Happy Memorial Day.

I apologize for being most of 2 months between my last post and this. I have no excuse good enough, except maybe I had little in the way of ideas or doings I thought you good people might care to read.

I hope everyone had a good Memorial Day. It is 8 p.m. Mon evening here. I saw a great many motorcycles, boats and campers on my way to work this evening, which is where I am at now. It was suggested at my home this weekend that a trip to a local mountain swimming hole would be nice. Thankfully, the clock argued against that idea. I hate going to that place on ANY holiday weekend much less the "Official start to summer!"
 According to the inter webs and as is fitting, soldiers graves have been remembered for a long time. Whether forced to the task by lashes across their backs or driven by a sense of duty, honor, love of country and or brother, a man that marches forward into the unknown unsure of his injury or death or that of his compatriots is to be admired with deep heartfelt emotions. I am unsure of the evolution of a person's humanity that is not stirred by the notes of Taps or who doesn't feel a deep tugging while walking hallowed ground be it battlefield or cemetery
 The practice of remembrance seems to have been much accelerated though by the ladies of the South during and after the War of Northern Aggression although there are many instances of organized remembrances from that period of our history, owing mainly to the fact, I'm sure, that  more than 600,000 soldiers died in those four years.
I had wrote (tapped) a bunch of stuff lamenting the loss of this days.......... Honor, I suppose is the word.
But I deleted it.
We have a fight coming in this country, I hope, as opposed to just sliding away into the cavernous, fetid, gullet of slavery. It will be a few committed Patriots vs the oligarchy and its minions, both conscripted and bamboozled. The odds will be much worse than the South faced during The War of NA.
If we are to win, I feel, we must not desire so much to survive as to be remembered on future Decoration days. We must not dash ourselves carelessly away upon nothing, but must willingly give of ourselves at the right time and place so that our offspring know that they possess something of value, the freedom we earned for them and that they may honor us on our Decoration Day.
My blog friend Harry Flashman has often said that he thinks he was born some years too late. I share that feeling. In that, among other things, generations past seem to have a deeper more meaningful connection to their past generations. There was a deeper respect and understanding, a more, Gentlemanly attitude.
In closing to my ramblings I post some things I thought of this weekend.

The ubiquitous In Flanders Fields. A poem written by a Canadian Dr in WW1, John McRae.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

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From the same period, WW1, there is the Scottish song Sgt MacKenzie, with much the same feeling as Flander Fields.

 Wikepedia for Sgt MacKenzie

And a contemporary song, Arlington. I've been to Arlington twice. It is a very moving and humbling experience.

Once again, I hope you had a fantastic Memorial Day!