November 22

The cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have always paid it. And one path we shall never choose, and that is the path of surrender, or submission.

Every Day Hero: Chaplains at Ft. Hood

By Jessica Rinaldi for USA TODAY

Lt. Col. Houck and Army Warrant Officer Carlton Royster, 30, of Philadelphia, pray together during a farewell event for the III Corps Special Troops Battalion on the verge of deploying to Iraq.

Chaplains: We are traumatized, too

By Rick Jervis, USA TODAY

FORT HOOD, Texas — They were supposed to be spending a day leading Mass, talking to soldiers about love and marriage, readying for their own deployment. Instead, the military chaplains of Fort Hood found themselves on the afternoon of Nov. 5 scrambling to the front lines of the worst shooting massacre on a military base in U.S. history.

Thirteen people were killed and more than 30 wounded. Authorities charged Maj. Nidal Hasan with murder.

As some of the first to arrive on the chaotic scene that day, the chaplains counseled dazed, injured soldiers, comforted witnesses and prayed over the bullet-ridden bodies of the slain.

Now they are being asked to lead the healing process. The pace and success at which they counsel the wounded and their families will determine how quickly the post returns to normalcy, said Ralph Gauer, past president of the local chapter of the Association of the United States Army, a group that counsels military families through tragedy.

"Chaplains right now represent the glue that holds an awful lot of units together," Gauer said. "But they have to come to grip(s) with it themselves. They have to try to understand what they saw themselves as they explain it others."

PHOTOS: Chaplains on the front line

INVESTIGATION: FBI data on suspect scrutinized

There are 75 chaplains at Fort Hood, most of them assigned to units, said Lt. Col. Keith Goode, deputy 3rd Corps chaplain. Ten more chaplains have been flown into Fort Hood, including an imam and a rabbi, to help with the counseling.

Untangling their pain will be challenging, said Lt. Col. Ira Houck, 56, an Episcopal priest and chaplain for the III Corps who was one of the first on the scene. "We've been traumatized, too," he said.

There is more, and you can find that here.

Our Chaplains are heroes, every one of them, every single day. Pray for THEM, too.

H/T My friend, another Janet ;)

Music and Me

This song has such special meaning to me for oh so many reasons. (How long you got? lol) Was reminded of this one when my pal Jane sent me the following:

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri .

The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . .. A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . .. . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . .. . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . .. . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

"Waiting for someone to say "Hello, in there..."

"Please don't pass them by and stare, Remember to say: Hello in there..."

I see YOU!

Carpe Diem:"Hola"

The first EVER Carpe Diem column I wrote. At the time I had no idea where that path would lead, but what started as a local monthly hard copy column, became a worldwide online weekly. What a wondrous journey it all is. Yes! There is a new format of Carpe Diem coming. Stay tuned! In the meantime? "Hola!":


Carpe Diem: "Hola!"

The little girl's dark shiny curls bounce up and down as she gleefully jumps in front of me. She must be all of three years old, and her wide eyes and her broad smile demand an answer from me.

"Hello", I reply, and, of course, I have to smile. At the time, I had no idea what language she spoke (I later learned it was Spanish), but I couldn't resist her exuberance, her guileless innocence. I smiled broadly back at her, as she immediately jabbered on, unconcerned with my lack of understanding. It didn't seem to matter, as we smiled at each other. And then I got to thinking. Have you noticed how seldom we say 'hello' to complete strangers? Have you noticed how rarely we smile at people we don't know? It's probably a sign of the times, but when was the last time you said 'hello' to someone you passed on the street? Yes, I know we live in hazardous times, with all manner of strange people walking among us, but we seem to have lost the most basic of human interactions in our attempts to protect ourselves from potential dangers. For myself, I'm always saying 'hello' to people I meet on the street, and the interesting thing about that simple word is how it can open the door to all sorts of interesting conversations, encounters.

I have met the most amazing people as a result of 'hello' and heard the most astonishing life stories. I know, having taken the plunge to actually say 'hello', the risk is always there that the person being greeted will be brusque, curt, even surly; remember it IS uncommon to be greeted by a stranger! But what is interesting about that is that any student of human behaviour can, by a one word response, glean a wealth of information. Do the eyes light up? Does the person's face crease in a wide smile? Do they grimace? Does their body fold in?

"Zdravo!" The woman greeting me has a wide open smile on her face, but the eyes show a wealth of experience beyond her age. With her brightly dyed red hair, cleanly scrubbed face, and neat clothing, she could pass for any North American woman; but this is a woman with a history.

After I say "Hello" we talk. She is Yugoslavian, and the story she has to tell is horrific. In her fractured English, she tells me that she and her family - daughter, aged 7, son aged 3 and her husband, were living in Belgrade a month ago. As a civil engineer, she had a good income, and since her husband was a professional too, they had a great standard of living. Not anymore. Now, her husband attends English classes, and she concentrates on settling the children in their new country.

We talk, and we watch her children playing. Her son shyly hangs behind his mother's skirts, and her daughter climbs and swings and all the other activities that kids, worldwide, get into. And as I watch and talk with mum, I am reminded, yet again, how alike we all are and how one word can forge tenuous connections. I cannot possibly conceive of the dangers her family has recently faced, but we both respond to the similarities, rather than the differences, in our lives. She was thrilled to find a stranger willing to listen, and I was humbled by her willingness to share.

And so it is, every day. I am often reminded of a song, written long ago by Joan Baez, called "Hello in there". Baez sings about lonely people 'just waiting for someone to say, hello in there, hello'. I think of this song when I meet a shuffling senior, maybe bent over with osteoarthritis, carrying one half-empty shopping bag as he carefully steps home from his one outing of the day. I always smile, at the least, and often say 'hello'. It seems to me, that in this materialistic society, where apparently everything has a price tag on it, 'hello' is one of those rare civilities that costs absolutely nothing. And when accompanied by a smile, the rewards for both parties can be priceless.

"Hi", the young man says. Sitting on a street corner in downtown Vancouver, his body language suggests he doesn't really expect a response. But... "Hello" and a smile from me and I hear a story which reminds me of how lucky my own child is. This teenager has travelled a long road from Nova Scotia. His freshly scrubbed face, and unguarded eyes belie the position he is in, and the journey he describes. As he tells of leaving home, because his family can't afford to support him along with his many siblings, I listen intently. As we part, I marvel again at the temporary bond formed from a simple 'hello'.

Yes, I know, sometimes when your day seems absolutely abysmal, or your day starts with many minor disasters (fill in the blanks!), to say 'hello' or hear a stranger say 'hello' can be a major intrusion, inconvenience. Been there, done that!

But... if you open yourself up to all the infinite possibilities and listen, you might be amazed. I, for instance have discovered on many a 'bad' day, that there is always someone with a more harrowing tale to tell than mine. I've also had the opportunity to marvel at the innocence, joy of small children, who haven't yet learned some of the crueller realities of life. One simple 'hello' has frequently transported me back into the wonders of a little person's life as they share experiences they have embraced. From a hesitant 'hello' I have been shown the wisdom of an elderly war bride - now a widow - who is thrilled to have an open ear. I have come away the richer as I continue on my daily grind.

So... I'm not suggesting we put our whole lives on hold as we busily accost everybody we pass as we rush thither and yon...but why don't we all make a commitment to stop, and say 'hello' (or 'bonjour' - to recognize Canada's two solitudes!)to at least one stranger every day? I know it can be a daunting experience but, hey, it's not a lifetime commitment. It's one word. You never know...


Oh, and.... "Hello, out there!

-30-

Ft Hood: The Warning Signs Were Out There

From Monkey in the Middle:

As far back as 2007 officials at Walter Reed knew that there were problems with Nidal Hasan, yet they did nothing. They chose to ignore the signs for whatever reason they had.

Two years ago, a top psychiatrist at Walter Reed Army Medical Center was so concerned about what he saw as Nidal Hasan's incompetence and reckless behavior that he put those concerns in writing. NPR has obtained a copy of the memo, the first evaluation that has surfaced from Hasan's file.

Officials at Walter Reed sent that memo to Fort Hood this year when Hasan was transferred there.

Nevertheless, commanders still assigned Hasan — accused of killing 13 people in a mass shooting at Fort Hood on Nov. 5 — to work with some of the Army's most troubled and vulnerable soldiers.

Read the full story here.

I wonder if Hasan was a Christian or Jewish would he have gotten the same easy pass that he did....

There is more. Find it here.

“Tragedy at Ft Hood”

A statement from Lieutenant Colonel Allen B West (US Army, Ret):

11/08/09 | 08:57 AM EDT

This past Thursday 13 American Soldiers were killed and another 30 wounded at a horrific mass shooting at US Army installation, Ft Hood Texas. As I watched in horror and then anger I recalled my two years of final service in the Army as a Battalion Commander at Ft Hood, 2002-2004.

My wife and two daughters were stunned at the incident having lived on the post in family housing.

A military installation, whether it is Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, or Coast Guard, is supposed to be a safe sanctuary for our Warriors and their families. It is intended to provide a home whereby our “Band of Brothers and Sisters” can find solace and bond beyond just the foxhole but as family units.

A military installation is supposed to be a place where our Warriors train for war, to serve and protect our Nation.

On Thursday, 5 November 2009 Ft Hood became a part of the battlefield in the war against Islamic totalitarianism and state sponsored terrorism.

There may be those who feel threatened by my words and would even recommend they not be uttered. To those individuals I say step aside because now is not the time for cowardice. Our Country has become so paralyzed by political correctness that we have allowed a vile and determined enemy to breach what should be the safest place in America, an Army post.

We have become so politically correct that our media is more concerned about the stress of the shooter, Major Nidal Malik Hasan. The misplaced benevolence intending to portray him as a victim is despicable. The fact that there are some who have now created an entire new classification called; “pre-virtual vicarious Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)” is unconscionable.

This is not a “man caused disaster”. It is what it is, an Islamic jihadist attack....

And there is more, as Lt. Col West goes through other Islamic jihadist attacks against America. Go read it all here.

Project Little Soldiers

"With the massive number of soldiers being deployed to foreign lands,
we would like to make their "Little Soldiers", who are left behind,
smile for the holidays. ...." Send a gift card, ANYTHING!! These are
OUR children too....♥

The children ALSO serve. Please check out Project Little Soldiers here.