House of Zathras

The confrontation of words builds daily. Underlying all of this is fear of slavery. Slavery to the ‘white man’, slavery to the ‘government’, slavery to societal mores (think Facebook)…everyone fears slavery and condemns it but why is it fought by trying to force others inTO slavery? Maybe not outright drudgery…but submission to welfare, submission to electronic control (try going without internet and cell phone for a week), submission to a ‘green’ earth, submission to healthcare for everyone…and through it all, the government takes on the side it deems will grant it more control. We are all becoming slaves. Some enslaved to political power, some to creature-comforts, some to the easy way…give me my internet and no one gets hurt…

Is there a cohesiveness of thought for REAL freedom that won’t crumble under quibbling individual demands? Is there a strength of passion for the republic the United States once was but is quickly disappearing? We have so many disparaging interests which only helps the power-hungry USE us to further their goals…which AREN’T the Constitutional freedoms that made us great.

I fear we are approaching the point where it is too late to do anything to save our country…we are all becoming enslaved to a variety of ’causes’ that just keep breaking us down and breaking us apart. Breaking the will of the American people.

Fly, thought, on wings of gold;
go settle upon the slopes and the hills,
where, soft and mild, the sweet airs
of our native land smell fragrant!

Mindful of the fate of Jerusalem,
either give forth an air of sad lamentation,
or else let the Lord imbue us
with fortitude to bear our sufferings!
-(Hebrew Slave Chorus from Verdi’s Nabucco)

Parris Island style…that’s where Buck is, experiencing the joys of Marine Boot Camp.

Heh. That’ll teach him to ignore his chores.

Actually, he’s four years away yet from really getting a full taste of Uncle Sam’s finest summer retreat. Buck was invited with a few other boys from the Young Marines to experience a week there.

The captain that took them had earlier sent their supply list specifically mentioning NO electronics of any kind. But when we parents arrived to drop off the kids, the good captain asked who had cell phones. All the boys looked at each other and then replied that he had told them no cell phones or any other electronics.

“What?” he said. “You don’t have any ipods or anything like that?” The boys again looked at each other and told him ‘no’.

The captain got a strange look on his face…I think he meant they couldn’t take any electronic devices into Parris Island itself…and now he had an almost two-day trip with four restless teen boys with no electronic distractions.

We moms just stood back and laughed our asses off. We’ll see how brave the good captain is now! Besides, my generation survived plenty of long trips with nothing but books and the threat of Dad’s pulling the vehicle over to keep us quiet on the trip.

All the same, I’m glad it’s not me on the trip…

I’ve always admired Benjamin Franklin. Founding Father, genius, printer, inventor…

Ever heard of the glass armonica? He invented it after watching someone play water-filled wine goblets in Europe…Ol’ Ben adapted the idea and made it more efficient.

Hauntingly beautiful sound:

Chris Muir has put it into perspective for me with today’s strip. The impact of the sheer truth of it has me thinking…can I do what my forefathers did? Has the blood shed in the Revolution that watered the Tree of Liberty thinned in my veins? Am I willing to only enjoy ‘freedom’ just so long as I don’t have to put any effort into it?

I’m scared…scared of what we may really be facing…

Oil still spewing in the Gulf. White House response? Moratorium on exploratory drilling, leading the way to further job loss.

Arizona passes law in an effort to curb illegal immigration. White House response? Sue Arizona.

National Parks being declared ‘no mans land’ due to Mexican usage…Mexican drug cartels using the hills to monitor any policing activity….White House response? Obama goes golfing.

We have an incursion by enemy combatants…and it is allowed to happen.

Obama is no American president…I don’t know what he is, but he is no American leader. He is a tool of liberal agendas, and doesn’t even try to pretend to care about America’s people. He’s intelligent…but that intelligence is distorted by his apparent narcissism that he allows to be lick-spittled into making the absolute wrong choices for this country’s future. A terrible waste of a mind. A miserable failure. A disgrace. And he doesn’t give a damn.

Father, we seek Your peace for our nation and our world.
In the midst of our questions and uncertainty,
we recognize that the unknown details of this day
are already in Your grasp.
We know You sent Your Son as the Prince of Peace
and even this day falls under His command.
Help us to find the strength and comfort we need as a nation
to continue to humble ourselves,
pray and seek Your face for a new day in America
and a new hope for our world.
Amen.

Look at this picture. Look at the smallest campaign sign.

Yep…’Young Boozer‘ is running for State Treasurer. That is is real name. He’s a third-generation ‘Young Boozer’, too. Gotta love Alabama.

And I LOVE that this Alabama campaign ad is going viral:

We have a Boozer and a reincarnation of John Wayne running for office. Woot!

Spent the day with a good teacher-friend? Check.

Ate a good breakfast (homemade breakfast burritos)? Check.

Wore my ‘Don’t Tread On Me’ Ranger-Up t-shirt? Check.

Cleaned her new guns? Check.

Went to the range and had a blast? Check.

Watch her dance around when brass came from the stand next to us and went down her shirt? Check.

Stopped on the way home for her to look at baby chicks? Check.

Three days into our official Spring Break finally having a REAL Spring Break that didn’t involve running errands for everybody else but us? Check.

Yep. A good day.

I’m going off line and staying away from news channels on tv for awhile. I can’t face the vote!!!! I’m dearly worried that this could be the end of America as a great country.

God our Father,
Giver of life,
we entrust the United States of America to Your loving care.

You are the rock on which this nation was founded.
You alone are the true source of our cherished rights to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Reclaim this land for Your glory and dwell among Your people.

Send Your Spirit to touch the hearts of our nation´s leaders.
Open their minds to the great worth of human life
and the responsibilities that accompany human freedom.
Remind Your people that true happiness is rooted in seeking
and doing Your will.

Through the intercession of Mary Immaculate,
Patroness of our land,
grant us the courage to reject the “culture of death.”
Lead us into a new millennium of life.
We ask this through Christ Our Lord.

Amen.

So in the past few nights, I’ve dreamed of zombies and a nuke going off in New Jersey.
Last night, I dreamed of something related to war. WWII, to be exact. I think I was an officer’s daughter in it. There was some kind of party, and in this dream I was talking to this really cute and outgoing enlisted man. As it is often in dreams, I remember being ‘me’, and thinking I was old enough to be this man’s mother! But in the dream, we talked and agreed to write to each other. He had the cutest smile! His name was Joseph, and he had tanned or olive-toned skin, sort of Italian-looking. When I woke up, I remembered looking at his name-tape (I don’t even know if they had those on uniforms in WWII). In my dream, I couldn’t see part of the name because of the angle from where I was standing. So I typed in his name as I thought it was (Joseph Cagglione)…and Dogpile made a suggestion: Joseph Scaglione. Looked at that…and it was the guy from my dream. He was a gunner and/or a radio operator on a B-17. Mr. Scaglione was a POW briefly at the end of WWII after his plane received flak that caused the engines to catch fire.

I don’t know what made me dream of Mr. Scaglione. But if nothing else, it had me come across a hero of America’s greatest generation, and he deserves whatever recognition I can give. God bless you, sir.

( a bit delayed since this didn’t post as scheduled)

…I had to post this oh-so-appropriate Firefly quote with this picture:

“A man walks down the street in that hat, people know he’s not afraid of anything.”

Those men are Knights of Columbus, a Catholic men’s organization. They were at the Wreaths Across America ceremony we went to earlier this month.

And I guess since I’ve mentioned that event, I’ll post some other pictures from that event:

Wreaths at Barrancas National Cemetery:

Buck, getting ready to give a wreath to an honoree at the ceremony:

Guarding the grave of the unknown Marine:

Buck giving the wreath to an original ‘Rosie the Riviter’:

‘Cause Google actually had a military-related theme on their emblem.

Whodda thunk:

Of course, Dogpile, as usual, has never forgotten (can’t capture their pic). Which is way I almost always do my internet searches via their site.

Thank you.

The roll call at the end of the Ft. Hood Memorial was just awful to listen to. God bless those who gave their lives.

A tragedy happened today to soldiers under your command.  And when it came time to address the country about this horrific event…you start by giving ‘shout outs’…seemingly adding the soldiers’ deaths as an afterthought.

You are so unfit to lead this country.

Marines. Gotta love ‘em.

Buck is in a program called the ‘Young Marines‘. In the aftermath of what happened to him at the hands of his egg-donor, the YM have been a life-saver for him. They give him a sense of belonging. A sense of purpose. A sense of pride of self and in a group.

The Young Marines program is celebrating 50 years this month. Five decades of retired and active duty Marines volunteering to make a difference in young people’s lives. Not as a recruitment tool. Most of the kids in the program do not go on to join the military. But the kids learn the value of teamwork, honor, and integrity, discovering that self-discipline makes you a better person than you ever have been before.

And all this is brought about by the adults who volunteer their time. The young active duty Marines who work with these kids amaze me the most. So many of their civilian contemporaries are in to partying and enjoying life. Now, I know Marines can party, but how many of their age-counterpart civilians also spend time giving back to the community? People who aren’t involved with the military fear them, thinking they’re just war-mongering fanatics. I would dare to say that of those fearful liberal types, far fewer volunteer their time as compared to those young folks in the military.

Last night Buck and I went to the Young Marine Birthday Ball. Uniforms everywhere, from the Young Marines (ages 8-high school), enlisted and officer active-duty Marines, to the elder generation involved in the Marine Corps League. All standing at attention for the presentation of the colors and singing the National Anthem. All partying together. All there to show the special family of the Marines, the special closeness and camaraderie of the Esprit de Corps. All looking good in their uniforms. The young people get to see a continuing line from young to old of a unique family that holds together because they believe in something more than themselves. The older people get to see that their tradition of honor is not being tossed to the wayside. That there is hope for our future.

Semper Fi. And thank you for giving to my (step)son. He loves y’all more than anything. He hopes to be a Marine himself one day. And nothing could make me prouder than to see that come true.

Yeah, you. The one who saw the magnetic yellow ‘Proud Parent of a Soldier’ ribbon on my Suburban. The one who decided to ‘key’ under the ribbon to show their disapproval of the soldiers/war/America.

You are the epitome of cowardice. The only statement you made was to show a yellow-bellied, faceless temper-tantrum. Much like ringing the doorbell and running.

And guess what…you barely marred the surface. You don’t even have the strength to key a vehicle enough to make a lasting impression…much less the strength to stand up in a face-to-face confrontation. Chicken-shit bastard. And guess what…you won’t me stop me from displaying my pride in my son or my country. Which I do openly.

You, on the other hand, have to hide like a criminal. And that’s what you are, isn’t it? Defacing private property? Tsk-tsk. Poor little insecure bastard. Can’t have enough pride in what you believe in to face me openly.

Oh, and I’m sure Goob says ‘You’re welcome’. You know, for his helping to keep our country safe so that you are free to be a chicken-shit bastard. Have a nice day.

Robert L. Scandole, Jr. was working as a vice-president at Cantor Fitzgerald the morning of September 11, 2001.

Beyond that, I haven’t been able to find much information on him, except on memorial pages such as this one and this one. The comments are so touching, giving evidence of loving family and friends. His daughter even mentions Mardi Gras in the comments. That made me smile. I hope that Mr. Scandole was able to participate in Mardi Gras and all its fun and revelry. It also makes me curious about how someone who lived in New York knew about Mardi Gras. Was he from the New Orleans or another Gulf Coast town that celebrates Mardi Gras? Did he have family down here? Or was it celebrated where he lived? Had he never been to a Mardi Gras parade, and maybe was getting ready to go to his first?

So many questions about a man I never met. It would be such an honor to find out more about him, maybe have his family share some stories about him.

Speaking of Mardi Gras, the following Bible passage is often related to that pre-Lenten season:

Come, let us enjoy the good things that exist,
and make use of the creation to the full as in youth.
Let us take our fill of costly wine and perfumes,
and let no flower of spring pass us by.
Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.
Let none of us fail to share in our revelry;
because this is our portion, and this our lot. (Wisdom 2:6-9)

Although I know his family mourns Mr. Scandole, I hope they are savoring the ‘portion and lot’ in memories of the joy of his life. His life is remembered by those who never met him. I hope this small tribute to him makes Mr. Scandole more than just a name on a list. I hope he enjoyed his life fully, and my prayers and thoughts go out to his family.

Incline, O Lord,
Thine ear to our prayers,
in which we humbly beseech Thy mercy,
that Thou wouldst place the soul of Thy servant Robert,
which Thou hast caused to depart from this world,
into the region of peace and light;
and unite in the fellowship of Thy Saints.
Through Christ our Lord,
Amen.

How do you write a memorial to someone you or your friends or family have never met? You don’t know her tastes, what movies she enjoyed, what hobbies she had, how she met her husband. Even more daunting is when that person lost her life in the greatest tragedy to ever strike our country. Countless eulogies and columns and stories and pictures and songs have been published that move people in a way I could never hope to match. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. Every one of the victims who lost their lives deserves to be remembered in some way. It is with great honor that I dedicate this post to Maria Jakubiak and her family. Maria is not forgotten.

Maria and her family emigrated from Poland. According to what I have read, they had a choice between Canada and America. She chose America, because she ‘wanted to see the Statue of Liberty’. What wonderful courage Maria must have had to face coming to a new country, learning a new language, and raising a family in a different culture. She succeeded in those endeavors, learning English, getting her Associates’ Degree, finding employment, going to night-school for her Bachelor’s. The tributes all mark her as a caring employee, even acting as a mother-figure to younger co-workers. There is also a site in Polish dedicated to her. It is apparent that Maria is loved in two countries; her new home and her old one.

Everyone who is old enough has a ‘where were you when 9/11 happened’ memory. I was teaching school that day. We kept the news from the students initially, but a few days after that we had a memorial. The whole school body met around the flagpole at the front to say the Pledge of Allegiance and sing a patriotic song. I had a boy in my class at that time who saw the world in a different light. He was an ‘innocent’; open-hearted, very loving, and unaware of the world at large. As my class walked to the front of the building for the memorial, I noticed he seemed worried, with his eyes wide-open looking around nervously. I took his hand so he could walk next to me. We came to a spot where we had to wait for another class to pass, but he kept on walking. I placed my hand gently in front of his chest to get him to stop…and I could feel his heart pounding furiously. In fact, his whole body started shaking. I knelt down, hugged him, and asked him what was the matter. With tears in his eyes, he expressed that he thought we were going to go out to say the pledge, and then the planes would come crash into us. His view of 9/11 consisted of seeing television footage of the planes followed by pictures of the American flag. The two went together in his mind. And it is an indelible image in the minds of those who remember. But that young student, even as fearful as he felt, was going with us because he knew he had to. And he came away strengthened, his fear abated.

I feel that Maria would have encouraged that little boy. That she would have taken his hand and said the Pledge right alongside him. She does not appear to have been someone who would have given up or lived in fear. She chose America, and worked hard to enjoy its freedoms. I ask God to bless her family and bless her memory. Maria is not forgotten. To her husband, children, and extended family and friends, I offer my condolences and prayers. In the words of her brother, Czeslaw Stylinski, “We cannot forget.”

I offer this prayer for Maria Jakubiak and all the victims of 9/11:

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.

Amen.

For more fitting tributes by the people who knew her, go to this site.
Photos courtesy here and here.

From Pope Benedict XVI’s visit to Ground Zero on April 20, 2008:

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The 8th anniversary of 9-11 is this Friday. If you haven’t already signed up, and are willing to remember a victim, go here. At this writing, only 904 of the 2996 victims have someone to write a memorial for them.

Thank you for remembering. I will be remembering Maria Jakubiak (whom I have recognized in previous anniversaries) and Robert L. Scandole. It’s very humbling to come to ‘know’ a person from that awful day. The event becomes more than just a tragedy in a distant city. Real people, with real lives and real families, died that day. Died simply because they were Americans or worked in America.

We must remember because it would be wrong to forget.

UPDATE!!! Now with pictures (see below)!!!!

Our wayward soldier is back in town! Woot! and Double-Woot!

We went to the airport Friday night to greet him, and another family was there to greet their returning soldier, too! We chatted, and the mother of that soldier was literally bouncing around in anticipation. She and her family had small flags to wave, and we had posters (the letters were camouflage-colored; one poster said ‘Welcome Back, Goob!’ and the other ‘Our hero wears camouflage’).

It was interesting to watch the other passengers’ reactions as they came down the concourse and saw the waiting families…many smiled, but a few frowned at us and gave us severe looks. Up theirs.

Anyway, Goob finally made it down the concourse and there was much yelling and laughing and tears.

While we were waiting for luggage, several people came up to Goob to tell him ‘thank you’. One woman came to say ‘thank you’, and she apologized for being teary-eyed…she was moved by our pride in Goob. And since then, Goob has been thanked by other strangers, one even buying his lunch (at a seafood place…Goob wanted some fresh seafood, it being in short supply in AZ).

Anyway…today he and BR and Buck will be heading for the shooting range for some fun in the sun…redneck style. (I don’t get to go…*pout*…I have to go be the representative at a different family gathering.)

But Goob is home!!!!!
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Pvt. Goob will be here this weekend! He has leave and is coming home for the Labor Day holiday.

He asked us to get his car ready…we’re working on that.

He also asked about his clothes…he’s not bringing much with him. He didn’t take but maybe one change of clothes when he left for Basic.

But I can’t find his clothes. I threw some ratty old t-shirts away when he left…but kept his nice clothes and some jeans. But I can’t find them. Anywhere. I’ve checked in suitcases. I’ve checked in closet shelves.

I can’t find his clothes.

Crap.

Yes, yes, yes! I need a battle cry! As a member of that restless mob that threatens Obama and his ilk, I definitely need a battle cry. And courtesy of LeeAnn, I have found one:

Oh, yes, oh yes, come and get violated!

Wait. That didn’t come out right.

Heh.

Report date: Dec. 24th. Camp Casey. South Korea.

Thank you very much, Kim Jong Il.

And God help my principal if Goob is unable to come home between now and then. I will never forgive her for not letting me off to go see him when he graduated from boot camp.

Since we live outside the city we could have our own pyrotechnic display. It’s been so dry, however, we had to forgo the really high-flying, really cool stuff. But we had some fun anyway. BR played with his camera settings some, and took some neat pictures:
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