few seconds with google.com, I met with a wide and wonderful world of a totally new Annie Dillard! I now have some pleasant work ahead of me trying to catch up on all I have missed! She is now an adjunct Professor of English and Writer- in-Residence at Wesleyan University in CT...still writing and with a wide following in many fields of special interests.
Think about doing the same thing in your life. If there a void ...some person or some thing which has become obscure in your life, conside s “search”. You may be pleasantly surprised.
A.L.M. May 1, 2003 [c689wds]
Thursday, May 01, 2003
TO ALL, IN TIME
During this first week of May 2003, President George W. Bush will be speaking to all of us from the deck of the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln. He will be somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean we are told too far from shore for the usual helicopter means of presidential transit, so a cable landing will be made on deck with an operational aircraft. He will tell us the war in Iraq is at an end.
In time a major war comes to all of us, and choice of this speaking platform on board a carrier returning to the States was a dramatic and wise choice. Some critics will, certainly say it is a bit of bravado to do such a speech from beyond helicopter operational range. The announcement that the conflict has come to its end – informally, that is, certainly is one in which the entire nation will want to see and hear. The epicenter of the war itself has been removed from our daily living place and word that it has come to an end can be best enunciated from such a remote, withdrawn spot.
Many will feel that the Iraqi War started here with the events of September 11th and we should be most thankful the rest of it occurred elsewhere.
We face the future with a newborn confidence in the ability of our military to defend the nation. We have seen evidence aplenty of the extremes to which a despotic power can extend, and we should be doing more concerning that which we must undertake to live in the face of continuing threats. The war may be “over” but proffered Peace is yet to be found.
It has been a difficult thing for some segments of our diverse society to decide if this has been a genuine war. To them, it has been a farce ...even a joke or trick played upon us by greed-driven leaders who were said to have secret ambitions to control Iraq's oil industry or, perhaps, corner the world market on Persian rugs. It is only now that many of these people among us will – suddenly without a “cause” to worship - begin to see the necessity of it all and to appreciate its value to our well-being.
No war is just. No war can be fair. Nor, can a war be “successfully concluded”. They come to a stopping point.
A period of peace is proffered for a time, but it takes time - many years, decades ...for the true meanings of a war to seep into the fiber of our national culture. Perhaps, it is fitting that the “end” of the war be proclaimed at sea.
A.L.M. April 30, 2003 [c672wds]
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
LEARNING TO DRIVE
How did you learn to drive? Or, would you rather forget that moment of your life?
Driving is not an at-birth ability. It is a specialized type of knowledge we acquire, usually with guidance of a parent, sibling or stranger. If you have a choice, take the stranger. We need to acquire such an ability to get along in this modern world. Often, we base our very continued existence on how well we learn to perform the simple task, too.
I remember when my Dad first drove a car. It was in 1924. He had bought a brand new Ford touring car - black, naturally, because that was the only color Mr. Ford made them in, and as a new car owner he was expected to drive the machine. A major part of the sales talk, then was a promise for the dealer to to teach you to drive.
The affable sales per person drove the new car to the gas pump and as a free gift to go with the purchase. He then urged Dad into the driver's seat and explained the procedure one-two-three. Dad was a quick learner and he started off into the highway with amazing ease ...just a bit of gear grinding, but that, he was assured, that would stop in time. He drive to the East end of town, circled the block and started back to the garage. Along the way, his instructor had him stop and park several times which were pretty much the same thing, because there were only a few other cars on the road .With those subtle tasks taken care of, they went by the garage where Dad “dropped the salesman off”. Dad then drove across town to our apartment, where we were waiting, he knew, to take our first family-style drive. My sister, Margaret, was an infant in mother's arms and did not have any comment. We were all experienced riders, of course, because my Uncle Andrew had a massive Saxon touring car in which we had ridden many times.
We two boys, I remember, were were pleased and proud of our Dad, at the wheel as we looked for people we knew to whom we could call to make sure they saw us riding. Dad did very well, too and I have often thought of his haphazard training. He drove until he was ninety - something; went down renew his license once; did so, and turned the piece of plastic in a the very next window. He realized he was, as he put it,”too to be out there on the highway with all those crazy people!”
A.L.M. April 29, 2003 [c641wds] .
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
CLAYHILL#3 -THE PAYNTER!
Melvin Clayhill, especially as he grew older, became a last minute talker. He came by our house one evening at about seven to talk some building we had a mind to do, and at l0:30 he had been standing at the back door saying good-bye for an hour or more. He had a story to tell."jus' one more, 'n I gotta go".
I had learned to stay with him when he was in the mood, because he had a supply of stories which was untapped.
" I wuz on my way home, a'walkin' , you might know. I wuz all alone there in the dark night. Ne'r you mind, why I was so late, now – that' no bizness of yur'n,'' 'He mused for just a moment.'“Oh., she were a pretty gal, I tell you! Now, Brother Timothy had gone home afore dark, you see and I wuz runnin' late."
"“Well, I won't zackly runni'n'', but I was moving along real fast, because it was too quite out there! It was one of them strange nights when the crickets don't sound out; when they's no birds chatterin' in the tree tops and when the moon wuz hid by scudding clouds washed o're ie like huge, fat hands chocking the life out'n it."
"“Suddenly, I realized there was a noise; one I had not heard, as if something something smooth and hairy was a-slitherin' through the low brush n' small trees along the side of the road itself road. I moved to the exact center of the dirt road, walking uneasily on the middle ridge of the narrow road; sorta of equal-distance from both shadowy sides and ,when the moon splashed clear for a few second, I saw what I feared .. what I had heared."
There was two round eyes with narrow dark slits a-lookin' square-front at me! A paynter"
Now, you being a flat-lander, may not know that word. It's Clayhill for"panther” by which I knew Melvin meant he was accompanied by some type of a wildcat - anything feline will do wildcat, bobcat, - all could be paynters – many of which were roaming and always hungry,in the Blue Ridge Mountains just east us. We all avoided them. Not just Melvin, respected them, you might put it and I readily understood Melvin's fear on finding that one of them was monitoring his ever move as he was hurried along that murky, tree-shrouded road.
“I'm' bein' tracked by a real, live paynter! I told myself and when I moved faster, sure enough, it moved along faster in the brush I could hear it, now, to clear nd closer, it seemed. I wished the moon would stay hid ;'cause I din't want to see the critter - just a few feet away in the brush.”
“They was no end to it! That pacin' and listenin'! l went on 'n on 'n pretty soon, I knew I was a'gittin' close to our house. I dreaded that moment when I knowed I had to turn right acrost the path of that paynter to get into our lane. I thought, that's when that ole paynter will pounce! Right then,as I turn he'll pounce ''n break my neck! I wisht I had a big stick, but I din' dare stop to find one! Let's face it. Ain't often I been scairt, but that was one time I was scairt right down to the soft stuffin' in my bones!"
"Well, sir. I guess I paniced when it came time to turn, but the house was just a few yard away now and I had to run the rest of the way. I must have been a'callin ' fer 'Help! Paynter' Suddenly, just ahead of me, I seen my Daddy come a bustin 'out'n the door just ahead of me which his rifle in hand and as I whizzed by him into the house he let fire with c-a-a-rack that shook that side of the world!"
“I missed 'im!”admitted my father when he came in. ”Big 'un, too! As fine a paynter as ever I seen put a paw on this place, I tell you! He seemed puzzled that he could have failed to hit something so large.”
"“Hit were many a year a'fore he told me they won't nothin' out there. Well, as fur as he could make out, but he fired at what might have been there. He was a good, loving, protective Father, our Daddy Brutus Clayhill, - real good. Taught me a lesson, he did - that night. Come home early, afore dark like brother Timothy did."
"“I had to agree. Ain't no gal that pretty!"
A.L.M. April 28, 2003 [c1097ds]
Monday, April 28, 2003
VI KINGS IN EIRE
I find it difficult to think of any two national warrior images in world history such as the traditional, rugged, sharp-tempered, native Irishman meeting with the unwanted presence of an adventurous, hardy and heavy- handed Viking from Norway's rocky shores.Those two, together, would make for an explosion with dire consequences for anyone who chanced to be close by.
They met when the Vikings appeared on the Irish coastline in 745 AD. We are told they arrived in their ocean-going long boats which were, far and away, technically advanced far ahead of any water craft the Irish had ever seen. Their fast vessels were of shallow draft, too, which allowed them to enter freely into rivers and estuaries with ease which previous invader had never done.
The Vikings were, at that time interested primarily in looting for things they could transport home as spoils of war.. They quickly discovered that the best sources of such wealth were the prosperous monastaries which were widespread. Rathlin, Inishmurruy and Inisbofin and other unpronounceable monastery sites were ravaged again and again. The were stripped of provisions, precious art works, cattle and captives. The raids by the Vikings were erratic in nature areas seeking provisions on which to exist and prosper. Raids may be made six moths or a year apart, giving the monastic establishment time to recover and lay in new supplies. That was from 745 AD and it does not appear that any Viking group stayed "over winter" they set up such a location in 842 AD at Dublin.
Then in the 9th century the Vikings set up more permanent settlements at some of their larger base camps, at Cork in 846 AD and at Waterford in 850AD. The Irish responded by building high rock towers as defense centers and for a time seemed to be making progress. By 902AD the Viking had been driven from their strongest foothold in Dublin .The defeated Vikings took refuge in Wales There was a general lull in the raids for some sixty or more years and Ireland made some notable recovery.
A great fleet gathered off Waterford 914 AD, however, and that fleet started a second Viking invasion of Ireland that lasted from 914 until 969 when Limerick was freed and Irish rule resorted, first to the isles of the Shannon.
It may be worth a second look at the inner workings of the Viking incursions. Part of the reason they failed to take Ireland, even as a superior force, was the fact that they were a divided group despite their unified appearance. The leadership was sometimes Norwegian and at others Danish and they were often fighting each other. Then, too, historians and tellers of tales - not the best among the world's mathematics experts, perhaps, have magnified the exploits of both sides, perhaps. Someone has counted up the number of recorded Viking raids on Ireland over the entire period of the Viking attacks. The grand total is an unimpressive sum of forty-three raids during the entire Viking period.
More than one thing, it appears, was not what it was thought to have been. It may be proper for us to examine with care the true and actual nature of those who attack us during our own time of Terror, as well. Is our enemy as unified, in a religious and ethnic sense, as we think them to be? Or, are there factions within? Do they vie with each other to their mutual disadvantage? And - are our own stats accurate?
A.L.M. April 27. 2003 [c962wds]
Sunday, April 27, 2003
POST WAR MOMENT
During the days of WWII , transitions were taking place faster than a person could keep up with them. Those of us coming out of military service found it to be a changed world in so may ways.
I came home for one month of leave before, it appeared, our outfit was to reform and head for Japan to help finish up that part of the War. The Bomb changed all that, of course, and we went on a round-robin of Air Bases, our squadron fragmented, bits and pieces of it floating around with no re-assignment. The idea became simply "“to get out " and I spent my time at Sioux Falls, S. D. and then at Deming, New Mexico until in November they found my discharge papers at Edwards Field, Md.
I bring that up now, because we have G.I.s in that same process of "coming home" from what has proved to be a shorter war but a very real one just the same for those who were in it. I was in it for better than four years, half of that overseas. Changes took place while I was away,such as the coming of TV.
To me, television, even in those early days, seemed to be the symbol of a bright future for many of us. I don't remember seeing at TV at Sioux Falls, at Edwards Air Base, or at Deming New Mexico, but one of my several brothers-in-law had TV set in his farm-house living room at Friendly, Maryland. Oddly enough, I remember seeing only two shows – Paul Whiteman and Milton Bearle. Both did radio shows with pictures. It was a DuMont network station, and it was either the only on the air in the D.C. Area, or more than likely, the only one we could “get”.
The armed forces people now returning from Iraq and other areas will not meet with the large changes we did, of course, but it is still important that the civilian population - which is us – “meet them and greet them''. I am not talking about any grand public receptions or fancy “Welcome Home” festivities, at all, of course, but about small insignificant everyday things so commonplace we tend to forget them. Worst of all, we don't what to give the idea were never away.
That which strikes you as being "norma", may or may not, seem so to him or her.
In theory, they will be coming back to their former place of place of employment, if it's still there. In theory, they will pick up on family relationship where they left off, yet unaware, perhaps, of subtle changes. Some may go 'back to school” without realizing that they are not in the mood to go “back” to anything. The true promise is in their future - not years ago, that that is where we play an important role. Without being emotional or dramatic about what they have done for the nation and for each of us.
Just say "Thank you" the best, most natural way you know how. Say it sincerely and from the heart and they will understand and feel at home once more. Remember, as you do so, that very few of us at home, if any, really know all the individual person felt when he or she was away. You can never really know.
A.L.M. April 26, 2003 [c836wds]
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