The past few weeks I haven’t posted any new
stories not that I haven’t been writing but they’ve all been a bit depressing
or angry, so I ignored them and pressed on with life.
Tuesday (Oct. 8) was the end of a stressful
several days, I had been doing battle with an obstinate 500 pound Angus calf we
had gotten the weekend before. Within 15
minutes of stepping off the trailer she ran through the fence, bolting off into
the woods. I spent a few days climbing
through the brush and thickets trying to drive her back to the pen (she wasn’t
having any part of that). My daily romps
through the woods and overgrown fields during my search resulted in several
thorn related scrapes and a massive case of chigger bites (my chigger bites had
chigger bites). Finally after a few days
I got a call from the neighboring dairy farm, the calf showed up at their place
and was hold up with their cattle (that was a relief). She stayed there for a couple of days to calm
down then back on the trailer and back home.
This time instead of letting her have full run of the field I kept her
confined in a stall hoping she would get use to me feeding and watering her at
the same time each day, so she would trust and come to me.
This brings me back to Tuesday afternoon, I
had been working on the fence for a few hours at a steady pace, reinforcing it
so I wouldn’t have a replay of Bonnies escape (my youngest girl named the calf
Bonnie after Bonnie and Clyde… because she’s on the run and hard to
catch). When I came in the house to get
ready for work my wife Sally asked if I had heard anything on the 1 Million Vet
March… I really hadn’t been paying any attention to anything on the news or
twitter for several days so I pull it up on the computer, there I found the
call for Vet’s to march on DC and to open the Veteran’s Memorials on Sunday,
October 13th. At first I
thought to myself, I’d sure like to go and be a part of that but… I have to
work, I have to get the fence fixed up, I have a thousand things to do…
Yes, I had a thousand excuses but for the
next hour the call nagged at me, an old military saying kept running through my
mind and twisting deep in my gut, Service Before Self, Service Before Self, Service
Before Self, it had been many years since I had that feeling. I asked Sally “Ya want to go to DC?” Without
hesitation she said “YES!” (I think she had already started packing). I still had to get a few things taken care of.
That night at work I told my Supervisor
I’d need a few days off and why (I knew they would be shorthanded, he knew they
would be shorthanded) again without hesitation the answer was “YES! GO! I only
slept a couple of hours each of the next few days, working on the fence through
the day then 11 hour shifts through the night by Thursday afternoon the pasture
was secured and I let the calf out of the stall. She pushed at the fence in a few places then
settled down and began to graze, one problem out of the way. Working through Thursday night some thoughts
of what the weekend may hold crept up, not all of the thoughts were comforting
but I had to brush them aside because deep inside I knew I had no choice…
Service Before Self.
We left our small Southern Indiana
community at noon on Friday, Sally drove the first half while I tried to catch
a bit of sleep when we hit the hills of West Virginia the radio started losing reception
so I pulled out my phone to see if Glenn Becks podcast would download, it
did. We got some good news (or bad news
depending on how you look at it) Mr. Beck was going to be at the Capitol Lawn
on Saturday morning and he was asking for a day of service, asking for people
to clean (pick up trash) along the National Mall from the Capital lawn to the Washington
Monument. With the rain now dumping down
we didn’t expect to get to our daughters place in DC until after 1 A.M.,
another night of little sleep… again Service Before Self.
After a couple of hours of sleep we jumped on
the train headed for the Capital, a light misty rain surrounded us as we walked
up out of the station. I was thinking
this is going to be a bit miserable, I’m tired, most likely I’m going to be
soaked by the end of the day and am I really going to make a difference… People
were already gathering on the lawn around a small fenced off podium, as I got
closer I could pick out Michelle Bachmann, Mike Lee and Glenn Beck. As if staged the misty rain faded as each
stepped to the microphone delivering words of inspiration and hope for our
nation. I found myself revived by their
words, ready to walk a simple path that day and possibly a harder path the
next. The words that started this
journey echoed as I walked along the grass of the National Mall picking up beer
cans, water bottles, cigarette butts and candy wrappers, Service Before Self.
I don’t know how long I had walked, an hour
or two maybe I found myself at the fence surrounding the Washington
Monument. I looked back towards the
Capital building in the distance noticing how it looked small now, it seemed as
though only moments had passed but now I stood holding a bag of trash, I had
done something that others may have felt was beneath them but I felt proud, I
felt the same pride of any job well done.
My wife and daughter were standing on the walkway that circled the
monument and led to the World War II Memorial waiting for me to join them. We strolled along discussing some of the
stranger items we had found, a few coins, a pile of plastic tags and a set of
windshield wipers to name a few. As we
topped the slight hill we were looking down on the World War II Memorial, a
simple circular design of stone, grass, water and bronze… semi-circle pillars,
slabs, steps and ramps… something given by a free people to honor the ones who
had given of themselves to restore and protect that same freedom. All being held hostage at the discretion of
one petty little man, a man that could never understand Service Before Self.
We walked closer looking at the barricades
still surrounding this gift of remembrance, this place given as thankful
acknowledgment to a generation that sacrificed much, this sanctuary for those
and to those who had walked the walk in units like the 82nd
Airborne, the Bloody 100th, The Big Red 1, the men that stormed the
beaches of Normandy, Iwo Jima and Okinawa, the ones who battled a bitter enemy
and the bitter cold in Belgium during the Battle of the Bulge, the airmen that
flew daylight bombing raids over Germany with no fighter cover, served on the
USS Indianapolis, the Arizona, the over 12,000 Americans stranded to endure the
horrors at the hands of enemy forces on the island of Bataan and countless
others. I felt a tightening in my
throat, a queasiness in my stomach, like others had already done I stepped
around the barricade and walked down the ramp. No one tried to stop me, no one
question me… that may have been a good thing because the anger began to boil. I stood silently between the pillars just
looking and watching the people walk around then I started to walk to the pond
in the center, water has always had a calming effect on me, something I
needed. Standing on the edge of the
lower step looking into the glass smooth water I noticed a small piece of
plastic floating along the edge, stooping down I picked it out of the
water. I began walking along the lower
step circling the pond scanning the ground to the left and the pond to the
right… a cigarette butt here, a candy wrapper there, a glob of gum stuck in the
corner, all picked up, a heaping hand-full by the time I walked all the way
around this little pond. This time it
wasn’t because of Service Before Self, I cleaned this area for myself.
It had been a long day and my daughter had to
go to work in a few hour so we headed back to the train station. We stopped off for a late lunch, my daughter
went to work and my son-in-law drove me and Sally to the local Catholic Church
for evening mass, the perfect end to an emotional but productive day.
On Sunday morning I was up just before
sunrise, Sally was already dressed and packing a small backpack. I started the day as I normally do, coffee,
smoke, the news… it takes me a bit to spool up, then a shower and dressed. We decided to drive to the memorial so we
could take extra drinks, rain suits if needed and a meeting place if we split
up. Pulling into DC we parked on the
street just off to the side of the Memorial, I was only yards and moments away
from Standing In Defiance of a bloated and unprincipled bureaucracy. The call had gone out (as reported in The
Washington Free Beacon) National Park Service rangers and park police were
ordered to “Make Life Difficult” for visitors.
Let’s see, I’ve had jet fuel blasted in my face while I struggled to
seal a leak on a center wing tank. I
wore a charcoal lined chemical warfare suite for days on end in the hot Texas
sun… just for practice. I laid in a
puddle of “Blue Water” in the cargo bay of a Med-Evac C-9A in subzero weather
fixing the aircraft toilet so the patients onboard weren’t inconvenienced. Were the National Park Service rangers and
park police really going to be able to “Make Life Difficult” for me?
A few hundred people had already gathered,
the barricades were being laid in a pile off to the side, all but two, two were
left standing, on them were large photos of the men left to die in Benghazi
Libya.
I looked around for a park ranger,
none… the park police, not a sign. I
walked to the other side of the crowd, there they were, a hand full of park
police were standing a few hundred yards away.
I wondered, where were the brazen brave officers that faced down 80, 90
year-old-men only days before. The
officers that would refuse the frail old men as they shuffled along the
barricades, frail old men that rolled up to a closed entrance. Where are the armed officers, now the grounds
were being breached by a rag tag group of Vets, Bikers and Truckers… a rag tag
group joined by family, joined by factory workers, joined by Joe six-pack.
The crowd continued to build and high
profile speakers began to arrive Sarah Palin, Mike Lee, Ted Cruz… again words
of inspiration and words of hope. After
Mrs. Palin finished speaking she turned to shake the hands and thank the people
standing behind her, my wife Sally was standing right there… it really made her
day to shake hands with Mrs. Palin. Soon
bikers and truckers began driving along the road that passed the memorial,
engines revving and horns blasting and flags waving. The crowd cheered and clapped but it wasn’t
long before the DC Metro Police pulled up to block the road putting a halt to
the drive-by
(The police stayed in their vehicles).
Myself,
I’m not real comfortable standing in a crowd but I was just a few feet behind
Sally, as I listened I scanned the crowd there was one heckler but a few guys
standing shoulder to shoulder walked him out of ear-shot. There were a few others that just didn’t
carry themselves right, military guys can pick each other out in a crowd, the
head held high, shoulders back, the steely eyed gaze… a few just didn’t have
any of the tells. Other than the few
everyone met me with a smile, a hand-shake, a hand on the shoulder… I met old
friends…for the first time is the best I can describe it.
I overheard some of the organizers talking,
they said “The other memorials were open (the blockades removed), all except
the Lincoln Memorial”. I looked
downrange I could see a small line of people standing at the foot of the steps,
the rails still in place. The comment
was also heard by others, it was repeated through the crowd, the move started,
we strolled past the lake separating the WWII Memorial and the Vietnam Memorial
(The Wall). There was a line backed up
past the entrance to the reflective smooth black stone panels that held the
names of those lost in Vietnam, looking sleek and strong but inviting to the
thousands of hands caressing it in remembrance of family and friends lost. We walked past the people huddled around the
Vietnam Women’s Memorial and the Three Soldiers statue, every one quiet, solemn
and respectful.
Now we were only yards from the Lincoln
Memorial, the barricades were being drug away. I hurriedly walked up to the steps only a few
barricades remained in-place. One of the
last were being held by two Park Police Officers as determined Vets, Bikers,
Truckers etc… grabbed at the rail the Officers initially seemed to tighten
their grip, then I saw the power we possessed.
One scruffy old Vietnam era looking man pointed his crooked finger in
the face of one of the young Officers and said “LET GO!” they both released the
rail and scampered away. I walked up the
steps to the mid-level, I looked at the crowd forming above me on the top steps
then I turned and looked back to the World War II Memorial as far as I could
see, Free People were walking along and enjoying what belongs to them…
These
were not servants or slaves beholden to a dictator or a master, being told
where they can go… OR CAN’T! I felt a
tightness in my throat, a bit of a tear welled up, not out of sadness or anger
but of joy and pride. It was there upon
a step I did stand, by myself and with thousands.
The TOMCAT
The order to “Make Life
Difficult” makes me wonder, in a year or two if President Stompy Feet wants to
apply pressure to political opponents in Congress, instead of blocking parks
could he be calling Health and Human Services and block the public’s access to
insulin, maybe heart medication, possibly surgeries. Do you really think that would be beneath
him? After persecuting 80, 90 year-old
Vets…
Special Thanks to the Officers of the DC Metro Police. I made a special effort to smile and greet
each of them I passed, every single one of them came back with at least a smile
and a knowing nod. They could teach the
Park Police a thing or two.
