Nobody Came

 Well, nobody came to the Lost Dog during the noon hour on Veteran's Day that I recognized so I enjoyed my libation and Dog Collars in solitude. Strange men those three sons of mine, or rather, they're bizarre human beings now that they are fully mature, at least physically. I deny any input in the formation of their adult characters, who blindly shut out family members in unthinking allegiance to an overpowering figure, in this case their mother who is, in my opinion, a covert narcissist. Maybe they're all Trumpites, in mindless idolatry to that destructive egomaniacal person as well.

But life goes on. We lost a friend of mine last week, and an inspiration, Father Michael Hinson, an associate priest at my church who helped me immeasurably in my grief at the loss of my children. He was a man of God, who effortlessly spread wisdom, consideration and succor, and I send my condolences to his grief-stricken family for the sudden and premature passing of this wise, thoughtful and compassionate man. At the April 11th service dealing with Doubting Thomas he gave the sermon and I jotted down in my diary "proof of God." This prompts me to remember Michael pointing out that proof of God is evident all around us, from that beautiful April Morn gracing our outdoor service to the ineffable joys that occur in our lives. 

This week I got my booster shot, a Pfizer dose, as it had been over seven months since I received my second Moderna vaccination. Being a patriotic American who cares about my fellow beings, I am keeping myself protected against the Covid scourge in order to ameliorate my potential impact upon our health care system should I get infected and additionally I am protecting all those around me because I am unlikely to fall victim now to the infection. Plus I wear a mask when I am around strangers, especially indoors.

Any American not vaccinated by now without a valid reason is a dangerous ignoramus who should be wearing a bearskin for clothes and live in a cave warmed by fire, with a chipped stone spearpoint bound onto a roughhewn branch with dried animal gut strips holding it in place as his or her most cherished possession, granted full protection by the Second Amendment. (Father Hinson, in the white robe, conducting an outdoor service in March at the Falls Church.)

November 11th

 Tomorrow is Veteran's Day, a midweek holiday this year to honor all veterans everywhere. A time for somber reflection to consider all the heroic sacrifices of our troops, soldiers in the Revolution who seized all those airport tarmacs, the Union troops in the Civil War who fought far from home to Make America Great by giving a version of freedom to all Americans, those who went Over There in a chimeric bid to End All Wars, the resolute warriors of our Greatest Generation who beat back fascism abroad, the stalwarts who stopped Communist aggression in Korea, and the brave men and women who fought in the waste of war in Vietnam and are fighting in the error of the War on Terror.

Grandad went, aboard a destroyer in the North Sea in World War I.

So did Uncle Harry, commanding a marine gun battery aboard the USS Vincennes in the Pacific against the Japanese.  Also Uncle Bill humping the hills in the Philippines and Uncle Bob high above the Mediterranean flying a B-26 Widowmaker.

And Dad, storming the beaches of and surviving six months of close-in combat on the hellish infernos of Peleliu and Okinawa.

And Jack who manned the line against terror in 1983.  Brave, resolute men all.

Hey JJ&D.  It being a holiday tomorrow, I'll be at the Lost Dog at noon; come along with your crew and I'll share my pizza with you and start filling you all in on the strong, wonderful family that you don't know Jacks*it about.

Uncle Harry

 Veteran's Day, excuse me, Armistice Day is this week. You know, the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month the fighting ceased finally in the most destructive war in human history in 1918, the War To End All Wars. It was mostly a European affair, truly the twilight of the European hegemony, and its insidious, destructive peace, the Treaty of Versailles with its impossible reparations for Germany and its War Guilt Clause (again for Germany--after all, they lost) spawned the thrice destructive World War II a mere generation later, which truly was mostly a global affair except for, perhaps, South America.

My immediate forebears were all swept up in it, even as they had barely passed through the terrible times of the Great Depression as children and barely reached adulthood, to be thrown immediately into the crucible of combat in the worldwide conflagration.  My Uncle Harry was there and the following is a moment of time in his service:

My Uncle Harry Lamberton saw the elephant in several Pacific War naval battles as fire control officer of the antiaircraft detachment of the light cruiser USS Vincennes, manned by Marines. A few years back, I read his private notes he compiled as officer of the day in 1944, written in pencil, when his ship was providing fire support off of Peleliu, the southern most island of the Palau Island chain, where a horrific island battle was raging which would decimate the 1st Marine Division (35% casualties) while protecting Army General Douglas A. MacArthur's eastern flank during his egomaniacal drive to recapture the Philippines, which he had fled from (under orders from the president) in a PT boat in 1942 when the Japanese were closing in on his command center at Corregidor. Paraphrasing from memory my uncle's scribblings, the notes read:  

Off-shore from Peleliu to assist in fire support, we off-loaded several marine gunners from our complement as infantry replacements ashore and took on board several wounded marines from the battle in return. Am terribly worried about Jim as he is in the battle and haven't heard from him in weeks. I saw some marines coming on-board who knew Jim and they said he is alive!

This was the note of a twenty-one year old expressing concern for his nineteen-year old brother Jim, both in harm's way protecting our last-century way of life. Uncle Harry earned the bronze star during his WW2 heroics. His brother, who survived two horrendous island battles (Peleliu and Okinawa), was my father.