i gotta say this possibly is my all time favorite from Sean of the South. i post the link to his posts here on my website when one really strikes me as meaningful. i do this because i want my friends who are not subscribers to his posts have the opportunity to read some really good stuff.

This one is not only spot on. It’s something i try to do: remember what wonderful and wise people have said to me in the past, i would like to pass on to others. i am not as good with that kind of recall as Sean.

But these are priceless.

https://seandietrich.com/words-i-remember/

Thanks, Sean. And thanks, Judy Lewis Gray for introducing Sean to me several years ago.

My daughter Blythe turned 49 today. Actually, she was born at 9:35 eastern time in upstate New York. She remains a beautiful, intelligent, and caring woman. She is also successful and the best mother to grandson Sam there good ever be.

i posted the article below three years ago. i started writing it again yesterday. It sounded familiar. It should have. My new version began “Forty-nine years ago, i was about to have a long day.” The older version began:

It was forty-six years ago today.

Around 2:00 in the afternoon, i had returned from putting out the sports section of The Watertown Daily Times in upstate New York, and i mean UPSTATE New York, still one of my favorite places in the world over three-quarters of a century.

i had a sandwich for lunch and laid down for my usual afternoon nap. After all, i had gotten up around 4:00 and walked to work, getting to my desk before 5:30. It was my routine, i thought the nap was well deserved since on most previous evenings i had been at a sports event, mostly the Watertown Royals semi-pro baseball game.

My wife nudged me gently to wake me up.

“Jim, I broke water,” she announced in an offhand manner, “It’s time to go to the hospital.”

After her water broke, Kathie called the hospital to let them know she was on her way, arranged the apartment for me in her absence and for her return with our new infant. She packed what she would need at the hospital. She was orderly and calm.

The sports editor was catatonic. He threw on some clothes, grabbed her small suitcase, and ushered her down the stairs of the second floor apartment. He didn’t exactly break the land speed record getting to the hospital, but let’s just say he didn’t tarry in traffic.

He drove the blue 1966 Oldsmobile Cutlass to the emergency dock. She said something to the effect about his being silly and directed him to park in a regular space about a block away. They walked to the check-in counter. She was checked in and put into a room. He got to stay there for roughly three hours. They kicked him out. It wasn’t like it is today. Perhaps it was predictive of what would happen later.

He had supper out with his good friend and high school teacher Earl Weidemann and returned to the hospital. It was around 6:00. They parked him in the expectant father’s waiting room, a rather dark hole, and he waited there, worried about his wife and excited about what was imminent.

Just after 9:30, his wife gave birth to his daughter. She was beautiful, sporting a goodly amount of black hair. He was in heaven but not allowed to stay long. Her mother looked absolutely gorgeous and oh, oh so happy…perhaps because the worse part was over.

In just under two months, he would leave. The Navy looked like a good move for him to support his wife and new child, and he had chosen to give up sports writing and return to the sea. Unfortunately, it would require him to be away for long periods of time, while this new overwhelmingly force in his life would remain with her mother. His choice for them.

But oh boy, was she loved. She and her mother stayed with her mother’s parents, Colonel Lynch and Nannie Bettie in Paris, Texas but spent significant time in Tennessee. Both families adored her. Still do. One of his favorite photos of her was while he was in the Mediterranean. Her uncle, Uncle Snooks, who loved all children, seemed to have a special place for Blythe. Even though they all loved her, it was real close to the most lonely four months of his life.

When he returned, they began the Navy life in Newport, Rhode Island. Then, they moved across country to Long Beach. Then south to San Diego. Then to Texas A&M. It was a glorious time for him because he was with her even though the marriage was floundering, and he was lost at the thought of not being with her.

The family moving stopped there, and he moved on. He left with wonderful memories. He knew her mother loved her more than anything on earth and that was enough. It had to be enough.

So she grew up well. He spent as much time as he could with her, nearly all of his thirty days a year of annually allotted leave time. Her mother was good about letting her travel to places to be with him and with his parents. She spent a lot of summer time in Lebanon, Tennessee, having fun.

It was as good as it could be except for Christmas. After he went to extra effort to be with her and her mother for two Christmases, he realized her mother would be lost without her for Christmas, that he was a third (or fourth or fifth) wheel on Christmas. So he gave it up. Christmas was never as good for him as it had been with her.

But she grew up well, and he did spend time with her. She was happy. And she could make him smile with just a photo of her.

There are many photos of them together. He may post more later just so he can revisit good memories again.

Life moved on. He met a woman who was a wonderful match for him, and she thought so too. A miracle he thought. She loved his daughter.

And then she became Maureen’s daughter.

It was a wonderful thing. Then she had a sister. They are wonderful together. It makes him happier than anything in the world when they show their happiness together. He has been known to have tears well up when he sees them together.

While she was in San Diego, she met this sailor and fell in love. It took a while, but they married and have one of the better marriages around.

Finally, finally, they produced a son: Samuel James Jewell Gander with his two middle names honoring his great grandfather. The old man, by now, Sam’s grandfather is so proud of Sam, his buttons damn near burst when he talks about him. If there is one thing in his life the old man would change, it would be to spend as much time as he could with Sam.

But the world and factors one can’t control often keep us from having what we want. And so it is.

She has a wonderful job now. She has a good husband. She takes care of her mother and her mother takes care of the three of them, especially Sam. It is as it should be, or as close as it can get. For his daughter, he accepts that as enough.

And oh boy, at forty-six (today), she is an incredible woman with an incredible son.

And he loves her still.

Happy Birthday, Blythe.

Note: Unfortunately, her mother Kathie, who loved Blythe and Sam more than life itself, passed away last year after fighting a courageous battle with health for a long, long time. She was a wonderful woman and a wonderful mother and grandmother. We miss her.

Today, just after midday, Morice O. Mumby, Commander, USNR, retired, was interred in the Miramar National Cemetery. It was a military service, impressing those who are not used to our way of doing things. Vanda, his wife, asked me to speak. i was pleased to be so honored and the speech was easy until i gave it. Right now, there are about a gazillion things i would like to say about Spud and about helping Vanda navigate the maze of the Veteran’s Administration requirements of the next of kin while they are bereaving their loss of a loved one. But that can wait.  This is what i said at Spud’s service today:

When my father passed away, the men of his generation unanimously told me he was a “good man.”

This is about the highest compliment a man could give another.

Spud was a good man.

We were neighbors. We lived across the street from each other for thirty years. We, our spouses, and other neighbors, shared our homes for cocktail hours and supper and celebrated major events together. Spud frequently gave me a bottle of his homemade port, which was as good as any port i ever tasted.

Spud and I were both Navy commanders. He was proud of his service. He should have been. He flew helicopters in Vietnam, the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Mediterranean. Other than telling sea stories about others, Spud never bragged about his own achievements. It is fitting he will be interred today right after Independence Day. He helped us keep that independence.

Spud and Vanda were together. He told me she was his “little spitfire.” They hunted together. They worked their garden together. They watched the grunions run together. They dug clams together. They raised quail together. They were beautiful together, a perfect match.

Spud played golf with me until injuries and ailments kept him from playing. He became a part of our Friday Morning Golf legends.

But for me, most of all, i will remember our waving at each other when we retrieved our newspapers, met at the mailbox, or caught each other at chores in our front yards. We would meet each other in the middle of the street. We critiqued all of the world, including our homes and our yards. We would tell tales, sea stories, jokes: all of the things men share with each other.

And it was enough to let me know Spud really was a good man.

When i feel sadness coming on because Spud has left us, i will remember how Spud would want me to react…and i will smile for knowing him.

Rest In Peace, Buddy.

This one moved me. Great story and one i had not read or heard anywhere. Thanks, Sean.

https://seandietrich.com/the-ballad-of-bubs-mcfee/

I have written numerous times celebrating Independence Day, the Fourth of July, today.

I will celebrate in my own way today. However, this year, my celebration will be mixed with sadness and concern.

I will honor the 245th anniversary of declaring this country’s independence with a rather remarkable document created and signed by 156 men. Those signers had flaws just like everybody i know of today. I will not judge them by today’s standards as we seem so eager to do. Yet flaws and all, they created this testament of freedom, regardless of their operational definitions produced by their culture in 1776.

I will go up to my flag at the top of our hill, look down on a city that, like so many others, would not exist, certainly not in the same way, if those men had not created and signed the Declaration of Independence. That flag, our flag, is the symbol for the freedom of us. All of us.

I will be sad. 

There will be those who wish our symbol to be only theirs, not everyone’s in this country. There will be those who believe they have been disenfranchised and had their freedoms curtailed leading to some rather illogical thinking that we should get rid of the system created by that Declaration and the Constitution of the United States.

There will be those who are trying or will try to subvert the beautiful, powerful words of: 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed…

There will be many on just about every side of political stances who will desecrate Our Flag by disfiguring it to make statements to support their position. The flag, Our Flag is unique. There are seven red stripes alternating with six white stripes for the thirteen original states. There are 50 white stars on a field of blue in the upper corner. representing our current states. The Red symbolizes hardiness and valor. The White symbolizes purity and innocence. The Blue represents vigilance, perseverance and justice. That’s it.

There are others who will not honor the flag and the equality and freedom we continue to try to attain for everyone. There will be numerous of us who will actually demonstrate disrespect for the flag by turning away, kneeling, not take off hats, not standing silently, not putting their right hands on their hearts, some even burning it. People corrupted the way we do business, not our Flag. Ironically, our Flag represents the freedom and equality we all should be seeking for ourselves and others.

It is against the flag code to show disrespect of the flag and the country by changing its colors or adding words or symbols. 

Our Flag represents the freedom and equality we all should be seeking for ourselves and others. It is our right to protest peacefully. i spent a goodly portion of my life protecting our right to protest peacefully among other rights. Even if one chooses to show disrespect for the Flag and what it symbolizes, i shall not object. But i will be sad you have exercised your right by also disrespecting Our Flag.

The Declaration of Independence declared our rights to equality, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The Constitution established how our country would go about ensuring those rights. This is not perfect, but it is as close as any government has established to ensure those rights.

The U.S. of America was created by men who were from different sides of the political spectrum. Yet they forged ahead with negotiation and compromise to create the best way to run a country in the history of the world. As Aristotle said, “The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.”

Yet today, it seems everybody believes they have the only right answer, are unwilling to compromise, and more concerned about getting their leaders elected than trying to make all of this work with the intent of the Declaration and the Constitution.

So when i’m at the top of that hill underneath our Flag, i will quietly give thanks that we are in this country with its two defining documents. I will also be sad that we keep messing with the whole trying to make it one part, not the sum. And i also will be a bit fearful one side or the other might take total power, making the part something those men who signed the Declaration of Independence never intended. It is the words of the two documents, not limited by what it meant in 1776. And those men worked it out to have the sum be greater than the parts. Now, folks want it to be one part, their part. Therefore, i am sad.

i won’t say “Happy Fourth of July.” i will say: May God bless our independence and grant us the ability to keep it that way. 

God Bless America.