Last night, i walked to the top of our hill, looked out over the gray Pacific, the term that means “peaceful in character or intent.” Magellan aptly named this vast sea because he thought it was peaceful, perhaps calm.

Four hundred and ninety-eight years ago, having just sailed through what is now known as the Straits of Magellan with four of his original fleet of five sailing ships, i’m sure that old Portuguese sea dog would have considered the Pacific as calm and peaceful. I’m sure Richard Henry Dana would agree with me.

Last night from my vantage point, the Pacific Ocean did appear peaceful. There was a faint glow of sun on the horizon below the clouds when, at 1948 GMT-7, i two-blocked my ensign.

My flag light makes this legal. I put that light up to keep the ensign flying 24/7 (as they say) because a number of my neighbors had complimented me for allowing them to see it as they got ready for work.

That little personal ceremony last night was to remember those children and teachers that died in Uvalde, Texas this past week. Our country’s flag being lowered to half mast was an appropriate way to grieve.

Tomorrow morning at 0800 GMT-7, i will be on that hill again to lower the ensign to half mast. Our U.S. Flag Code calls for our flag to be flown at half mast from 0800 to noon on Memorial Day. I will observe that.

This year, Memorial Day is particularly poignant for me. As i noted earlier, a close friend, a brother really, died May 10. Al Pavich doesn’t technically fit those we honor this Memorial Day. We honor those who died in military service to our country. Although Al retired from the Navy in 1998, he served his country and military veterans up until the day he died. And his passing too soon was directly related to injuries he suffered in his tour in Vietnam.

As i have mentioned here earlier and elsewhere, Al’s passing has hit me hard. We went through two deployments, good times, hard times, secrets between us, and understanding. Brothers. And through it all, i knew there were others, and those others kept growing in numbers, who felt that bonding with Al as i did. As i promised, I will write more of this hero here when i have a better control of me.

Tomorrow, up on that hill, Al Pavich will be one of the heroes i honor with my lowering and raising the ensign. It is good to have moments of silence in their honor.

There are other thoughts i have tonight, but we need a rest; we need to think about the good of this country; for a moment, we need to stop the asinine rock throwing at each other, and honor those who have died for our country.

Rest in peace, you warriors of honor. You too, Al.

Rest in peace.

As usual, i’m just throwing stuff out there to see if it sticks. To be honest, i’m trying to find peace in the darkness that surrounds us, searching for reason amongst the madness in that dark, hoping for caring i do not see in that dark. Wondering why retirement isn’t. Thinking of a cabin in the woods by a stream with no one around where i could do the chores to be there and sit by my fire at night reading the poems of the romantics, sipping on a good whiskey, with no one there but me and an old dog before i go to sleep.

Sun’s Reflection

i wish i could be like the sun,
too bright for anyone to look straight on,
unknown because my light and heat
forbids anyone to see
the sun or me.

the sun’s reflection
provides the light
for us to see
the morning star,
the red planet,
the planet of the moons,
the ringed planet,
and
oh, yes, the moon, the moon
and
let us know them
as we never could
without the reflection from
the sun or me.

if i were like the sun,
i would not change
what folks see
and
come to know
because of the reflection,
but
allow them to see things
they could not otherwise see
and
think about what they see
because of the light cast
by the sun or me.

i wish i could be like the sun.

This remains a work in progress. i may just trash it later. But for some reason, i wanted to share it tonight.

he was once a whippersnapper;
wild and crazy ran in his veins,
chasing women with abandon,
bars and dance halls were his domains.

now it’s all just memories
folks seem to want him to change,
and
change he has
and
change more he will
but
something’s missing here.

he settled down;
he has a home;
he can feel changes from his aging
but
there is ache continuing to haunt him
for a return to wild and crazy so engaging.

he realizes he can’t return:
he must be a good old man,
but
late some nights
with a full moon bright
he lives again
with wild and crazy in his veins
if only in his memories.

i apologize to all of you.

i have started a half-dozen posts about Al Pavich. There could be another twenty, perhaps more.

But i can’t finish them right now.

i don’t know why. Writing about a loss, a sadness, hard times usually brings me relief. i’ve handled losing others close, very close to me very well in the past. i have tried my old trick of catching myself heading into the abyss of sorrow with thinking “What would Al want me to do, how would Al want me to act.”

Right now, i can’t do that. i’ve been pretty raw the last couple of days. Maureen, as usual, has been a saint in putting up with me.

i just can’t write those posts about Al right now.

For those of you who may be close to the Southwest corner, the memorial service for Al will be 0800-1000, Monday, May 23, aboard the USS Midway museum in San Diego.

This is very, very appropriate.

Al would approve.

i will write those posts…eventually. It’s quite a story.

This is tough. i’ve been trying to write an episodic post about a man who was a hero in so, so many ways. i keep struggling to just get past the first three or four paragraphs. Tough. His wife, Darcy, a heroine in her own right, called me Wednesday while i was on my way to a lunch with a shipmate from another tour. i don’t ordinarily answer calls while i’m driving, but i saw it was Al. It wasn’t. It was Darcy. When i heard her voice, i knew the news was bad.

i won’t complete that episodic post about Al Pavich right now. He died in the Phoenix airport Tuesday. Typically, he was coming home after a trip to see a friend who was in hospice.

That evening (Wednesday), i expressed my feelings in a poem. i still feel that way. The episodic piece about Al will likely be several posts. But here is how if felt the evening after Darcy gave me the news.

Angry.
i lost a friend yesterday
i found out today.
it was about the time
i read from another friend
about some insane political frenzy
they believe
because
they wished to make me believe,
i suppose,
the insanity
so i could become insane
along with them
i suppose,
but
it seems to me
they have somehow
lost caring.

this friend i lost
was more than a friend
we had become blood brothers,
different as night and day,
but tolerant of the differences
enough to be bonded together
for life
until his ended yesterday.

he did not play politics except
to help those for whom he cared
and
he did that well, very well,
to take care of people
with passion, common sense,
just caring
and
he was above
the hate and fear
and
insanity of politics.
so i am angry
folks draw their lines in the sand
over politics
and
abrogate
caring.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

 and
oh, Lord,
Al did, he was, and he will dwell with you.
and
i am angry
at the smallness of those
who cannot care
as Al did.
Take care of him, Lord.
He deserves it.
knowing you will,
my anger will subside
and
i will sleep well
tonight.