Leadership Lost

• By now most of you recognize me as a patriot; not because I served in World War 2 but because I continue to have eyes that water as the flag is presented or the sight of our young men and women marching or as the strains of the National Anthem is resounding through the land. I do not apologise for by my emotional character, contrary, I allow this mentality to be a source of recognition for all that have been killed, wounded or harmed in any of the ways that wars inflict. This past week I received an e-mail which brought into perspective ways, of which I have never been made aware--the number of brave young men and I'm sure too many women, who lie in graves all over Europe. This has primarily been the result of the second World War. I am not attempting to make a political report out of this, but rather just to bring to attention the terrible cost of war and the loss that goes beyond merely the paralyzing deaths that have occured. I think of the potential, the capabilities, the leadership that many of those lost could have provided to my beloved country. How many Einsteins, Reagans, Kennedys or Salks lie in those many burials sites? I am so deeply saddened at the thought of the parents, wives or husbands that, very likely, may still weep today at those lost. We have been accused of arrogance in parts of Europe and the far East where Iraq and Afghanistan still exact the deaths of, too many, courageous men and women.Yes, and my eyes are blurred even now as I write this. I don't know how many may read this and be aware that 104, 000 is the result of our last excursion into war torn Europe. Over 100,000 souls lie in the 20 graves that dot a distant land. Basically, much of the world treats us with distain. We have, numerically, few allies that will stand at  our sides during the present conflicts and it is still the U.S. that stands the brunt of these conflicts. Is this truly arrogance?   Who knows what we have lost that is more that their deaths? It is my hope, no, my prayer that in some mystical manner we may find ways to solve world problems without resorting to military acts of  violence. It is also my hope that sufficient may read this text to stop and think of those who might well have lead our country in ways of peace and prosperity but for their courage in battle. May God bless them and guide us that we may be able to prevent this horror from ever happening again. 

Mattydale

Its as though I am in a time machine going back again to the happy days of my childhood and since my prior blog, Judson Place, I have advanced now to approximately 12 years of age. My grandparents had moved to a town on the outskirts of Syracuse and it was more in the country than they had lived before. Why did they move? I was too young to realize this was probably tramatic for them but what did a 12 year old know about such things? I was just happy to be out in the country where my Uncle Chuck had planted a fairly large garden and there was a real swimming hole on their property. Both of those things were a part of the 3 years or so in which I got to know how to hoe and how to enjoy the summer warmth. There was a golf course up the road and I discovered I could be a caddy. Most days when the hoeing was completed or the weeds were eliminated I was free to walk to the golf course. There I would hang around the pro shop hoping to carry some one's golf bag and earn .75 for 18 holes or if I was really lucky, I was given a whole buck for my efforts. Lordy me things were fine as wine --as we used to say. Mondays has been, universally, a day in which all golf courses honor their caddies by allowing them to play free as long as they wanted and so the Thornton brothers and I, two boys about my age, would carry 3 golf clubs and some broken tees and maybe a ball or two and get in at least 54 holes before darkness shut us down. They became good friends and asked me to play on their high school baseball team, where I was assigned to be the catcher. (I think it was Junior High School) I had never caught before but it was a great experience and they were very excited to see that I could throw to 2nd base and prevent the other team from stealing. I know a lot of this may sound strange to you but ask a male friend to explain some of these things. It was here where I also, through very hard work and long hours, learned to play Rachmaninoff' Prelude in C# minor--no mean accomplishment and that I reported to you in a previous blog. The swimming hole became almost a nightly visit and there was a rope hanging from the branch of an overhanging tree where you could sit on a large knot and be carried out over the water to do a flip as you released the rope--fun stuff for young boys. I grew up while I lived there I think, because my Uncle Chuck would take me to faraway places to fish, dig potatoes, or maybe pick mushrooms. I got to know how to bait a hook, care for a garden, select the correct mushrooms, and many other things that occupied my times in Mattydale. Although we were in the depths of a depression during those years, I had no understanding of the meaning of that problem. It was not a part of my life and my freedom there was unihibited. I remember those days and there are too many happy boyhood memories to tell all that I recall. Here again, were happy vacation times with grandparents and other relatives that loved me and cared about my well being. What else can a young boy have than to be surrounded by circumstances of happiness and joy. I can only wish the same for those that might read this short story of the meanderings of part of my childhood.

Judson Place

I do a lot of my thinking and remembering while I am in my bed. Sleep does always stay with me throughout the night and I am too warm to get up and do something constructive and so, I think. The other night I began to think of the things of my childhood--again and my thoughts turned to the first place I recall in Syracuse, N.Y. --- the family home on Judson Place. I was no more than 6 or 7 when I think of the home I really grew to love because my grandparents were there as was my Aunt and Uncle. My grandmother was a very sweet and warm lady, and I use that word intentionally, while my grandfather was rather a sternvisaged, taciturn man , who with all his gruff exterior still would pull me on his lap to read the funnies to me. Incidentally they don't have funnies like they used to, or maybe its me having outgrown the Katzenjamma Kids. At any rate I recall my grandmother going about the house dusting and singing softly to herself. She was hard of hearing. (Now, I know that's not politically correct but its my grandmother and I can say anything I wish about her). I can't leave my thoughts about the home without mentioning Uncle Chuck; my uncle of whom I have the dearest memories; fishing, picking berries in the Adirondacks and other fun times. I loved going there and being in that family home. It was not a family home such as we are inclined to think, but it had a certain magic to a 7 year old and it was the gathering place for my Mothers' 6 siblings and their mates as well as many cousins. However, I want to dwell on the friends I developed. There was a family living in the upstairs of our home and they had a son, Jack, with whom I palled. And Billy lived across the street on Thornton Avenue also became my little buddy. I looked forward every year or each vacation period to seeing them. There was a huge hill behind Billy's house and we used to climb it regularly just to walk around the large water tower on topand then to roll down its lengthy expanse. Because of the nature of that neighborhood, there were hills in front of every house on Thornton and king of the castle became one of our games which allowed us to carry multiple grass stains home. We also played hide and seek and other classic children activities. But it is the nostalgia of the years and the manner in which my memories are impacted that is the substance and the subject of today. It was my vacatiion place for several years. The sweetness of those early years clings to my thoughts into these many years later. I hope you have memories of warm sunshine, loving grandparents and good friends as do I. There is little of value that can replace those recollections of the past.