ByblosBlog

Victory (Part 3 of 3)

2011-03-04T07:06:00.000-08:00

In a flash Mitchell... put his thumb in his mouth. When everyone began confirming that all was lost, he pulled his thumb out again and shot an arrow from an unseen bow he had hidden in his diaper. It landed on shore just before the Taibhse Lochlannach touched shore.

The Taibhse Lochlannach again let out an evil gáire. “It is written that the first to touch the shore would win. An arrow is not sufficient!” Mitchell simply smiled and waited from Franklin to retrieve his arrow from the sand. About the same time Franklin arrived with the arrow in his mouth, Seanathair Smith arrived on the island. Mitchell explained, gugu gah maga.

It was Seanathair Smith’s turn to laugh. He explained, “Before the arrow was shot, Mitchell bit off a tip of his fingernail and placed it on the arrow. The fingernail from the hand of a Smith legally touched the island first. You have lost!”

The Taibhse Lochlannach let out an evil gáire once again as he said he would be ready in a thousand years time to claim the island and he disappeared.

Seanathair Smith took Mitchell in his arms as they left for the castle to claim Queen Ruth. “How did you ever think to use a finger nail to claim victory?”

“I remember the story of the first Prince and wondered why he chopped off his whole hand when a finger would have been sufficient. I guess a red finger wouldn’t be so inspiring as a red hand on the Ulster flag, but I am not one for dramatics. I prepped my fingernail on the beach just before we started the competition, just in case. I was ready when I had to go to plan B.

A bark from Franklin brought them back to the present. Mitchell explained as they arrived at the castle that Franklin was actually the King of the Leprechauns on Oileán Thiar and that Seanathair Smith was the guardian of the leprechauns. You see, the word leprechaun comes form the Irish words leath bhrogan which mean shoemaker. Smith comes from the word Sheaghshee which means protector of the leprechaun. The treasure of the leprechaun is rightly the property of Seanathair Smith. An dhte treasure of the leprechaun is Queen Ruth. Everyone smiled because they already knew this. As they walked through the castle to claim the treasure, Franklin barked, Mitchell translated and Seanathair Smith translated into Gaelic:

Glac bog an saol agus glacfaidh an saol bog tú
Take the world nice and easy, and the world will take you the same.

Off to Ireland (Part 2 of 3)

2011-02-16T12:40:00.000-08:00

When the trio arrived in Shannon, they were met at the airport by a small man that introduced himself simply as snáidid.[1]

The snáidid drove them to a cove in a remote part of western Ireland. Seanathair Smith pointed to a distant Island that almost glowed green against the dark grey sea. “That is Oileán Thiar Mitchell. That is where they are holding Queen Ruth.”

As Seanathair Smith finished pointing out the Island, the evil Taibhse Lochlannach appeared. He explained in a mix of ancient Gaelic and Norse that both Mitchell and Seanathair Smith could magically understand, “It is the contest once again. We will cross the sea to the Island and who ever touches land first will have ownership of the Island. The winner will also claim Queen Ruth as theirs. It is also written that only a Prince of the Smith Clan can compete. That is why your grandson Mitchell was allowed to travel with you. He will compete against me!”

The Taibhse Lochlannach let out an evil gáire [2] as he walked to his rowboat.

Mitchell, whose feet were bound in his corrective shoes and bar, could not yet walk, was carried to his waiting rowboat by Seanathair Smith. Mitchell said, gugh mugugu gah, which Seanathair Smith understood correctly to mean, “Don’t worry grandfather, I will cross the sea and claim our island and save Queen Ruth. Just set me on the beach and I will take care of the rest.” (You see, baby talk is a very efficient language).

The snáidid pulled out a pistol from his cloak and fired it. The Taibhse Lochlannach began rowing with all his might.

Mitchell stood up, took his thumb out of his mouth, and let out a commanding post nursing burp. This was a surprise to every one as Mitchell had not been fed in quite some time. Immediately Franklin ran up to the beach dragging his leash. Mitchell grabbed the leash and Franklin jumped into the water and began swimming. Mitchell expertly guided the swimming dog through the waves like a banshee on his way to a wake, on his shoe bar turned ski.

The Taibhse Lochlannach in his rowboat and Mitchell on his ski were tied about 20 yards from the shore. Franklin’s dog paddle was meeting the Taibhse Lochlannach’s oars stoke for stroke. Then it happened. Franklin breathed in when he should have breathed out. The momentary wash of sea water in his uniquely delicate nose allowed the Taibhse Lochlannach to move slightly ahead. It looked as if the Vikings would win and Queen Ruth would be lost to the Norsemen.

[1] The escort

[2] laugh

Glac bog an saol agus glacfaidh an saol bog tú .........Take the world nice and easy, and the world will take you the same. (Part 1 of 3)

2011-02-07T17:34:00.000-08:00

“In ancient Ireland, a contest was held between the Vikings greatest warrior and the young Celtic Prince. It was agreed that whoever could row their boat the quickest and touch the land fist would be declared ruler of the Emerald Isle. The Viking warrior was an experienced and able rower. The Prince was a great horseman, but had little experience with the sea. The Viking warrior rowed more quickly and was about to touch the shore with the young Prince some 20 yards behind him and farther out to sea. However, the young Prince was declared the winner and inherited the kingdom.”

Grandpa Smith was just about to finish telling this old Irish tale to his great grandson, Mitchell when Franklin, Mitchell’s dog came in the room with a letter clutched tight in his mouth. He dropped the letter at the feet of Grandpa Smith and began to bark to get his attention.

“What is this?” Grandpa Smith asked Franklin. Franklin answered with another distinctive bark that sounded a lot like a sneeze.

“Open the letter grandpa!” suggested Mitchell in baby talk that sounded to anyone else like agu ahh. Grandpa Smith was the only person who understood Mitchell’s words as plainly as anyone else’s speech.

Grandpa Smith broke the beeswax seal on the letter, opened the flap and pulled out a piece of beautiful handmade paper. He began to read:

Máistir[1] Smith:

We have Queen Ruth locked in the castle on Oileán Thiar[2]. Come quickly if you want us to release her.

Tionlaic your grandson Mitchell[3].

Taibhse Lochlannach [4]

Franklin began barking again. Mitchell, who could understand Franklin’s words explained, using his secret code for his great grandpa, “Seanathair[5], Franklin says we need to leave right a way to save Queen Ruth.”

Than off we go Mitchell. It seems Franklin knows what is going on here, so let’s bring him with us.

So off the trio flew to the Emerald Isle: Seanathair Smith who could understand the words and wisdom of Mitchell; Mitchell, who could understand the words and wisdom of Franklin the dog; and Franklin, who was the only one who knew the true identity of Seanathair Smith.

On the flight to Ireland, Seanathair Smith explained to Mitchell that Oileán Thiar was the rightful home of the Smith clan and all its descendants, including Mitchell. The Vikings tried to take the island away from the Smiths a thousand years ago. “The story I was told as a boy was that the ghost of the Viking king would rise again in a millennium of time to try to take the Island that felt they were robbed of all those years ago. You see, the story that is told of the Irish Prince and the Viking warrior is true. It happened just as it is told and happened at Oileán Thiar. The Irish Prince who was about to lose wanted the Island more than the Viking and actually chopped off his hand and threw it to the Island, this touching land before the Vikings. Unfortunately, the Prince died shortly after the contest. You see, he could not tie a tourniquet on his injured arm with just one hand.”

Mitchell didn’t say a word. Franklin began to whimper.

[1] Master Smith

[2] West Island

[3] Only your grandson Mitchell can accompany you

[4] Signed: The Viking Ghost

[5] Grandfather

And thus began a simple story shared between a grandson and his grandfather.

More on this next week.

T E Lawrence and Heros

2011-01-05T10:22:00.000-08:00

Some years ago I bought a 1^st edition of 7 Pillars of Wisdom by T E Lawrence on Portobello Road in London. I am fascinated by the period of time Lawrence traveled in the Middle East and the subsequent years in which he wrote and lobbied for his Middle East policies. Walking through the stalls on Portobello Road, and book shops on Charing Cross Road I am also reminded of many other British authors, thinkers, travelers and world thought leaders through history. For such a relatively small place, it is amazing the amount of fascinating men and women this country has produced. Is it possibly the Oxford and Cambridge connection? Between them they produced 135 Nobel Prize winners, Wittgenstein to Santayana, Newton to Hawkings, Keynes to Friedman, Tenneyson to CS Lewis, Wesley to Shaghi Effendi, Boyles to Berner-Lee; 26 British Prime Ministers and over 30 International leaders from King Abdullah II to Aung San Suu Kyi. But then there are the Churchills and Kiplings that have little or no connection to these schools.

It seems, whatever the reasons for the preparation and timing of many great people, destiny formed some sort of partnership with this island nation. At the same time they were doing so many things well (according to metrics of that day), they were also doing some things wrong; so badly that they would eventually lose much of the empire on which the sun never set. But they raised a generation of men and women—many flawed, but with a spark of something few posses.

A new book Hero by Michael Korda provides a fresh look at T E Lawrence and indirectly the time and environment of this era of British hegemony. Additionally, a map of the Middle East that belonged to Lawrence has been put on exhibition at the Imperial War Museum in London. It was drafted by him and presented to Britain's War Cabinet in November 1918. The map provides an alternative to present-day borders in the region, apparently partly designed with the intention to marginalise the post-war role of France in the region by limiting its direct colonial control to today's Lebanon. It includes a separate state for the Armenians, a separate state of Palestine, and groups the people of present-day Syria, Jordan and parts of Saudi Arabia in another state, based on tribal patterns and commercial routes. Korda’s book is one to add to anyone’s library that is interested in this time period, in Lawrence, or the Middle East. As the title suggests, this is also a book for those who study or are searching for leaders and heroes. This is a popular pastime, as Francois Keraudy, Sorbonne Professor and French author (and Oxford Graduate) of a recent Churchill biography notes,

“Nostalgia for great leaders when there seem to be so many small ones around.”

The Square Root of an Ash Tree

2010-09-30T18:04:00.000-07:00

I have two books I am writing still in rough draft form. One book is done, but I need to go through another draft because it is missing something. I wonder how many more drafts it will take to find that missing thread. Hopefully it will be found before I get so sick and tired of the book that I just toss it in the trash. The other book is only about a third completed and I hate to admit it, but I have sat it on the shelf so many times due to other demands that I have gone through several drafts warming myself back up to the story. That is not (for me) the best way to get a story down on paper. I like to get a very rough sketch of the entire thing completed and then go through the drafting process. I experience the rare sparks of creativity in starts and stops. I don’t know about you, but it always surprises me. Great ideas, well, ideas that inspire me, tend to hide behind the bushes and pop out at the least expected times. And when it happens, I have to go with it, or wait for the next unplanned moment, which can be a very long wait. That doesn’t work well in my “planned and scheduled” world. I need to be independently wealthy, with a small cottage at the beach, where the incoming ocean waves, made higher by morning off-shore breezes from the cold land to the warm water offer the promise of newness and fresh ideas and where the afternoon on-shore breezes actually hold me up. Then, when creativity strikes, I can jump on it and hold it until it eventually slips out of my hands. That would work for me because the wind and the waves would still be there.

I just finished a book on media and meaning, so I suppose I should have some answers to how meaning is created and why it happens. I have some ideas, some tested hypotheses, and some interesting theories, but the actual spark is an awesome and mysterious thing and I think it will always remain so. As Miguel de Unamuno warned, when we dissect something to understand it, we kill it. We cannot know the square root of the ash tree.

So I will continue to write when I can and be surprised when I write something that is really good. It is always worth the wait.

A picture is worth a thousand words

2010-03-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

Napolean suggested,

"Un bon croquis vaut mieux qu'un long discours,"

or "A good sketch is better than a long speech".

Some years ago I was entering into a entrepreneurial partnership with a person on the other side of the country. We knew each other fairly well, but needed to give this professional relationship a better chance of survival. He suggested we select a picture that best described our self-image as a business person. He saw himself as a fire fighter. His passion was stepping into the chaos of a company on fire (meaning a company going down in flames, or so hot it would implode of its own heat)and putting its house in order, and then leaving. Below is part of my response to him, plus some additional information and pictorial thoughts that I have added to this exercise since then. I have also used this as a reality check, running it by trusted friends, family and associates. Someone asked me this very question the other day, so I thought i would post some of this info--not so much to know me, but to highlight the value of the exercise.

I suppose if I had to use a one-word description of myself, my passion, it would be “builder.” I love building companies or any organization—maturation of processes, culture, climate, finding potential, creating catalytic mechanisms that avoid having to call firefighters... I want people to go to work excited and go home fulfilled—armed and ready to be a better person in all their stewardships. I am goal oriented, but reaching the goal is only part of the fun. It is like the Nietzsche thought: Not every end is a goal. The end of a melody is not its goal, but nonetheless, if the melody had not reached its end it would not have reached its goal... The following box I clipped from something I had the executive staff in a previous organization accomplish. We did one of those “personality tests”—this one from the book, Now Discover Your Strengths which provided the one word descriptives. We then described ourselves in a paragraph that we bounced off the group for a reality check.

Mike:
Achiever
Intellection
Learner
Input
Belief
I don’t like surprises, but I love a good risky adventure. I don’t like to rock the boat, but I do like to push for understanding—which can rock the boat sometimes. I need to improve my empathy, but I love diversity. I like to learn new skills and become a master at things, but the process is as important as the result. From that growth new vistas are created, new ideas are incubated, questions arise, introspection goes deeper. That intellectual introspection is checked by my values, ethics, and especially spiritual guidance. That guidance demands that I find work that meshes with my values. My actions must be meaningful and make a difference. I need to live out my values or find the job where I can. My actions require new research, study, writing, understanding and clarity; so I read, collect input and seek diversity. From that new input I learn and grow and the cycle continues for another turn. Sometimes I write and seek input too much from others. I think and do and then adjust. I can bend pretty far, but then I am decisive—sometimes to a fault.

Disappointed with Congress

2009-09-09T21:43:00.000-07:00

So I am not going to get political here, just talk about manners. I was very disappointed with Congress tonight. It doesn't matter what party someone supports, but when the President comes to Congress and presents his case for an action, he is a guest in your house. You do not yell on live international TV "You Lie!" as Congressman Joe Wilson of South Carolina did. He not only went out on a limb--he cut it off. I was embarrassed for Congress and disappointed in our elected officials. Although shouts are a practice in the House of Commons of many Parliaments around the world, especially during Question Time, it is not the norm of acceptable behavior in Joint Sessions of Congress with a guest. That the guest in this case represents all Americans (no matter who voted for him--and to hopefully highlight my credibility that this post is not another political rant like so many out there I will admit I didn't vote for President Obama. But he is my President)it is doubly reprehensible. There is a movement to donate money to Congressman Wilson's opponent's election campaign. I'm not going there, but if anyone knows where an upset American can write in, let me know. It is times like this that I wish I had more than two people that read my blog. Am I the only one that also is to the bone tired of happy chuckles by Democrats that seem to say "in your ear!" to the other side of the isle and the Republicans that sit there with stern faces and arms folded no matter what the subject is(or with roles reversed some years ago)? Majority Party does not equate to Majesty Party and the Loyal Opposition does not equate to Log Jam Opposition. It is time to be bigger than politics and bigger than getting elected.

eBook Design and Usability

2009-08-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

I was reading a blog post by Emily Watts, an editor at Deseret Book (http://emilywatts.com/) about the importance of your book having a hook. A hook being something that grabs the reader and separates it from the rest of the noise on the shelf. As she mentions, sometimes that is simply the author’s name. I will read anything from Gerald Lund or Dean Hughes, or Dostoevsky—but he isn’t writing much these days. My daughter will wait in line all night to buy a Stephenie Meyer book. Watts suggests that sometime the hook is the book title. And admit it—how many of us really do judge a book by its cover?

Then two friends on Facebook, sisters actually, began discussions about favorite books and the Kindle. That got me thinking about e-books. eBooks have a unique potential to create a hook. They also have to guard against the temptation to go too far. Bruce Barton suggests:

"If you have anything really valuable to contribute to the world, it will come through the expression of your own personality, that single spark of divinity that sets you off and makes you different from every other living creature.”

There is much discussion about websites having personality and how that attracts or detracts readership. Books also have personalities and quickly bond with some readers and repel others. With e-books, personality goes beyond titles and content and into the realm of visual design, dynamic graphic art, and usability, not just readability.

Sometimes the problem is that the author or publisher does it because they can. But they really can’t. Just because someone owns PageMaker, or FrontPage or even Quark or DreamWeaver doesn’t make the amateur a professional. Putting a bunch of great graphics in an e-book may detract more than help. In a 2006 interview with Luke Wroblewski , he quotes Curt Cloninger as saying, “usability experts are from Mars and graphic designers are from Venus. They are simply different animals and it takes great talent to bring the two together.

Without picking on some terrible designs, I will use an example from an ebook designer, Steven Schneiderman (http://www.designingebookcovers.com/). So which cover do you like? How do the fonts and layout and colors work together or against each other?

I have read several ebooks that have had potential but the design was terrible and the eye strain finally caused me to close the book. Navigation, download, and construction are important elements for any book, but especially an ebook.

Instead of providing some bad designs, I will offer one well done e-book design that tells the story and leverages the strengths of design and usability, while not creating a monster. Alex Dukal is a n illustrator of children’s books. You can see some of his work at http://www.circografico.com.ar/. I will admit I am a little partial because he is Argentine and I spent three wonderful years there, including Patagonia where he lives (although I don’t know him and only discovered his work recently). His design is rich, interesting and appealing. He uses a range of visual techniques to draw your attention, make you interested and to give you a warm feeling about the quality of the work. “But it's also simple, because it uses its pixels/ink/busyness with care and sensitivity. It's not gratuitous, it's economical and rich,” according to author Ben Hunt.

If ebooks are going to carve a significant portion of the market space we are going to need more than 3G Kindles. I look forward to the progress, even though I will still be buying physical books.

When Less is More

2009-08-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a long two-week trip helping a daughter and son-in-law move from Provo, Utah to Atlanta, Georgia. It was a great trip, but with some long hours on the road. I mostly drove the moving truck, so the mph rarely broke 65. There was only a radio in the truck, so no books on tape to help pass the time. That gave me plenty of time to think, but little time to write. I have two books that I think about every day that are partially written and screaming for my attention. They seem to take turns at being the loudest. Meanwhile, quietly lurking in a dark corner, never screaming for my attention, but with an confident and sinister muahahaha, my dissertation reminds me of my responsibility, not necessarily my desire. Of course I want to complete my PhD in International Business, and I have promised my wife Vicky to take her to Paris with me to defend my dissertation when that time finally comes. The planned date is mid November. My son leaves for Mexico for a two-year mission in early November and we want to be home for Thanksgiving at the end of the month, so that leaves little flexibility.

I originally drew up a plan where I could work on a book (the one closest to completion got the nod) and still work on my dissertation. What I have discovered is, I can’t write a quality academic paper of this magnitude (somewhere around 350 pages) and the Great American Novel simultaneously. I suppose some of you great writers are mentally ambidextrous and can switch from precise academic style to rich and dynamic novelistic style (or so I like to think at least). On my long drive I finally decided that the quickest way to a quality completion of any of these projects was to focus on one and work in series instead of parallel.

I seem to remember from my one and only electrical engineering class (1976 in think) that the resistance (my challenges) through a series circuit is higher than through a parallel circuit (assuming the same resistors). Thus for the same amount of volts (energy) you get more amps (work) through a parallel circuit. Hmmm... That doesn’t seem to work for my present metaphor. Then I realized, (you can tell I had a lot of time to think on the drive) that for resistors in series, the current (amps) is the same for each resistor, and for resistors in parallel, the voltage is the same for each one. In other words, I could exchange the same energy working on multiple projects simultaneously, but the work would go down—that is the output, the quality would diminish. It will possibly be less efficient to complete one project and go on to the next, but the quality is what I am looking for, not efficient volume.

That got me thinking about the present generation of youth who do everything in parallel. I was waiting at a restaurant in Atlanta with my family and a young married couple came in and waited near us for a table. Both pulled out their i-phones and began doing multiple things while also holding something I assume they thought was a conversation. It was punctuated by a lot of single syllable sounds and I am not sure, if given a test whether either would really know what the other had said—perhaps they wouldn’t even had passed a test on they themselves had said. I love parallel operations, but give me quality anytime. When it comes to communications, I think less can actually be more and more can be less.

The Rising Matt Powers

2009-07-24T15:10:00.000-07:00

Byblos Press and Byblos Media Author and Recording Artist, Matt Powers, is headlining at Dfest in Tulsa Oklahoma. He was recently interviewed by Tulsa Today (see the article here: The Rising Matt Powers)With 160 bands scheduled to appear, Matt garnered front page coverage with a lengthy article to boot.

Matt's Dfest Performance Dates:

Matt will perform Friday, July 24, at 6p.m. on the PAC Williams Stage. Then, he takes the stage with PEOPLE, July 25 at 6:15p.m at The Flytrap.

Here are some of Matt's other performance dates:

Jul 29 2009 9:00P
Silvie’s Lounge with PEOPLE Chicago, Illinois
Aug 1 2009 9:00P
Pete’s Candy Store Brooklyn, New York
Aug 4 2009 9:00P
The Annex New York, New York
Aug 8 2009 9:00P
All Call In with PEOPLE Ewing, New Jersey
Sep 6 2009 7:00P
Underground SS San Francisco, California
Sep 8 2009 10:00P
Element Lounge San Francisco, California
Sep 19 2009 9:00P
The Key Club with PEOPLE California, California
Oct 2 2009 7:30P
FOX KMPH Fresno Ch. 26 - GREAT DAY Fresno, California
Oct 2 2009 10:00P
Lucky 13 Fresno, California
Oct 4 2009 7:00P
Underground SS San Francisco, California
Oct 6 2009 10:00P
Element Lounge San Francisco, California
Oct 9 2009 7:30A
FOX KMPH Fresno Ch. 26 - GREAT DAY with PEOPLE Fresno/Visalia/Clovis/Coarsegold/YLP/Yosemite, California
Oct 9 2009 9:45P
Lucky 13 With PEOPLE Fresno, California

New Book On Line for Free

2009-07-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

One of our Byblos Press authors, Matt Powers is providing for free a chapter a week of his new book Square One: A Tale of New New York on a public blog: http://squareonenny.blogspot.com/

Matt may be known to Byblos followers as a well known recording artist. Byblos Media was happy to be his first label. He has gone on the bigger things and is on tour this summer in New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Los Angeles, and the D-Fest in Tulsa in July. You can check out some of his new music at http://www.reverbnation.com/mattpowers/

Besides his creativity with music, Matt has a B.A. in English from NYU and has written several books, articles, and short stories. You should check out his new book for yourself, but here are the first few lines:

Chapter 1
“For the past month most of Africa had been out of power and their respective governments incommunicado. The latest reports seem to confirm rumors that the most recent strain of the NP has become airborne in several parts of Africa. All diplomatic and military probes fail to return. Satellite reports confirm, Egypt has been dark and silent for over a week now and Nigeria is victim to the largest oil fire in human history. It can be seen from space with the naked eye. Team members of the American spaceship Valiant have even been able to capture the image through the space stations windows using disposable cameras. In South Africa, large bands of men roam the streets after weeks of riots. Medicine meant for the sick has been auctioned off at gunpoint in marketplaces through out sub-Saharan Africa. What can be seen shows no signs that the Unification Accord was anything more than a brief dream.”
“I’ve just been handed an urgent bulletin: Missing American Submarine Porter Vance was found beached on the shores of Greenland. All 110 of her crew died from what experts are calling the greatest single threat to existence of man, the NP. Discovered-”
“China maintains its Defcon 6 status for the second week and seems reluctant to back down. Many of their more desirable people have been moved to government complexes buried deep in the heart of the Himalayas. Like the age old saying-”
“A silo explosion yesterday outside Beijing....

The Most Important Word in the Dictionary

2009-06-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

What do you think is the most important word in the dictionary? President Spencer W. Kimball of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints suggested that perhaps the most important word is remember. (see "Circles of Exaltation," address to religious educators, Brigham Young University, June 28, 1968, 8). Celebrating this Memorial Day, I would like to remember a few people:

Civil War: Colonel Chamberlain
Spanish American War: Lt. Rowan
WWI Raul Luffberry
WWII: Horst Reschke
Korea: Bill Crawoford
Vietnam: Larry Chesley
Contemporary: Mark McGeehan

While stationed at the Pentagon, I had the opportunity to visit to Underground White House and on the way back to the office, I stopped by Gettysburg. I had just read Killer Angles. As I stepped on Little Round Top and I could see the battle.... and Colonel Joshua Chamberlain:

The oldest of five children, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain was born September 8, 1828 in Brewer, Maine. Chamberlain proved to be an excellent student and entered Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine in 1848 where he excelled in his studies and also met his future bride, Fannie Adams. After graduation in 1852, Chamberlain went on to study at the Bangor Theological Seminary. Three years later, he accepted a teaching position at his old college and married. The couple settled into a quiet college routine and a marriage that produced five children. The young teacher was a firm believer in the strength of the American form of government threatened by secession of the south in 1861. Keenly aware of the circumstances of a divided nation and with his passion for the Union cause "undying", Chamberlain left his teaching position to volunteer his services to the state in 1862. Though he lacked any military background, Chamberlain's educational experience landed him the rank of lieutenant colonel for the 20th Maine Infantry Regiment.
From Antietam to Fredericksburg, to the battle of Gettysberg, Chamberlain honed his leadership skills. By the summer of 1863, Chamberlain had been promoted to colonel and marched the 20th Maine northward in pursuit of Lee. On July 1, the Fifth Corps marched to Hanover, Pennsylvania before turning west toward Gettysburg. An overnight forced march got the troops to a location in rear of Cemetery Ridge the next day and Chamberlain's men took a brief but grateful rest. It was here that Chamberlain faced the distasteful duty of addressing "mutinous" soldiers assigned to the 20th Infantry from the old 2nd Maine, which had been mustered out. A group of men whose enlistments had not expired refused to carry arms and were placed under arrest. Chamberlain's brief speech and his pledge to plead their case caused all but a handful to take arms and join the ranks of the 20th for the coming battle.
The Confederate attacks came in waves, each more intense than the one before. At the height of the fighting, a Confederate bullet struck Chamberlain on his left thigh. Luckily the metal sword scabbard hanging at his side diverted the bullet, leaving him with only with a painful bruise. The colonel leapt to his feet and continued to encourage his men, directing the defense of the rocky hillside. The relentless Confederate assaults shredded Chamberlain's ranks and the situation looked grim as ammunition began to run out. Soldiers ransacked the cartridge boxes of the wounded and dead strewn on the hillside, but there was not enough to continue for much longer and that meager supply soon ran out. Chamberlain had not only been directing his men, but closely observing the southern attacks as well. Sensing exhaustion among the Confederates who were also probably running out of ammunition, he formulated a final plan to defend the 20th Maine's part of the shrinking Union line. There was a brief lull in the fighting when the colonel called all of his officers quickly to a meeting and explained his proposal- the 20th Maine was going to make a charge!
The charge of the 20th Maine Infantry was the climax of the fighting in front of Vincent's brigade and contributed greatly to the Union victory at Little Round Top.
In the spring of 1864, Chamberlain commanded a brigade in the 1st Division, Fifth Corps that he led during the Wilderness Campaign to Petersburg, Virginia. On June 18, 1864, Chamberlain was seriously wounded at the Battle of White Oak Road outside of Petersburg. Taken to a field hospital, the attending surgeon pronounced the wound to be mortal and Chamberlain was thought to be on his death bed. Much to the surprise of all, Chamberlain made a miraculous recovery and by the following spring was strong enough to rejoin the army as a brigadier general, a promotion he had received the day he was wounded. In April 1865, General Chamberlain led his troops at the Battle of Five Forks, which broke the Confederate hold on Petersburg. A sudden change in corps command after that battle placed Chamberlain in command of the 1st Division of the Fifth Corps during the final campaign to Appomattox Court House.
After the surrender terms were signed by General Lee on April 9, General Chamberlain was assigned the task of accepting the formal surrender of arms of the Army of Northern Virginia scheduled for April 12, 1865. It was a cool, wet day. Their lines formed on the road leading to Appomattox Court House, Chamberlain's division watched the tattered gray column trudge toward the village. Without hesitation, Chamberlain called his men to attention and saluted the Confederates as they approached. At the head of the Confederate column a despondent General John Gordon heard the shifting of weapons and recognized the honor. He rose in his saddle, reigned in his horse and boldly returned the salute. Former enemies paid their respects to each other in this last act of the war in Virginia.
Chamberlain returned to peaceful pursuits in Maine after the war and was elected governor of the state. In 1871 he was persuaded to accept the president's position at Bowdoin College where he restructured the college curriculum to include science and engineering. Chamberlain was also active in the Grand Army of the Republic, the national organization of Union veterans. He resigned from Bowdoin College in 1883 due to ill health, but continued to write about his war-time experiences and remained active in veteran circles. He later dabbled in several businesses including real estate, but none satisfied him as much as education. In 1893, Congress honored him with the Congressional Medal of Honor for gallantry at Gettysburg. In 1900, he was appointed Surveyor of the Port of Maine, a position which he held until his death on February 14, 1914. General Chamberlain is buried in Pine Grove Cemetery in Brunswick, Maine.

I am a member of the Army Navy Club in Washington, DC—private club. Eating dinner, picture of Lt. Rowan. Went up to the private library—read this book—received his orders in the club, at the table I had been dining at...
Lt. Andrew Summers Rowan:
At the outbreak of the Spanish-American campaign Lieutenant Rowan, under disguise, entered the enemy lines in Oriente, crossed the island of Cuba, and not only succeeded in delivering a message to General Garcia, but secured secret information relative to existing military conditions in that region of such great value that it had an important bearing on the quick ending of the struggle and the complete success of the U.S. Army.
Andrew Summers Rowan, the lieutenant credited with delivering the message, was born on Apr. 23, 1857, in Gap Mills, Va. Following in the footsteps of his father, a colonel in the 180th Virginia Infantry in the Confederate Army, he entered West Point at age 20. He was graduated in 1881 and commissioned a second lieutenant in the 15th U.S. Infantry. During the ensuing eight years, he saw active duty at frontier posts in Texas, Colorado, and the Dakotas, and he also undertook several assignments in South America for the Military Intelligence Division.
For some reason he became intrigued with Cuba and wrote a book about the island. This, combined with his knowledge of Spanish, his reputation as a topographical expert, and his physical adventuresomeness--mountain climbing was his favorite pastime--made him an excellent choice for a top-priority mission to Cuba. Contrary to what Hubbard wrote about the assignment, there was no "message" for Rowan to deliver in a "sealed oilskin pouch" from President McKinley to General Garcia. Instead, Rowan was merely given a verbal order from his superior officer, Col. Arthur Wagner, to determine the strength of Garcia's forces and arrange their cooperation with American forces should a war break out between the U.S. and Spain over Cuban independence.
Rowan first took ship to Jamaica. There he contacted Cuban insurgents, who landed him in a small fishing boat near Santiago de Cuba on Apr. 24, 1898, the day Spain declared war on the U.S. A group of Cubans guided him through dense, insect-infested jungles for six days. Their supplies soon ran out, and during the last days they existed on sweet potatoes. In the midst of this ordeal they met up with several men who claimed to be Spanish deserters. Suddenly, one of the men lunged at Rowan with a knife, but he was quickly decapitated by Rowan's Cuban companions.

My Great grandfather was an inventor/entrepreneur. He ran a newspaper in Iowa, organized a dance band and also built cars from scratch. At one point in his automobile career, he became Eddie Rickenbacker’s mechanic (riding with him in various races) and went with him to France in WWI. Both Rickenbacker and my great grandfather were taught by Raul Luffbery the great American Ace of the Lafayette Escadrille.

"Despite having been born in France of French parentage, Raoul Gervais Victor Lufbery has deservedly gone into the annals of aviation as one of the brave young men who helped in the forging of US military aviation during World War i. Lufbery was born on 14 March 1885, emigrating with his parents to the US at the start of the 1890s. At seventeen and footloose, Lufbery ran away from home, traveling to Europe, and the Middle East before returning to the US to join the Army as a rifleman. It was the US Army that furthered his knowledge of the world by sending him to the Phillipines, from where, on Army discharge , he proceded to explore South East Asia in 1910.
Two years on and Lufbery's path crosses that of French pilot, Marc Pourpe, who hired Lufbery as the mechanic for his Bleriot. At the outbreak of the war both men were still together and by now, back in France. Pourpe volunteered and with his previous flying experience soon found himself with Escadrille N 23.
Initially rejected as a foreigner by the French authorities, Lufbery was contemplating joining the French Foreign Legion when Pourpe, in need of a tried and trusted mechanic, intervened on his behalf. Sadly, shortly after rejoining Pourpe, his benefactor was killed.
During the late spring of 1915, Lufbery was selected for pilot training, gaining his 'wings' on 29 July 1915. His introduction to combat came in October 1915 piloting two seater Voisins with Escadrille VB 106. Happily for Lufbery, he was selected for single seaters early in 1916 and following type conversion training joined the Nieuport II - equipped Escadrille Lafayette on 24 May 1916. French-led, this unit was manned by American volunteer pilots. Here, within the space of less than five months, Lufbery made his mark by becoming an ace, that is having amassed the necessary five 'kills,' on 12 October 1916.
Commissioned in early 1917, Lufbery continued flying for the French with the Escadrille Lafayette until January 1918, when th eunit and its personnel were transferred to the American Expeditionary Forces's control. By now holding the US rank of major, Lufbery was given command of th e94th Aero, equipped with Nieuport 28s. The unit became operational on 19 March 1918 and two months later Raoul Lufbery was killed after falling from his blazing Nieuport 11 on 19 May 1918."
"Theres a hell of a lot of difference in going out alone, no matter what the odds are against you, and in going out as a member or a leader of a group of pilots who may or may not be as good as you are. It is a great responsibility to shepard these pilots out and get back home safe. I prefer to fight alone, on my own."
Lufbery to Rickenbacker, in a discussion on tactics.
"The crass stupidity of certain American brass hats failed to recognize his value as a fine fighter."
Edwin C. Parsons, commenting on his relegation to a desk as the Lafayette Escadrille was absorbed into the U.S. Air Service.
"We silently faced the realization that America's greatest aviator and ace of aces had been laid away to rest."
Rickenbacker, after Lufbery's death.

As a cadet at the Air Force Academy, the Bishop of the ward the cadets attended was a man named Horst Reschke. I often went to his home for help with my German genealogy and to listen to his stories, His story:

He was born in 1930. His family joined the Church in 1931. His father Max became President of the LDS Branch in Hannover in 1937. Horst often went with his father to visit members and others in need.
Horst wanted to join the Nazi Youth (Boy Scouts to Horst). Max kicked the youth leader outof his home, got arrested, but was acquitted.

On Kristallnacht Max, accomplanied by Horst went to the house of some Jewish friends, the Scheurenburg’s. Max had to fight a brown shirt, but ensured his firends were OK, and went home fearing for his family. Got them to safety and went back to the Scheurburg home. Max pretended he was a Nazi. He flipped his coat lapel in the dark like he was showing his ID and said “I will take care of these two!’ and drove them to the Swiss border. They escaped to Shanghai China. Max collected money for Jews who could not get the payment owed them. Max arrested for aiding and hiding Jews. Went to Bergen Belsen camp. Horst helped a Russian prisoner of war who secretly stayed many nights in their apartment. Horst learned to accept surprise guest on the couch from his father's practices and this seemed the right thing to do.

Horst knew of Helmuth Huebener; Hamburg and Hanover not too far apart—less than 100 miles; When visiting Berlin, Horst asked me to visit Plotensie -the Blood tribunal—which I did. I saw where Helmuth died living what was right in the face of the entire Nazi war machine.

Horst often went to deliver apples hidden in his armpits for Jewish friends in the ghetto. He was also threatened for these acts. His family saved him by rolling him up in a rug and mailed to a relative...

Immediately after the war many Germans were not trusted by the Allies. The Russian Officer Horst had protected came to the Reschke's rescue with this testimony: “I am Captain, Red Army. There is a family living in this apartment house which has not only treated me well, but has literally saved my life by giving me shelter here. Had they not done so, you would have found my body among those others.” Nikolai went back to Russia to find his family but couldn’t get any farther than East Germany. He escaped and went back to the Reschke home.

Hanover Germany, where the Reschke's lived during the war experienced 128 air raids and the city 89 percent destroyed. The Reschke family survived.

As a cadet at the US Air Force Academy, I had the opportunity to meet some great people. One was our janitor. I will let another former cadet tell the story. (for more information you can go to this website to read about his visit with the President of the United States: http://www.homeofheroes.com/profiles/profiles_crawford2.html)

William "Bill" Crawford certainly was an unimpressive figure, one you could easily overlook during a hectic day at the U.S. Air Force Academy. Mr. Crawford, as most of us referred to him back in the late 1970s, was our squadron janitor. While we cadets busied ourselves preparing for academic exams, athletic events, Saturday morning parades and room inspections, or never-ending leadership classes, Bill quietly moved about the squadron mopping and buffing floors, emptying trash cans, cleaning toilets, or just tidying up the mess 100 college-age kids can leave in a dormitory. Sadly, and for many years, few of us gave him much notice, rendering little more than a passing nod or throwing a curt, "G'morning!" in his direction as we hurried off to our daily duties. Why? Perhaps it was because of the way he did his job-he always kept the squadron area spotlessly clean, even the toilets and showers gleamed. Frankly, he did his job so well, none of us had to notice or get involved. After all, cleaning toilets was his job, not ours. Maybe it was his physical appearance that made him disappear into the background. Bill didn't move very quickly and, in fact, you could say he even shuffled a bit, as if he suffered from some sort of injury. His gray hair and wrinkled face made him appear ancient to a group of young cadets. And his crooked smile, well, it looked a little funny. Face it, Bill was an old man working in a young person's world. What did he have to offer us on a personal level? Finally, maybe it was Mr. Crawford's personality that rendered him almost invisible to the young people around him. Bill was shy, almost painfully so. He seldom spoke to a cadet unless they addressed him first, and that didn't happen very often. Our janitor always buried himself in his work, moving about with stooped shoulders, a quiet gait, and an averted gaze. If he noticed the hustle and bustle of cadet life around him, it was hard to tell. So, for whatever reason, Bill blended into the woodwork and became just another fixture around the squadron. The Academy, one of our nation's premier leadership laboratories, kept us busy from dawn till dusk. And Mr. Crawford...well, he was just a janitor.
That changed one fall Saturday afternoon in 1976. I was reading a book about World War II and the tough Allied ground campaign in Italy, when I stumbled across an incredible story. On Sept. 13, 1943, a Private William Crawford from Colorado, assigned to the 36th Infantry Division, had been involved in some bloody fighting on Hill 424 near Altavilla, Italy. The words on the page leapt out at me: "in the face of intense and overwhelming hostile fire ... with no regard for personal safety ... on his own initiative, Private Crawford single-handedly attacked fortified enemy positions." It continued, "for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, the President of the United States ..." "Holy cow," I said to my roommate, "you're not going to believe this, but I think our janitor is a Medal of Honor winner." We all knew Mr. Crawford was a WWII Army vet, but that didn't keep my friend from looking at me as if I was some sort of alien being. Nonetheless, we couldn't wait to ask Bill about the story on Monday. We met Mr. Crawford bright and early Monday and showed him the page in question from the book, anticipation and doubt on our faces. He starred at it for a few silent moments and then quietly uttered something like, "Yep, that's me." Mouths agape, my roommate and I looked at one another, then at the book, and quickly back at our janitor. Almost at once we both stuttered, "Why didn't you ever tell us about it?" He slowly replied after some thought, "That was one day in my life and it happened a long time ago." I guess we were all at a loss for words after that. We had to hurry off to class and Bill, well, he had chores to attend to. However, after that brief exchange, things were never again the same around our squadron. Word spread like wildfire among the cadets that we had a hero in our midst-Mr. Crawford, our janitor, had won the Medal! Cadets who had once passed by Bill with hardly a glance, now greeted him with a smile and a respectful, "Good morning, Mr. Crawford."
Those who had before left a mess for the "janitor" to clean up started taking it upon themselves to put things in order. Most cadets routinely stopped to talk to Bill throughout the day and we even began inviting him to our formal squadron functions. He'd show up dressed in a conservative dark suit and quietly talk to those who approached him, the only sign of his heroics being a simple blue, star-spangled lapel pin. Almost overnight, Bill went from being a simple fixture in our squadron to one of our teammates. Mr. Crawford changed too, but you had to look closely to notice the difference. After that fall day in 1976, he seemed to move with more purpose, his shoulders didn't seem to be as stooped, he met our greetings with a direct gaze and a stronger "good morning" in return, and he flashed his crooked smile more often. The squadron gleamed as always, but everyone now seemed to notice it more. Bill even got to know most of us by our first names, something that didn't happen often at the Academy. While no one ever formally acknowledged the change, I think we became Bill's cadets and his squadron. As often happens in life, events sweep us away from those in our past. The last time I saw Bill was on graduation day in June 1977. As I walked out of the squadron for the last time, he shook my hand and simply said, "Good luck, young man." With that, I embarked on a career that has been truly lucky and blessed. Mr. Crawford continued to work at the Academy and eventually retired in his native Colorado where he resides today, one of four Medal of Honor winners living in a small town. A wise person once said, "It's not life that's important, but those you meet along the way that make the difference." Bill was one who made a difference for me. While I haven't seen Mr. Crawford in over twenty years, he'd probably be surprised to know I think of him often. Bill Crawford, our janitor, taught me many valuable, unforgettable leadership lessons.
And now, for the rest of the story.........

Pvt William John Crawford was a platoon scout for 3rd Platoon of Company L 142nd Regiment 36th Division (Texas National Guard) and won the Medal Of Honor for his actions on Hill 424, just 4 days after the invasion at Salerno. You can read his citation at www.army.mil/cmh-pg/mohiia1.htm.

On Hill 424, Pvt Crawford took out 3 enemy machine guns before darkness fell, halting the platoon's advance. Pvt Crawford could not be found and was assumed dead. The request for his MOH was quickly approved. MG Terry Allen presented the posthumous MOH to Bill Crawford's father, George, on 11 May 1944 in Camp (now Fort) Carson, near Pueblo. Nearly two months after that, it was learned that Pvt Crawford was alive in a POW camp in Germany. During his captivity, a German guard clubbed him with his rifle. Bill overpowered him, took the rifle away, and beat the guard unconscious. A German doctor's testimony saved him from severe punishment, perhaps death. To stay ahead of the advancing Russian army, the prisoners were marched 500 miles in 52 days in the middle of the German winter, subsisting on one potato a day. An allied tank column liberated the camp in the spring of 1945, and Pvt Crawford took his first hot shower in 18 months on VE Day. Pvt Crawford stayed in the army before retiring as a MSG and becoming a janitor. In 1984, President Ronald Reagan officially presented the MOH to Bill Crawford.

In pilot traning I had some great instructors. One was a returned POW who also happened to be LDS, Colonel Larry Chesley. His words upon takeoff were always: “OK Mitchell, Make my nose bleed!” Here are a few more of his words:

I grew up in Burley, Idaho. We lived on a farm and I learned to work hard at an early age. I enlisted in the Air Force in 1956 when I was seventeen years old and spent two years in Japan and nearly two years in Germany. In 1960 I took an Honorable Discharge and began college at Weber State College in Ogden, Utah. I was married and had one child and worked full time for Boeing at Hill Air Force Base (AFB), Utah. I finished a four-year course of study in less than three years, graduating with honors.
I reentered the Air Force at Officer Training School (OTS) at Lackland AFB, Texas. I graduated as a Distinguished Military Graduate. From OTS I went to Pilot Training, then to fighter training in the F4C Phantom, I graduated as the outstanding pilot of my class (Top Gun).

I volunteered to go to Vietnam in the Fall of 1965.
I was shot down and captured on April 16, 1966
and was released from prison on February 12, 1973,
nearly seven years in captivity.

While a prisoner of war at one time I was in a room of 48 men and there were 5 Larry’s. So I ask them to give me another name. They started calling me "Lucky", like one might call someone "tiny" who was large.

I had broken my back in three places in the ejection
and had received no medical treatment to it.
I had beriberi and lost over 60 pounds in two months.

My wife divorced me etc, etc. The name just stuck. After I got home I remarried and we had three children adopted three more and had a Navajo boy living with us. Then my wife Annette and our six-week-old baby got killed in a train/car crash. After I retired from the Air Force I ran for an elected office in the State of Arizona. I ran eight times and won two.
During those very sick days from January

through about the last of March, the pain was so intense
that I could think of nothing but pain.

Even thoughts of my wife and children whom I loved so much, and who I normally thought about all the time, were ousted by the demon pain. Those were very trying times. In all, I was in pain for between four and five months, and after I started getting my health back my feet still hurt badly for several more years. Even today they are not completely normal.

When the guard left the first time, Jim and I knelt by our bunk
and took turns praying that God would soften the hearts of our enemies.
When Jim's punishment was so insignificant,
Jim Ray Baptist and Larry Chesley Mormon knew
there was a God who could and did soften the hearts of our enemies.

The real moral to my story is this. Jim Ray loved me more than he loved himself. He was willing to put his very life on the line for me. We do not have as many Jim Rays in the world as we used to have. Today, to many of us are just worrying about ourselves, looking our for number one. Most of us don't have to put our life on the line to help others, there are so many ways in which to help. Most do not cost anything except maybe a little time.

It is my deep and abiding faith that keeps me going.
I know I am a child of God. I know He was with me in prison.
He healed my back and watched over me.
I know Jesus is the Christ the Son of God and the Savior of all mankind.
I know we have a Prophet on earth, that there is a plan of happiness. I know I will live again in a perfect body in a perfect place with my wife and family for Eternity.
God is not some unimaginable person to me,
He is real and I know He loves me
and wants me to live like the example
Jesus set for me and for everyone.
You see, I really am LUCKY.
"Lucky" Larry Chesley

I volunteered to go also - with
my wife's blessing. Jim and I went to Ubon, Thailand with a squadron from
George AFB, California. We arrived 16 December 1966. Four months and 76
missions later on 16 April 1966 I was shot down.

Major Sam Johnson and I were on a "milk run" mission about 30 miles north of
the DMZ. This started my long stay in North Vietnam-almost seven years. I
was sick much of the time during those seven years. My illness was caused by
my bout with beri beri from December 1966 to April 1967 which left me in
such a weakened condition that I caught everything that came along. I lost
approximately 60 pounds, leaving me weighing only 100 pounds. While in
prison, I received news that my wife had remarried. Because I had not been
allowed to write for four years, neither my wife nor my family knew I was
alive. I received my first letter four and a half years after my shoot down.
Though I was tortured, beaten, and generally mistreated, I was not treated
as harshly as some of the others.

I am a Mormon and I believe deeply in my religion. It was one of the
strengths I clung to during those dark days. I believe in a God who is like
a Father, One who cares about His children. I had a patriarchal blessing
when I was young (about 14) and it said that if I were ever called into war
that no matter what would come or what would go, I would be returned to my
loved ones. So I never doubted for a moment. I knew that I would come home
someday.
.

While at the Academy I got to know another great American, who was in the squadron next to mine. We had a lot in common and often had hallway conversations that would last over an hour. His name is Lt. Col. Mark C. McGeehan:

A selfless man of faith and family, U.S. Air Force Lt. Col. Mark C. McGeehan died June 24, 1994 protecting those under his command from a rogue senior pilot.
Lt. Col. McGeehan's willingness to give the last full measure of his life to spare others is testimony of his leadership and commitment to do right.
Born in East Liverpool Jan. 10, 1956, McGeehan was reared in Chester, one of nine children. Upon graduation from Oak Glen High School in 1974, he attended the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colo., where he received his commission in 1978. His professional military education also included Squadron Officer School, where he was a distinguished graduate, and Air and Command and Staff College.
A senior pilot and instructor with more than 31,000 flying hours, Lt. Col. McGeehan advanced through the ranks, serving in such capacities as aide-de-camp to the commander; a faculty member of Air Command and Staff College, where he was chief of the military history and doctrine branch; operations officer of the 325th Squadron; and finally, commander of the 325th Bomb Squadron at Fairchild Air Force Base.
It was while serving as commander, that Lt. Col. McGeehan faced a challenging dilemma. After receiving numerous complaints from his junior aircrews about the unsafe flying habits of one of the wing's senior pilots not under his command, McGeehan took evidence of the maverick pilot's recklessness to the wing leadership, using the appropriate chain of command, and requested the pilot be grounded. Lt. Col. McGeehan's request was denied.
With the denial, McGeehan took the remaining option available to protect his pilots and order that on one under his command was to fly with the maverick pilot. If a co-pilot was needed, McGeehan said that he would go.
On June 24, 1994 in preparation for an air show Lt. Col. McGeehan was co-piloting a B-52H bomber when the rogue pilot exceeded flight restrictions for the craft. The bomber sideslipped into the ground, killing everyone on board, the pilot, two crewmembers and Lt. Col. McGeehan.
The decorated lieutenant colonel who was active as a Boy Scout leader, Little League Coach and the Catholic Church, left behind his sons, Patrick, Brendan and Collin, and his wife, Jodie.
Ironically, just weeks before his death as Lt. Col. McGeehan was preparing to hand over the unit flag of the 325th Bomb Squadron for deactivation on July 1, he wrote in an article that was printed June 10, 1994 in the military publication Strikehawk:

"When we think of those who went before us, we should do so with humility, respecting their great personal sacrifice. When we honor our heritage and those with whom we share a common bond and purpose, we are all enriched, and our lives are made a little more worth living."

I would like to end with a thought by Colonel Chamberlain, that he offered in a Memorial Day address in Springfield, Massachusetts, in 1897:
"...everyone has in him, slumbering somewhere, the potencies of noble action, and on due occasion these are likely to make themselves manifest and effective." The secret to unlocking those potencies could be found in the two souls residing in each person, for by striving for one’s better soul, the soul of love and community, one could thus find the path toward greater glory, the road toward true heroism. "Every man has in him the elements of a hero," a conscious effort to put others before himself and to achieve a "largeness of action." In all of this, there is something lofty and spiritual, the fulfillment of divine destiny. [cited in: The Gettysburg Nobody Knows, edited by Gabor S. Boritt, 1997]

Back to the Basics

2009-05-28T14:27:00.000-07:00

After posting some foundation thoughts on National Security, I received a few emails that perhaps this was straying from the focus of the Byblos Blog. I agree. I deleted the last couple of posts and added them to a new blog at http://www.SureTrumpet.blogspot.com where I will post my thoughts and wanderings outside of the literary and media world. I hope you enjoy both.

The Virtual Ghetto

2009-05-05T19:28:00.000-07:00

Here is a provocative issue that I have been thinking about lately. I am sure I will upset some people, so let me hear from you and let's get a conversation going.

Of Environment:
W. Clement Stone, businessman, philanthropist and author suggested: “You are a product of your environment. So choose the environment that will best develop you toward your objective. Analyze your life in terms of its environment. Are the things around you helping you toward success - or are they holding you back?” He further warned, “Be careful the environment you choose for it will shape you; be careful the friends you choose for you will become like them.” Of this life shaping environment, the author Richard Bach suggests, “We generate our own environment. We get exactly what we deserve. How can we resent a life we've created ourselves? Who's to blame, who's to credit but us? Who can change it, anytime we wish, but us?” Stone and Bach are not talking about where our house is located, but where our heart and mind are located and where our choices and actions are located. I want to talk about one particular environment and I will start with the physical location and then go to the heart/mind/choices/actions environment.

Into the Ghetto:
One particular environment often highlighted for its hopelessness, dead ends, and failure is the modern day ghetto. Originally, a ghetto was the section of a Medieval European city to which Jews were restricted. Today, a ghetto is commonly defined as a section of a city occupied by people who live there because of social restrictions on their residential choice. These ancient and modern versions of the ghetto are similar in that they are typically imposed on its residents. That is not the case of new ghettos, springing up in homes and neighborhoods around the world. The term ghetto is also used for any segregated mode of living or working that results from personal choices, internal (xenophobic) bias, or external stereotyping. Word Wrester Dictionary Editorial Note: Ghetto as an adjective also means “fake, imitative, improvised, shoddy” and has been used for a decade in this context.

Some writers and activists talk of the electronic ghetto. In the actual “information city,” any physical-spatial entity not connected with the internet and other forms of interchange media are considered by some a ghetto. UC Irvine Professor, Socialist Commentator, and self proclaimed Marxist-Environmentalist, Mike Davis, uses this term to describe areas of cities structurally excluded from the so-called "information revolution." They are the places that have little or no access to computer networks, to high-quality fiber optic phone lines, etc.

I agree that everyone deserves to enjoy the benefits of the internet. The digital divide is real—and in some areas—growing. There is another kind of electronic ghetto I am thinking about, however. I call it the VIRTUAL GHETTO. It fits the definition of a segregated mode of living (although created initially by choice, not by outside pressures and restrictions). In fact it is because of a lack of restrictions (economic, availability, supervision) that this kind of ghetto is nourished and flourishes. People all over the world choose to enter this fake, imitative ghetto on a daily basis.

Ghetto Products:
One product of the modern ghetto is a music genre called rap. Old school rap was often focused on good times, parties and friendship—party today for tomorrow we die. Educator and religious leader Neal A. Maxwell describes this mindset in Disciple’s Life this way: “The laughter of the world is just a lonely crowd trying to reassure itself.” The hollowness of this paradigm is admitted in a significant departure from the no rules party attitude with "The Message", a rap song written by Melle Mel for his hip hop group, Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five. The Message announces the party is over and things aren’t looking good. The popularity of "The Message" led "message rap" into hip hop history. Whether rap is informed engagement with a brutal environment, a mind numbing cadence that includes an “authentic” adversarial response to those who aren’t presumptively “connected, or another lonely crowd trying to reassure itself, it provides an insight into one potential outcome of ghetto living:

You grow in the ghetto, living second rate
And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate.
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alley way.
You’ll admire all the numberbook takers,
Thugs, pimps and pushers, and the big money makers.

The ultimate message of “The Message”—that ghetto life is so hopeless that an explosion of violence is both justified and imminent—is a ghetto mantra still popular today.

The delusional, defeating, and deleterious effects that ghetto life can have on people remind me of a lament by Albert Schweitzer: "The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives." Former Secretary of Agriculture and religious leader Ezra Taft Benson explained,

The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. The world would take people out of the slums. Christ takes the slums out of people, and then they take themselves out of the slums. The world would mold men by changing their environment. Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature.

Just as Christ takes the slums out of people and they take themselves out of the slums, is it any surprise that Satan seeks to inject the negativity of the ghetto into the hearts of men so they become and stay entrenched in the products of that environment?

The Virtual Ghetto:
The surprise in the world today is Satan has achieved a double coup as described by Neal A. Maxwell: “Disbelieve in Satan and serve him; Believe in God and not serve Him; Satan has accomplished a double coup.” Good people actually search out the ghetto because they don’t believe there is anything wrong with the environment, or they see “a little wrong,” but are sure it won’t harm them.

What is this alluring new ghetto? It comes in the form of some video games, some TV programs and movies, and the darker side of the Internet, and other electronic entertainment and communication options available to nearly anyone, but especially those relatively affluent people that would never choose to live in the traditional ghetto. Since it is “virtual,” it can’t have the same effect, right? And if it has an effect, it isn’t much—just a little violence..., a little lasciviousness...., just some silly comments on the computer screen or cell phone... Yet smoking one cigarette won’t kill you, but the cumulative effect and the addictive nature of cigarette smoking is certainly a killer. Following this metaphor one step further, the “second hand smoke” of the virtual ghetto is just as insidious and dangerous.

A Tour of the Virtual Ghetto:
The tour bus departs the Zeitgeist Station every day. Zeitgeist, or “spirit of the time” suggests that despite socio-economic, cultural, or other background identifiers, most people hold to a certain paradigm of intellectual, moral, and cultural climate—the Zeitgeist. The late 1950’s and early 60’s saw an explosion of television in a majority of homes in the U.S. A similar explosion occurred in the 1990s with internet use in the home. Today, you don’t even have to go—you can just call on the ubiquitous cell phone, or listen to it on the ever present MP3 player. Somewhere in the middle of these explosions, video games insidiously grew in popularity and power.

The convenience that they offer is not without a cost, and the cost is not often realized until many years after the device has been absorbed into society's everyday routine.

The story of modern television is a tale of excess. If the excesses were restrained, could television become a useful device, one that actually benefits society? Could television become a device that communicates and educates, instead of one that violates and enslaves?

US Census Bureau Dec 2006: 98.2 per cent of American homes have a TV set. Adults and teens will spend nearly five months (3,518 hours) next year watching television, surfing the Internet, reading daily newspapers and listening to personal music devices. That’s only one of thousands of nuggets of information on Americana and the world in the U.S. Census Bureau’s Statistical Abstract of the United States: 2007, released today.

“The Statistical Abstract is a collaborative effort that showcases our government statistics and the work of the international community, private industry and nonprofit agency researchers,” said Census Bureau Director Louis Kincannon. According to projections from a communications industry forecast (Table 1110), people will spend 65 days in front of the TV, 41 days listening to radio and a little over a week on the Internet in 2007. Adults will spend about a week reading a daily newspaper and teens and adults will spend another week listening to recorded music. Consumer spending for media is forecasted to be $936.75 per person. The Statistical Abstract includes topics as diverse as condo and mobile home sales to new tables on alternative work schedules and the North American cruise industry. Overall, the book features more than 1,400 tables and charts on social, political and economic facts about the United States, and the latest available international statistics.

Never Give Up

2009-03-20T12:12:00.000-07:00

Someone with more wisdom than I will ever have noted, "Unproductive worry, like Parkinson's proverbial law, tends to expand to fill the time available." I have succumbed to this experience recently. Not sure where my various business efforts were leading--possibly into a dark corner somewhere to die a quiet death, I found myself nearly ready to throw in the towel on it all and join the masses in working for someone else in a mind numbing job (if I could find a job in this economy) that I had no passion for. After all I reasoned, "I have to make a living and take care of my family, finish the house I am building, etc., etc." While those are imperatives in my life, I woke up this morning with a Marilyn vos Savant thought on my mind: "being defeated is often temporary, giving up makes it permanent." I am not a quitter and I am going to see this through. But I also remember reading a saying on the wall of a test pilot's office back in my flying days that I am sure you all have heard: "If you always do what you always did, you will always get what you always got." I won't give up, but I have to get better at changing to meet the challenges. And I have to do it with humor and panache. Check out the "never give up photos on this site--they will raise a smile and a few wow's:

http://www.darkroastedblend.com/2008/04/never-give-up-crazy-logistics-issue-8.html

So when I boil down the essence of Byblos Press, its Byblos Media division, the Treasured Principles experiment, and the other enterprises I own, they all have several things in common: 1) me (and my passion for these things), 2) similar philosophical goals of each company: connection (online and person-to-person), presence (removing social distance), and making meaning within a context, and unfortunately, 3) little or no funding... I will figure out how to make these issues work for me and I will keep you informed as to my progress. If you have any thoughts, let me know.

Greatness and Humility

2009-02-17T08:46:00.000-08:00

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

This quote has found its way into Nelson Mandela's 1994 Inaugural address, the Akeelah and the Bee movie, and countless blogs. It was originally written penned by Marianne Williamson in A Return to Love

There are days when I feel myself shrinking as the thought suggests, but there are other days when I feel just plain inadequate--no shrinking, no fear of greatness, just frustration at not being what I know I can be. I have been this way for most of my life--yet I have accomplished some great things for me. I have a wonderful, actually incredible family. I have a few degrees from institutions of higher learning, successful career, business leader, coach, scoutmaster, community and religious leader, published some books, some music albums, well traveled..., well you get the picture. But I believe this is all so very relative to what is really important. Some of the greatest people I have known are barely literate, or have had to work as a maid in a foreign country to keep her family fed at home, or have sacrificed their life for their child. They know the secret of overcoming this fear of failure: "Should there be anyone who feels he is too weak to do better because of that greatest of fears, the fear of failure, there is no more comforting assurance to be had than the words of the Lord: 'My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them'" These are the heroes I hope people offer for the Treasured Principles site. We all know the celeb names--and nothing against them, but I hope we can also celebrate the quiet champions of greatness that overcome the world everyday in their unique ways.

The companion thought to Williamson's words of counsel might be Kazuro Okakura's observation: Those who cannot feel the littleness of great things in themselves are apt to overlook the greatness of little things in others. So when we are trying to let our light shine for the right reason-- to liberate others, let's not forget that our light is merely a reflection of a higher light--not of our making and that we should celebrate the light of others--knowing its true source.

Humility does not mean thinking less of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean having a low opinion of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking about yourself at all. ~William Temple In releasing ourselves from that self thinking, we are able to give the one thing we can truely give. Neal A. Maxwell, said it this way: "The submission of one's will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God's altar. The many other things we 'give,' . . . are actually the things He has already given or loaned to us. However, when you and I finally submit ourselves, by letting our individual wills be swallowed up in God's will, then we are really giving something to Him! It is the only possession which is truly ours to give!" That is how to let our light shine, show greatness, be humble and teachable.

Long Live the Art of the Book

2009-02-04T19:20:00.000-08:00

Warning, Warning!!! Soap Box diatribe ahead...

http://www.webinknow.com/2009/02/does-a-new-literacy-call-for-a-new-book-model.html

Interesting thoughts in the linked article, but this would be a tragedy..., to replace a book with basically a website, in print or digital... although over half a million Kindles have been sold since the Christmas shopping season... Geeks and the tech savvy would not consider me one of their own, but IT in particular does not scare me and in most cases I happily embrace it. Information is important, but it's not just about the information and the efficiency. Or is it? Maybe more is said with less construction, but you have to think--the suggested layout and content might be the lazy way--the basic tech way, but not the artistic and pure science way. Remember why the world was falling apart in the first book of Asimov's Foundation Trilogy? Nobody knew how to think anymore or what the human or pure science foundations under the tech were. Not every thing should be boiled down to a tech manual. I can just see To Kill A Mockingbird in this suggested style; the publisher could put a "contact us" link to the NAACP, or the KKK, or PETA (someone is going to kill a bird!?) depending on the reader's viewpoint, and a video of scenes from the movie, and links to other books written about this subject and about travel to the South, and of course some ads focused on the behavioral research on the type of person who would read this book, maybe a coupon for Expedia... Wow, really makes me want to curl up by the fireplace (a digital one on my computer screen of course) and get into the story.

I will die loving books and the simple art of the word and what is said and not said in the white space between the words and if I really think about it, the letter font and the binding and the dust jacket (all really great books have a hard cover edition), and handwritten notes and fountain pens and different types of ink and handmade paper and the art and tactile nature of it all... (And a few people that follow me on Twitter would probably say--metaphorically speaking, "better off dead.") So, I have published these thoughts on a blog; now isn't that ironic.

Maybe I should just title the article: Sui Generis and say "so be it."

And then there is the library itself. In my personal library in my previous home my daughter had painted the words above the entrance: "When I step into this library, I cannot understand why I ever step out of it." -- Marie de Sevigne. Could a digital library ever look like this?

Check out some of the beautiful libraries of the world at:

http://curiousexpeditions.org/2007/09/a_librophiliacs_love_letter_1.html
You won't be sorry.

Treasured Principles

2009-01-28T09:35:00.000-08:00

The Byblos Press sponsored wiki book project is rolling! Check it out at http://treasuredprinciples.com/ The good news is: we have 24 participants so far and already we have some great inputs. The bad news is: we only have 24 participants so far and our inputs seem to be acceptable by all those involved. Either these are the perfect inputs--which is entirely possible, or we have a very homogeneous group--which is also entirely possible. Hopefully this site will expand to new participants with varying backgrounds, different countries, and different paradigms. That's when the fun and learning will really begin.

The premise of this 'experiment" is explained on the home page:
Principles are universal, so let's invite the world to write a book about 365 principles, and principle champions.

Much is said in every society, religious group, organization, nation, etc. about principles. A few of these principles may even be listed, but in most cases, these foundation imperatives are left unlisted, undefined, un-researched, un-justified—and possibly misunderstood. To really understand a principle it is instructive to see it in action through a person’s life—thus the principles selected will be personified by a champion that exemplifies a specific principle.

The outcome of this project, the book, is not a discussion on the origin of principles. Whether we believe that principles are created by God, are the laws even God must follow, are created by nature, or by a rational human consciousness—they do exist. Any high school or college student who procrastinated all semester and tried to cram for the final exam on the last day understands the principle of the Law of the Harvest. It is universal--it applies anywhere, anytime, to everyone. Those who learn to work with principles are more successful and find contentment with life, no matter their situation. Those who continually bang their head against the stonewall of principles are usually frustrated and wonder why. What a great topic to engage the public in dialogue with the goal of coming to a consensus, compiling that work and publishing it for the betterment of us all.

Those who contribute here can have their name published as a contributing author and get the book at cost.

Byblos Press will own and sell the book to the public (those who sign up on the wiki and contribute automatically approve the author’s contract). Any additional profits will be donated to a charity selected and agreed on by the participants.

The public will discuss, make suggestions, and vote on the submissions and Byblos Press will maintain the right to work with the authors on editing final efforts.

I will keep you updated with posts here from time to time as to the book's progress and any interesting things that happen along the way.

Thanksgiving Dinner

2008-12-06T14:33:00.000-08:00

I had this blog nearly written, when I lost power momentarily and lost it all. It was a masterful input, full of whit and wisdom. Instead, we are stuck with this entry for which I am only half interested now.... Here it goes:

My family and I attended Thanksgiving with her side of the family in Arizona. With eight other siblings, children, grandchildren and great grand children--it was quite a houseful. I found myself sitting quietly watching the family dynamics unfold and was nearly ready to start writing a book on my observations. It was great to see everyone, consider the sacrifices many made to be there--and then the sacrifices they made while there, from watching the children to early morning hours starting the turkeys (one brother-in-law stayed up all night to smoke a couple turkeys--tasted great). Two of my wife's sibling couldn't make it due to work commitments. They were very much missed. One sister was going to have an operation the next week. Cousins were trying to figure out how to reacquaint themselves. I began to realize that the sacrifices were really sacrifices but statements of love and the stories unfolding before my eyes were probably being played out in one form or another in many many households through out the country. Great theme for another wiki book! I need to get the first Byblos Press Wiki Book rolling first...

So here are a few potential chapter headings for the book I saw this Thanksgiving:

Matriarch Knows Best
Prodigal Brother
Mumbai and Cherry Pie (the terrorist attacks in Mumbai were a part of the conversation over desert--the sad juxtaposition was not lost on us)
Out of Work, Over Worked, and Still Working It Out
Family and Fudge: Mostly Sweet, Some Nuts
Different Flowers, Same Garden
Listening Ears, Trust, Acceptance -- Whatever
Goth, Goethe, and Gastronomy
Today Will Never Happen Again, but Let's Try Next Year

Prisoner of Birth and TSAR

2008-11-21T21:09:00.000-08:00

I just came back from a trip where I had planned to read two books. I did some online research on both before purchasing them. I was disappointed with one book (and my faulty research on it). I didn't finish it. The other book I completed and enjoyed it.

The two books were Prisoner of Birth by Jeffrey Archer and TSAR by Ted Bell. I didn't complete TSAR because of the foul language, Bell's overstretched efforts to make his hero Hawke bigger than life, and the gratuitous sex and crudeness in language of some situational depictions that I choose not to read. I didn't come across any reviews which warned readers of these issues and so when I went into the book store to pick them up as I was leaving on my trip, I didn't take the time to thumb through the pages and read a few passages. My dumb mistake. For this reason, I will not review the book, but if you are looking for any of the above or if you are trying to avoid it, you are now forewarned.

I enjoy Archer books, even though I wish the author were a little less prideful about his talent. This is as good as any he has written. I enjoyed Kane and Abel and The Prodigal Daughter more, because they were the first books of Archer's that I read, but this was written just as well. Archer provides and interesting twist on Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo. Archer's tale takes place in the UK, on London's East End, in Belmarsh Prison, the posh West End of London, and brief visits to Scotland and Switzerland. Along the way the reader is treated with insights into the details of prison life, class structure and the legal process in the UK, Swiss banks, some really good people and some truly despicable people. There were few surprises, but I found myself cheering on the good guys--especially at the end of the book. Archer allows his hero treat retribution and revenge with the same semantic meaning, which was disappointing, but perhaps that was a flaw intentionally placed in Danny's character on purpose.

Apart from the issues of class structure in the novel, the author does a good job of pointing out that no matter where you are born or find yourself along the path of life, you can be a good person. If you are looking for an enjoyable read, only minimal deep thought, and a chance to cheer on the good guys, this will be a happy purchase.

So I Voted

2008-11-04T12:42:00.000-08:00

So I have my “I voted” sticker. I did not go to Starbucks, or Krispy Kreme, or Ben and Jerry’s, however, to celebrate my freedom of franchise, nor to cash in on my patriotism as I have sadly heard some joke. I left the voting booth in deep thought and needed to discuss those thoughts with my keyboard.

I entered the voting booth with my prepared list of yes’s and no’s for the 12 California propositions. I had decided to make a write-in vote for President, but passed on that part of the ballot and voted for local offices with surety. I made it through all the propositions because of my previous preparation in less than a minute. My previous study on the presidential race had left me in a quandary. There are things about both candidates that I greatly respect. There are things about both I don’t like. And then, there are the policies each represents or proposes. Again there are things I like and things I simply and adamantly disagree with. I never understood how a person could “throw their vote away” in voting for a candidate that had no chance to win. I thought I had overcome that feeling and had decided that if the perfect candidate existed for me, I decided I would vote for him or her even if I was the only vote that person got. Then I looked at my ballot and had second thoughts...

For a fleeting moment I had thoughts of leaving my vote for President blank. The words “Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote,” came to mind. I do believe Eisenhower’s words that “The future of this republic is in the hands of the American voter.” So I voted.

And, I will support whoever is elected as the chief executive of this country. I remember the statement by another President, Kennedy, that said, “There is no city in the United States in which I can get a warmer welcome and fewer votes than Columbia, Ohio.” I say hurray for Columbus, Ohio for being big enough to support the President, and enough of trying to get things done in this day by pointing out the faults of the other person and party, or automatically dismissing something because the other party thought of it first. Are we Americans first, or party members first?

I know few people more interested, informed, and capable of understanding the complexities of national and global conduct than my mother. Last night we had a discussion about Presidential elections. We both agreed that it was a national embarrassment and a terrible waste of money to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on campaigns. That money could do so much good in so many ways. I mentioned that I was glad and even excited about the election finally being here. Even with my struggles with candidates and policies, I am an optimist and no matter who is elected I believe this country is bigger than one person (even if that person is the President) and as long as the country has our support, that person will do fine. My mom on the other hand feels like she has been burned too many times. The last time she really believed in the candidate was Goldwater. I don’t know whether that means Goldwater was the last good candidate or that from that time on she was no longer living under the influence of her staunch Republican father (party first person second), or her naiveté was lost. I saw this somewhere and had to search for it this morning because it seemed to sum up my mother’s feelings: An unsolicited email arrived which said thanks to those who had voted for Clinton-Gore and among other things: Thanks for making Jimmy Carter look competent, Gerald Ford look graceful, Richard Nixon look honest, Lyndon Johnson look truthful and John Kennedy look moral. So whoever is elected, they owe it to the citizens of this great country like my mom to not jade their outlook on the US political process. A lot of promises have been made that simply can’t be fulfilled. On the other hand, the new President needs to be meek and teachable, yet strong and true to the principles which allowed him to seek and eventually accept the responsibilities of office.

In my last blog I offered up some thoughts about the book, Raintree County. I now take a quote from that book (pp. 44-45): In the year 1826, the Scotch philanthropist Robert Owen founded New Harmony on the Wabash River in southern Indiana. Down the Ohio and up the Wabash came a Boatload of Knowledge÷scientists, artists, and educators imported from the East and from overseas to found a New Moral World in the western wilderness. People were invited to come and join a paradise regained by innate human goodness. The noble experiment lasted two years and collapsed in the usual picturesque wreckage of innate human selfishness and inefficiency. But many gifted people remained and fostered an interest in science and art so much advanced for the place and the period that New Harmony came to be known as the Athens of the West. Among the New Harmonians were students of natural science, and it was one of these who brought to New Harmony the seeds of an exotic tree, which he planted by the gate of his house. Make your own metaphors, but the book itself could be a passionate search of Raintree County—this American experiment, for the raintree—the principles of this great country—the seed of what makes us unique, and teachable, but strong and unwavering.

In an early dream sequence, the tragic protagonist, Shawnessy finds a map of the county, “He was certain that in the pattern of its lines and letters this map contained the answer to the old conundrum of his life in Raintree county. It was all warm and glowing with the secret he had sought for half a century. The words inscribed on the deep paper were dawnwords, each one disclosing the origin and essence of the thing named. But as he sought to read them, they dissolved into the substance of the map.”

As I held the ballot in my hands today, I felt a little bit like Shawnessy in his dream. I wanted to see the answer, but like the Shawnessy hero of Raintree County seeking for his Golden Bough, any certain answer dissolved away. But action in the midst of uncertainty is at least party what faith is all about—so I voted.

As I left the polling place I held the door open for an older gentleman with a patriotic T-shirt on. A member of the “Greatest Generation,” he walked with a cane and stooped shoulders. But behind his aged eyes was a determined stare and he had a smile on his face. He lifted my spirits and confirmed in my heart that I had done the right thing. I have no idea who he would vote for or how he would vote on the issues. It didn’t matter whether I would agree with him or not. He had come to vote again and I had just voted. As I walked to my car I understood anew the scripture in Revelations 3:16: "So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth." I would not let myself become lukewarm, but rather continue to try to fulfill the requirements laid out in Isaiah 61: 1-3, that I might become my own tree of righteousness.

With editing on my part the words of William F. Buckley (my edits in bold): I will not willingly cede more power to anyone, not to the state, not to industry and commerce, not to the natural man or worse. I will hoard my power like a miser, resisting every effort to drain it away from me. I will then use my power, as I see fit. I mean to live my life an obedient man, but obedient to God, subservient to the wisdom of my ancestors; never to the authority of political truths arrived at yesterday at the voting booth. That is the lure of the Zeitgeist, is it not? It is certainly threat enough for me to keep my conservative side compassionate and teachable, and my liberal side infused with Christian spirituality and a healthy does of individualism. And I pray, the nation free.

Raintree County and Understanding the Cesspool Without Jumping Into It

2008-10-28T16:24:00.000-07:00

So, one of my sisters asked for a short review of Raintree County by Ross Lockridge. Here is my review:

This isn't a light read, but an important work of literature. At one level, it's a historical novel about a graduating poet/teacher who falls in love with a Southern woman, and then the Civil War and her past create problems. At the far end of the spectrum some suggest it is about the perception that person and place, space and time, are interdependent and one--an ecological novel written before its time. For me it is a book about the sources of American nationalism, its durability and its myths. It touches on slavery, the Civil War, industrialism, labor movements, populism, etc. and asks the question of future generations--if we are up to the task of sustaining what earlier generations have sacrificed for. It's not an easy read--lots of dream sequences and flashbacks--pivoting around a Fourth of July day; a fair bit of love and lust, some good humor, but mostly philosophical metaphors and symbolism delivered by some interesting characters. Some have said it is the Hoosier War and Peace (takes place in Indiana). An important read for the student of the United States.

Here is my frustration: I read this as an assigned book for a masters degree class some years ago. I also remember my grandfather reading it when I was younger. I wonder, however, if the more salacious parts are worth plodding through to get the gist of the book, or even if these crude areas negate the value of the rest of the book. It's like the adolescent argument about watching an inappropriate video... "I will just fast forward though the bad part." That simply doesn't float with me. I understand the importance of the metaphors the author is trying to create, but do we always have to communicate with crudeness to portray a crude situation or environment? We know slavery is a terrible thing, but creating a metaphor with titillating debauchery does not great literature make. I do think Lockridge's work asks great questions and is mostly well written, but the virtual experiences the author employs that pluck the strings of our baser selves and the justification of metaphorical discovery later is not the kind of learning I seek.

2008-09-10T21:14:00.000-07:00

I had the extreme pleasure of reviewing a draft copy of a book, now published, by Chuck Render. Chuck is the author of numerous works of fiction including The Tontin and Hibernaculum. He has also authored numerous screen plays. A word of reference: Dr. Chuck Render and I were stationed at the Pentagon together some years ago (OK, a couple decades ago) and continue to stay in touch.
The book is Brandy: Portrait of an Intelligence Officer. It is published by Red Anvil Press, 2007. ISBN-13: 978-1-932762-85-3. I read the draft while in Shanghai, China attending Fudan University for some PhD courses. Needless to say, I had homework each night and there was plenty to do and see, but I couldn't wait to get in some reading of Chuck's book each day. To say it is simply a biography of a very interesting man is a significant understatement. It reads like Wouk's Winds of War, but you have to keep reminding yourself this is fact, not historical fiction. From Frank Brandsetter's birth in Brataslava to his early years in New York City, to the battlefields of the Second World War and the Cold War, this is an eye opening read. As we step into this new century with all its dangers and challenges, I have to wonder if there are any patriots of the caliber of Colonel Brandstetter in the Human Intelligence corps today...

Stephanie Meyers' Twilight

2008-08-18T08:48:00.000-07:00

I have not completed reading Twilight by Stephanie Meyers. I admit, the main reason I am reading it is because all the ladies in my house have read, or are reading the four book series. I am still a little concerned about the genre of the book and the power it has on reader's emotions. I say hurray for writers like Stephanie who write well enough to carry the reader to places only books can take us. I just want to make sure the places this book takes us are where I want my 12 year old daughter to go.

Instead of discussing this book myself, I would like to offer the following link for anyone interested--to a great humorous review: http://mormonhusbands.blogspot.com/2008/02/twilight-series-for-dummies-and-totally.html

Oak Trees and Human History

2008-07-21T11:24:00.000-07:00

My daughter gave me an outstanding book for Father's Day. Oak: The Frame of Civilization by William Bryant Logan. ISBN 0-393-04773-3. My family and I recently moved to the Sierra foothills of California, about 30 miles from Yosemite. The area is populated by various species of Oak--a tree that I have come to love. This book offers a glimpse into the role oak has played in the forming and nurturing of civilization. Logan's book is well written, not at all dry, and nearly every page provides surprising insight into the knowledge and wisdom of humankind's close relationship with the oak tree. I recommend this book for anyone with a curiosity about the natural world and how it works, for anyone interested in history and the amazing things people have discovered and accomplished, or if you are looking for a little insight on a subject you may not have ever thought about before. I promise you, you will discover something new in this book.