Sorry for the delay but I've been so slammed with the children's book side---posting soon. Thanks!
Tim
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Frivolity, Ferdinand and a Friend: Days of Death
Everyone may have a particular stretch of time on the calendar each year that they dread. It could be the holidays, maybe the coming of the sweltering months of summer depending on where one lives, or possibly even Labor Day as it signifies an official end to the so-called Summer-and-fun season.
Though I tend to dread both the late July to late September stretch of Midwestern heat and the January to early March stretch because of Winter cold & overcast gloom, it's the last days of June for me.
My reasons are both a bit frivolous and, frankly, tragic.
Frivolity first.
For whatever personal reasons, I see the "freshness" of the Spring and Summer seasons as ending somewhere around July 4th, or so. Therefore, the end of June signifies a bottom of the 9th inning of sorts for Summer.
These personal reasons I refer to are that the newness of warm weather and the early chunks of vacation & no-school seasons, are gone. Summer is firmly ensconced in the brain, the weather gets even hotter, rain vanishes until October, and there's nothing to look forward to other than baseball's All-Star Game (well, that's debatable sometimes too actually). Just like any other time of year Summer becomes another day-to-day grind.
With April, May and 97% of June it's all just gotten here! Baseball begins, the color of green and its many-hued friends arrive, and no longer do you need to throw on the heavy coat while stuffing yourself into the car to traverse and tromp around in the slush, 30's-and-below temperatures and gray skies.
The planning of vacations happens. The planning of going to ball games happens. The prospect of planning a weekend get-away or a three-day weekend happens. Like a new year, Summer brings hope for fun and of events not yet even known about.
By the time the min-span of late June to July 5th has come and gone, all those plans are in place to be done, or have already been experienced. With the scent of blown-up fireworks lingering, the knowledge that this particular Summer's universal bottom of the 9th inning will soon happen in the form of "Back to School" sales and adverts kicks in. It's consistently in the 90's, clouds have flown north for the Summer, the sound of the Labor Day weekend's clock can already be heard.
Nothing's new anymore. Now it's just Summer. The next excitement involves color of the landscape; that'll be the leaves turning with Fall.
Frivolous I know. That's the POV from here.
But it gets serious now, too serious.
End of June also brings two tragedies to mind for me.
The first I'll mention is fairly well-known. The date isn't, but the act and what it implicated is.
On June 28th, 1914, Gavrilo Princip changed the world. At least he shoved the change over the cliff.
Princip shot Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in Serbia that day along with his wife Sophie as they sat together in their car. They were on their way to the hospital to visit victims from the bombing earlier in the day on their motorcade. Within a month World War I had begun, its first shots linked directly back to this assassination. The cascading dominoes that caused this supposed "war to end all wars" left a shell-shocked Europe in twisted metal, barren landscapes and nothing truly solved.
An embittered Germany and an ego-centric, paranoid, anti-Semitic, racist hate-monger grew out of this rotten "defeat garden" to brew the thousands-year-old recipe for yet another go-round at world war.
6/28/1914 is also a day of infamy to me.
Lastly, there is 6/29. Twenty years ago today in the very early morning hours, a good acquaintance of mine, Kevin Knox, was killed in a one-car crash while on the way home from a friend's house. What was related to me was this: after a night of some partying he'd flopped out at his buddy's place before foolishly deciding to drive home around 4am, probably still feeling the effects from the previous night's indulging, and more so, little sleep to speak of.
Apparently falling asleep while driving in west county St. Louis, he gave up control and crashed, dying in the process.
A mere boy experiencing his first Summer fresh out of college, his death devastated a family, many friends, and fraternity brothers like me.
Kevin was not a close friend, but I experienced a lot with him: lots of softball games, Strato-matic baseball, many roller hockey games, and yes, some parties too. He was a hotshot kid who was cocky when I first met him. His social skills were impressive with the "in-types" in the fraternity and girls. I didn't like him much until near the end of his college tenure at Mizzou. I witnessed a guy who was way too brash and verbose, become very respectful and just flat out nice to me and others who he wasn't previously.
When I got the call that Saturday morning about 10am from a good friend of mine I was naturally in disbelief. After hanging up I cried.
The wake and funeral were tough. I'd say a good 80% of the fraternity, in the throes of Summer no less, were in attendance. All these slick, tough, athletic ladies guys were reduced to nothing by Kevin's death. To say this was a real eye-opener for nearly every one of us is an understatement. How do you say good-bye to someone when you didn't get a chance to say good-bye? Good-bye wasn't even on the list for someone so young.
From what I was told that were close to Kevin, his family lay depressed. Exceptionally close to his father, reports were that his dad didn't seem to know what to do with his life anymore. Kevin's mom kept his room untouched for months. His fellow siblings tried to move on. Through God's grace and time they eventually did.
For years I visited Kevin's grave every 6/29 and left a single red rose each time. At about ten years I decided to call it off. It seemed to be getting too much an exercise in depression instead of tribute. I will go back one of these years Lord willing. We're getting close to how long it's been since we lost him to how old he was at the time he passed. If there's a better spur-of-the-moment example of how fleeting life is I'd like to hear it.
My apologies for ending on a downer note. Maybe it's clear now why I get a little melancholy this time each year. I can't let it get me down to the point of no return. Yet I say it's healthy to contemplate these sad, even morbid events for a little while. Out of it comes a little more maturity, hopefully a little more valuing of self & those around us, and a stronger magnetism towards our wondrous God.
Peace, please,
Tim
6/29/11
Though I tend to dread both the late July to late September stretch of Midwestern heat and the January to early March stretch because of Winter cold & overcast gloom, it's the last days of June for me.
My reasons are both a bit frivolous and, frankly, tragic.
Frivolity first.
For whatever personal reasons, I see the "freshness" of the Spring and Summer seasons as ending somewhere around July 4th, or so. Therefore, the end of June signifies a bottom of the 9th inning of sorts for Summer.
These personal reasons I refer to are that the newness of warm weather and the early chunks of vacation & no-school seasons, are gone. Summer is firmly ensconced in the brain, the weather gets even hotter, rain vanishes until October, and there's nothing to look forward to other than baseball's All-Star Game (well, that's debatable sometimes too actually). Just like any other time of year Summer becomes another day-to-day grind.
With April, May and 97% of June it's all just gotten here! Baseball begins, the color of green and its many-hued friends arrive, and no longer do you need to throw on the heavy coat while stuffing yourself into the car to traverse and tromp around in the slush, 30's-and-below temperatures and gray skies.
The planning of vacations happens. The planning of going to ball games happens. The prospect of planning a weekend get-away or a three-day weekend happens. Like a new year, Summer brings hope for fun and of events not yet even known about.
By the time the min-span of late June to July 5th has come and gone, all those plans are in place to be done, or have already been experienced. With the scent of blown-up fireworks lingering, the knowledge that this particular Summer's universal bottom of the 9th inning will soon happen in the form of "Back to School" sales and adverts kicks in. It's consistently in the 90's, clouds have flown north for the Summer, the sound of the Labor Day weekend's clock can already be heard.
Nothing's new anymore. Now it's just Summer. The next excitement involves color of the landscape; that'll be the leaves turning with Fall.
Frivolous I know. That's the POV from here.
But it gets serious now, too serious.
End of June also brings two tragedies to mind for me.
The first I'll mention is fairly well-known. The date isn't, but the act and what it implicated is.
On June 28th, 1914, Gavrilo Princip changed the world. At least he shoved the change over the cliff.
Princip shot Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in Serbia that day along with his wife Sophie as they sat together in their car. They were on their way to the hospital to visit victims from the bombing earlier in the day on their motorcade. Within a month World War I had begun, its first shots linked directly back to this assassination. The cascading dominoes that caused this supposed "war to end all wars" left a shell-shocked Europe in twisted metal, barren landscapes and nothing truly solved.
An embittered Germany and an ego-centric, paranoid, anti-Semitic, racist hate-monger grew out of this rotten "defeat garden" to brew the thousands-year-old recipe for yet another go-round at world war.
6/28/1914 is also a day of infamy to me.
Lastly, there is 6/29. Twenty years ago today in the very early morning hours, a good acquaintance of mine, Kevin Knox, was killed in a one-car crash while on the way home from a friend's house. What was related to me was this: after a night of some partying he'd flopped out at his buddy's place before foolishly deciding to drive home around 4am, probably still feeling the effects from the previous night's indulging, and more so, little sleep to speak of.
Apparently falling asleep while driving in west county St. Louis, he gave up control and crashed, dying in the process.
A mere boy experiencing his first Summer fresh out of college, his death devastated a family, many friends, and fraternity brothers like me.
Kevin was not a close friend, but I experienced a lot with him: lots of softball games, Strato-matic baseball, many roller hockey games, and yes, some parties too. He was a hotshot kid who was cocky when I first met him. His social skills were impressive with the "in-types" in the fraternity and girls. I didn't like him much until near the end of his college tenure at Mizzou. I witnessed a guy who was way too brash and verbose, become very respectful and just flat out nice to me and others who he wasn't previously.
When I got the call that Saturday morning about 10am from a good friend of mine I was naturally in disbelief. After hanging up I cried.
The wake and funeral were tough. I'd say a good 80% of the fraternity, in the throes of Summer no less, were in attendance. All these slick, tough, athletic ladies guys were reduced to nothing by Kevin's death. To say this was a real eye-opener for nearly every one of us is an understatement. How do you say good-bye to someone when you didn't get a chance to say good-bye? Good-bye wasn't even on the list for someone so young.
From what I was told that were close to Kevin, his family lay depressed. Exceptionally close to his father, reports were that his dad didn't seem to know what to do with his life anymore. Kevin's mom kept his room untouched for months. His fellow siblings tried to move on. Through God's grace and time they eventually did.
For years I visited Kevin's grave every 6/29 and left a single red rose each time. At about ten years I decided to call it off. It seemed to be getting too much an exercise in depression instead of tribute. I will go back one of these years Lord willing. We're getting close to how long it's been since we lost him to how old he was at the time he passed. If there's a better spur-of-the-moment example of how fleeting life is I'd like to hear it.
My apologies for ending on a downer note. Maybe it's clear now why I get a little melancholy this time each year. I can't let it get me down to the point of no return. Yet I say it's healthy to contemplate these sad, even morbid events for a little while. Out of it comes a little more maturity, hopefully a little more valuing of self & those around us, and a stronger magnetism towards our wondrous God.
Peace, please,
Tim
6/29/11
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Professional (and Famous) Athletes Go To War, Literally
Sounds outlandish doesn't it? Nowadays, the sight of even a single professional athlete heading off to fight for this country is news. Actually, it's been just that: a single professional athlete. Former Arizona Cardinals football player Pat Tillman is the most recent, and tragic, example of an athlete leaving a well-paying career to fight the bad guys thanks to his fervent loyalty for America. In fact, his tragic death and subsequent controversy surrounding it (turns out he was killed by friendly fire not by the enemy as was first reported) likely gives less chance of anyone in professional sports following in his footsteps. There is no draft now either.
I soon will be heading off to Cooperstown, New York to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame with a few family members. So this got me to thinking about the World Wars and professional athletes, baseball players in particular, that went off to fight or at least become part of the military.
Looking back, how many "name" stars were happy to sign on to fight for America? Can we name just a few?
Some were drafted while others signed up all by their capable selves to fight Germans or Japanese.
In World War II, America saw, what was then, its national pastime become depleted of all-star talent. From 1940 through 1945 big names either signed on or were drafted in to fight or represent the USA in various capacities. Stan Musial, Ted Williams, Bob Feller, Joe DiMaggio and Hank Greenberg are just a few all-stars and future Hall of Famers that became part of the military in the Second World War.
Of this particular five, Feller and DiMaggio volunteered for service. DiMaggio received one of the cushier jobs as a PE Instructor at bases in Hawaii, California and New Jersey until being discharged in '45. Feller and Greenberg were the only ones of these that ended up in a war theatre. Greenberg flew scouting missions in the Burma-China region serving longer than any major leaguer: some 45 months. He was drafted long before any of his name colleagues back in 1940. (Williams fought as a pilot in F9F's but later on in Korea.)
Feller's story is more compelling than most of the stars that made into the armed services in the 40's.
He enlisted for duty in the Navy the day after the Pearl Harbor attack on December 8th, 1941. A gun captain, he was decorated several times for his service aboard the USS Alabama losing four years of his career to the war. Feller was never bitter about this. It was natural to him to do what he did.
I sit here and imagine some higher-up attempting to get him onto a non-combat assignment---seems to me Feller would've had none of that.
It's quite the laundry list of baseball players that lost chunks of their career to World War II, but I won't delve into a such a massive list.
Suffice to say that entire franchises were deeply effected. Cardinals center fielder Terry Moore stated several times that the war ended what could've been a Cardinals' World Series dynasty throughout the 1940's. To think about the 1942 team alone that beat DiMaggio's Yankees, Moore could've been right: consider the likes of future Hall of Famers Musial and Enos Slaughter (and Red Schoendienst come 1945), arguably the best shortstop in the National League in Marty Marion and perennial all-star Whitey Kurowski at third.
Slaughter lost three years, Schoendienst one before debuting with St. Louis, and Musial a year as well.
But there were others that lost a lot of career time.
DiMaggio's brother Dom who played for the Red Sox lost three years in the Navy. Brooklyn's Pee Wee Reese enlisted in the Navy in 1943, also losing three years.
Yet Braves pitcher Warren Spahn's war record surely beats out all of these, even Feller's.
Spahn fought with the Army in the famed Battle of the Bulge and received the Purple Heart among other citations for his performance in combat over three years. Like Feller, he felt compelled to enlist. Spahn went on to become the winningest left-handed pitcher in baseball history, playing until he was 44.
There is the other world war though---World War I.
It saw its share of baseball players enter the military.
I'll mention just a few here and focus on one in particular for space's sake.
Boston's Tris Speaker served with the Navy and one Ty Cobb also served in the Army overseas, alongside a fellow member of the Hall of Fame's first class---former New York Giant's star Christy Mathewson.
Many consider Mathewson the greatest pitcher ever. Personally, I place him in my top three. Not bad either way.
Mathewson was known as a hard-working, jovial and friendly man. Enlisting in 1918 with the Army he was stationed overseas in France, assigned to a newly created branch of the Army called the "Chemical Service". Chemical warfare had become a conspicuous weapon over the course of the First World War.
During a training regime, Mathewson was accidentally exposed to poison gas, causing him to contract pulmonary tuberculosis. The damage to his lungs was permanent. Despite efforts to rid himself of the worsening sickness it eventually killed him. He died at his home in Saranac Lake, New York in 1925.
Baseball Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis said of him:
"His sense of justice, his integrity and sportsmanship, made him far greater than Christy Mathewson the pitcher."
I'm certain there are other Christy Mathewson's, Warren Spahn's, Bob Feller's, and Pat Tillman's, roaming Major League Baseball nowadays. The American players of the league aren't completely devoid of true patriotism. If another World War I or II type of scenario came about, there'd likely be at least a few who would step forward and enlist to fight.
Still, I have to think in this day and age where multi-million dollar babies who beg their agents and managers to get out of playing---in the annual All-Star Game---puportedly due to some tweak-of-an-injury, or because they don't want to risk getting injured and gambling on a future go-zillion dollar contract could going bye-bye, my doubt is heavy.
This is mirrored throughout America as well. We've become so hefty with our full fridges, bloated pantries, two cars, suburban houses and cable TV that we don't want to leave the house let alone the country to settle into some one's cross hairs. There aren't that many that will contribute the ultimate sacrifice for this country's freedom anymore.
Unlike us, the athletes have the connections and a loyalty more so to themselves in my opinion. Pro baseball players at the top level have agents and personal staffs that will do whatever they can with all kinds of connections to get their meal ticket out of many responsibilities, legal suits and events.
Imagine if world war came along and the draft was put back into practice. Could a 25-year old rising slugger or a 28-year old fire balling pitcher enlist, lead the way and inspire us all to fight a hardened enemy?
Or, maybe the real question is, would they?
I soon will be heading off to Cooperstown, New York to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame with a few family members. So this got me to thinking about the World Wars and professional athletes, baseball players in particular, that went off to fight or at least become part of the military.
Looking back, how many "name" stars were happy to sign on to fight for America? Can we name just a few?
Some were drafted while others signed up all by their capable selves to fight Germans or Japanese.
In World War II, America saw, what was then, its national pastime become depleted of all-star talent. From 1940 through 1945 big names either signed on or were drafted in to fight or represent the USA in various capacities. Stan Musial, Ted Williams, Bob Feller, Joe DiMaggio and Hank Greenberg are just a few all-stars and future Hall of Famers that became part of the military in the Second World War.
Of this particular five, Feller and DiMaggio volunteered for service. DiMaggio received one of the cushier jobs as a PE Instructor at bases in Hawaii, California and New Jersey until being discharged in '45. Feller and Greenberg were the only ones of these that ended up in a war theatre. Greenberg flew scouting missions in the Burma-China region serving longer than any major leaguer: some 45 months. He was drafted long before any of his name colleagues back in 1940. (Williams fought as a pilot in F9F's but later on in Korea.)
Feller's story is more compelling than most of the stars that made into the armed services in the 40's.
He enlisted for duty in the Navy the day after the Pearl Harbor attack on December 8th, 1941. A gun captain, he was decorated several times for his service aboard the USS Alabama losing four years of his career to the war. Feller was never bitter about this. It was natural to him to do what he did.
I sit here and imagine some higher-up attempting to get him onto a non-combat assignment---seems to me Feller would've had none of that.
It's quite the laundry list of baseball players that lost chunks of their career to World War II, but I won't delve into a such a massive list.
Suffice to say that entire franchises were deeply effected. Cardinals center fielder Terry Moore stated several times that the war ended what could've been a Cardinals' World Series dynasty throughout the 1940's. To think about the 1942 team alone that beat DiMaggio's Yankees, Moore could've been right: consider the likes of future Hall of Famers Musial and Enos Slaughter (and Red Schoendienst come 1945), arguably the best shortstop in the National League in Marty Marion and perennial all-star Whitey Kurowski at third.
Slaughter lost three years, Schoendienst one before debuting with St. Louis, and Musial a year as well.
But there were others that lost a lot of career time.
DiMaggio's brother Dom who played for the Red Sox lost three years in the Navy. Brooklyn's Pee Wee Reese enlisted in the Navy in 1943, also losing three years.
Yet Braves pitcher Warren Spahn's war record surely beats out all of these, even Feller's.
Spahn fought with the Army in the famed Battle of the Bulge and received the Purple Heart among other citations for his performance in combat over three years. Like Feller, he felt compelled to enlist. Spahn went on to become the winningest left-handed pitcher in baseball history, playing until he was 44.
There is the other world war though---World War I.
It saw its share of baseball players enter the military.
I'll mention just a few here and focus on one in particular for space's sake.
Boston's Tris Speaker served with the Navy and one Ty Cobb also served in the Army overseas, alongside a fellow member of the Hall of Fame's first class---former New York Giant's star Christy Mathewson.
Many consider Mathewson the greatest pitcher ever. Personally, I place him in my top three. Not bad either way.
Mathewson was known as a hard-working, jovial and friendly man. Enlisting in 1918 with the Army he was stationed overseas in France, assigned to a newly created branch of the Army called the "Chemical Service". Chemical warfare had become a conspicuous weapon over the course of the First World War.
During a training regime, Mathewson was accidentally exposed to poison gas, causing him to contract pulmonary tuberculosis. The damage to his lungs was permanent. Despite efforts to rid himself of the worsening sickness it eventually killed him. He died at his home in Saranac Lake, New York in 1925.
Baseball Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis said of him:
"His sense of justice, his integrity and sportsmanship, made him far greater than Christy Mathewson the pitcher."
I'm certain there are other Christy Mathewson's, Warren Spahn's, Bob Feller's, and Pat Tillman's, roaming Major League Baseball nowadays. The American players of the league aren't completely devoid of true patriotism. If another World War I or II type of scenario came about, there'd likely be at least a few who would step forward and enlist to fight.
Still, I have to think in this day and age where multi-million dollar babies who beg their agents and managers to get out of playing---in the annual All-Star Game---puportedly due to some tweak-of-an-injury, or because they don't want to risk getting injured and gambling on a future go-zillion dollar contract could going bye-bye, my doubt is heavy.
This is mirrored throughout America as well. We've become so hefty with our full fridges, bloated pantries, two cars, suburban houses and cable TV that we don't want to leave the house let alone the country to settle into some one's cross hairs. There aren't that many that will contribute the ultimate sacrifice for this country's freedom anymore.
Unlike us, the athletes have the connections and a loyalty more so to themselves in my opinion. Pro baseball players at the top level have agents and personal staffs that will do whatever they can with all kinds of connections to get their meal ticket out of many responsibilities, legal suits and events.
Imagine if world war came along and the draft was put back into practice. Could a 25-year old rising slugger or a 28-year old fire balling pitcher enlist, lead the way and inspire us all to fight a hardened enemy?
Or, maybe the real question is, would they?
Sunday, May 29, 2011
After all, it's MEMORIAL Day...
It's one of those double-edged things that we usually neglect to see in life whether it's people or events; the element that makes someone or something great frequently makes it tinged with negativity.
As Obadiah Stane said of Tony Stark in the first Iron Man movie: "You know the great thing about Tony is also the worst thing about Tony---he's always working..."
Donald Trump may be great at making millions, but with that ability comes a package of traits most would, or at least should, not want to be around or emulate too much. Greed isn't good, Mr. Gecko.
But this idea of the mixed bag relates to this weekend and Memorial Day. Seems every chance a citizen of planet Earth gets he parties, especially on holidays, holiday weekends and those events related to holidays or holiday weekends.
Now I'm not suggesting that we all drag our knuckles around raw in melancholy solemnity 24/7 every chance we get. Being negative, woeful and sad isn't healthy and in this case of Memorial Day it insults those who paid the ultimate price so we can be happy in embracing our freedom to do whatever we want to do in life (or at least try to).
So the point is this: what's great about America is also at times the worst because our millions of citizens find it too easy to ignore or barely give notice to taking time to genuinely remember and thank God for those who gave their lives for us. For so many of us it's all too easy to go and buy flag-smacked cookies & cupcakes, have a giant glutenous BBQ, guzzle down as many beer and soda specials as we can, and treat this as just another long weekend to stock up on the self-indulgence of freedom most of us had little to do with sacrificing to attain.
I'm not asking you to feel guilty as all get-out and cry your eyes out this weekend. But I am asking you to stop and do two things:
-pray to God and thank Him that you are a citizen of this country and to realize how much worse-off you could be elsewhere (let's just say Yemen, Iraq, Iran, China, Syria)
-think about the name of this weekend and why it's called Memorial Day Weekend
I repeat let's enjoy it; let's have a BBQ or a get-together, or not, and just enjoy finding solice with our significant others, or just our families, or watching baseball, or one of the races running this weekend, or whatever it is you get a charge out of doing in life---just do it. Those that sacrificed their lives (and those vets that have passed on since their service time) would appreciate that, and most would do the same if they were still alive. But let's observe, even privately if need be, what a gigantic blessing we have to be a citizen in a freedom-wrought, peaceful country as this, and why.
You veterans, all the way from the 1770's to now and beyond, our thanks, and you indeed deserve at the very least, this Memorial Day Weekend in your honor.
Peace.
Tim
As Obadiah Stane said of Tony Stark in the first Iron Man movie: "You know the great thing about Tony is also the worst thing about Tony---he's always working..."
Donald Trump may be great at making millions, but with that ability comes a package of traits most would, or at least should, not want to be around or emulate too much. Greed isn't good, Mr. Gecko.
But this idea of the mixed bag relates to this weekend and Memorial Day. Seems every chance a citizen of planet Earth gets he parties, especially on holidays, holiday weekends and those events related to holidays or holiday weekends.
Now I'm not suggesting that we all drag our knuckles around raw in melancholy solemnity 24/7 every chance we get. Being negative, woeful and sad isn't healthy and in this case of Memorial Day it insults those who paid the ultimate price so we can be happy in embracing our freedom to do whatever we want to do in life (or at least try to).
So the point is this: what's great about America is also at times the worst because our millions of citizens find it too easy to ignore or barely give notice to taking time to genuinely remember and thank God for those who gave their lives for us. For so many of us it's all too easy to go and buy flag-smacked cookies & cupcakes, have a giant glutenous BBQ, guzzle down as many beer and soda specials as we can, and treat this as just another long weekend to stock up on the self-indulgence of freedom most of us had little to do with sacrificing to attain.
I'm not asking you to feel guilty as all get-out and cry your eyes out this weekend. But I am asking you to stop and do two things:
-pray to God and thank Him that you are a citizen of this country and to realize how much worse-off you could be elsewhere (let's just say Yemen, Iraq, Iran, China, Syria)
-think about the name of this weekend and why it's called Memorial Day Weekend
I repeat let's enjoy it; let's have a BBQ or a get-together, or not, and just enjoy finding solice with our significant others, or just our families, or watching baseball, or one of the races running this weekend, or whatever it is you get a charge out of doing in life---just do it. Those that sacrificed their lives (and those vets that have passed on since their service time) would appreciate that, and most would do the same if they were still alive. But let's observe, even privately if need be, what a gigantic blessing we have to be a citizen in a freedom-wrought, peaceful country as this, and why.
You veterans, all the way from the 1770's to now and beyond, our thanks, and you indeed deserve at the very least, this Memorial Day Weekend in your honor.
Peace.
Tim
Friday, May 20, 2011
Churchill...He Made England Matter
So much has rightly been made of Winston Churchill's other-worldly, charismatic oratory talents, during World War II in particular. His parliamentary and radio speeches brought supporters, foes and Britain's citizenry alike to their collective feet at a time when sitting idly would've spelled the end of what was left of western European democracy. An English domino falling to the German bulldozer of war would no doubt have splashed across the ocean tipping America to eventually fend for its own self, sans Allied support, with no future strategic points to strike from within Britain in a future European war theatre.
Churchill's bolstering words of motivation and calls to arms sent men and women across Great Britain to share his deep belief that they as Englishmen were privileged to be in this life and country-threatening spot. From May 1940 through the early months of 1942, from the young to the elderly, Brits across The Isle hung on WSC's words ready to defend their shores, cities, farms and countrysides from German attack, or, as was thought possible by most in those years, outright invasion.
Winston may have seemed "movie-dramatic" with his public, and private, orations. With astounding detail and recall he often quoted poetry and passages from great works that dovetailed with whatever the present subject-matter as he mingled or sat with generals, heads-of-state or his staff. But this was the real Winston. When we observe his speeches we know it's not some peppered and salted-up act.
From his "Finest Hour" speech we see:
"...if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science."
Sitting in the House of Commons or in your home in London listening to the radio you remembered a line like that because his point, as much as his choice of words left you the Englander with no doubt about the consequences of failure to act, and to understand how difficult victory would be to reach. He was the great seamstress of writing the words and orator of delivering them.
Yet in Churchill's genius and delivery, like no one who's spoken since, he follows the above with this which so many of us are familiar:
"Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, "This was their finest hour.""
Sends chills for me now. Makes me want to get up and go do something important right away.
His influence and crucial placement as Prime Minster in the early 1940's cannot be underestimated. When so many, not only Chamberlain, were ready to offer a brokered peace with Hitler, it was Churchill who lead the way to say, "No, we stand and fight, win or fail", utilizing his speeches as arguably the #1 weapon in his arsenal.
Now, I understand what heads-of-state do, especially when addressing their citizens and the world; they have to put a spin on events and circumstances. That involves some stretching of truths and/or appeasing certain factions to ensure everyone doesn't, and won't, take their eyes of the ball. Especially early on, whether when England attempted to assist France with keeping the Blitzkrieg at bay, or when spinning to his people how wondrous an ally Stalin was, Churchill had to present a picture of progress and moving in the direction of victory. It would be a little mundane in this space to give examples of this but suffice to say he usually but a convincing spin on the few positives which came out of the jaws of defeat.
Still, when we read his public offerings on early war events, events that presented little to no wins for the British people to grab onto, who can doubt this PM's straight-talk and honesty, for instance about the massive rescue of thousands of British troops from Dunkirk in June, 1940?
"We must be very careful not to assign to this deliverance the attributes of a victory. Wars are not won by evacuations."
So he he maintained the call to fight. Later in this same speech he gave his parliament & people, and posterity, a little-known gem when extolling the opportunity for England's young men to shine in battle for their island home:
"The Knights of the Round Table, the Crusaders, all fall back into the past-not only distant but prosaic; these young men, going forth every morn to guard their native land and all that we stand for, holding in their hands these instruments of colossal and shattering power, of whom it may be said that
Every morn brought forth a noble chance
And every chance brought forth a noble knight,
deserve our gratitude, as do all the brave men who, in so many ways and on so many occasions, are ready, and continue ready to give life and all for their native land."
This speech was aptly named "We Shall Fight On". If I had to pluck a few words out of it along with any of his speeches from that period, I think his core message was they'd fight "if necessary for years, if necessary alone". But maybe that's not enough.
Thus, I'd have to couple that with the most well-known quote from this speech:
"...we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender..."
Without his fervor, loyalty, daring, willingness to fight and oratory, England would not have been held with much esteem throughout the world. They would've been defined as a collection of lazy aristocracy hoarding over their "lower" classes still too frought with the wrongful ideals of empire and commonwealth. The way Germany was rolling over most every square foot of Europe like a dastardly amoeba, the rest of the world, outside Japan & Italy, sat and waited for the English to fall. Yet Churchill was there to pick up and shake his people and spur them into a game-changing fight which lead to victory in The Battle of Britain.
But his influence and reach went beyond that---we'll cover that in another post soon...
Peace.
Churchill's bolstering words of motivation and calls to arms sent men and women across Great Britain to share his deep belief that they as Englishmen were privileged to be in this life and country-threatening spot. From May 1940 through the early months of 1942, from the young to the elderly, Brits across The Isle hung on WSC's words ready to defend their shores, cities, farms and countrysides from German attack, or, as was thought possible by most in those years, outright invasion.
Winston may have seemed "movie-dramatic" with his public, and private, orations. With astounding detail and recall he often quoted poetry and passages from great works that dovetailed with whatever the present subject-matter as he mingled or sat with generals, heads-of-state or his staff. But this was the real Winston. When we observe his speeches we know it's not some peppered and salted-up act.
From his "Finest Hour" speech we see:
"...if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science."
Sitting in the House of Commons or in your home in London listening to the radio you remembered a line like that because his point, as much as his choice of words left you the Englander with no doubt about the consequences of failure to act, and to understand how difficult victory would be to reach. He was the great seamstress of writing the words and orator of delivering them.
Yet in Churchill's genius and delivery, like no one who's spoken since, he follows the above with this which so many of us are familiar:
"Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, "This was their finest hour.""
Sends chills for me now. Makes me want to get up and go do something important right away.
His influence and crucial placement as Prime Minster in the early 1940's cannot be underestimated. When so many, not only Chamberlain, were ready to offer a brokered peace with Hitler, it was Churchill who lead the way to say, "No, we stand and fight, win or fail", utilizing his speeches as arguably the #1 weapon in his arsenal.
Now, I understand what heads-of-state do, especially when addressing their citizens and the world; they have to put a spin on events and circumstances. That involves some stretching of truths and/or appeasing certain factions to ensure everyone doesn't, and won't, take their eyes of the ball. Especially early on, whether when England attempted to assist France with keeping the Blitzkrieg at bay, or when spinning to his people how wondrous an ally Stalin was, Churchill had to present a picture of progress and moving in the direction of victory. It would be a little mundane in this space to give examples of this but suffice to say he usually but a convincing spin on the few positives which came out of the jaws of defeat.
Still, when we read his public offerings on early war events, events that presented little to no wins for the British people to grab onto, who can doubt this PM's straight-talk and honesty, for instance about the massive rescue of thousands of British troops from Dunkirk in June, 1940?
"We must be very careful not to assign to this deliverance the attributes of a victory. Wars are not won by evacuations."
So he he maintained the call to fight. Later in this same speech he gave his parliament & people, and posterity, a little-known gem when extolling the opportunity for England's young men to shine in battle for their island home:
"The Knights of the Round Table, the Crusaders, all fall back into the past-not only distant but prosaic; these young men, going forth every morn to guard their native land and all that we stand for, holding in their hands these instruments of colossal and shattering power, of whom it may be said that
Every morn brought forth a noble chance
And every chance brought forth a noble knight,
deserve our gratitude, as do all the brave men who, in so many ways and on so many occasions, are ready, and continue ready to give life and all for their native land."
This speech was aptly named "We Shall Fight On". If I had to pluck a few words out of it along with any of his speeches from that period, I think his core message was they'd fight "if necessary for years, if necessary alone". But maybe that's not enough.
Thus, I'd have to couple that with the most well-known quote from this speech:
"...we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender..."
Without his fervor, loyalty, daring, willingness to fight and oratory, England would not have been held with much esteem throughout the world. They would've been defined as a collection of lazy aristocracy hoarding over their "lower" classes still too frought with the wrongful ideals of empire and commonwealth. The way Germany was rolling over most every square foot of Europe like a dastardly amoeba, the rest of the world, outside Japan & Italy, sat and waited for the English to fall. Yet Churchill was there to pick up and shake his people and spur them into a game-changing fight which lead to victory in The Battle of Britain.
But his influence and reach went beyond that---we'll cover that in another post soon...
Peace.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Come on in!
Just a quick word to say please join my blog as a Follower. We'd love to have you aboard!
Any thoughts you have, stories, pictures, insights, responses to my posts, whatever it is, please be a part of this history blog. Let's make it an intriguing and interesting site.
Thanks and looking forward to your input!
Tim
Any thoughts you have, stories, pictures, insights, responses to my posts, whatever it is, please be a part of this history blog. Let's make it an intriguing and interesting site.
Thanks and looking forward to your input!
Tim
Monday, May 16, 2011
Well then...
The technical issue has been resolved so he story is well below on the Fokker Dr.1 if you're wondering...new post soon. Thanks!
Friday, May 13, 2011
Technical issue on my blog...
I'd written a post about the Fokker Dr.1 Tri-Plane a couple days ago and for some reason it went poof...I'm investigating it...it began as the below. If I can't retrieve it somehow I'll re-write it and post it...
"The Red Baron made this plane not only famous, but also effective. Yet he was one of the exceptional few to accomplish the latter and the only one to accomplish the former. Manfred von Richthofen was a sp..."
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The Fokker Dr.1 Tri-Plane...Truly Worthy?
The Red Baron made this plane not only famous, but also effective. Yet he was one of the exceptional few to accomplish the latter and the only one to accomplish the former. Manfred von Richthofen was a special talent in the air. Few matched his prowess as an aerial hunter and marksman.
The Dr.1 was beautiful. It's the stuff of grand fighter pilot lore thanks to Manfred.
Despite that, the Dreidecker's run was short.
The tri-plane proved too often flimsy. Wing failures were repetitive in development late in 1917 causing Anthony Fokker to flip the bill for wing and structural modifications as well as tighter quality controls over production. Finally, come 1918, a modest allocation to merely 14 squadrons was approved.
A remarkably manueverable airplane, especially at low altitudes even down near the deck, the Dr.1's power was minimal. Its rate of climb was above average, but once at high altitude it instantly became the lesser aircraft. In the right hands of which the Baron's were one of the few, it could acrobatically allude faster more powerful Allied planes. The idea was get the enemy down near the treetops and guide them into a mistake before they got you back upstairs.
However, the wing failures continued in combat. German pilots came to find they couldn't reliably utilize the plane's striking manueverability, its #1 asset, comfortably and consistently. The Dr.1 was pulled from frontline battle by mid-Spring, a run of barely more than 300 completed. There were other factors; sub-par design attributes like poor cockpit visibility, a marginal gun platform, the growing effectiveness of the Allies' SPAD, and the inception of Fokker's own D-VII.
While it's the iconic beauty everyone recognizes from Snoopy to dear ol' dad, a peek behind the hangar door reveals a surprisingly short-lived and somewhat ineffective career particularly outside the magic hands of Manfred von Richtofen.
http://www.eaa.org/
The Dr.1 was beautiful. It's the stuff of grand fighter pilot lore thanks to Manfred.
Despite that, the Dreidecker's run was short.
The tri-plane proved too often flimsy. Wing failures were repetitive in development late in 1917 causing Anthony Fokker to flip the bill for wing and structural modifications as well as tighter quality controls over production. Finally, come 1918, a modest allocation to merely 14 squadrons was approved.
A remarkably manueverable airplane, especially at low altitudes even down near the deck, the Dr.1's power was minimal. Its rate of climb was above average, but once at high altitude it instantly became the lesser aircraft. In the right hands of which the Baron's were one of the few, it could acrobatically allude faster more powerful Allied planes. The idea was get the enemy down near the treetops and guide them into a mistake before they got you back upstairs.
However, the wing failures continued in combat. German pilots came to find they couldn't reliably utilize the plane's striking manueverability, its #1 asset, comfortably and consistently. The Dr.1 was pulled from frontline battle by mid-Spring, a run of barely more than 300 completed. There were other factors; sub-par design attributes like poor cockpit visibility, a marginal gun platform, the growing effectiveness of the Allies' SPAD, and the inception of Fokker's own D-VII.
While it's the iconic beauty everyone recognizes from Snoopy to dear ol' dad, a peek behind the hangar door reveals a surprisingly short-lived and somewhat ineffective career particularly outside the magic hands of Manfred von Richtofen.
http://www.eaa.org/
Change the Blog...Honing it Down
I've received some excellent advice regarding this blog...seems I've cast way too wide a net and gotten away, quickly, from my original intent and idea of what this blog is to be.
Long story short, this blog will now focus solely on World War history---World Wars I and II in particular.
That's still a pretty wide scope, but it shears off hundreds of other possibilities and subjects which is for the better in this case.
The novel I'm in the process of writing is based in World War I, and per the web address of the blog here, it's in the Historical Fiction category.
So let's have it. Whatever subjects you'd like to discuss I'm game and I'll of course be driving much of that too.
If you've had the priviledge of visiting the National World War I Museum in Kansas City please share your thoughts as I am planning a trip there within the next few weeks.
My thanks and warm regards,
Tim
Long story short, this blog will now focus solely on World War history---World Wars I and II in particular.
That's still a pretty wide scope, but it shears off hundreds of other possibilities and subjects which is for the better in this case.
The novel I'm in the process of writing is based in World War I, and per the web address of the blog here, it's in the Historical Fiction category.
So let's have it. Whatever subjects you'd like to discuss I'm game and I'll of course be driving much of that too.
If you've had the priviledge of visiting the National World War I Museum in Kansas City please share your thoughts as I am planning a trip there within the next few weeks.
My thanks and warm regards,
Tim
Monday, May 9, 2011
Chaos and Devastation in the Backyard
Ok I peeled a bit off one of Paul McCartney's CD titles for the above but it speaks to my point here.
These severe and tragic rashes of tornados this Spring has caused me to think about the subject of personal devastation. St. Louis, northern Arkansas, Alabama and other areas of the Deep South were lambasted last month by blistering tornados; these areas looked like war zones in the wake of these hyper-violent and historic storms.
Small towns are gone. Hundreds have died or were injured and many more have lost at least part of their homes or livlihoods.
People that have lived in a certain region and/or their homes for years now have literally nothing. No home, no cars, no food, no water, no kitchen or living room, no baby room, no bathroom, no backyard to enjoy the outdoors with their family and friends.
Though in a small way, this brings home some sliver of an idea to those effected (and also the volunteers & national guardsmen helping these people) of what it's like to be a refuge. How often have we read or heard about "the thousands of refugees" flooding into an adjacent country from the own war-torn areas of their own country?
We've seen the old pictures that aren't so eye-opening anymore of bomb-ravaged Europe near the end and shortly after World War II. The images of Hiroshima post-A-bomb give us pause, firstly because of trying to comprehend how one kitchen-table-sized device can mostly level an urban region, secondly, if at all, because we wonder what happened to those people that survived.
How did the residents of Verdun handle violently world-changing events from 1914?
How did your average Belgian feel being the on-ramp to war's hell in World War I...and World War II?
What about the folks in Berlin in 1945 in particular?
It's hard for the average American, me included, to grasp the real losing-of-it-all due to whatever life-changing event. One can't just gather up the family and head to the nearest Best Western and hole up for a few days and soon find everything is fine. We freak out enough when the power goes out for more than half an hour; conjure up having nothing at all to power up.
How did those who completely lost their way of life in past wars survive and rebuild?
Maybe a saving grace with these recent storms is there's no Red or Nazi army coming over the hill next, and there isn't another bomb and strafe run speeding through in a few hours. But these fellow Americans still ask that same question:
How do my family and I survive this, and how and where do we start over?
These severe and tragic rashes of tornados this Spring has caused me to think about the subject of personal devastation. St. Louis, northern Arkansas, Alabama and other areas of the Deep South were lambasted last month by blistering tornados; these areas looked like war zones in the wake of these hyper-violent and historic storms.
Small towns are gone. Hundreds have died or were injured and many more have lost at least part of their homes or livlihoods.
People that have lived in a certain region and/or their homes for years now have literally nothing. No home, no cars, no food, no water, no kitchen or living room, no baby room, no bathroom, no backyard to enjoy the outdoors with their family and friends.
Though in a small way, this brings home some sliver of an idea to those effected (and also the volunteers & national guardsmen helping these people) of what it's like to be a refuge. How often have we read or heard about "the thousands of refugees" flooding into an adjacent country from the own war-torn areas of their own country?
We've seen the old pictures that aren't so eye-opening anymore of bomb-ravaged Europe near the end and shortly after World War II. The images of Hiroshima post-A-bomb give us pause, firstly because of trying to comprehend how one kitchen-table-sized device can mostly level an urban region, secondly, if at all, because we wonder what happened to those people that survived.
How did the residents of Verdun handle violently world-changing events from 1914?
How did your average Belgian feel being the on-ramp to war's hell in World War I...and World War II?
What about the folks in Berlin in 1945 in particular?
It's hard for the average American, me included, to grasp the real losing-of-it-all due to whatever life-changing event. One can't just gather up the family and head to the nearest Best Western and hole up for a few days and soon find everything is fine. We freak out enough when the power goes out for more than half an hour; conjure up having nothing at all to power up.
How did those who completely lost their way of life in past wars survive and rebuild?
Maybe a saving grace with these recent storms is there's no Red or Nazi army coming over the hill next, and there isn't another bomb and strafe run speeding through in a few hours. But these fellow Americans still ask that same question:
How do my family and I survive this, and how and where do we start over?
Friday, May 6, 2011
What's your own history??
If you're interested in any sort of history like me you tend to look at yourself and your own life with a historical perspective from time-to-time.
With the help of my dad I recently moved my home office down to a room in my basement. This was preceded by a necessary cleaning up, purging and rearranging of a lot of "stuff" in the basement---much of which was personally historical. Some things FINALLY got tossed. When you hit your mid-40's the question of 'why in the world are you keeping this????' has sunk in on at least a few items. Too much was kept but at least the minutia level is down.
One of the cherished relics I came across was the late 90's hockey trophy my team won partly thanks to my winning shootout goal. I was given the trophy but it somehow ended up in my friend Ned's hands, one of our great defensemen. A couple years ago he surprised me with it when he and his wife came over one weekend evening---that about made my year to that point. I'd thought it long gone.
This piece is very special to me and I miss those hockey days. Like the happy, conquering knuckleheads we were after winning that championship we headed to the nearest watering hole that Sunday night and "drank from the chalice" of this trophy since, you know, that's what the champions of the NHL do every year when they win it all. There's a golden plastic cup in the middle of this trophy at the base that we filled up with refreshment and guzzled from and passed and guzzled from and passed.
It didn't work too well because to get our nastly mouths around it we had to press our head in between the trophy's supports and the low-domed upper platform of it to accomplish celebratory consumption. Worth it though!
And yes we skated around the rink with it for a few minutes before heading to said watering hole as well.
That winning goal was something to me. Hearing our small number of fans screaming and seeing the reaction of my team after I scored that goal will remain emblazened in my brain for as long as I'll live. We'd never won anything in hockey up to that point so this was pretty huge for all of us.
But hey, there was a lot more I came across in the basement...I'll share as time guzzles on...
With the help of my dad I recently moved my home office down to a room in my basement. This was preceded by a necessary cleaning up, purging and rearranging of a lot of "stuff" in the basement---much of which was personally historical. Some things FINALLY got tossed. When you hit your mid-40's the question of 'why in the world are you keeping this????' has sunk in on at least a few items. Too much was kept but at least the minutia level is down.
One of the cherished relics I came across was the late 90's hockey trophy my team won partly thanks to my winning shootout goal. I was given the trophy but it somehow ended up in my friend Ned's hands, one of our great defensemen. A couple years ago he surprised me with it when he and his wife came over one weekend evening---that about made my year to that point. I'd thought it long gone.
This piece is very special to me and I miss those hockey days. Like the happy, conquering knuckleheads we were after winning that championship we headed to the nearest watering hole that Sunday night and "drank from the chalice" of this trophy since, you know, that's what the champions of the NHL do every year when they win it all. There's a golden plastic cup in the middle of this trophy at the base that we filled up with refreshment and guzzled from and passed and guzzled from and passed.
It didn't work too well because to get our nastly mouths around it we had to press our head in between the trophy's supports and the low-domed upper platform of it to accomplish celebratory consumption. Worth it though!
And yes we skated around the rink with it for a few minutes before heading to said watering hole as well.
That winning goal was something to me. Hearing our small number of fans screaming and seeing the reaction of my team after I scored that goal will remain emblazened in my brain for as long as I'll live. We'd never won anything in hockey up to that point so this was pretty huge for all of us.
But hey, there was a lot more I came across in the basement...I'll share as time guzzles on...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Doolittle Did A Lot
Ol' Jimmy Doolittle. Now there's an example of a real American: adventurous, daring, innovative, a true leader, pioneering, successful, focused, driven, influential and enduring. A famed aviator, Jimmy's fame in the skies went back long before WW II as he was a successful air racer. He won the 1925 Schneider Trophy with his R3C-2 seaplace racer. I remember looking at a photograph of him standing on one of the pylons of that winning plance and then years later finally getting to see it in the Smithsonian's Air & Space Museum in DC--that was a wow moment for me as I imagined him standing on that same pylon in front of me there that day.
His exploits in putting together and leading the subsequently called "Doolittle Raid" on Japan in April 1942, hurtling B-25 medium bombers off the Hornet's carrier deck of all things has to be his career zenith, and Jimmy at his most heroic. Knowing you might not come back from a mission as this, and by design knowing that you would either be bailing out or crash landing in China after mission completion (if you made it that far) is sobering, and possesses the Tuff Stuff most of us are not made of. A few did not make it back; Doolittle did.
The 'Raid' did wonders at the time for US morale in punctuating and validating the thought that the Japanese could indeed be gotten to in their own backyard. That wasn't lost on the Japanese populace either as they no longer thought of themselves as invulnerable. We'd soon be winning the turning point of the Pacific war at Midway Island, a battle possibly not won by the US if the 'Raid' never happened or wasn't successful. After Doolittle's daring raid the Japanese felt they had to divert crucial naval strength to protect their homeland and therefore present fewer resources elsewhere---including the Battle of Midway.
A grandest of scales Jimmy operated on yes, but, it shows us that some sincere and intelligent ambition can have far-reaching victorious and positive effects not merely for those immediately around us, but well beyond our own consciousness and scope.
His exploits in putting together and leading the subsequently called "Doolittle Raid" on Japan in April 1942, hurtling B-25 medium bombers off the Hornet's carrier deck of all things has to be his career zenith, and Jimmy at his most heroic. Knowing you might not come back from a mission as this, and by design knowing that you would either be bailing out or crash landing in China after mission completion (if you made it that far) is sobering, and possesses the Tuff Stuff most of us are not made of. A few did not make it back; Doolittle did.
The 'Raid' did wonders at the time for US morale in punctuating and validating the thought that the Japanese could indeed be gotten to in their own backyard. That wasn't lost on the Japanese populace either as they no longer thought of themselves as invulnerable. We'd soon be winning the turning point of the Pacific war at Midway Island, a battle possibly not won by the US if the 'Raid' never happened or wasn't successful. After Doolittle's daring raid the Japanese felt they had to divert crucial naval strength to protect their homeland and therefore present fewer resources elsewhere---including the Battle of Midway.
A grandest of scales Jimmy operated on yes, but, it shows us that some sincere and intelligent ambition can have far-reaching victorious and positive effects not merely for those immediately around us, but well beyond our own consciousness and scope.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
"Winston's War, 1940-1945"
I recently finished this book by Max Hastings. It's an exceptional read and despite reading the behemoth of Jenkins' "Churchill" about 4 years ago, Hastings' was really more the eye-opener.
Hastings took a deeper and fresh study into Churchill that I'd not ever read or heard before, at least during the war years. He's much more boldly open and honest about Churchill and his bunglings, not merely what made "WSC" the only man who could've lead England through such a period.
Churchill isn't the only subject he touches on: Hastings also goes into great detail on animosities between the American & British militaries, Franklin Roosevelt's startling coldness and aloofness towards our British ally, and Churchill, FDR's blind eye to Soviet tyranny and aggression, and just how much Winston was a war-based PM almost totally unconcerned about domestic matters.
It's captivating to read what his Chiefs of Staff, his cabinet, and many ordinary citizens thought of him and their country's destiny & circumstance during those violent years of the first half of the 1940's.
Hastings took a deeper and fresh study into Churchill that I'd not ever read or heard before, at least during the war years. He's much more boldly open and honest about Churchill and his bunglings, not merely what made "WSC" the only man who could've lead England through such a period.
Churchill isn't the only subject he touches on: Hastings also goes into great detail on animosities between the American & British militaries, Franklin Roosevelt's startling coldness and aloofness towards our British ally, and Churchill, FDR's blind eye to Soviet tyranny and aggression, and just how much Winston was a war-based PM almost totally unconcerned about domestic matters.
It's captivating to read what his Chiefs of Staff, his cabinet, and many ordinary citizens thought of him and their country's destiny & circumstance during those violent years of the first half of the 1940's.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
World War I novel
The novel I'm currently working on has just entered the editing phase. With the backdrop being World War I in October of 1917, it's main character is a brash, chatty American fighter pilot with a quippy sense of humor. Captain Thomas Bentley of the 94th Aero Squadron finds himself thrust into the the hunt for "the tube". The tube's contents implicate an end to the Allies', and possibly much of the rest of Earth's population's, life as they know it not just the Central Powers victory in The Great War.
The tube's custodian is a German of German's; one of their prized, rising officers. Will the German get to the French south coast first, and in time to delivery the tube? Or will Captain Bentley and his side's pursuers stop him and seize the German and his side's sercret plans for Allied devastation? It's quite a ride.
I'm not given to the current title: "The Air of Our Teens". The title has implications that you come to realize in the book. The Teens refers to the time period of World War I. I like it but I'm mulling some other possibilites.
Some aviation scenes occur in the novel as well though not a massive amount. You get a taste of the 'air up there' at that time though.
The tube's custodian is a German of German's; one of their prized, rising officers. Will the German get to the French south coast first, and in time to delivery the tube? Or will Captain Bentley and his side's pursuers stop him and seize the German and his side's sercret plans for Allied devastation? It's quite a ride.
I'm not given to the current title: "The Air of Our Teens". The title has implications that you come to realize in the book. The Teens refers to the time period of World War I. I like it but I'm mulling some other possibilites.
Some aviation scenes occur in the novel as well though not a massive amount. You get a taste of the 'air up there' at that time though.
Hello!
Welcome to my brand new blog! I'm happy to see what you have to share and say and look forward to engaging about the idea of historical fiction, American or European History, Winston Churchill, American Presidents, aviation, the history of baseball, war history, what have you. I look forward to your thoughts and opinions and to enjoy a responsible use of the freedom of press and speech. God bless!
Tim
Tim
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