Venus hangs like a beacon next to the lighted ensign flying
in the dark of mid-autumn atop the hill;
the glory of autumn colors of wild irises,
La Jolla bougainvillea and blooming succulents on the slope
are hidden by the dark of night in the southwest corner
of a confused nation that once had so much promise,
now warring amongst
unrepentant, uncaring pockets of who-cares-for-anyone-else-but-me;

i sit, grilling a steak, in a place that should be paradise,
blowing off my thoughts of minds more concerned with
their fear, hate, and childish rock throwing
to contemplate on the falcons,
wonderful birds of prey,
sitting on perches about, including light standards,
waiting for their prey to venture into a certain meal;
the dog comes to my side after chasing the lizards;
i pat her head,
sit back next to the grill;
the waxing gibbous moon smiles on me;
i take a sip of merlot.

words

created by the brain
perhaps a few by the heart
some by a good brain and a good heart
some by a good brain and a bad heart
some by a bad brain and a good heart
some by a bad brain and a bad heart

words
once created come out of the mouth into the air
some out of the hands on paper or earlier, papyrus, or earlier, stone
some out of the hands into the techno-air onto screens
some out of hand signals for those who cannot hear

words
heard or read or decoded
yet never quite meaning what the creator intended
with brain or heart or both
because
the receiver hears but does not listen nor think critically
only using filters from past experience and brain and heart, good or bad
and
the word drives those who hear
rallying like lemmings around what they heard through filters
without listening

words
sadly take the blame, condemned even though they are only words
along with the creator of the words
to pit each other against each other because of words

when
words by themselves
are beautiful
all of them.

After struggling to get the photos to align alongside each other for an interminable amount of time, i have validated i am not a graphic qualified gave up. Just because i can’t do that doesn’t mean i have less appreciation for these two heroes.

Nearly every male i know in my generation is a vet, a veteran who served in defense of our country. Many truly stepped into the heart of danger. Many, like i, stayed in for a career.

i believe all of our citizens should serve at least one year in government service, not necessarily the military. My bunch was under the specter of at least two years of service in the army, navy, air force, marines, or coast guard. i think it added a level of understanding of our country that we would not have today, not that such service and subsequent understanding brings agreement. i also think it allowed us to mature and learn more about ourselves and how we needed to go about living our lives well.

It is unfortunate that many of those who were drafted suffered from unthinking and uncaring leaders who subjected those men and women to unnecessary forays into harm’s way. Agent Orange remains a terrible blight on our military-industrial complex and politicians.

Nearly all of us served with honor. There are those who dishonored our country, our service, and themselves, but they are few.

i won’t post another photo of my father in uniform or in the Southwest Pacific. i’m sure i’ll find reason to post those of him during his service on other occasions.

i will post a couple of photos of two veterans who are heroes. i won’t elaborate. They would not appreciate such praise from me. i will only say when i think of vets, i think of the two of them: heroes. There are other vets who are heroes i know. But these two heroes have been special in my life, now for a long time.

And thank all of you veterans. It is a good day for that.

In verifying some facts in my last post about Dudley Field, i pulled out my mother’s or father’s 1933 LHS annual, The Souvenir. i have both. i think my father’s is less tattered as my mother thumbed through hers a lot. In my search today to find what i needed, i ran across some things Lebanon folks might find interesting., 

i was first struck with my father being the president of the “Hi-Y” club. Either i did not know this or had forgotten. The other folks in this one brings back memories:

In closing the annual, i ended up in the advertising section and kept nodding in recognition of some really good Lebanon folks back when:

Andrew Maraniss has posted here on the coming 100-year celebration of Vanderbilt’s Dudley Field.

My father, Jimmy Jewell, related his minor role in the history of Dudley Field in one of the more historic games played there in 1932. There is a report of that game on Vanderbilt’s athletic website, listed at the bottom of this post.

My father’s account differs a bit from the article on the web. i’mm pretty sure my father was more accurate.

Jimmy Jewell was a sophomore at Lebanon High School. He was 19 years old, having lost three years of school when he caught yellow fever at seven. He had gone out for football his freshman year but at 5-9 and 130 pounds his slim chances dimmed to out when he fumbled in the backfield on his first run in the first scrimmage. His best friend, H.M. Byars, a senior was an end on the Blue Devil squad. Both young men were big football fans and rooted for Vanderbilt. They decided to go to that game even though they didn’t have tickets.

They and some 5,000 to 10,000 other folks, depending on the source, wanted to see the game. It was a different era. Vanderbilt was still a football force with a 6-0 record going into the game. The Orange were undefeated at 7-0 and their star running back was Beattie Feathers, a consensus All-American that year.

According to my father, they had set up some temporary fencing to keep the ticketless crowd out of the field, The crowd, however, surged forward and knocked the fencing down. Jimmy and H.M. found seats on the east side, almost on the in-bound line. The web-site account reports the fans were moved back. My father said he and HM were sitting on the sideline in the fourth quarter. i’m buying my dad’s version.

It was in the fourth quarter with no score when Feathers bolted free from scrimmage and headed for home down the sideline, apparently scoring the go-ahead touchdown for the Vols. The officials called it back because they said Feathers had stepped out of bounds. Feathers and the Vols protested the call.

H.M. turned to my father and said, “I know he stepped out of bounds. He stepped on my leg!” The officials and Feathers went to the spot near the two fans. The refs pointed down to the ground and there was Feather’s cleated footprint.

My father didn’t elaborate on the game ending when the crowd kept encroaching on the field.  The officials recognizing they had lost control and declared the game to be over. The final was a scoreless tie.

Thanks, Andrew, for bringing  back one of the many stories my father told me.

https://vucommodores.com/fans-end-1932-game-with-vols/