A Dutch company, Mars One, wants to establish a colony on Mars. The project starts now and, after ten years of training and preparation, will send the first four person team on a one way trip to the red planet. Thereafter, they plan to send additional crews every two years. They plan to use media exposure to fund the project. It will be like Big Brother, Survivor, and The Truman Show rolled into one. I don't know about this. http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/upshot/mars-one-one-way-ticket-red-planet-192011042.html
Where would they find people willing to go on what amounts to a suicide mission? They are looking for people to commit the rest of their lives to the project. I think making the commitment to live out life on Mars would take more faith than entering the priesthood. Only younger people have this sort of mindset. How many would drop out of the ten year training program when their ideas change? I think older people, who have left the "Angry Young Man" phase of life http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLLYa5LdUeE would have little interest in going to Mars. Maybe they could recruit prisoners. But, I don't know about that.
Will women be on these space missions? You know what happens when men and women share close quarters. They make babies. How would they handle the little Martians? I suppose they would all be home schooled. Would the grandparents back on Earth get up in arms and demand that they kids be returned to their custody on Earth? How tough would it be to raise a child on Mars? I've heard that children use emotional blackmail on parents by threatening to do things like hold their breath until they die. Here on the blue planet we call their bluff and tell them to right ahead and try to stop breathing. What if a child on Mars threatens to go outside and breathe Martian air if the parents don't get them the latest spacesuit with the neon colors and the flashing lights in the boot heels? That child would have to be locked down for his own protection. Again, I don't know this.
Would the whole adventure really make good television? A documentary about the preparations for the trip might be interesting. The journey to Mars takes seven months. After the initial televised space capsule tour, I doubt there would be much of interest to broadcast. Bas Lansdorp of Mars One says that the Martian experience "would be 'real' reality TV." He seems to think there will be excitement and challenges aplenty that will make interesting viewing - stuff that will keep the audience at home coming back for more. I don't know about that. What if someone realizes they made a bad choice, and they want to come home, but can't? What if this drives them to suicide? I did a little reading up on Mars. The planet has no global magnetic field and no atmosphere. There is no shield on Mars against cosmic and solar radiation. Without powerful shields against the radiation on Mars' surface, human DNA could be damaged. This would probably cause illness and early death. Who wants to watch someone suffer and die? If the whole project goes to Hell in a hand basket, will the Mars One organization face lawsuits filed by everyone from relatives left behind to viewers traumatized by the broadcasts?
I'll be seventy years old in 2023. I'm not going to watch The Mars One Experiment (or whatever they decide to call it) when it's on television. This, I do know.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Too Much Fun
When I was in elementary school, fun was attending a birthday party or splashing around in a twelve inch deep pool. In high school, dances and sleep overs were fun. Fun got fun-er in college. Every Saturday night we made the rounds of the fraternity parties. Fun was sort of like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJcw4yoIseo One's idea of what is fun changes over the years. Playing Thumper and chugging has completely lost its appeal. But I still love a good time, and yesterday I had more fun than a barrel of candidates. I worked the polls.
About a year ago, I received a notice in the mail asking for applicants to serve as election workers. Since I'm retired, I thought, Why not? My application led to a training class in October 2011. I spent November 8, 2011at the county court house on Rancocas Road counting absentee ballots. I enjoyed the experience and looked forward to the next election. When I didn't get a call for yesterday's primary, I was disappointed.
The disappointment ended yesterday morning at 7:40 a.m. I got a last minute call to fill in at the polls in Moorestown. I abandoned a perfectly good pot of coffee, hit the shower, and hightailed it to the Moorestown Library. Working at the poll was new for me, and I didn't know what to expect. I don't know how they do it in other townships, but the people in Moorestown know how to party!
Lest you think it was all fun and games with no work, let me explain what "party" means. Every one was friendly, relaxed, and happy to be there. The election workers knew everyone in the neighborhood, so every voter was greeted warmly. Turnout was light, so there was time to ask about kids and show off pictures of grandchildren. What a sense of community!
I was warned that there would be dancing at the end of the day. Sure enough, after working from 5:15 a.m. till 8:00 p.m., three of the ladies whooped it up and did a little mummer's strut around the room. We all had a good laugh. After the dancing ritual, reports were run, the voting machines were closed and locked, and the results were delivered to the township offices.
We would rather have had less fun. We remarked over and over during the day that voter turnout was disappointing. Sure, it was just a primary with no hot issues. Still, voting is your voice. Ladies, do your hear me ladies? We did not have the right to vote until 1920. Until ninety two years ago, women were second class citizens in this country. The struggle for women's suffrage began in 1848. It took seventy two years to win the right to vote. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Women's_suffrage_in_the_United_States
So, make me work for my pay. Run me ragged. A little less chit-chat and a lot more voting is what I want to see.
About a year ago, I received a notice in the mail asking for applicants to serve as election workers. Since I'm retired, I thought, Why not? My application led to a training class in October 2011. I spent November 8, 2011at the county court house on Rancocas Road counting absentee ballots. I enjoyed the experience and looked forward to the next election. When I didn't get a call for yesterday's primary, I was disappointed.
The disappointment ended yesterday morning at 7:40 a.m. I got a last minute call to fill in at the polls in Moorestown. I abandoned a perfectly good pot of coffee, hit the shower, and hightailed it to the Moorestown Library. Working at the poll was new for me, and I didn't know what to expect. I don't know how they do it in other townships, but the people in Moorestown know how to party!
Lest you think it was all fun and games with no work, let me explain what "party" means. Every one was friendly, relaxed, and happy to be there. The election workers knew everyone in the neighborhood, so every voter was greeted warmly. Turnout was light, so there was time to ask about kids and show off pictures of grandchildren. What a sense of community!
I was warned that there would be dancing at the end of the day. Sure enough, after working from 5:15 a.m. till 8:00 p.m., three of the ladies whooped it up and did a little mummer's strut around the room. We all had a good laugh. After the dancing ritual, reports were run, the voting machines were closed and locked, and the results were delivered to the township offices.
We would rather have had less fun. We remarked over and over during the day that voter turnout was disappointing. Sure, it was just a primary with no hot issues. Still, voting is your voice. Ladies, do your hear me ladies? We did not have the right to vote until 1920. Until ninety two years ago, women were second class citizens in this country. The struggle for women's suffrage began in 1848. It took seventy two years to win the right to vote. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Women's_suffrage_in_the_United_States
So, make me work for my pay. Run me ragged. A little less chit-chat and a lot more voting is what I want to see.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Pillow Fight
Yesterday, June 3, 2012, was National Cancer Survivor's Day. It's nice that someone designated June 3rd as the official day, but every day is Survivor's Day if you have had cancer. At least that is what some survivors have told me.
Cancer treatment can be grueling. Chemotherapy and radiation can leave patients nauseated and exhausted. The couch becomes their best friend. I have a little project that I like to do if someone I know is diagnosed with cancer. There are lots of ways to fight cancer. I call my project The Pillow Fight.
First, I go to the store and select a big, fluffy pillow. Next, I go to Joann Fabric (armed with coupons, of course) and I select a bunch of 100% cotton fabrics. I pick fabrics based on upcoming holidays, the recipients interests, favorite colors, or just whatever is pretty. I start out by sending the pillow, one pillow case, and an explanation of what I am doing. Thereafter, I send a pillow case once or twice per month. I package the pillow cases in a zip lock bag. I tie a ribbon around the case, and I attach a big tag with a picture and a quote. For example, one friend joked that her summer vacation would be spent at the hospital in Philadelphia. I found a fabric printed with images of the Eiffel Tower. I also found a quote from model Tyra Banks, "I haven't seen the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre. I haven't seen anything. I don't really care." That seemed to sum things up!
There are cat fabrics purr-fect for pet lovers, fabrics with musical notes for music lovers, and fabrics featuring all kinds of foods or hobbies. I've scanned pretty, floral fabrics to make a note card to match the pillow case. Just try to personalize the fabric for it's the recipient, keep it light, and keep it positive.
Here's how I make the cases:
Cancer treatment can be grueling. Chemotherapy and radiation can leave patients nauseated and exhausted. The couch becomes their best friend. I have a little project that I like to do if someone I know is diagnosed with cancer. There are lots of ways to fight cancer. I call my project The Pillow Fight.
First, I go to the store and select a big, fluffy pillow. Next, I go to Joann Fabric (armed with coupons, of course) and I select a bunch of 100% cotton fabrics. I pick fabrics based on upcoming holidays, the recipients interests, favorite colors, or just whatever is pretty. I start out by sending the pillow, one pillow case, and an explanation of what I am doing. Thereafter, I send a pillow case once or twice per month. I package the pillow cases in a zip lock bag. I tie a ribbon around the case, and I attach a big tag with a picture and a quote. For example, one friend joked that her summer vacation would be spent at the hospital in Philadelphia. I found a fabric printed with images of the Eiffel Tower. I also found a quote from model Tyra Banks, "I haven't seen the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre. I haven't seen anything. I don't really care." That seemed to sum things up!
There are cat fabrics purr-fect for pet lovers, fabrics with musical notes for music lovers, and fabrics featuring all kinds of foods or hobbies. I've scanned pretty, floral fabrics to make a note card to match the pillow case. Just try to personalize the fabric for it's the recipient, keep it light, and keep it positive.
Here's how I make the cases:
Pillow Case Instructions
Buy one yard of 45” fabric.
Make sure you get the full yard.
Don’t allow them to cut on an angle causing you to be a little short on
one side.
Wash the fabric. It
removes chemicals and sizing added during the manufacturing process. It also removes any dust, dirt, or germs
picked up in the store from customer’s handling the bolt or the bolt being left
on a dirty surface.
With the right sides together (print on the inside) fold
fabric in half (selvage edges go together - that means the side edges, not the cut edges). It probably would be a
good idea to press your fabric once folded in half.
Cut the fabric on the fold.
You are working on the wrong side of the fabric. Seam allowances are 5/8”. You might want to pin your seams first. Sew one side seam. Sew the top seam. Sew the remaining side seam. Press the side seams open.
You are still working on an inside-out pillow case. Turn the open edge under ½” and press. Turn the open edge up again 4” and press. Pin the hem in place. Sew the hem close to the edge.
Turn the pillow case right side out. You’re done.
There is a pillow case project aimed toward children stricken with cancer. It's called ConKerr Cancer. Check out their website. http://conkerrcancer.org/home/
One of my Burlington County Board of Social Services coworkers was my inspiration for The Pillow Fight. She was being treated for cancer when she heard about making pillow cases for kids with cancer. She set a goal to make 100 pillow cases. She reached and exceeded her goal before she lost her battle.
So, stitch up a brightly colored pillow case, stuff in a pillow, and start swinging until the feathers fly in the face of cancer.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Ticked Off
The ticks are thick this year. I've had two (that I could see) attached to me this season. Yuk. In spite of faithful application of Frontline, the dog had ticks latched on to her ears.
Mike and I have a number of tick rituals which we perform faithfully. Whenever we work in the wooded area of our lot, we saturate ourselves with insect repellent containing DEET. I wash work clothes in hot water as soon as the work is done, and I dry them in the dryer. We enter the house from the garage and drop the clothes into the washer before we go into any other parts of the house. The most fun part is checking each other for ticks. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vSNiQKAH0E Ah, come on. We're married.
Ticks are vectors of disease. Lyme disease is the most well known, but there are other diseases associated with tick bites. The little blood suckers also transmit Babesiosis, Ehrlichiosis, Bartonella, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, and Tularemia. Lyme is difficult to diagnose. The ticks are so small that many people don't know they have been bitten. The characteristic bull's eye rash, the best way to confirm the disease, occurs in less that 50% of cases. The spirochete that causes Lyme, Borrelia burgdorferi, doesn't always stimulate the body to produce antibodies in sufficient quantities to register during testing. Lyme is called the great imitator. If a person doesn't develop the bull's eye rash, they might be misdiagnosed as having just about anything.
Unless you've been living under a rock, you know about ticks and the diseases they transmit. Here's some information you might not know:
If you have been bitten, you can send the tick, once removed, to a lab for testing. Try to save the tick alive. Place it in an airtight container or zip lock bag with a moist cotton ball (no alcohol). Send this package, along with a check, to a tick testing lab. Here is info on three labs:
IGeneX Labs, Palo Alto, CA (800) 832-3200
MDL, Mt. Laurel, NJ (877) 269-0090
NJ Labs, New Brunswick, NJ (732) 249-0148
I called NJ Labs. They charge $60.00 for tick testing. It could get expensive if you get a lot of tick bites. MDL in Mt. Laurel charges only $29.90 for tick testing.
Another thing you might not know is that there are state and federal laws that protect students with Lyme disease. The federal laws supercede the state regulations. If Lyme impairs a child to the point that they need are learning disabled or need special accommodations in school, schools have to provide supplementary aids and services. Go to http://www.504idea.org/Council_Of_Educators/Welcome.html or
http://www.cec.sped.org/content/navigationmenu/policyadvocacy/idearesources/default.htm .
Finally, you can get support if you suffer from Lyme disease. Contact the New Jersey Lyme Support Group at (201) 891-7220 or email them at njlsg@aol.com. You can also contact the Lyme Disease Association at:
P.O. Box 1438
Jackson, NJ 08527
Toll-free (888) 366-6611
Fax (732) 938-7215
Email: Lymeliter@aol.com
Website: http://www.lymediseaseassociation.org/
I thank the Lyme Disease Association for their pamphlet Lyme (R) Primer. The Primer contains the above information and more.
Mike and I have a number of tick rituals which we perform faithfully. Whenever we work in the wooded area of our lot, we saturate ourselves with insect repellent containing DEET. I wash work clothes in hot water as soon as the work is done, and I dry them in the dryer. We enter the house from the garage and drop the clothes into the washer before we go into any other parts of the house. The most fun part is checking each other for ticks. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vSNiQKAH0E Ah, come on. We're married.
Ticks are vectors of disease. Lyme disease is the most well known, but there are other diseases associated with tick bites. The little blood suckers also transmit Babesiosis, Ehrlichiosis, Bartonella, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, and Tularemia. Lyme is difficult to diagnose. The ticks are so small that many people don't know they have been bitten. The characteristic bull's eye rash, the best way to confirm the disease, occurs in less that 50% of cases. The spirochete that causes Lyme, Borrelia burgdorferi, doesn't always stimulate the body to produce antibodies in sufficient quantities to register during testing. Lyme is called the great imitator. If a person doesn't develop the bull's eye rash, they might be misdiagnosed as having just about anything.
Unless you've been living under a rock, you know about ticks and the diseases they transmit. Here's some information you might not know:
If you have been bitten, you can send the tick, once removed, to a lab for testing. Try to save the tick alive. Place it in an airtight container or zip lock bag with a moist cotton ball (no alcohol). Send this package, along with a check, to a tick testing lab. Here is info on three labs:
IGeneX Labs, Palo Alto, CA (800) 832-3200
MDL, Mt. Laurel, NJ (877) 269-0090
NJ Labs, New Brunswick, NJ (732) 249-0148
I called NJ Labs. They charge $60.00 for tick testing. It could get expensive if you get a lot of tick bites. MDL in Mt. Laurel charges only $29.90 for tick testing.
Another thing you might not know is that there are state and federal laws that protect students with Lyme disease. The federal laws supercede the state regulations. If Lyme impairs a child to the point that they need are learning disabled or need special accommodations in school, schools have to provide supplementary aids and services. Go to http://www.504idea.org/Council_Of_Educators/Welcome.html or
http://www.cec.sped.org/content/navigationmenu/policyadvocacy/idearesources/default.htm .
Finally, you can get support if you suffer from Lyme disease. Contact the New Jersey Lyme Support Group at (201) 891-7220 or email them at njlsg@aol.com. You can also contact the Lyme Disease Association at:
P.O. Box 1438
Jackson, NJ 08527
Toll-free (888) 366-6611
Fax (732) 938-7215
Email: Lymeliter@aol.com
Website: http://www.lymediseaseassociation.org/
I thank the Lyme Disease Association for their pamphlet Lyme (R) Primer. The Primer contains the above information and more.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Oh, Baby
Advertisers have been using babies to boost sales for years. Take a look at these ads.
My, how times have changed! Kids are still used in print ads. I like this one for Maglite flash lights.
Computer animation makes anything possible. Evian's roller skating baby ad is the most watched ad of all time according to Guinness.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9EOCHX9LgSs
I wonder if Ally McBeal's dancing baby hallucination was the inspiration for this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_baby
Check out how they made the babies skate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEv4BzjXqa0
Evian knows how to capitalize on a good thing. This ad shows adults watering their inner baby.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=Vg1jAWtWUaU
Sometimes the whole baby thing falls flat on it's face. Burger King's adult-guy-in-a-onesie is sorta creepy.
http://i.bnet.com/blogs/sandboxrev2_bebr0324000.mov?tag=contentMain;contentBody
My personal favorites are the E-Trade babies. I love this collection of cuts that didn't make it past the censors.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itg2nAERlII
My, how times have changed! Kids are still used in print ads. I like this one for Maglite flash lights.
 |
| My mommy said not to put beans in my ears. She didn't say anything about nasal insertions. |
Computer animation makes anything possible. Evian's roller skating baby ad is the most watched ad of all time according to Guinness.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9EOCHX9LgSs
I wonder if Ally McBeal's dancing baby hallucination was the inspiration for this. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dancing_baby
Check out how they made the babies skate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEv4BzjXqa0
Evian knows how to capitalize on a good thing. This ad shows adults watering their inner baby.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=Vg1jAWtWUaU
Sometimes the whole baby thing falls flat on it's face. Burger King's adult-guy-in-a-onesie is sorta creepy.
http://i.bnet.com/blogs/sandboxrev2_bebr0324000.mov?tag=contentMain;contentBody
My personal favorites are the E-Trade babies. I love this collection of cuts that didn't make it past the censors.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itg2nAERlII
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sign of the Times
Occasionally, Mike watches the horse races with some of his friends. On Preakness day, one of the guys, who drives a delivery truck, remarked that he was making a delivery near one of the prisons in Camden when he saw a bunch of women on the sidewalk gesticulating wildly. He was mystified. I'm not sure how Mike knew what was going on, but he had the answer. The women were "speaking" to inmates using sign language. Who da thunk?
It's called body texting, and it's been around for a while. Here's an article from 1993 that discusses the goings on in front of the Camden County jail. http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=110&dat=19930125&id=LJYLAAAAIBAJ&sjid=rFUDAAAAIBAJ&pg=7227,1549508
In Bernalillo County, New Mexico the girls have added a little New Orleans style booby flashing to their messages. Prison officials say this causes "restlessness" among the inmates.
While some of the signing utilizes the American Sign Language alphabet to spell words, much of the medium is specific to the local population.
I have heard that some convents require nuns to maintain silence. The sisters use signs to make simple requests, like asking for another slice of bread at dinner. More than one hundred years ago, hand signals were required in some prison mess halls.
Prisoners also try to thwart corrections officers by communicating with each other using signs.
Humans are ingenious. I find ingenuity almost as fascinating as the deviant mind. I suppose the two go hand in hand sometimes.
It's called body texting, and it's been around for a while. Here's an article from 1993 that discusses the goings on in front of the Camden County jail. http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=110&dat=19930125&id=LJYLAAAAIBAJ&sjid=rFUDAAAAIBAJ&pg=7227,1549508
In Bernalillo County, New Mexico the girls have added a little New Orleans style booby flashing to their messages. Prison officials say this causes "restlessness" among the inmates.
While some of the signing utilizes the American Sign Language alphabet to spell words, much of the medium is specific to the local population.
I have heard that some convents require nuns to maintain silence. The sisters use signs to make simple requests, like asking for another slice of bread at dinner. More than one hundred years ago, hand signals were required in some prison mess halls.
Prisoners also try to thwart corrections officers by communicating with each other using signs.
Humans are ingenious. I find ingenuity almost as fascinating as the deviant mind. I suppose the two go hand in hand sometimes.
Monday, May 28, 2012
That's Why Your Father Fought in the War
When it came to my parents, there was never a shortage of things for me to criticize, especially when to came to my father. Why did he have to wear those ugly plaid shorts? Why did he wear black socks with white sneakers? When was he ever going to finish painting the house? My mother's answer was always, "Your father can do whatever he wants. That's why he fought in the war."
The war was World War II. My father was drafted before the end of his senior year in high school. He was determined to finish school, so he appealed to the draft board. He was allowed to graduate and was drafted soon after.
His military service took him first to Ft. Dix for basic training. It was there that the guy, who never let his kids get away with anything, went AWOL every Sunday. He scaled a fence and walked to his aunt's house in Juliustown. After a home cooked meal, he slipped back on base.
From basic training, Dad went to cook and baker's school. The army marches on it's stomach, they say. The way it worked out, Dad never did much cooking in the army. He found out that the army marched on c-rations - powered eggs, spam, beans, chocolate, and cigarettes.
Dad received his orders to go to Europe. He said he was sea sick every day of the week long trip aboard an ocean liner. Oddly enough, he never had a hiccup of sea sickness on the ride home. He landed in England. During his time there, he boarded with an English family. He and his landlady exchanged Christmas cards and wrote an occasional letter until her death many years after the war.
Dad learned a lot from all this training. First and foremost, never volunteer. The second cardinal rule seemed to be, "Don't be a show off." The crack shot Depression era kid who brought home rabbits and birds for the dinner table, suddenly didn't hit the center of the target quite so consistently. The star marksmen were the boys from the Ozarks. According to dad, they could barely read and write, but they never missed the bull's eye. Dad shot just well enough to qualify. Well, playing down his shooting ability didn't win him a spot in front of a stove. He landed in the infantry with the kids from the Ozarks.
Dad was being trained for the D-day invasion. He didn't land in Normandy on June 6, 1944, but followed on the second day of the invasion. As a kid, we saw films of the landing craft delivering the soldiers. When the craft was wading distance from shore, the back dropped down, and the soldiers headed for shore, rifles held above their heads.
I asked, "Was the water cold?"
The answer, "I didn't feel it."
Dad said that by the second day, dead soldiers bobbed on the surface of the water. The dead bumped into the reinforcements as they made their way to the beach. Corpses were piled high on the sand, "stacked like cord wood," was how my father described it. Things kept exploding. At night, the glow of tracer bullets streamed through the air.
Normandy was the beginning of a long march through Europe.
"Where did you sleep?" I asked. They slept in French farmer's houses, in barns, or in holes in the ground. In winter, they might wake to find themselves covered with snow.
"How did you bathe?"
"We didn't." But they had to be clean shaven. They filled their helmets with water, lathered up, and shaved. It might be weeks before they could wash from the neck down.
"What if the farmers didn't want you in their houses, eating their eggs and chickens?"
"They didn't have a choice. We just took things." War was war. The French farmers didn't fear Americans. The eggs and chickens were usually paid for with the cigarettes and candy from the c-ration packets.
The ugliest part of the war for my father might have been they way some soldiers defiled the dead. Dad helped himself to a pistol that a dead German officer would no longer need. He said others committed barbarous acts like cutting off fingers to take rings. The kid who could skin and gut a rabbit for dinner, didn't want any parts of chopping off fingers.
Wars end, soldiers return home, and life goes on. My sister, the only one of the three of us to have children, made Mom and Dad grandparents. I heard one of my nephews ask, "Grandmom, is this a free country?"
Her response, "Yes, that's why your grandfather fought in the war."
It's a free country for me and those grandkids, now grown, and the great-grandchildren that Dad never met.
On Memorial Day we should honor the sacrifices made by the members of our military. Whether it was a gift of a couple of years time or the offering up of a life, we thank you for your service.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGGSjCalLB0
The war was World War II. My father was drafted before the end of his senior year in high school. He was determined to finish school, so he appealed to the draft board. He was allowed to graduate and was drafted soon after.
His military service took him first to Ft. Dix for basic training. It was there that the guy, who never let his kids get away with anything, went AWOL every Sunday. He scaled a fence and walked to his aunt's house in Juliustown. After a home cooked meal, he slipped back on base.
From basic training, Dad went to cook and baker's school. The army marches on it's stomach, they say. The way it worked out, Dad never did much cooking in the army. He found out that the army marched on c-rations - powered eggs, spam, beans, chocolate, and cigarettes.
Dad received his orders to go to Europe. He said he was sea sick every day of the week long trip aboard an ocean liner. Oddly enough, he never had a hiccup of sea sickness on the ride home. He landed in England. During his time there, he boarded with an English family. He and his landlady exchanged Christmas cards and wrote an occasional letter until her death many years after the war.
Dad learned a lot from all this training. First and foremost, never volunteer. The second cardinal rule seemed to be, "Don't be a show off." The crack shot Depression era kid who brought home rabbits and birds for the dinner table, suddenly didn't hit the center of the target quite so consistently. The star marksmen were the boys from the Ozarks. According to dad, they could barely read and write, but they never missed the bull's eye. Dad shot just well enough to qualify. Well, playing down his shooting ability didn't win him a spot in front of a stove. He landed in the infantry with the kids from the Ozarks.
Dad was being trained for the D-day invasion. He didn't land in Normandy on June 6, 1944, but followed on the second day of the invasion. As a kid, we saw films of the landing craft delivering the soldiers. When the craft was wading distance from shore, the back dropped down, and the soldiers headed for shore, rifles held above their heads.
I asked, "Was the water cold?"
The answer, "I didn't feel it."
Dad said that by the second day, dead soldiers bobbed on the surface of the water. The dead bumped into the reinforcements as they made their way to the beach. Corpses were piled high on the sand, "stacked like cord wood," was how my father described it. Things kept exploding. At night, the glow of tracer bullets streamed through the air.
Normandy was the beginning of a long march through Europe.
"Where did you sleep?" I asked. They slept in French farmer's houses, in barns, or in holes in the ground. In winter, they might wake to find themselves covered with snow.
"How did you bathe?"
"We didn't." But they had to be clean shaven. They filled their helmets with water, lathered up, and shaved. It might be weeks before they could wash from the neck down.
"What if the farmers didn't want you in their houses, eating their eggs and chickens?"
"They didn't have a choice. We just took things." War was war. The French farmers didn't fear Americans. The eggs and chickens were usually paid for with the cigarettes and candy from the c-ration packets.
The ugliest part of the war for my father might have been they way some soldiers defiled the dead. Dad helped himself to a pistol that a dead German officer would no longer need. He said others committed barbarous acts like cutting off fingers to take rings. The kid who could skin and gut a rabbit for dinner, didn't want any parts of chopping off fingers.
Wars end, soldiers return home, and life goes on. My sister, the only one of the three of us to have children, made Mom and Dad grandparents. I heard one of my nephews ask, "Grandmom, is this a free country?"
Her response, "Yes, that's why your grandfather fought in the war."
It's a free country for me and those grandkids, now grown, and the great-grandchildren that Dad never met.
On Memorial Day we should honor the sacrifices made by the members of our military. Whether it was a gift of a couple of years time or the offering up of a life, we thank you for your service.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGGSjCalLB0
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| Private First Class Clarence E. Stackhouse, Jr. |
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