Monday, May 28, 2007
The Blood of Heroes Runs Red
Talk about a timely submission!
It's from Woodstock's James C. Zoes, a proud father of a United States Marine and a friend of McHenry County Blog. Some may remember Zoes was an advocate of placing the replica Civil War cannon on the Woodstock Square. You may also remember that the county's peace advocates thought such an idea was terrible.
"We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies."
[Moina Michael]
It is, of course, a reference to World War One, and the American soldiers who died fighting it. Like the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and every other war America has fought, the "blood of heroes" has been spilled many times and in many places.
Today is, of course, Memorial Day. A day to remember those Americans who lost their lives in battle. A day to look back with introspection at the people who made a moral decision, who took a fateful action, and who met their destiny by paying the price: their lives.
We are reminded of Col Robert Gould Shaw, age 26, a member of a prominent Boston abolitionist family. Someone of wealth and means who could have avoided the Civil War by simply writing a check. Yet, he believed in ending slavery to the point of volunteering to command troops into the meat grinder of battle. He was killed on July 18, 1863, along with 101 other KIA and MIA soldiers of the 54th Massachusetts, a regiment of free BLACK soldiers, leading an assault against Confederate Battery Wagner in South Carolina.
We remember him.
We are reminded of Sgt. William H. Carney, Company C, the first black Medal of Honor recipient, in the same battle, whose citation reads: "When the color sergeant was shot down, this soldier grasped the flag, led the way to the parapet, and planted the colors thereon. When the troops fell back he brought off the flag, under a fierce fire in which he was twice severely wounded."
Sgt. Carney rescued "the colors" (the unit's flag) when the "color sergeant" was killed, and was, himself, wounded so badly and so many times, including hits to head, chest, both legs and one arm, that he almost bled out and died before he was able to return to the Union lines with the flag.
And we are reminded of PFC Milton L. Olive III, Company B, 2d Battalion (Airborne), 503d Infantry, 173d Airborne Brigade, who received the first Medal of Honor of the Vietnam War for throwing his body on a Viet Cong grenade, saving the lives of his fellow soldiers. PFC Olive was black.
We remember that the blood of heroes runs red, even as it is also color blind.
We in America are blessed by the continuing existence of the World War Two veterans, though we are losing so many of them every day from old age.
The blood of heroes still flows in the veins of the men who stormed Iwo Jima and Omaha Beach and a hundred other place names we barely remember today.
For how much longer, only God knows as even heroes are mortal.
We remember their fallen comrades, the ones who did not make it off the beaches or out of the hedgerows.
And it still flows in the veins of those who fought a desperate battle at the Chosin Reservoir, against overwhelming odds and at Hill 931, also known as Heartbreak Ridge. And, a decade and a half later, in the veins of those fought in the Idrang Valley and at Khe Sanh, and elsewhere; some of which was spilled, lost, and now remembered in a long, bent black wall of marble on the Mall.
In hundreds of places, with names sometimes hard to spell and pronounce, from Saratoga to Anbar, America has been blessed with so many heroes, just when we needed them. Today is the day that we remember them all.
If, today, you see an elderly geezer, wearing a funny looking "boy scout" type of hat, standing at attention (or what passes for attention in a man or woman hunched over from old age) at a gathering on the square or in the park, I ask you, no I BEG you, to take the time to walk over, shake his or her hand, and thank them for their service.
And if, today, you see a serving soldier, marine, sailor, airman or coastie, do the same.
You see, the blood of heroes never dies, for it is timeless and reborn with every generation.
It's from Woodstock's James C. Zoes, a proud father of a United States Marine and a friend of McHenry County Blog. Some may remember Zoes was an advocate of placing the replica Civil War cannon on the Woodstock Square. You may also remember that the county's peace advocates thought such an idea was terrible.
"We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies."
[Moina Michael]
It is, of course, a reference to World War One, and the American soldiers who died fighting it. Like the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and every other war America has fought, the "blood of heroes" has been spilled many times and in many places.
Today is, of course, Memorial Day. A day to remember those Americans who lost their lives in battle. A day to look back with introspection at the people who made a moral decision, who took a fateful action, and who met their destiny by paying the price: their lives.
We are reminded of Col Robert Gould Shaw, age 26, a member of a prominent Boston abolitionist family. Someone of wealth and means who could have avoided the Civil War by simply writing a check. Yet, he believed in ending slavery to the point of volunteering to command troops into the meat grinder of battle. He was killed on July 18, 1863, along with 101 other KIA and MIA soldiers of the 54th Massachusetts, a regiment of free BLACK soldiers, leading an assault against Confederate Battery Wagner in South Carolina.
We remember him.
We are reminded of Sgt. William H. Carney, Company C, the first black Medal of Honor recipient, in the same battle, whose citation reads: "When the color sergeant was shot down, this soldier grasped the flag, led the way to the parapet, and planted the colors thereon. When the troops fell back he brought off the flag, under a fierce fire in which he was twice severely wounded."
Sgt. Carney rescued "the colors" (the unit's flag) when the "color sergeant" was killed, and was, himself, wounded so badly and so many times, including hits to head, chest, both legs and one arm, that he almost bled out and died before he was able to return to the Union lines with the flag.
And we are reminded of PFC Milton L. Olive III, Company B, 2d Battalion (Airborne), 503d Infantry, 173d Airborne Brigade, who received the first Medal of Honor of the Vietnam War for throwing his body on a Viet Cong grenade, saving the lives of his fellow soldiers. PFC Olive was black.
We remember that the blood of heroes runs red, even as it is also color blind.
We in America are blessed by the continuing existence of the World War Two veterans, though we are losing so many of them every day from old age.
The blood of heroes still flows in the veins of the men who stormed Iwo Jima and Omaha Beach and a hundred other place names we barely remember today.
For how much longer, only God knows as even heroes are mortal.
We remember their fallen comrades, the ones who did not make it off the beaches or out of the hedgerows.
And it still flows in the veins of those who fought a desperate battle at the Chosin Reservoir, against overwhelming odds and at Hill 931, also known as Heartbreak Ridge. And, a decade and a half later, in the veins of those fought in the Idrang Valley and at Khe Sanh, and elsewhere; some of which was spilled, lost, and now remembered in a long, bent black wall of marble on the Mall.
In hundreds of places, with names sometimes hard to spell and pronounce, from Saratoga to Anbar, America has been blessed with so many heroes, just when we needed them. Today is the day that we remember them all.
If, today, you see an elderly geezer, wearing a funny looking "boy scout" type of hat, standing at attention (or what passes for attention in a man or woman hunched over from old age) at a gathering on the square or in the park, I ask you, no I BEG you, to take the time to walk over, shake his or her hand, and thank them for their service.
And if, today, you see a serving soldier, marine, sailor, airman or coastie, do the same.
You see, the blood of heroes never dies, for it is timeless and reborn with every generation.
Labels: Colorblind, James. C. Zoes, Memorial Day
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Human Flower Project Blog Picks Up on This Color Blinded Guy’s Enjoyment of Yellow
Imagine my surprise when I got an email from Julie Ardrey, who writes the Human Flower Project blog.She reprinted my article about yellow’s being my favorite flower color.
And, she offers a color blindness test.
It looked like the same one I took at the Museum of Science and Industry the first time I went in the late 1950’s right after we moved to Crystal Lake from Middletown, New York.
Yip.
I’m still red-green color blind.
If you are in doubt as to whether you are colorblind, take the test yourself.
You can link to it at the Human Flower Project.
Labels: Colorblind, Human Flower Project, Julie Ardrey, Yellow
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Message of the Day – A Color
And the color is yellow.That’s the color of my flowers of choice.
The reason is simple.
I have a hard time seeing pastels.
Even red gives me a problem.
That’s probably because I am red-green colorblind.
Hint: be wary of me at any intersection where the traffic lights are not vertical.
In any event, I like yellow flowers because I can see them vividly.
If the other colors are as vivid to other people as yellow is to me, we live in a beautiful world.
Labels: Colorblind, Flowers, Lakewood, Message of the Day, Yellow
