Tree Hunting

A few days ago I posted a gloating little entry on my plans to spend yesterday feasting on dungeness crab. Alas, this plan did not materialized. The Feared Redhead had to spend the morning taking a glucose test, a test used to screen for gestatuonal diabetes. We'll have the results today. This test is neither pleasant nor brief, and by the time it was done, we did not have tome to both go out for crab and attend to the second most important business of the day (after making sure that my beloved is healthy): we went and got the Christmas tree.

Let's get one thing out in the open: I love Christmas. I especially love the event that we Christians observe on this Holy Day (Yes, I know, commemorating His Birth at this time of year is suspect among many. But we have no record of what time of year it actually was, so this is as good a time as any), but I also love all of the trappings -- the decorations, the wish for certain weather phenomena, the gift giving (even more than the receiving), the carols, the culinary traditions. But of all the trappings, my favorite is the tree. I love getting the tree, dectorating the tree, everything about the tree.

I suppose this has to do with the way my family would get the tree when I was a kid. Living in the Pacific Northwest (Idaho and Oregon specifically) almost my entire life, we never bought a Christmas tree. We always hunted one and cut it ourselves. My parents would load me and my sister into the car with them, and we'd head off to into the woods (further away when we lived in Southern Idaho, not so much in Oregon). Once we arrived, it was my mothers job to pick the tree, and my fathers to cut it down, and mine to help him carry it out. My mother preferred Noble Firs to all other species, and when that was an option, it was what we'd cut. My mother usually spotted an ideal tree pretty quickly, but would make my father look at other trees for a good 15-30 minutes before finally returning to that first tree. It was usually the top 8 feet of a 15-20 foot tree that she'd want. So up my father would climb, and cut the top, and try to ease its descent, then we'd take it home and decorate it.

In addition, there was one other tradition associated with our tree. Each year, my parents would purchase one special ornament each for me and my sister. when we married, we each in turn received all of our ornaments from over the years as a starter set for our own trees.

From the first year we were married, the Feared Redhead and I agreed that getting the tree would be a joint activity. While still in San Diego, this was simply a matter of driving to the lot together. But once we moved back to Oregon, we agreed that tree hunting would be a family tradition. Our first year here, we were still living in the 24-foot motor home(Which we referred to as "Living in a VAN down by the RIVER!) at Christmas. But our second year, we were in an apartment, and so decided to go on a hunt. We teamed up with a coworker of mine who owned an SUV, bought the requisite tree permit (not a necessity back when I was a lad), and headed up highway 58 (which follows the course of the Willamette and then crosses the Cascades) until we found a promising BLM road, and began our quest.

Now here's the interesting thing about evergreens, particularly firs. The closer together they are, the less sunlight they get, and the less full and "Christmas tree-like" they are. Furthermore, the Noble Fir tends to grow at altitudes higher than 5,000 (unless culitvated lower). So despite our best efforts, the best tree we could find was a young Doug Fir, and despite my enthusiasm for it, it was, as the Feared Redhead puts it, "A Charlie Brown Tree". But my beloved wife humored me, not wanting to dampen my glee at conquering the mighty specimin, and held her peace as I strapped it, and a twin for my coworker, to the roof of her SUV. And down the mountain we came, back onto the main highway. The highway on which I learned just how important it is to properly tie down your tree, and also learned that I had failed to do so. Both trees came off the roof, hit the road, and were snapped in two. At this point, I began to suspect the feelings of my coworker and TFR towards the trees, as they were, shall we say, less than utterly devastated by the loss of the trees. It was decided that we would forgo the hunting in the woods, "just for this year", and buy a tree. So we met the next weekend to go hunting again, this time in a less adventurous environment. Little did we know our adventures were only half over.

My coworker had been told of a tree farm (not surprising, considering that Oregon is the nation's biggest exporter of trees to other states) far in the country, up in the foothills of the Cascades. We decided to make a day of an outing to this farm. We headed east out of Springfield, up highway 126, the McKenzie Highway, up the course of the McKenzie River, toward the hills. Along the way, we passed several other tree farms, including the quaint Holly Farms and another place with a vaguely French-sounding nami that I can't recall, but we passed them by, intent upon finding The Farm. We had been told it was somewhere 15-20 miles upstream in the area of the Leaburg Dam, or maybe Goodpasture Covered Bridge, so we took detours at both those places, with no luck finding The Farm. We drove 2 miles back downstream to Leaburg itself, and asked for directions in a woodcarving shop, where we were directed back upstream, perhaps the 15 miles or so to McKenzie Bridge. We stopped at a restaurant at Finn Rock, just this side of McKenzie Bridge, where a helpful waiter finally had accurate directions. He directed us to drive back down to Leaburg Dam, and then instead of going straight, to turn right at the fish hatchery, drive through it's parking area, to a road at the back of the hatchery. This road was gated, but the gate was open, so we passed on through. This took us onto a rutted dirt road, muddy from the Oregon winter, which climber steeply into the hills. We followed it for several miles, hemmed in by the woods, until we came into an open clearing, full of newly planted young trees. Surely, this is the farm. There was a side road with a building down it, so we turned and followed. As we approached the building, we began to question its status. It was, to be generous, a residence -- straight out of the new movie "Twister Vs. Deliverance". A single wide mobile home sat there, it's lean-to garage covering several vehicles in various states of (dis)repair) A Jolly Rogers flack was being used as drapery. Outside, several old couches and carseats surrounded a 55-gallon drum that had been converted into a fire pit, and there was evidence on all of the objects there that indicated A)The resident(s) practice the use of their firearms and B) That practice was not helping much. Suffice it to say, we were amazed at how fast a Kia Sportage can go in reverse.

we got back to the first dirt road and continued on our way. Several miles later, we came out of the woods once again, into the driveway of a very well-maintained and well-run farm. In one direction were numerous outbuildings, including what appeared to be apartments for the laborers. in the other was the main house. We pulled up to it, and I was elected (selected/forced -- you pick) to make inquiries. the front porch door opened, and out stepped a dog the size of a school bus, acting very protective of the woman who followed him. She calmed Cujo, and then addressed my quesations. Yes, this was the Christmas tree farm we sought. No, they don't sell to the public, they're a wholesale operation, but there is a place not far from here that does sell their trees. You can buy one there. The name of this business?

Holly Farms.

The irony was not lost on any of us.

So this year (last year the holidays were spent with family in Michigan), we drove up to Holly Farms. One of these days we'll find a place high enough up to cut our own wild farms, but for now, they're our substitute tradition. On the way up, while stopping for gas, I learned that the snow level was down to 2500 feet. So we drove to McKenzie Bridge, looked at the snow, came back down, and arrived at Holly Farms just in time to pick the right tree just before it got too dark. It's beautiful 7 1/2 foot Noble Fir, and our duplex now smells just like the Oregon woods when it rains. The smell of fir pitch is, to me, the smell I most closely associate with the color green, and also with Christmas.


It's beginning to look, smell, and feel a lot like Christmas.

Final Full Measure of Devotion, Final Full Measure of Honor.

The following email was forwarded to me by my mother. I'm not sure who wrote it originally, but it's worth reading:

Subject: Fw: Sad Duty
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 2004 08:56:34 -0800





Gentlemen,

I just wanted to share with all of you my most recent Air Force Reserve trip. As most of you know, I have decided to go back into the Air Force Reserves as a part time reservist and after 6 months of training, I have recently been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and have been fully mission qualified as an Aircraft Commander of a KC-135R strato tanker aircraft.

On Friday of last week, my crew and I were tasked with a mission to provide
air refueling support in order to tanker 6 F-16's over to Incirlik Air Base in Turkey. We were then to tanker back to the states, 6 more F-16's that were due maintenance. It started out as a fairly standard mission - one that I have done many times as an active duty Captain in my former jet - the KC10a extender.

We dragged the F-16's to Moron Air Base in Spain where we spent the night and then finished the first part of our mission the next day by successfully delivering them to Incirlik. When I got on the ground in Turkey, I received a message to call the Tanker Airlift Control Center that my mission would change. Instead of tankering the F-16's that were due maintenance, I was cut new orders to fly to Kuwait City and pick up 22 "HR's" and return them to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.

It had been a while since I had heard of the term "HR" used, and as I pondered what the acronym could possibly stand for, when it dawned on me that it stood for human remains. There were 22 fallen comrades who had just been killed in the most recent attacks in Fallujah and Baghdad, Iraq over the last week.

I immediately alerted the crew of the mission change and although they were exhausted due to an ocean crossing, the time change and minimum ground time in Spain for crew rest, we all agreed that it was more important to get these men back to their families as soon as possible.

We were scheduled to crew rest in Incirlik, Turkey for the evening and start the mission the next day. Instead, we decided to extend/continue our day and fly to Kuwait in order to pick up our precious cargo. While on the flight over to Kuwait, I knew that there were protocol procedures for accepting and caring for human remains, however, in my 13 years of active duty service, I never once had to refer to this regulation. As I read the regulation on the flight over, I felt prepared and ready to do the mission. My game plan was to pick up the HR's and turn around to fly to Mildenhal Air Base in England, spend the night, and then fly back the next day. This was the quickest way to get them home, considering the maximum crew duty
day that I could subject my crew to legally and physically. I really pushed them to the limits but no one complained at all.

I thought that I was prepared for the acceptance of these men until we landed at Kuwait International. I taxied the jet over to a staging area where the honor guard was waiting to load our soldiers. I stopped the jet and the entire crew was required to stay on board. We opened the cargo door, and according to procedure, I had the crew line up in the back of the aircraft in formation and stand at attention. As the cargo loader brought up the first pallet of caskets, I ordered the crew to "Present Arms". Normally, we would snap a salute at this command, however, when you are dealing with a fallen soldier, the salute is a slow 3 second pace to position. As I stood there and finally saw the first four of twenty-two caskets draped with the American Flags, the reality had hit me. As the Marine Corps honor guard delivered the first pallet on board, I then ordered the crew to "Order Arms" - where they rendered an equally slow 3 second return to the attention position. I then commanded the crew to assume an at ease position and directed them to properly place the pallet. The protocol requires that the caskets are to be loaded so when it comes time to exit the aircraft - they will go head first. We did this same procedure for each and every pallet until we could not fit any more.

I felt a deep pit in my stomach when there were more caskets to be brought home and that they would have to wait for the next jet to come through. I tried to do everything in my power to bring more home but they I had no more space on board. When we were finally loaded, with our precious cargo and fueled for the trip back to England, a Marine Corps Colonel from first battalion came on board our jet in order to talk to us. I gathered the crew to listen to him and his words of wisdom.

He introduced himself and said that it is the motto of the Marines to leave no man behind and it makes their job easier knowing that there were men like us to help them complete this task. He was very grateful for our help and the strings that we were pulling in order to get this mission done in the most expeditious manner possible. He then said -" Major Zarnik - these are MY MARINES and I am giving them to you. Please take great care of them as I know you will". I responded with telling him that they are my highest priority and that although this was one of the saddest days of my life, we are all up for the challenge and will go above and beyond to take care of your Marines - "Semper Fi Sir" A smile came on his face and he responded with a loud and thunderous, "Ooo Rah". He then asked me to please pass along to the families that these men were extremely brave and had made the ultimate sacrifice for their country and that we appreciate and empathize with what they are going through at this time of their grievance. With that, he departed the jet and we were on our way to England.

I had a lot of time to think about the men that I had the privilege to carry. I had a chance to read the manifest on each and every one of them. I read about their religious preferences, their marital status, the injuries that were their cause of death. All of them were under age 27 with most in the 18-24 range. Most of them had wives and children. They had all been killed by an " IED" which I can only deduce as an incendiary explosive devices like rocket propelled grenades. Mostly fatal head injuries and injuries to the chest area. I could not even imagine the bravery that they must have displayed and the agony suffered in this God Forsaken War. My respect and admiration for these men and what they are doing to help
others in a foreign land is beyond calculation. I know that they are all
with God now and in a better place.

The stop in Mildenhal was uneventful and then we pressed on to Dover where we would meet the receiving Marine Corps honor guard. When we arrived, we applied the same procedures in reverse. The head of each casket was to come out first. This was a sign of respect rather than defeat. As the honor guard carried each and every American flag covered casket off of the jet, they delivered them to awaiting families with military hearses. I was extremely impressed with how diligent the Honor Guard had performed the seemingly endless task of delivering each of the caskets to the families without fail and with precision. There was not a dry eye on our crew or in the crowd. The Chaplain then said a prayer followed by a speech from
Lt. Col. Klaus of the second Battalion. In his speech, he also reiterated similar condolences to the families as the Colonel from First Battalion back in Kuwait.

I then went out to speak with the families as I felt it was my duty to help console them in this difficult time. Although I would probably be one of the last military contacts that they would have for a while - the military tends to take care of it's own. I wanted to make sure that they did not feel abandoned and more than that appreciated for their ultimate sacrifice. It was the most difficult thing that I have ever done in my life. I listened to the stories of each and every one that I had come in contact with and they all displayed a sense of pride during an obviously difficult time. The Marine Corps had obviously prepared their families well for this potential outcome.

So, why do I write this story to you all? I just wanted to put a little personal attention to the numbers that you hear about and see in the media. It is almost like we are desensitized by all of the "numbers" of our fallen comrades coming out of Iraq. I heard one commentator say that "it is just a number". Are you kidding me? These are our American Soldiers not numbers! It is truly a sad situation that I hope will end soon. Please hug and embrace your loved ones a little closer and know that there are men out there that are defending you and trying to make this a better world. Please pray for their families and when you hear the latest statistic's and numbers of our soldiers killed in combat, please remember this story. It is the only way that I know to more personalize these figures and have them truly mean something to us all.

Thanks for all of your support for me and my family as I take on this new role in completing my Air Force Career and supporting our country. I greatly appreciate all of your comments, gestures and prayers.

May God Bless America, us all, and especially the United States Marine Corps.

Semper Fi

It Hurts My Head

The level of ridiculousness to which some people will go to be PC (especially here in Oregon).

Up in Portland, in Pioneer Courthouse Square, the heart of the city, they have a tree lit for the season.

It's not called a Christmas Tree, of course, because that might make those who are not Christians feel excluded. That much I'm used to. What's amazing is that it's not even being called the Hannukah Tree or the Kwanzaa Tree or the Solstice Tree or the Festivus Tree or even, for that matter, the Holiday Tree. Oh, no. None of those. So what are they calling it?

"The Tree at Pioneer Courthouse Square".

Just... The Tree.

So if it's not there for the Holidays, why is there a tree?

Oh, it's there for the Holidays, alright. The Square's website even proclaims, "Each year, downtown's holiday festivities begin when Portland heralds the arrival of the City's most spectacular 75ft Tree."

So it's a tree for the Holidays.

But it's not a Holiday Tree.

If this blog becomes inactive, it's because my head has exploded.

Note to Self:

"I Support Our Troops."

Oh, really? Do you, Brian?

Put Up or Shut Up.

The rest of you may do as you like with this information.

Thanks for the Memory to Dean Esmay via Blackfive.

Quote of the Week

“Pacifism is a shifty doctrine under which a man accepts the benefits of the social group without being willing to pay--and claims a halo for his dishonesty.”
-Robert A. Heinlein

Thank God for More than Friday

And Thank All of You for Your Prayers and Support.

Aunt Donna Watch Update:

This is the lates news from my Aunt Glenda:

Wade just called to tell me that Donna is doing much better. She is not taking any more morphine and is not complaining of pain. She is no longer throwing up and is very alert. She does not have a twitch now. He does not notice any hearing loss. She is going back to sleep now and he is going home to get Emily to bring her back for a visit.

Thank you doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm glad I am on break, because I could not take a customer call with the tears welling up in my eyes and the catch in my throat. I'm so relieved that my dear aunt is doing well, and I'm overwhelmed by the amount of gratitude that I have for all of you for how you stood in the gap for us. I have friends I've never met, but will never forget what they've done for me and mine.

"I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always offering prayer with joy in my every prayer for you all..."

Philippians 1:3 (NASB)

I Love Living In Oregon Reason #5

Dungeness Crab



December First is the opening day of dungeness crabbing season. I'm taking Monday off, since Wednesday is the Feared Redheads mumble mubleth birthday, and we're going to make sure we're at the fish mongers when the days first crabs come out of the pots so that we can have them as hot and fresh as possible.

The smile I'll have should be visible from space.

How's Your Glass House, Eh What, Old Chap?

Remember this headline in a British Newspaper?



So how many of those 59 Million + "Dumb" Americans would you suppose know what Auschwitz was?

I'm willing to wager it was more than 55%.

Thanks for the Memory to Maximum Leader at Naked Villainy.

Surgery Prayer Watch Update

For all those who have been supporting my family:

I just got an E-mail from my aunt Glenda, Donna's older and My mom's younger sister:

Hello all,

I just got a call from Wade[Donna's husband - ed.]. Donna is out of surgery and is doing well except for the following two issues:

The nerve laying against the blood vessel that causes the twitch was bigger than they expected so they were able to succeed 95%. Wade and I are not sure what that means. Is she going to have a twitch that is 5/100 as bad as before? That would be a terrible disappointment so please pray for 100%

Also, one of the possible side affects could be a loss of hearing on that side because of the close proximity of the hearing nerve or whatever. Apparently she was responding auditorily just fine until they finished at which time Wade said "it went South" and they will not know until she awakens whether or not there is hearing loss on he left side. Another opportunity for prayer.

The danger now is brain swelling.

Thanks you for your prayers
love,
glenda

I second that emotion. -- Brian B.

I'd Like to Buy a Clue, Pat

Thanks for the Memory to Vic at Darth Apathy.

A Hush Over Hollywood

by Pat Sajak
Posted Nov 30, 2004

Picture this:

Somewhere in the world, a filmmaker creates a short documentary that chronicles what he perceives as the excesses of anti-abortion activists. An anti-abortion zealot reacts to the film by killing the filmmaker in broad daylight and stabbing anti-abortion tracts onto his body. How does the Hollywood community react to this atrocity? Would there be angry protests? Candlelight vigils? Outraged letters and columns and articles? Awards named in honor of their fallen comrade? Demands for justice? Calls for protection of artistic freedom? It’s a pretty safe bet that there would be all of the above and much more. And all of the anger would be absolutely justified.

So I’m trying to understand the nearly universal lack of outrage coming from Hollywood over the brutal murder of Dutch director, Theo van Gogh, who was shot on the morning of November 2, while bicycling through the streets of Amsterdam. The killer then stabbed his chest with one knife and slit his throat with another.

The presumed murderer, a Dutch-born dual Moroccan-Dutch citizen, attached a 5-page note to van Gogh's body with a knife. In it, he threatened jihad against the West in general, and specifically against five prominent Dutch political figures. Van Gogh’s crime? He created a short film highly critical of the treatment of women in Islamic societies. So, again I ask, where is the outrage from Hollywood’s creative community? I mean, talk about a violation of the right of free speech!

Perhaps they are afraid that their protests would put them in danger. That, at least, is a defensible position. If I were Michael Moore, I would much rather rail against George W. Bush, who is much less likely to have me killed, than van Gogh’s murderer and the threat to creative freedom he brings. Besides, a man of Moore’s size would provide a great deal of “bulletin board” space.

Maybe they think it would be intolerant of them to criticize the murder, because it would put them on the side of someone who criticized a segment of the Arab world. And, after all, we are often reminded that we need to be more tolerant of others, especially if they’re not Christians or Jews.

There’s another possibility; one that seems crazy on the surface, but does provide an explanation for the silence, and is also in keeping with the political climate in Hollywood. Is it just possible that there are those who are reluctant to criticize an act of terror because that might somehow align them with President Bush, who stubbornly clings to the notion that these are evil people who need to be defeated? Could the level of hatred for this President be so great that some people are against anything he is for, and for anything he is against?

As nutty as it sounds, how else can you explain such a muted reaction to an act that so directly impacts creative people everywhere? Can you conceive of a filmmaker being assassinated because of any other subject matter without seeing a resulting explosion of reaction from his fellow artists in America and around the world?

As I said, it’s a nutty-sounding explanation, but we live in nutty times.

Wow. Remember this post? Pat Sajak, of all people, GETS IT.

Recipe of the Week

On Highway 126 between Eugene and Florence, Oregon, just west of the tunnel at the summit of the Coast Range, lies a small restaurant that has become something of an institution here in Western Oregon. The Gingerbread Village has been there since 1966, before I was born, and makes some of the yummiest gingerbread you’ll ever have, both traditional cake-like gingerbread as well as gingerbread pancakes. My parents used to love to go there as a young couple, and now so do the Feared Redhead and I. Whenever we go to the coast, we stop on the way.

I created this recipe some time last year, after our last visit to the coast. The Village sells it’s gingerbread recipe dry ingredients as a mix, and we had picked some up. I was making gingerbread pancakes, and wanted something a little more special than straightforward maple syrup, so this is what I concocted. I didn’t have a name for it, but based on the flavors, the Feared Redhead says I should call it Harvest Syrup, so, there you go.

Brian’s Harvest Syrup

1/4 Cup Water
1/4 Cup Dark Rum
1/4 Cup Maple Syrup
2 Tbsp. Honey
2 Tbsp. Brown Sugar
1/4 Tsp. Powdered Ginger
1/4 Tsp. Allspice
1/4 Tsp. Cinnamon
1 Cinnamon Stick
Juice & Zest from 1 Lime

Combine all ingredients in a saucepan over medium heat. Bring to a low boil, stirring frequently. Reduce heat, simmer until the syrup is reduced to the desired consistency (This is a personal preference. I like mine thicker than maple syrup but thinner than honey). Serve over pancakes, waffles, crepes, or best of all, gingerbread.

A Day for Blog Plugs

First it was King of Fools. Now it's a nominally old blog that's new again. And it's one near and dear to my heart.

My friend, former co-worker, and fellow blogger Ricky V started blogging not long afdter me (which wasn't long ago, really) over at Vices and Virtues. Well, the old blog's still there, but now he's blogging at his own domain. Go check out his new place, Ya Think So? I like the new layout, and he hasn't missed a beat in posting good reads.

The Meek and the Mighty

She’s the meek and the mighty, the flame of valour, burning bright in the night.

- The Meek and the Mighty, a song By Farrell and Farrell about the Persecuted Church

Earlier today, I blogged on an excellent entry by the King of Fools on Christianity and politics in America. In my comments, I made the remark, “A suffering Church is a devout Church” (Actually, on further reflection, I prefer the word “pious” to “devout” in this instance).

Well, my friend Vic over at Darth Apathy saw it and remarked on it.

I’m not exactly sure what to make of Vic’s comment. It could be that he’s saying that the piety of Christians fosters a sense of martyrdom. But that implies a level of piety and devotion in the modern Church that, frankly, is far more flattering to the Church (myself intended) than I suspect Vic would ever intend, and is in any case undeserved. The other option is that he meant to imply that we intentionally play the persecution card in order to appear more pious than we truly are. There is probably some truth to this, and for that I am truly saddened. We as Christians do not, for the most part, live as we should, nor as we claim to, and for that we will have much to answer.

But in making this comment, it seems to me (and Vic is most welcome to correct me if I’m wrong) that Darth Apathy is downplaying persecution of Christians, implying that it does not occur to the extent he thinks we claim it does. And on that account, I must take a stand and disagree.

No, I’m not talking about the Church in America. Yes, we have seen our status decline in recent decades. Yes, we are reviled by many, particularly, as King of Fools points out, by those on the left, by the intelligentsia, by academia, by the media, and by the Hollywoodia. Yes, there has been a well-documented attempt by many to remove as much reference to religion and to God, especially Christianity and the Christian God, from the public sphere, particularly from schools and government property. But is this persecution? No. Not yet, at least. Compared to real persecution, we are wimps in the American Church. Wusses.

Nor am I using the persecution of Christians to excuse any behavior by Christians. We will be held accountable for our actions, and actually, held to a higher standard. There is no excuse for misrepresenting Christ. But like any sin, there is pardon.

No, what I’m talking about is real persecution – real martyrdom -- and not just historical martyrdom, but martyrdom that occurs even today. Even from a historical perspective, it is possible that the twentieth century saw the most brutal persecution of Christians of any century since the foundation of the Church. Extreme Socialist movements – Marxism, Maoism, Nazism – all had a special place in their hearts for hating Christians. Even the quote at the top of my blog is a paraphrase of a comment made by a German pastor who died at the hands of the SS (as did many Christians, notable among them Dietrich Bonhoeffer). During the Cold War, an entire ministry, Open Doors, was run devoted to supporting the Church behind the Iron Curtain. To this Day, being a professing Christian in China, North Korea, the Middle East, and many other places isd a dangerous thing.

And guess what? That’s where the Church is growing and flourishing spiritually. That’s where you will fine gold refined in the fire. When your choice is your faith or your life, only those who truly believe remain. Here, in America, where it’s still perfectly legal and socially acceptable to be a Christian, there’s no reason to value your faith. And that is why I still maintain that a suffering Church is a pious Church – in the best sense of the word.

I would encourage anyone who’s interested to check out the website of the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church. They have links to several ministries who support the persecuted Church, including my favorites, Voice of the Martyrs and Open Doors. Or read the following books, some more modern than others, for a perspective:

Foxe's Book of Martyrs

From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya
Jesus Freaks (Volumes 1 and 2)

God's Smuggler

Wow...

Just... Wow.

In the few months I've been blogging, I have on occasion managed to write an entry that toucherd a nerve, and garnered a significant amount of linkage and comment. Yesterday was one of those days. Five comments in less than twenty-four hours, including two from readers/bloggers I've never heard of before, and a Link at Blogfather Rusty's. Nothing compared to the big boys, but for me, a modest success.

So what was this wonderful post of mine that generated such a response? A witty observation on life in general? An insightful commentary on some political issue? A poetic description of the beauty of my home state? Some deep, profound idea I expressed? No.

A Prayer Request.

These are the kind of people you find in the blogosphere. People who will take time to let you know that yes, they do give a damn.

If you ever meet anyone who questions the kind of people who blog or read blogs, send them to me.

And to all of you who have responded, my deepest gratitude. May you never need my prayers, but if you do, they are yours.

Update:

My mother sends her thanks, as does my aunt herself, who writes:

How can I say thank you? Perhaps one thing I can do is share the tremendous peace that I've had since I woke up this morning. And the certain, overwhelming knowledge that the prayers of so many people, many of which I don't even know and most of which I will never be able to thank, have risen to my Savior's ears and have put a smile on his face, as well as mine. Never, since before my divorce, have I felt so completely loved and accepted by those who love Him and, most of all, by him.

Prayer Request

I just received an email from my mother. My favorite aunt is scheduled to undergo surgery (a form of brain surgery, according to my mother) to help her with facial tics from which she has suffered for years. She will be going under the knife this Thursday at 7:30 AM Pacific Standard Time (GMT - 8). Any and all prayers, kind thoughts, or well wishes would be highly treasured.

(Originally Posted 30 Nov. 2004)
UPDATE:
(1 Dec. 2004)

My mother makes a good point, that I should mention Donna's 8-year-old Daughter Emily, pray for her peace and comfort during her mother's surgery.

A Royally Good New Blog

Thanks to the comments section of my prayer request post, I was made aware of a fantastic blog, The King of Fools, which I have gone to the trouble of adding to my blogroll on the right. I highly recommend you check him out.

Of particularly high quality is his post of yesterday, Religious Right = Wrong? It is long, but worth the read. The best is saved for last in it:

I do not see the beliefs and voting habits of conservatives as the death knell of Christianity in American but I do agree that there are significant threats to Christianity in this country. The greatest threat from the outside is the movement to erase all evidence of the Christian tradition from our culture and our history books. Revisionism has transformed the establishment clause to read Separation of church and state. Freedom of religion has been changed to Freedom from religion.
There is also a threat from within: the natural decay of a vital faith into a casual half-hearted relationship with God. This is the natural decay, a spiritual entropy, which afflicts us all and is only kept at bay through deliberate communion with God and outreach to others. There is also the buffet-style Christianity described above, which is a threat from both within and without.

I believe we have to fight all these battles; first the internal, and then the external. And contrary to the rhetoric from the left, the battle lines are against the kingdom of darkness, not the red/blue state borders.

I agree 100% but would like to point out that it's my belief that, historically and ironically, the greater the attack from the outside, the more likely the Church is to face the threat from within. A suffering Church has always been a devout Church.

However They Did It, Keep It Up!

Last night I intended to go to bed early. That was thwarted by the airing of a special "How'd They Do That?" episode of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition which only served to reinforce my view of it as the best weekly show on TV right now. Getting to see behind the scenes, and observe the interaction between the cast and volunteers, was very heartening. The cast members seem genuine, and while their personalities can grate on rare occasions, their compassion far outweighs that.

And the volunteers are amazing. Police, firefighters, and construction workers are the most common volunteers. They interviewed one member of the production crew who started as a volunteer whgen they were in Watts, and is now a paid crewman. He left behind a life of drugs and gang violence. Nothing helps you help yourself like helping others.

But last night the volunteer who touched me most was the young soldier who spent all night helping, and was still there the next morning, less than 24 hours before he was due to deploy to Afghanistan. His last two days of regular life, and he was spending them on a construction site. This is the kind of youth defending us, folks. No honor you pay them can ever be misspent.

Weren't You Ready for Some Football?

Watched the MNF game between the Packers and the Rams last night. I was happy for Bret Favre, but the outcome of the game was bittersweet for me. It helped one team I root for (the Seahawks), and hurt another (the Vikings) -- both of whom have former Ducks on them, and both of whom were sitting in first place in their divisions. The Seahawks are now alone in first, the Vikings now trail the Packers by the tiebreaker. But I do favor the Hawks slightly, so it was ok in the end (not that I had a lot of say about it).

Next Monday Night will be a true test of my emotions. A team I used to revere, the Cowboys (until they plunged a dagger in Landry's heart and then went from being America's Team to Vegas' Team), will be playing in Seattle. Am I really over them? Will I root for the Hawks? I think so, but we'll see.

One last observation about last night: Are there really THAT many hunters and/or highway crew workers in Green Bay? Safety Orange was as prevalent in the crowd as was the home team's green and gold. Maybe a Wisconsinite out there can explain.

Leftists, Pay Attention:

You just might learn something.

Thanks for the Memory to the Demosophist, posting at The Jawa Report.

Bookends

Last Monday I blogged on the aniversary of the death of my favorite author, C.S. Lewis.

Well, today is the anniversary of his birth. But I shall not be blogging on that. No, instead, I shall draw your attention to this excellent entry by Robert at The Llama Butchers. I really couldn't have said it better.

The bit that resonates with my own sentiments most is this:

In fact, they are almost painful to read because while they fill me with inspiration, they also remind me that I could never possibly achieve Lewis' level of enlightenment and, well, grace.

If you've read any of Lewis' essays or books on Christian apologetics or the Christain life, you'll understand how appropriate it is that Robert chose the word grace.

Kelsey Scrooges Up

I tried to watch A Christmas Carol: The Musical last night, since I am a huge fan of the story. I really tried. But I just couldn't.

I don't know if it was the insipid lyrics to the songs (Marley's ghost an Fezziwig in particular), the pole-dance that the Ghost of Christmas past did on Scrooge's canopy bed, or the High School Drama hamminess of the acting, but overall it just didn't do it for me. Maybe if I had seen it at theater distance instead of the close range that TV provides, it would have been better.

No, if I'm going to watch that classic story retold, I'll stick with my two favories, A Muppet Christmas Carol or Scrooged.

We're All His Home Team

Thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty at The Jawa Report.

Sports Illustrated is currently accepting votes from fans for their Sportsman of the Year award. Among those nominated is Pat Tillman, former Arizona Cardinal who left the NFL to serve his country, then gave th last full measure of devotion in Afghanistan.

Pat is currently third in the running. Let's see if we can do something about that.

This man's accomplishments reach far beyond the sporting arena. And as much admiration as I have for some of the other nominees, I did not hesitate to vote for pat. Please do the same. We're all winners because of men like Pat.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I didn't intend to blog today, but a few things came up that I thought merited comment. For the most part, I heartily encourage all my readers to spend this day enjoying the company of friends and family, fellowshipping with those of akindred spirit, and generally observing an occasion to express gratitude to The Creator for all the blessing with which we have been bestowed. Abd I'm not being flippant. Think about it, folks. Consider just how miserable or existance COULD be, and weigh that against what it actually is. As bad as things may be NOW, I can imagine far worse. Isn't the distinction between the observablr and the imaginable sufficient cause for gratitude? If not, consider all the tangibly positive things you've been granted. and that should do the trick.

A few things happened today that merit blogging, so I shall post all of them below this preface, which will receive a bump to the top.

A Thanksgiving Connection to the Founders

Take a moment some time to read the history of the founding of this country, from the earliest colonists to the Revolution. Regardless of where the settlement was, and spanning religious and regional divides, you'll find all of the colonies had one thing in common:

Alcohol.

Fermentation was an early sand effective means of preservation. Food that could easily spoil was allowed to "spoil" in very specific ways in order to allow it to last loner than normal. And alcohol was a major factor in the lives of even the most devout of colonists. Hard cider, beer, whiskey, wine, it was all consumed in impressive colonies.

So why do I blog on it?

Because I had a bit myself today, thanks.

Normally, I prefer to practice moderation. Three beers in one night is the most I usually imbibe. But today was a bit different. You see, my brother and sister-in-law served two bottles of wine with dinner. Only one person chose red. Guess who? So I ended up consuming a good portion of the bottle all by myself. Congratulations.

So if anything I say tonight is a bit... out of character.. please bear in mind the circumstances.

Oh, and by the way... while I don't advocate copying my level of tipsiness, a good glass of wine with this holiday' dinner is indeed one more thing for which to give thanks.

Mission Accomplished

I was watching the news tonight: not something I do on a regular basis anymore (The internt provides me all of the info I want, from a variety of viewpoints). It was announced that both China and Canada have announced their support of the upcoming elections in Iraq. In fact, the Canadians have said they'll do "whatever it takes" to support the elections.

How about kissing our red, white, and blue butts for naysaying us?

In all seriousness, while I have been made aware of and appreciate Canadian objections to the war, this really is sweet vindication for the US, and further evidence that the efforts in Fallujah are going well.

This is one of the reasons I voted for Bush.

Further reporting on the news covered the fact that the Sunni minority in Iraq are demanding a delay to the elections. Of course, the "expert" interviewed by the station agreed.

Let's review. The Sunni minority is the group of people who contributed the Baath party to Iraqi politics, and they're the ones who held political power despite being a MINORITY. The majority of the insurgents in Iraq are.... you guessed it, Sunni. Of COURSE they want a delay to the elections. The longer the delay, the stronger the insurgency. I'm of the firm belief that we should let the Iraqis vote and choose a government for themselves as quickly as possible.

2004 Presidential Thanksgiving Day Proclamation

(it speaks for itself)

All across America, we gather this week with the people we love, to give thanks to God for the blessings in our lives. We are grateful for our freedom, grateful for our families and friends, and grateful for the many gifts of America.

On Thanksgiving Day, we acknowledge that all of these things, and life itself, come from the Almighty God. Almost four centuries ago, the Pilgrims celebrated a harvest feast to thank God after suffering through a brutal winter.

President George Washington proclaimed the first National Day of Thanksgiving in 1789, and President Lincoln revived the tradition during the Civil War, asking Americans to give thanks with "one heart and one voice."

Since then, in times of war and in times of peace, Americans have gathered with family and friends and given thanks to God for our blessings. Thanksgiving is also a time to share our blessings with those who are less fortunate.

Americans this week will gather food and clothing for neighbors in need. Many young people will give part of their holiday to volunteer at homeless shelters and food pantries.

On Thanksgiving, we remember that the true strength of America lies in the hearts and souls of the American people. By seeking out those who are hurting and by lending a hand, Americans touch the lives of their fellow citizens and help make our nation and the world a better place.

This Thanksgiving, we express our gratitude to our dedicated firefighters and police officers who help keep our homeland safe. We are grateful to the homeland security and intelligence personnel who spend long hours on faithful watch.

And we give thanks for the Americans in our armed forces who are serving around the world to secure our country and advance the cause of freedom. These brave men and women make our entire nation proud, and we thank them and their families for their sacrifice. On this Thanksgiving Day, we thank God for His blessings and ask Him to continue to guide and watch over our nation.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, GEORGE W. BUSH, president of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim Thursday, Nov. 25, 2004, as a National Day of Thanksgiving. I encourage all Americans to gather together in their homes and places of worship to reinforce the ties of family and community and to express gratitude for the many blessings we enjoy.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-third day of November, in the year of our Lord two thousand four, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and twenty-ninth.

GEORGE W. BUSH






(Thanks for the Memory to Ricky V at Vices and Virtues)

More for Which to Give Thanks

Rossi Wins Washington Gubernatorial Race.

There's still hope for the Northwest.

Thjanks for the Memory to Ricky V. at Vices and Virtues.

My Favorite Thanksgiving Quote

As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.

Thanks are given to all of you for making me feel important. And Thanks be to God for all he's done for me.

Happy Thanksgiving all.

The Answer My Friend, is Blowin' in the (Chill) Wind

Thanks for the Memory to Ace of Spades HQ.

Bridget Johnson over at the Wall Street Journal asks a very good question regarding the slaying of Theo Van Gogh:

Where is the Hollywood Outrage?

A very good question indeed.

His murder was motivated by his film exposing muslim treatment of women. He was killed for his art and for his opinion. So where are the Hollywood celebrities speeaking out against this act of censorship? When are we going to hear Tim Robbins speaking of a chill wind? When will the Dixie Chicks be holding a benefit concert in his memory?

Or is it just possible that all those well-paid celebrities safe in their luxury homes inside gated estates, with their money and their clout and the adulation of fans and peers, have just been playing the censorship card as a political ploy to advance their ends, and wouldn't recognize, nor give a Rattus Norvegensis's furry posterior, about real oppression unless it crept up and bit them in a sensitive spot?

Just asking.

Oh Danny Boy

Oh Danny Boy, the Blogs, the Blogs, they nailed ye,
Your story on false documents relied.
Your ratings shot, your reputation’s failed ye,
‘Tis you, ‘tis you, must go because ye lied.

But you hang on, though no one now believes you,
Old records typed in far too new a font.
You tell us we can still believe their substance:
Oh Danny Boy, your little ploy, ain’t what we want.

But when ye go, ye swore ye’d take Bush with ye,
His image soiled by mud that you had slung.
Though he prevailed, ye’d not concede his victory,
Refused to call the states that he had won.

Now CBS must face the music with ye,
Your Sixty Minutes is going to expire.
Your anchor job is looking kind of shaky,
Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, ye should retire.

(Originally Posted at 1:58 PM, November 9, 2004)
UPDATE:

Thanks for the Memory to Ace of Spades HQ.

'Nuff Said.

Did I Mention That Dolphins Are My Favorite Animals?

Thanks for the Memory to Vic at Darth Apathy for one more reason why:

Dolphins defend swimmers from shark

From correspondents in Whangarei, New Zealand
November 23, 2004

A GROUP of swimmers has told how a pod of dolphins protected them from a great white shark off the north-eastern coast of New Zealand.

Flipper ... the aquatic mammal star of the TV series would have been pround of the dolphins' heroic actions in New Zealand.

Rob Howes and three other lifeguards were on a training swim about 100m offshore at Ocean Beach near Whangarei when the dolphins raced in and herded the group together.

"They started to herd us up, they pushed all four of us together by doing tight circles around us," Mr Howes said.

When he tried to drift away from the group, two of the bigger dolphins herded him back.

He then saw why. A 3m great white shark was cruising toward the group about two metres below the surface.

"I just recoiled. It was only about two metres away from me, the water was crystal clear and it was as clear as the nose on my face," he said, adding he then realised the dolphins had moved in to protect the swimmers.

The group were surrounded by the dolphins for 40 minutes before they were able to reach the shore.

Another lifeguard, Matt Fleet, was patrolling nearby in a rescue boat when he saw the dolphins' unusual behaviour.

When he dived out of the boat to join the group he also saw the great white.

Fleet said he was keen to get out of the water after the sighting, but didn't panic.

"I just kept looking around to see where it was."

The incident happened about three weeks ago, but Mr Howes and Mr Fleet said they had kept the story to themselves until they had a chance to catch up and confirm what they had seen.

Auckland University marine mammal research scientist Doctor Rochelle Constantine said dolphins were normally vigilant in the presence of sharks.

I've always had a soft spot for the Delphinids, especially true Dolphins, but including Orcas. In fact, in general I appreciate the pack hunters, though again, Dolhpins (and wolves) are at the top of my list. This just reinforces that fondness.

Holiday Traditions

Most of us grew up with certain traditions, or at the very least (and not always happiest), recurring Holiday themes. When you get married, you bring some with you, you learn some of your spouses, you compromise between the two lists, and you create a few new ones of your own.

One non-traditional, "recurring holiday theme" that I have become adamantly loathe to is the ever-creeping earlier and earlier commercialization of the holidays. earlier this year I blogged on Christmas decorations being in Ross as a sign of the Earth's impending demise. I just detest it. One of the reasons I moved back to Oregon was because I hated living somewhere with one single, albeit sunny, season. I LIKE seasons, whether sports, hunting, or cliatic. I like holidays associated with seasons, and I like to observe them IN their respective seasons. It helps mark the passing of time, it makes each season, each year, more meaningful. My twelve years in San Diego are a blur, with few seasonal changes to act as chronological landmarks. So I am resistant to the idea of observing Christmas until I have finished onserving Thanksgiving, let alone Labor Day!

But the feared redhead and I have established one holiday tradition that forces me to bend this rule, and in this case, I believe it's worth it. Every yuear, we assemble at least one shoebox, preferrably two, for Operation Christmas Child. This is a project of Samaritan's Purse, a Christian mercy organization run by Franklin Graham (Billy's son). They do awesome work. The way OCC works is that you take a shoebox (we buy one of the plastic ones from Target, that way the box itself is still useful after the project), and fill it with toys, candy, and toiletry items for a child. You specify the gender and age group for which you fallied the box, and drop it off at a participating location (usually chrches). The boxes are packed and shipped all over the world -- Mexico, Afghanistan, Iraq, all over Asia and Africa, Latin America, even reservations here in the US. The children receive them at Christmas on behalf of the donor and God (no bones about it, it's a Christian charity). Anyone who has read my blog knows I'm as enthusiastic about private charity as I am skeptical of government largess.

In order to get them to the kids by Christmas, they have to be assembled and dropped off the weekend before Thanksgiving. So I have to make an exception and think about Christmas before the Friday after Thanksgiving. But again, for the good this does, it's worth it. That lesson was driven home this year, when our finances prevented us from participating until the last minute. We'll have to ship the box to OCC headquarters in North Carolina since we missed the drop cutoff.

But even the extra postage is well spent.

11/22/1963

Today marks the forty-first anniversary of the death of, arguably, one of the men who most influenced Western thought in the Twentieth Century. He also happened to be one of the men I admired most greatly, so it seems fitting that in the first year of my blog, I should mark his passing.

Though most of the world recognizes his name when they hear his initials, his friends called him "Jack".

He was a war veteran, and his service influenced much of his later thought.

His romance with his wife was the stuff movies are made about.

He was a thinker, a man of convictions, whose words stir the soul, stimulate the mind, and challenge the will into acts of conviction.

And so I bid him Rest in Peace. He has shaped the way I think, as he has many others I know. Here's looking forward to meeting you on the other side, Jack.



C.S. Lewis
November 29, 1898 - November 22, 1963

(Bumped to the top for the rest of the day. Read below for other entries.)

The Only Books in Heaven

Continuing on with today's C.S. Lewis theme...

I can't find the exact quote, but Lewis once made a comment to the effect that the only books we'll have in our library in heaven will be those we lent to friends, and that every bit of damage they had done to them would have become beautiful calligraphy or woodcuts.

With that in mind, I present a link to the most recent entry over at Strengthen the Good:

The C.S. Lewis Bilingual Gymnaziumin

This is a high school in Bratislava, Slovakia, where the students study in their native language and in English. The students call English "the language of freedom."

And, even more appropriately, they aren't asking for cash. They're asking for books.

There's an indepth list of desired books over at STG. I plan on donating a Lewis tome or two. Go see what you can do.

The First Casualty of War

My good friend Mary emailed me an article from the New York Times in which the cameraman who filmed the shooting in Fallujah is interviewd. I presume it was in response to my previous post on the Marine involved in the shooting. I adore Mary, she's a good friend, but we do not see eye to eye on everything. Nonetheless, I felt it only fair to give another viewpoint consideration. The article is sad, and thought provoking, but ultimately does not change my perception that this young Marine is being treated as a scapegoat and that the incident is being blown way out of proportion. To explain why, I shall add my responses to the article in italics:

Captives: Cameraman Details Marine's Role in Mosque Shooting

November 22, 2004
By JAMES GLANZ and EDWARD WONG

BAGHDAD, Iraq, Nov. 21 - A marine who appears to shoot and kill an unarmed and wounded Iraqi prisoner in an NBC News video was not aware that the incident was being recorded, and moments later approached the cameraman with seemingly remorseful words - "I didn't know, sir, I didn't know" - according to the first public description of the events by the cameraman, Kevin Sites, since his brief and somewhat ambiguous initial report.

Now, at first this seems pretty damning. But I began to wonder -- did the Marine specifically say he didn't know he was being filmed, or was he referring to something else? Bear that in mind as the article continues.

No weapons were visible inside the Falluja mosque where the shooting took place, on Nov. 13, and the wounded Iraqi made no sudden or threatening moves before the marine shot him, Mr. Sites writes on his Web site, kevinsites.net, in an entry posted Sunday night.

By whose definition or criteria is Mr. Sites judging the threat present or absent in the terrorists actions? Again, bear this question in mind as we continue.

Mr. Sites, a freelance photojournalist who had been hired by NBC News, made it clear that as a veteran of covering wars around the globe, he understood the ugliness and
complexity of battle. Nevertheless, he said of the incident in the mosque, "it appeared to me very plainly that something was not right."

Not to detract from Mr. Sites' credentials as a war correspondent, but that's a far cry from being a war fighter. What he sees and how he interprets it is different from the man who actually must make the decision to kill or not.

His account also raises new questions about another group of marines who entered the mosque just before Mr. Sites and fired on the prisoners - they had been left there, already wounded, after a battle the day before. Mr. Sites was so surprised that the prisoners he had seen there the day before had been attacked again that he informed a Marine lieutenant of the fact before the final shooting - the one he captured on tape - took place.


The video obtained by Mr. Sites has received sensational play around the world, particularly in the Arab news media.


Mr. Sites calls the posting on his Web log an "Open Letter to the Devil Dogs of the 3.1," or the Third Battalion, First Marines. "Since the shooting in the mosque, I've beenhaunted that I have not been able to tell you directly what I saw," he wrote, "or explain the process by which the world came to see them as well."

He begins by writing, "I'm not some war zone tourist with a camera who doesn't understand that ugly things happen in combat." [neither are you a soldier who actually has to make a decision on the split second, but someone who can record events, then judge them in hindsight.] Despite his attempt to be fair, he said, since then Falluja video was broadcast on Nov. 15, he has been "shocked to see myself painted as some kind of antiwar activist." Mr. Sites has received abuse and death threats on some Web sites, and has shut down the discussion section of his own.


He said the marines he was embedded with arrived at the mosque on Nov. 13, and after a series of other events, he heard shooting inside. The other set of marines emerged and were asked by a lieutenant, "Did you shoot them?"

What other events? Do they have any relevance to what happened next? And if so, why is the Times less descriptive of them than of the antecedent events within the mosque? I have long been skeptical of the NYT's journalistic dispassion, and I am disinclined to believe they are giving both sides of the story equal treatment.

"Roger that, sir," a marine responded. But when the lieutenant asked, "Were they armed?" the marine just shrugged, Mr. Sites wrote.

Inside, Mr. Sites said he was was surprised to see the wounded men from the battle the day before, now shot again. "There don't appear to be any weapons anywhere," he wrote.

And just how close an inspection was he able to make in the heat of battle? Or is this just his impression?

He was videotaping some of the wounded men when, in the background, a marine yelled that one of the others was "faking he's dead."

"Through my viewfinder I can see him raise the muzzle of the his rifle in the direction of the wounded Iraqi," Mr. Sites wrote. "There are no sudden movements, no reaching or lunging."

It doesn't take a lunge or much of a reach to pull the pin on a grenade. That has happened over there. Again, the question of experiencial perspective and definition of "threatening" are key here. The Marine had an extremely limited amount of time in which to react, in which to make a life or death decision. Had he hesitated and the man truly been a threat, it might very well have been that Marine, his buddies, even Mr. Sites. I dare Mr. Sites to state he could have made the decision any better had roles been exchanged.

Then the marine fired. "There is a small spatter against the back wall and the man's leg slumps down," Mr. Sites wrote, in what was apparently a suggestion that the man had been alive.

"Well," another marine said, "he's dead now."

Mr. Sites wrote that he could feel "the deep pit of my stomach." The marine who fired, who had been angrily shouting, suddenly changed his tone.

"The anger that seemed present just moments before turned to fear and dread," Mr. Sites wrote.

I should think so. That's pretty common after battle, from what I have been taught. Furthermore, if, as Mr. Sites claims, the Iraqi wasn't a threat, and the Marine only realized this after the shooting was over, you can be sure he would feel remorse.

Furthermore, might this realization also explain the Marines comment, "I didn't know, sir, I didn't know" much better than the assumption that he was referring to the presence of the camera?

"I can't know what was in the mind of the marine," he wrote. "He is the only one who does."

This is true. And this is why those of us who have not had to bear the burden of uniform would do well to be circumspect in our criticism. If the Marine is proven to have violated the UCMJ or the ROE's, he will be disciplined. I for one am glad that those responsible for executing such discipline have a fuller perspective on events than I.

UPDATE:

Blogfather Rusty is not as understanding towards Sites as I.

Talk About Wagging the Dog!

Thanks for the Memory to the Llama Butchers.

Apparently the Power Behind the Throne has his own blog.

Talking Turkey

I probably should wait until tomorrow or Wednesday to post this (I won't be blogging on Thanksgiving) in order to stretch my blog mileage, but it's in my mind so I think I'll toss it out there now.

As some of you may know, I love to cook. After the History channel, my favorite network is the Food Network (Alton Brown is a GOD!). But come Thanksgiving, something happens to the network that is, well, disturbing. In the spirit of Thanksgiving and Cuisine, they attempt to show you all these nifty gourmet variatons on traditional dishes -- Pumpkin Soup, Cranberry Souffle', etc.

Blasphemy.

Don't get me wrong -- many of these dishes sound wonderful. But for Thanksgiving dinner, there are certain dishes that just must be there or I feel... incomplete.

However, I am NOT opposed to adding a slightly new twist to the dish, as long as it's the same dish. In fact, I've come up with a few myself. I submit them for your approval (The ones in italic are the ones I'll be cooking this year):

Pumpkin Pie:
For a twist, use gingerbread cookie dough for the crust. make sure to wrap the crust in foil or it will burn.

Cranberry sauce:
The twist here is to use Orange Juice and Apple cifer in equal parts instead of water and sugar. Add some cinnamon, a dash of vanilla, some orange zst, and a shot of Grand Marnier.

Cornbread Stuffing (We always called it dressing):
Replace the white bread croutons with sourdough. Make sure you saute the onions and celery in butter, and us STOCK, NOT BROTH!!!!!

Turkey:
This one's from The Feared Redhead, with some added help from Alton. Brine the Turkey, butter the skin and add salt, pepper, herbs and spices. Put an apple and an onion, both cut in half, in the cavity, along with a bay leaf and a rosemary sprig, and inject the bird all over with cognac and champagne (or non-French substitutes).

Enjoy. Tell me if you try any of them.

Much Fallujah 'Bout Nothing

I'm probably the very last of the conservative bloggers to blog on the incident involving the US Marine who shot a wounded Iraqi in Fallujah. In part this was becaue I wanted to see where the story went. Well, it's pretty well documented now, and as equally well blogged upon, so I think I'll just make a couple of observations, then refer you to other blogger who, I believe, have answered the salient points in a manner that I find both eloquent and akin to my own opinion.

First of all, my observatiuon is that if this Marine's actions violated either the Geneva Convention, the UCMJ or the ROE's for Iraq, he deserves any disciplinary action coming to him. But if he didn't, he should not have his good name dragged through the mud.

So did he? Well, with regards to Geneva, Smallholder over at Naked Villainy has that covered.

The UCMJ or the ROE's? Well, I don't know enough about them, and we won't know until the investigation is complete, but Mean Mr. Mustard has a few thoughts on the investigation.

There's also the question of basic civility, and what a reasonable human being should have been expected to do. In that regard, none of us who have not been in combat has any point of reference from which to judge this Marine's actions. But Ace of Spades relays the thoughts of those who have been there -- and are even now.

All three are worth reading.

Fundamentalist Atheists

Thanks for the Memory to Jacques Vader.

Jacques, a right ballsy fellow himself, links to an article by one of our northern neighbors who has the temerity to defend the rights of the Right.

The best quote in the Coren article is this one:

After U.S. President George Bush's re-election last week, one rather glib Canadian pundit opined: "Half of the United States wants to be like Canada, the other half like Iran."

How awfully clever. Yes that's right, 150 million Americans want to amputate limbs as a form of punishment and sponsor international terrorism.

Remind you of anything?

Coren also makes this observation:

But in Canada this is accepted as intelligent analysis. [Don't be too hard on your country, sir, we have plenty of that going around down here too] It is what we have come to expect from the influential minority group known as The Secular Left. They dominate political parties, are well organized and are vehemently intolerant. They are also incapable of listening to the inherent contradictions in their own arguments.

Sounds like an ideal description of Fundamentalism, doesn't it? The irony is, that's what many on the left have become -- Fundamentalist Atheists -- but can't see that the comparison they make between different religions might just apply to their anti-religion.

My Mother Has a Flag.

It was presented to her "on behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation".

My grandmother has one like it.

My sister will some day receive one too.

My wife never will. And I cannot express to you sufficiently how much I regret that. I would dearly have loved to serve in the Navy just like my father and my grandfather and my brother-in-Law. But God in His infinite wisdom saw fit to let me be born with a body that disqualified me. To borrow from St. Paul, "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." How ironic that one who has such admiration for the military would not be allowed to join its ranks. How glad for all of us that we have had so many over the years whose ability and willingness were present in equally sufficient proportion.

I probably should have written these words on Veteran's Day, but it was not that holiday that inspired these thoughts. To be honest, they're thoughts that have haunted me my entire adult life. But what brought them to the fore was the opportunity I had last night to watch perhaps the year's finest hour of television: a PBS documentary called Arlington: Field of Honor. The show chronicled a day in the operations of Arlington National Cemetary, interspersed with a report on the history of the place. They focused on the honor guard and the pains they take to honor our dead, in their uniforms, conduct, and demeanor, as well as showing several funerals conducted that day, ending with a funeral of a soldier killed in Iraq. Many have called this the most moving scene in the documentary, but for me, it was the funeral of a Navy veteran whose only attendees were his widow and the "Arlington Lady" who was there to assist her. It was during this funeral that the words of the flag presentation were aired. That's where I lost it. The rest of the documentary was beautiful, and poignant, but that moment was the most personal for me.

When thinking of phrases spoken throughout our history to honor our war dead, several spring to mind. "Last full measure of devotion." "Above and beyond the call of duty." I could go on. But for me, forever, the ones that will mean the most are, "on behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation."

May they be eternally true.

At Least Let the Body Cool, for Pete's Sake!

I just received the following spam:

YASSER ARAFAT, REPLY NOW..

P.O. BOX 223
SECRETARIATE DISTRICT RAMALLAH,
RAMALLAH WESTBANK PALESTINE.

ATTN:


You may be surprise to receive such an offer from somebody you does not know before or have even met face to face with, but do not take because of this an underestimate the potentials of the business that I am about to reveal to you.

Let me start by introducing my humble self; My name is Barrister Hossian Bin Sharif, I am Barrister and the Attorney to the Late President of Palestine {YASSER ARAFAT} who peacefully passed away on Thursday 11th Nov. 2004 at French military hospital, where he had been treated for illness since Oct. 29. He died at 3:30 am in the hospital. MY HIS GENTLE SOUL REST IN PEACE.

Before the death of this great Man, he held a property with a Prime financial firm in Indonesia, which I have all the deposit documents in my possession and this company does not know the content of this property, except the director of the firm. This property is a sealed consignment containing the sum of $ 5,500,000 Million USD{Five Million Five Hundred Thousand USD}

I will not disclose the whole information to you now, because of some security measure, but if you are willing to assist me and act as the heir to the deceased President Arafat and to claim the money from the Financial company management, I will intimate you on what to do and will provide you with all the documentations, proving that you are the rightful beneficiary to this property. I have discussed everything with the Director of the security company and he has personally advice that I should not participate as supposed in this business, to avoid suspicion and monitoring my interactions because of the unfortunate incident that occurred to our president and that i should look for a reliable, trustworthy and honest person who can assist and i prayed over this before i send you this mail.

I will like to make it clear for you and to your notice that this money is not in connection with terrorism, money laundering/drug money or any illegal act. The fund is 100% legal and trouble free. So you should not entertain any fear or what so ever, as I have all the comprehensive documents that will prove to you my words, everything have been planned concretely before involving you.

I will tell you more about this, upon your acceptance message agreeing to assist to carry out this venture.

I AM WAITING FOR YOUR SOONEST MESSAGE. REPLY TO THIS SECURE EMAIL ADDRESS: barristersharif@yahoo.com


Sincerely Yours,
Barrister Hossian Bin Sharif. {ESQ}


At some point, I may actually update this with some snarky comments. For now, I think its amusement value is self-evident.

Happily Wrong

Yesterday the Feared Redhead and I went to a "Holiday Craft Faire" after church at the Lane County Fairgrounds. All your typical holiday craftsy stuff. Most of it was disappointing in that it wasn't handcrafted, but prefab stuff being resold by local merchants. Unlike most guys, I don't mind homespun, simple, corny holiday craftsiness, but mass-produced kitzch makes me break out.

Fortunately there were a few exceptions, including a couple of local wineries. One of them, Chateau Bianca (outside Dallas, OR), was offering tastings, including one of their port. I don't like port, and said as much. Port reminds me too much of raisin juice. The winery owner assured me that this port was different. But since he charged a $2 Dollar tasting fee for his port ( the other wines were free to taste), I decided to just believe him and leave it at that.

However, over the course of the conversation, I said somehting he liked, and he decided that teaching me a lesson was more inportant than his two dollars. He comped the port sample.

I stand corrected.

Most of the ports I'd tried had been tawny. This was a ruby port. It was sweet, but it didn't have that raisiny aftertaste I usually associate with port. It still tasted like wine, though much sweeter.

I think I shall be buying a bottle soon.

Less Moore

Thanks for the Memory to The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler.

Apparently, at least one mother of a Marine killed in Iraq resents Michael Moore's comments regarding the election.

Eva Savage of Livingston, Tenn., has a message for filmmaker Michael Moore: You don't speak for me.

Nor for us, Mrs. Savage. But I think I do speak for many of us when I say:

Thank you for raising the kind of man your son grew up to be. His sacrifice makes the world better for the rest of us, and will not go unremembered nor unappreciated. He was Semper Fidelis, we're Semper Memoris -- Eternally grateful.

When Is A Vanity Plate Not Just A Vanity Plate?

When it Looks like this:



UPDATE:
This post was originally published on Nov. 5th. I wanted to say somehting for Veteran's Day, but couldn't think of anyhting else that said it any better.

The Feared Redhead and I were sitting in Burrito Boy last night, having Carne Asada tacos, when I looked out and noticed that the car parked next to ours had a plate just like this one. There was only one other table with customers at it, so I asked the gentleman at the table if it was his, and it was.

He earned it while serving in the airborne in Vietnam. I didn't ask what kind of wound or how, but he did offer the information that it still hurts.

So I went to the trouble of thanking him for his service and his sacrifice. I let him know that I understand that "Freedom isn't free" is more than a cliche slogan, that I understand the price of freedom, and the huge debt of gratitude and honor that we owe to all veterans, especially those who are wounded or killed in the service of the Republic.

I asked him how often anyone acknowledges his service because of his plate, and he told me it isn't often. I found that, quite frankly, not just sad but downright wrong.

How much time and trouble would it be, really, for someone to pause in a grocery store parking lot, or with the window rolled down at a stop sign, and just utter two simple, single-syllable words: Thank you. Hell, you have to exhale anyway, why not take the miniscule extra effort to use that breath to form a simple phrase that, quite frankly, people like the gentleman in Burrito Boy have coming to them? And how much better would you feel about yourself, and your country, if you bothered to do it? Is it just possible you might actually think about the words you're speaking, and the reason for them, and the significance of that reason, and might just be a little more thankful that you live on free soil, freedom purchased by those who offered their "Last Full Measure of Devotion"?

That's not much to ask for, is it folks? So when you see a plate like the one above, remember that it cost its owner something more than just the registration fees. And remember that they paid that cost on all our behalf.

Win-Win Situation

Thanks for the Memory to Ace of Spades HQ.

A worthy cause indeed:

Hey! Conservatives! Tired of listening to liberals whine about how apocalyptic Bush's reelection is? Hey! Liberals! Convinced that Bush is going to ruin America?

Now there's an organization for both of you!

HELP THEM LEAVE!

RELOCATION ASSISTANCE FOR "DISENFRANCHISED" CITIZENS

I don't think it's real, but darnit, don't I wish!

Minor Distinctions

Thanks for the Memory to Mean Mr. Mustard.

"The Christian right in America is the mirror image of the Islamic fundamentalists," according to Anti-Christian British fantasy author Philip Pullman.

Except, as Beautiful Atrocities, its readers, and Russell at MMM point out, "for jihad, suicide bombers, beheadings-of-the-week, honor killings, child-murders, Sharia law, genocide, comparison-shopping the best deal for exploding your kids, slavery, fatwas, polygamy, female circumcision, attitudes toward the Jews in general and Israel in particular (Thanks BA reader Neal), the subjugation of women, tribalism, genital mutilation, and dhimmitude."

Thanks, Mr. Pullman, thanks for reminding me that I, I'm the disciple of hate, and you, you're the champion of tolerance.

Limbo Ain't Just a Dance, You Know...

This is the week at the new job where we're supposed to be transitioning from training to actually doing the job. We were supposed to be taking calls in a training room yesterday and today, with tomorrow being our first day at our desk taking calls on a regular schedule. Unfortunately, they have not set up our phone extensions or our access to our account tracking tools, so things have been kind of weird. It's a bit distracting, so I apologize if the blog gets the short shrift for a couple of days.

In better news, I handled my first irate customer on the phone during a mentoring session yesterday. And the best part was, it wasn't my fault -- the customer was angry about a company policy. So I arranged for a call-back and sent him on his way. You may think it odd that I call this good news, but that kind of call is inevitable in the Tech Support industry, and now I feel like I have that under the bridge, so I feel more relaxed about the job in general.

Well Said

Lee B. has posted an excellent essay on freedom over at Merc's Place. His writing style is a bit rough around the edges, but it's not in the least bit prosaic -- there's a poetry to the words and phrases he uses to conjure images.

The essay starts with some sobering numbers, and puts forward an argument I've made for some time -- anyone who tries to use the number of US casualties in Iraq and Afghanistan as justification for our withdrawal is ignorant of our history. While even one death is tragic, there are sometimes even greater tragedies, such as tyranny and oppression and holocaust, that can only be averted by the sacrifices of brave soldiers. While we cannot discount those deaths, we must put them in perspective. The quickest and easiest way to dishonor those dead is to veer from the course of winning for freedom, thus rendering those deaths in vain.

Lee's best comment is this:

"liberty is precious. the right to keep that liberty is precious.
so precious, blood is more worthy than gold to pay its demanded price."

Well said. Let us never squander that which was purchased for us so dearly.

Loyal Opposition My @$$!!!!!

Thanks for the Memory to Sir George at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler.

After I posted the quote of the day yesterday, I received a sarcastic comment about hate and fear, coupled with a straw-man remark about "Those do-gooder Democrats".

Well, as evidenced by Zombietime, those "Do-gooder" Democrats know a bit about generating Hate and Fear.

Go look at the pictures. Be disgusted and saddened and angered and frightened. But don't dare question their patriotism.

Winning the War on Error

Thanks for the Memory to Ace of Spades HQ.

Apparently See-BS is planning to axe 60 Minutes II, and rumor has it they're placing the blame squarely at Dan Rathers' feet.

No one to blame but yourself, Danny.

Pictorial Rebuttal

Image Courtesy of Vic at Darth Apathy.

Quote of the Day

"Oderint dum metuant"

- Lucius Accius

(Let them hate so long as they fear.)

The Counter-Revolution WAS Televised

Image Courtesy of my friend DAR.

Thank You

A hearty thank you to Brian for inviting me to guest author here. I have invited him to post on mine as well and we are working the details out on a group project with our friend Vic at Darth Apathy. We will provide details as soon as we have the wrinkles out.

Also thanks to Brian for his encouragement in my journey of faith.

Vulture 6

This, Dr. Jones, this IS History.

Last night my feelings were mostly of relief as I watched a tight race finally come out in my candidate's favor.

This morning, as you may have read into my last post, came the giddiness. Not just giddiness. Elation. Joy. Exultation. Unmitigated happiness, excitement, and yes, a bit of gloating.

Blogfather Rusty thinks I may have engaged in hyperbole when I uttered the comment "The Republic was saved by itself." Maybe. He may be right that it would have taken more than a Kerry presidency to destroy the country. Probably so.

But I can't help getting a sense that I was just a part of something very big, and very good. The sense of pride, of accomplishment, and of weight off my shoulders is also enhanced by a feeling, an intuition, that history was made.

Ace of Spades agrees. He calls it the most important election in fifty years. And while I'd argue that Reagan's election might arguably give it a run for its money, I do think that this election, as a follow-up to the 2000 election, definitely sets a great tone for the century.

There's a tired old cliche that there are three kinds of people in this world -- those who make things happen, those who watch things happen, and those who ask, "what happened?"

Today I feel like I was in the first group.

Great Day in the Morning

I arose this morning to the sound of birds singing, to sunshine and clean air. I arose rested and smiling, and I awoke to the sweet smell of victory.

The Republic has been saved by itself.

To be honest, there were some disappointments. Here in Oregon, Feldkamp failed to DeFuze DeFazio. Al King lost to Ron Wyden, but that was more to be expected. Measures 35 and 38 failed.

But none of that can do anything to more than temporarily dampen my joy over President Bush's victory. Hallelujah!

I believe I shall smoke my cigar this evening.

Update:
My friend David mentioned this to me, thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty for the actual link:

That Mighty Rushing Wind you hear? It's a giant sigh of relief. The DOW, the S&P, the NYSE, and Nasdaq were all up on the news that President Bush won.

VOTE!!!!!!!!

For God's sake, VOTE!

If you support President Bush, VOTE!

If you support John F Kerry, VOTE!

If you support Ralph Nader, VOTE!

If you care about this country and believe in the system we call American Democracy, the single most important thing you can do is VOTE!

If you vote for the winner, you have a right to complain if you feel betrayed.

If you vote for the loser, you have a right to complain because you warned us.

If you don't vote and complain, your mouth should be sewn shut with a guitar string.

VOTE!!!!!!!!

A Simple Prayer

(with apologies to St. Francis)

Dear Lord,

Please let George W. Bush win this election. But if you see fit not to, please give me the strength to keep foghting for what I believe in in the dark days that may come.

Amen

Curiouser and Curiouser

Given that I average less than 100 visitors a day, I'm at a loss to explain how I just went from Adorable Rodent to Large Mammal in the TTLB Ecosystem -- overnight.

However, not being raised by morons nor as a moron, despite the blog's title, I shall refrain from examining the complimentary equine's dental records.

Update:
Hmmmm.... Apparently the TTLB Ecosystem is based on links. I was unaware of this -- I was under the impression that it factored actual traffic into the mix.

This may explain why I'm so high on the list. I was futzing around in Site Meter, checking out the hits and page views, and on a whim clicked on the "Referred By" link. I was amazed at how many other blogs link to me. M@'s comment also bears witness to this. Apparently there are a whole lot of bloggers out htere who have decided that I write well enough for them to post a link to my blog -- many of them without bothering to tell me, and some of them with considerable clout -- "Playful Primates" in some cases. So while I may not be a poplular blog among readers, apparently I've found recognition among other bloggers. I can't say this is new to me.

Remember back in high school how important popularity was? I remember. I remember how everyone wanted to talk to the popular kids, sought out their friendship, strove to be associated with those people, invited to the same parties, whatever. Does that sound anything like being instalaunched, or being high on the TTLB, or having tons of hits?

I was never a popular kid. I was never the one everyone WANTED to be seens with, whose friendship was a status symbol. But here's the weird part. I WAS friends with the popular kids. they liked me, they got along with me. Almost everyone did -- they just never considered it a big deal. Being seen talking to me never was a sign that you'd arrived, because, well, I'd talk to anyone. I wasn't popular, but I was well liked.

This reminds me a lot of this recent revelation about my blog. There's one big difference between then and now.

Now I'm OK with the distinction.

Hope for Spain

The Feared Redhead's sister and her husband are among the in-laws who returned recently from the wedding in Spain where my Father-in-law received the Stogie which I will hopefully be smoking tomorrow night. So while we were visiting them in Portland this weekend, they mentioned in passing that I would like spain because of the popularity there of Scotch whisky and Cuban cigars. Of course I had to make a crack about "And Socialist Prime Ministers who all but surrender to terrorists." They had an interesting response.

Apparently just this topic came up while they were in Spain, and the general concensus among the Spaniards they know is one of disgust over what has happened. Apparently, from their talks with the family friends, very few Spaniards actually changed their vote because of the Madrid bombings. They were told that voter turnout is usually pretty low in Spain, but that after the attacks, a large number of spaniards who normally don't vote did, and most of these people voted for the current Socialist PM.

What I'm hoping for is that this will be a wake-up call for Spain, and that Right-minded Spaniards will make sure that they get out and vote in droves next time. So while I'm still quite scornful of Spain's current government, I believe I should rethink my disappointment in the Spanish people overall.

The Die is Cast

Saturday morning, while the Feared Redhead was at work and before it was time to get ready to head to Portland for a family visit, I spent an hour or two at the local GOP offices, doing volunteer work as a phone caller. We were calling people who had already indicated suuport for the President. It was a pretty straightforward series of questions and reminders relating to Oregon's Vote-by-mail system: Have you received your ballot? If not, you need to go to the elections office and vote there. If so, have you voted yet? If not, it's too late to mail the ballot, you need to drop it off at a county-approved election drop location. If so, we hope you support the President.

One of the issues that our FAQ sheet addressed is people who respond, "I already voted, why are you still calling?" We were to explain to the person that our calling list is based on the most recent available information from the elections office, and that if we're still on their list, they may want to call and make sure their ballot has been received. I thought this was good information, and a great way to turn what could be an annoying call into a useful call for the people we call.

So Sunday night upon returning home, I checked our messages, and sure enough, 2 of the 4 messages were from the GOP. This despite the fact that we dropped our ballots off at a drop box this time last week. I'm sure you can guess what my first order of business was on my lunch break today.

Thankfully, the nice lady at the Elections office confirmed receipt of our ballots. and by nice, I mean nice. It's been my experience that for the most part, the people at the elections office are the nicest, most helpful government officials with whom I've ever dealt. I wonder if it has to do with appreciating the importance of performing this particular civic duty. Just a thought.

So anyway, our ballots are in. So all you Eugene-area liberals who have been harassing us, do your damnedest. It's too late now to change my vote -- as if you ever could have.

An Uncle's Observation

Taebo, Pilates, Step Aerobics, Military PT -- when it comes to a good workout, none of them can compare to taking an 18-month old boy Trick-or-Treating.

'Nuff said.