Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness...A Declaration

Working in HR, I refer to paid holidays as the Big Six…you know, News Years Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Since I have always worked in the private sector, the Big Six are the only paid holidays I have ever known and quite frankly, the only holidays that really matter to me. They matter because holidays yield a short week, a festive occasion, a celebratory atmosphere, and a certain charm absent any other regular day of the year.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m down with Columbus Day, Presidents Day, Flag Day, May Day, Veterans Day, Boxing Day, or any other federal or non federal holiday we recognize each year but for me, work aside, these days are not holidays; they are equated more as days of recognition for specific nationalistic movements, events, great people, etc. My memory of federal holidays is jogged when the mail fails to run and the trash overflows…not quite the moxy of an anticipated holiday. Not in the least.

Memorial Day, however, is representative of what a national holiday should entail. Celebrated the last Monday of May and seen as the unofficial start of summer, Memorial Day originated in 1868 to honor Union soldiers who fought and died in the Civil War. Originally entitled Decoration Day, Memorial Day took on its current name following WWI when it was expanded to include all American causalities of any war or military action. Memorial Day is a day in which we honor our fallen heroes, decorate their graves, and remember that our most precious freedom has never been nor will never be without cost.




I’ve often wondered what it was like to live in historic times; during the American Revolution, the Civil War, WWI, WWII, Viet Nam, etc. I've wondered if the minds of men ever questioned their physical actions when it came to fighting for freedom, whether it was for national independence, basic human rights, or for the preservation of the world and her people. I wonder if I would have risen to the occasion and fought heroically for the liberties of all over the liberty of a few. I wonder what this world would resemble today if conflict was avoided for compromise. Have you? Where would we be if we never fought the English, the Mexicans, the Germans, the Japanese, the Italians, the Koreans, the Vietnamese, the Iraqis, etc? The blood of American soldiers echoes throughout the chasms of the past and reminds us “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”




I weep for the fallen my friends and hold fast for the day we reunite praying that I too would possess the same fortitude if called upon to protect American sovereignty. It is my sincere hope that patriotism abounds this Memorial Day as we remember why such a day is celebrated and the ultimate price many have paid in securing the American way of life.




This Memorial Day, please decorate the grave of a fallen hero, take place in the national moment of remembrance at 3pm, or thank one of our freedom fighters. We live free, not as a luxury, but because our Creator endowed us with certain unalienable rights that our fighters protect to this day, weapons raised, poised and ready to pay the ultimate sacrifice, whether you can see them on that wall or not.

Copy + Paste = Fact

On March 28, 2009, French composer, Maurice Jarre died. Almost immediately, thanks in part to the internet, his obituary began popping up on news sites across the country.



Dead at 84, I’m certain Jarre led a full life of musical pursuits; his most notable achievement, the film score for Lawrence of Arabia in 1962. He was a celebrated music man which is why, I gather, that his death is newsworthy. Honestly, I had never heard of the man, or any of his achievements, but nevertheless, a celebrity dies and people snap to attention offering memories, kind words, and compassion. (By the way…I took this information from Wikipedia.)



As with any good obituary, especially one for a celebrity, a personal quote from the deceased is essential to tie the life to the legacy. It also makes for good reading. The quote pulled for Jarre was as poetic as it was philosophical. It read:

“One could say my life itself has been one long soundtrack. Music was my life, music brought me to life, and music is how I will be remembered long after I leave this life. When I die there will be a final waltz playing in my head that only I can hear."

How profound. Unfortunately for the media, however, Jarre’s quote was fabricated by a 22 year old Dublin university sociology student on the day of Jarre’s death, posted on Wikipedia, and bought hook line and sinker from dozens of news organizations around the world. All this to test the dependency the globalized media has on the internet in their supply of factual news.

Copy + Paste = Fact…I surmise is how this headline should read. Kind of scary if you ask me but certainly not unique in the world of news reporting during the digital age.

http://cbs11tv.com/technology/Wikipedia.Fake.Quote.2.1006804.html


I guess I just require more from the news than “copy and paste” reporting regardless of the subject matter. I expect nonbiased, fact checked, objective points of view when consuming my daily dose of tragic happenings across the globe. If I want it editorialized, I will look for the closest editorial page or editorialize it myself. Is that too much too ask?



In spite of the trickery employed in the aforementioned obituary, the brilliance on the part of the sociology student, or the lackadaisical laziness on the part of the writers, the media, as a whole, is responsible for the maintenance of objectivity while systemically fact checking their stories. Or should Wikipedia wear the hat of responsibility when if comes to reporting the news…hmmmm…now that’s an interesting thought!.

Hear Ye...Hear Ye...Whatever!

Conservative shock jock Michael Savage is banned from traveling to Great Britain per Home Secretary Jacqui Smith. Accompanying Savage on this notable list are American Baptist pastor Fred Waldron Phelps and his daughter Shirley Phelps-Roper, who have picketed the funerals of Aids victims and claimed the deaths of US soldiers are a punishment for US tolerance of homosexuality.

Hamas MP Yunis Al-Astal, Jewish extremist Mike Guzovsky, former Ku Klux Klan grand wizard Stephen Donald Black, neo-Nazi Erich Gliebe, Artur Ryno and Pavel Skachevsky, the former leaders of a violent Russian skinhead gang which committed 20 racially motivated murders, are also banned from coming to Britain. Both are currently in prison.

Making up the rest of the 16 named are preachers Wadgy Abd El Hamied Mohamed Ghoneim, Abdullah Qadri Al Ahdal, Safwat Hijazi and Amir Siddique, Muslim activist Abdul Ali Musa (previously Clarence Reams), murderer and Hezbollah terrorist Samir Al Quntar and Kashmiri terror group leader Nasr Javed.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/8037025.stm

Obviously, Great Britain is serious about who they let traverse their grand island. The list, small as it may be, names the most grievous individuals one could imagine and basically slams the proverbial gate in the faces of the aforementioned murders, hate mongers, terrorists, and thugs. Don’t come here they say, but in a more classic sounding verbal assault, accent intact, gaining instant sway and swagger with those reading the dictate. Hear ye, hear ye…whatever.

Good for Great Britain with one minor, ever so breezed-over exception; how in the ever-loving world did a legitimate, conservative, popular, radio host become the equal of the world’s most degenerate ruffians? Earth to England, earth to Jacqui Smith, sounds to me like you have a minor axe to grind with a conservative ideology as if it is directly correlated with hate. What a dim-witted approach to global politics. What a wonderful example of a personal vendetta for the world to see. Cue “God Save the Queen.”

Last time I checked, Michael Savage’s opinions and political ideology were not mired in hate. He simply espouses a right-wing conservative message while speaking out against illegal immigration and Islamic fascism while championing the English only movement, environmentalism, and animal rights. He is pro life, guns, capital punishment, traditional marriage, and small government; most all the core beliefs housed by the Republican Party. He, like every one of us, is a hodge-podge of beliefs molded into a political ideology of individualism. Yet, in Great Britain, if you espouse strong conservative views, then you must be considered a rebel rouser, paired with the likes of the common criminal, and banned from a country known for a stodgy, wig wearing political approach to the world. Are you kidding me? Cue “God Save the Queen.”

I wonder if Howard Stern will be banned next. After all, he is the ultimate shock jock. I guess in the eyes of England, his antics are right regal. Just a thought!

Sunset and Evening Star

The earliest memory I have comes from a trip my family took when I was two years old. It was a beach trip to Cape Cod, Massachusetts complete with a few side trips to Duxbury Bay, the childhood vacation spot of my father and grandfather. Living in Kentucky, I can only imagine the duration of the trip, but considering I can’t remember the drive or any other detail of the trip prior to arrival, I will assume it went off without a hitch.

What I remember is a vague image of a large hill. At the top of the hill, cars were parked and children ran and played about the lush deciduous and conifer trees. The path that led down the hill narrowed a bit but once through the constrained opening was Duxbury Bay complete with a beach and sand dunes as far as the eye could see. I remember playing in the frigid waters, climbing the mountainous dunes, and finding enchantment in the atmosphere of my grandfather’s paradise. I was two, and this is still the first memory of my life.





Throughout my childhood years, I developed a love for my grandfather that I could not explain. It was an intrinsic feeling and while we lived hundreds of miles apart, I identified with Pop Pop in a way that needed no greetings or salutations. We just fit, grandfather and grandson, old man and young boy, mentor and mentored, the way all grandfathers fit with their grandsons. And so it was that in my youth, I treasured the presence of my grandfather all though our visits were limited and our time was short.

The last memory I have of my grandfather bears a slight resemblance to my first memory over thirty years ago. The landscape, the same, the boy, now a man, my father, older and holding the urn of my grandfather upon the gently sloping waters of Duxbury Bay. The passing of Pop Pop did not come unexpectedly as he was well into his 80’s and in deteriorating health. My grandmother had passed a year earlier and he was ready to go home, lost without her, and losing his worldly body.

The harbor master had met us at the shipyard, arranged by Pop Pop’s brother. A pastor was present, Bible in hand, and the 5 of us boarded a trawler and motored toward Bug Light; a lighthouse in the middle of the bay. The water was placid that October day yet winter was on the horizon. It was a fitting moment, cloudy with just the right hit of gloom, a salty taste in the air, and a rolling tide gently rocking my memories to rest.

Once in view of the lighthouse, the pastor bared his Bible and read a few lines. His words eluded to those who had come before and to those who have all ready returned home. It was befitting of the moment and as his Bible closed and halted upon his hip, one foot resting on the ship’s hull, he presented a poem that I will never forget. It is a memory every bit as powerful as my first. The words he read, as my father spread his father’s ashes upon the sea were from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Crossing the Bar.





Pop Pop was laid to rest on the sea of his youth that cold, blustery October morning. It was a noble departure, a complete odyssey, a turning point from youth to death as the Almighty God called another child home.

The first memory I ever formed was on Duxbury Bay so many years ago and it will never fade, nor will it ever end. Those whom we’ve loved are always with us, a constant companion, night or day, just as the wave never ceases to roll to the land, but for a moment it stalls, and then back home again. Just a thought.