Archive for July, 2009

I give money every month to these folks. Try it, it will make you feel better, too!~

As usual, the time has flown and with it airplanes loaded with caskets.  My sympathies to the families and beloved friends of the fallen.  May the world someday recognize the sacrifice and loss of these fine people dying in a distant place…..

U.S. Army  Spc. Herberth A. Berrios-Campos, 21, of Bealeton, Va., died in Iraq, of injuries sustained from a non-combat related incident.

U.S. Army Spc. Justin D. Coleman, 21, of Spring Hill, Fla., died in Afghanistan, of wounds suffered when enemy forces attacked his unit using small arms and rocket-propelled grenade fire.

US Marines killed in combat (or died of wounds thereby received) in Afghanistan:

LCpl Jeremy S. Lasher, 27, of Oneida, NY

Cpl Nicolas G. Xiarhos , 21, of Yarmouth Port, Mass.

Pfc. Donald W. Vincent, 26, of Gainesville, Fla.

U.S. Army Spc. Raymundo P. Morales, 34, of Dalton, Ga., died July 21 in Methar Lam, Afghanistan, of injuries sustained during a vehicle roll-over.

U.S. Marine Sgt. Ryan H. Lane, 25, of Pittsburgh, Pa., died July 23 of wounds suffered while supporting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan.

The following U.S. Army men died in Afghanistan as a result of an IED explosion:

Sgt. Joshua J. Rimer, 24, of Rochester, Pa.; and

Spc. Randy L.J. Neff, Jr., 22, of Blackfoot, Idaho.

British military personnel killed in Afghanistan by encounters with IEDs:

Bombadier Craig Hopson, 24

Warrant Officer Sean Upton, 35

Trooper Phillip Lawrence, 22

Capt. Daniel Shepard, 28, of England, died in Afghanistan when the IED he was attempting to disarm exploded.

Gdsman Christopher King, 20, of England.

And finally, a man working at Gitmo died.  These men are considered to be support troops of the effort in Afghanistan:

Aviation Electronics Technician Airman Andrew Scott Charpentier, 21, of Great Falls, Mont., died July 23 at Jackson Memorial Hospital in Miami, Fla., from a non-combat related illness incurred while assigned to the Navy Expeditionary Guard Battalion, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

It is going to be another hot one today; yesterday narrowly missed 100 degrees.  This is very NOT the weather I came back to the Nor’west for, ok?  Strawberry plants are not supposed to curl leaves and die of HEAT here.

We open the house at night and turn on fans.  We close the house in the morning as the sun comes to each side.  We try to move less, we have movie marathons.  Cooking is a major pain and doesn’t seem worth it.  Adults can live on popsicles, right?

Watching flicks I haven’t seen in a while reminds me of things I haven’t thought about in a while.  Like the last people I watched the film with, or discussed it with—and I realize how completely able I am to ignore hints of trouble.

One film watched yesterday has a character who just cracks me up, he is so typically all brawn, no brain male.  Hilariously so.  And I really like the character.  I had a friend who really disliked the character.  And it hit me yesterday as some of the comments made by said friend came back to me, that she actually rather looked down on me FOR liking this character.  Apparently, I am very crude to have affection for such a type?  Ah, that trying to be oh so refined and keep that little finger in the air over the teacup will just get you every time, won’t it?  Pretentions.  Yeah, deal breakers in friendships.

I couldn’t sleep last night.  Too hot and I was restless with worry over garden plants.  And wondering what I am missing because I don’t want to see it.  I like being a hermit.  Keeping people away from me is restful compared to watching to see when you need to slam a door shut in a hurry!

The full release of numbers of men and women dying in the war in Iraq has long been unpopular—especially with the Bush Administration; you know, the people who didn’t want you to see the returning caskets, either?

All along, there have been justifiable complaints that people are dying after being med-evac’d home and that they are not counted with the casualties of war.  Tracking such names down would take a wiser and more skilled tracker than me.  But I do try.  And my most recent list of such names, I am saddened and yet pleased to report, I HAD in fact already listed some of the names back close to their times of death.  I am getting it right as often as wrong.  Which is more than I can say for the bean-counting asshats who want to call these deaths “non-combat” related.

But the following names are among those I missed, and the last one is especially heart-rending to me, because I had been following his story with hope and despair.  Each name is a link to the story of a man whose nation wants to delete him from the list of war dead so their numbers look better; and delete his service and whatever benefits might accrue to his survivors therefor, as well.

Sgt. John “Bill” Smith

Spc. Raymond A. Salerno III

SFC Anthony Wasielewski

Sgt. James W. McDonald

Spc. William  J. McClellan

Fr. Jim Vakoc (chaplain, Army)

The last one is particularly egregious for the Army to call non-combat related.  He was blown up by an IED doing his job and had a long struggle in the hospital while people prayed for him around the country.  And then they don’t even have the dignity to admit it was war that did for him!

How fast the moon fades to blackness!  How slow the march to peace and homecoming; and yet with such subtle speed, the flag draped caskets arrive to heartbroken homes.

As always, I am not fully up to date on names; there was a British jet crash and a helicopter crash and I have no names of the casualties yet.  Next week…..next week.

US Army Sgt. 1st Class Jason J. Fabrizi, 29, of Seffner, Fla., died  in  Afghanistan, of wounds sustained when his mounted patrol was attacked by enemy forces using rocket-propelled grenades and small arms fire.

The following three U.S. Army men died  in Iraq of wounds suffered when insurgents attacked their unit using indirect fire.

Spc. Daniel P. Drevnick, 22, of Woodbury, Minn.;

Spc. James D. Wertish, 20, of Olivia, Minn.; and

Spc. Carlos E. Wilcox IV, 27, of Cottage Grove, Minn.

Two Air Force officers died in a F-15E crash in Afghanistan:

Capt. Thomas J. Gramith, 27, of Eagan, Minn.

Capt. Mark R. McDowell, 26, of Colorado Springs, Colo.

U.S. Army Cpl. Benjamin S. Kopp, 21, of Rosemount, Minn., died July 18 at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington of wounds suffered  in  Afghanistan, when insurgents attacked his unit using small arms fire.

U.S. Marine Lance Cpl. Brandon T. Lara, 20, of New Braunfels, Texas, died  while supporting combat operations in Anbar province, Iraq.

Pvt Benjamin Ranaudo, 22, of Australia, died in Afghanistan of wounds from an IED explosion.

Rflmn Aminiasi Toge, 26, of Fiji, died in Afghanistan in an explosion while on patrol.

Cpl. Alessandro Di Lisio, 25, of Italy died in Afghanistan as a result of an IED.

Sgt Baydur Mevlut, 39, of Turkey and
Col. Faruk Sungur, 51, of Turkey died in Afghanistan in a vehicular accident.

Cpl. Joseph Etchells, 22, of the United Kingdom, died in Afghanistan as a result of an IED detonation.

The following four Army men died in Afghanistan as result of an IED explosion:
Sgt. Gregory Owens Jr., 24, of Garland, Texas.

Spc. Anthony M. Lightfoot, 20, of Riverdale, Ga.

Spc. Andrew J. Roughton, 21, of Houston, Texas.

Pfc. Dennis J. Pratt, 34, of Duncan, Okla

Yes, it is summer and the time of the highly ritualized War of the Weeds. But, you say, violets are not weeds! No, they aren’t, but today, they were Goose lunch. I seeded wild violets onto the Labyrinth, along with a host of other experimental ground covers. The soil there is pretty much unamended thin volcanic deposit atop glacial moraine rocks. So, growth there is a battle, especially in the baking summer sun.

The ritual goes like this as the temperature climbs with the morning sun: I make coffee and while it seeps through the filter, I set the sprinkler to its rounds on the Walk of the Fallen. I drink coffee, check email and reply to message board posts while the ferrets ravage the house, steal my bras from the laundry hamper and hide treats under the bathroom armoire. I drink a frozen protein fruit smoothie for breakfast.

And out to the dappled shade of the Labyrinth I go, bucket and tool in red natril gloved hands.
The wooly thyme and Irish moss (and less pedigreed normal moss) and the ground cover called “Brass Buttons” is all allowed free rein to wander amidst the stones. It does not impede walking or vision and can be scissor cut clear. But the violets are violently leaping up in the moss interlaced interstices of the walk and when fall rains come, they and the sneaky clover hidden amidst the moss, will grow tall enough to obscure the stones. And then, on some grief-soaked heavy-listed day, distracted into forgetting my song, I will suddenly stand becalmed like a small gray sailboat on my own labyrinth—frozen like Lot’s wife. I have to focus there, even so familiar as it is, or I am stricken with the sheer continuation of it all. So, starting at center, round I go, pulling infant violets and some of the larger parents too near the stones. I tug out the clover, too, often ripping phlox, moss, and thyme bits with it. Normal weeds get less mercy still—even scorpion grass, the wild forget-me-nots, are ripped with glee.

A crow sits above me and converses with himself about the idiocy of me duck-walking round the stones as noon approaches with solar fury. I make a note to attack the small patch of weedy grass between the Walk and the Honey House tomorrow morning. Finally, bucket full, and the stones in the sun beginning to steam off the morning’s water, I go to dump the bucket of greenery into the little pond in the goose enclosure. Their “Hey…get out of our space” honking turns to anticipatory murmurs as I turn and they contemplate their lunch.

Now, having begun at the heart of my daily life, with the best maintained part of the gardens, I will move outward to attack the rest. Order will be restored. I am grounded in the element of Earth…even thru gloves, it is beneath my fingernails sinking into me. And the cycle goes on and on and on…month after month. My piece of the planet owns me day by day. And like a captivated lover…..I submit.

Summer is already warmer than usual this year.  Before July was half gone, temperatures were acting all August on us!  Nonetheless, sweating in the garden and surveying weeds I NEVER catch up on in the flower beds and my roadside—I find comforts.

*A hummingbird, hovering in the sprinkler spray.

* So many bumblebees that I have to be careful not to close my hand on one as I weed the lavender beds.

* The smell of water in the cooling evening air as I sprinkle the Walk.

* Fresh purslane from the garden.

* The excited honking of the geese as they play in the sprinkler.

* Bounties of goose feathers as they molt.

* Coming into the cool dark of the house, dirty, hot and muddy from garden chores.

* The satisfaction of looking at a big pile of split firewood drying in the heat.

* New garden art on loan from friends who are artists.

* Iced black coffee.

* Popsicles of the pure fruit variety.

* The feel of wet garden earth under foot.

* The “green sigh” of quenched plants.

People talk a lot about honor and tradition, don’t they?  And they talk about loyalty.

I find that sometimes that conversation about loyalty goes one way and means, “You be loyal to me, or ELSE.”  I have a family member who operates this way, very  much into talking about the importance of “family” when something is wanted—money, childcare, use of a car, a place to live when evicted.  But nothing is to be said except, “I’m not a child, Mother, you can’t tell me to do dishes/stop drinking/stop drugging!” when WE invoke family loyalty and unity.  The term “reciprocity” is not in this person’s vocabulary, it seems.  Obviously, this family tie has been stretched to the point of no return by such behaviors.

I see a lot of that.  And not just in families.  I see it in social groups.  I see it in religious settings.  I see leaders who want sheep like cheerleaders, not a group of equals seeking together.  I see friends who are friends as long as they get enough ego-stroking and attention, but who have hissy fits if they are told something is not as they choose to see it.

Critical thinking and honesty seems to be lacking.  Acceptance of constructive criticism and logic is lacking.  If good reasons  for dispute and disagreement are offered and rejected, how can trust possibly result?  How can anyone feel less than rejected and disrespected if the overall caveat seems to be “I am right, and you are wrong to think otherwise.”  When the only recourse is to take one’s ball and go home because change and honest disagreement and compromise is impossible, loyalty is a moot point.

Loyalty means BOTH sides commit to the relationship and working issues.  Loyalty is not the privilege of an autocracy.  That idea of leader-down supremacy is the realm of despots, tyrants and gurus.  It is NOT the true tradition of Northern Europe, the British Isles, or America.  If I don’t bend knee to tyrant governors, or tyranical deities, why would I EVER do it for a dictatorial relative, priest, or friend?

Walter Cronkite is gone at age 92.  I don’t begrudge him his going, but there should be a new star in the heavens to make up for the darkness of his loss here.

He was the last news man who knew how to do the job really well.  He didn’t need to be a blustering asinine cartoon, he didn’t need to interrupt anyone being interviewed, he was never rude or snide.

The news was never quite the same again.  And now, it may never be.

There once was a group and then the new guy took over, and then it got weird.  And is getting weirder.  So, just a word to the wise from this site: http://www.rickross.com/warningsigns.html (More information IS there, too, including a list of qualities of a properly run group that is not going the cult route.)

Ten warning signs of a potentially unsafe group/leader.

1. Absolute authoritarianism without meaningful accountability.(like blowing off the next level of organization AND tradition?  Like that?)
2. No tolerance for questions or critical inquiry.(Verbally sandblasts questioners or criticism)
3. No meaningful financial disclosure regarding budget, expenses such as an independently audited financial statement.
4. Unreasonable fear about the outside world, such as impending catastrophe, evil conspiracies and persecutions.(Paranoid about who knows what and who is where, and when—always texting or calling members)
5. There is no legitimate reason to leave, former followers are always wrong in leaving, negative or even evil.(If you aren’t with them, you are against HIM??  Sound familiar?)
6. Former members often relate the same stories of abuse and reflect a similar pattern of grievances.
7. There are records, books, news articles, or television programs that document the abuses of the group/leader.(Deleted blogs or message forum data?)
8. Followers feel they can never be “good enough”.
9. The group/leader is always right.
10. The group/leader is the exclusive means of knowing “truth” or receiving validation, no other process of discovery is really acceptable or credible.

And from another site:(Please go to link to read the full descriptions – http://www.factnet.org/headlines/destructive_cult_warning_signs.html)

1. A destructive cult tends to be totalitarian in its control of its members’ behavior.

2. A destructive cult tends to have an ethical double standard.

3. A destructive cult has only two basic purposes: recruiting new members and fund-raising.

4. A destructive cult appears to be innovative and exclusive.(Like calling traditional things “old fashioned” or medieval and ignoring them?)
   

5. A destructive cult is authoritarian in its power structure. (Like secret meetings held by the favored few.)
   

6. A destructive cult’s leader is a self-appointed messianic person claiming to have a special mission in life.

7. A destructive cult’s leader centers the veneration of members upon himself or herself.(Lots of pictures of the Fearless Leader, and few of other members?)
   

8. A destructive cult’s leader tends to be determined, domineering, and charismatic.