Good day all,
Well, I got my chores done today. Just a minor job of cleaning the kitchen window from all the dirt and grime that stuck to it over the winter. It might not sound like much, but it was about a half-hour job by the time I finished cleaning the track and the area around the window. It looks much better now, even if it is an overcast day and rain is predicted.
Yesterday I spent HOURS weeding in the backyard. I was totally spent when I finished that. It sure takes a lot longer as we age to do things that we could get done in half the time years ago.
I have a few photos in addition to the fish eye FIRE HOUSE HOSES I posted last week. Here is one of them taken with a normal lens. I edited the composition to remove the white rack that the jacket was hanging up against, but decided it didn't look as good with it left in. My husband agreed. I did not think it was a fitting photo for Memorial Day, and my husband, having served in the military, agreed that Memorial Day was created to honor our fallen soldiers who gave the ultimate sacrifice in war.
I don't know about you, but the more I stared at this photo, the glassier my eyes got.
Greetings Lorell! Yes, I have to do that too, my balcony doors are full of winters mess. Weeding, not so much. Taken care of by the HOA! I agree with the assessment of the white object. The eye would have gone to the brightest spot first. The attention is on the flag now, where you wanted it. Beautiful and very poignant. You're right about the reason of Memorial Day. It is a sad day meant to Honor those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.
Here is what is called the Navy Lagoon in our cemetery. The statues are of Navy men. We also have a Legion plot and a Servicemen's Memorial plot for our Vets. There is also a memorial service every year.
I think it wonderful how parks and cemetaries have statues, gardens, etc., for veterans. It is something that should be done and am glad that the attention to it remains strong and maintained. That is a peaceful looking scene, Rich.
On Memorial Day I was driving around with the radio on and they were interviewing a WWII veteran that was brought in to attend a special dedication ceremony in the Detroit area. He was asked how come WWII vets never talked about their experiences in the war. His response was one I had never heard of before.
He said that when war broke out, every eligible male in the country either enlisted or was drafted. It was either or. I recall my father telling me that he enlisted in the Coast Guard because he wanted to be able to choose which branch of the service he wanted to join. He was fortunate, in spite of being part of the amphibious attacks on the Japanese islands, his ship survived the aerial attacks and he came home safe. My dad NEVER talked about the war. The man being interviewed added that after the war, the men came home, and it was time to settle down, get married, get a job, buy a house, have children, etc. You got on with your life. He added that every man was doing the same thing since so many served and were in the same situation.
I know one thing though. That after my father experienced what he did in the war, he did not want his son to serve. Luckily my brother's draft number was never picked for the Vietnam War. On the other hand, my husband was blessed that he survived his deployment to Vietnam.
05-28-2025, 02:46 PM (This post was last modified: 05-28-2025, 02:57 PM by Rich.)
Thanks for sharing that information Lorell. I think that must be pretty universal for every war/conflict our men and women have experienced. My Dad was in WWll on an aircraft carrier and never talked about it. In his defense, I didn't ask him either, which is strange, as we would have had being on a carrier in common.
Vietnam was a vicious War, so happy your husband made it back OK!
EDIT: Forgot to mention there is a bench just out of my photo lower right of the Lagoon for anyone who wants to sit and have devotion.
05-28-2025, 05:03 PM (This post was last modified: 05-29-2025, 07:23 AM by Dave.)
Beautiful and sensitive photo, Lorell. Your processing yielded an image that captures the meaning and mood of the day.
Rich, what a wonderful memorial lagoon. Well done!
My Dad was a proud Marine who served in the Pacific in WWII, and he never spoke of his experience. When the war in Vietnam was raging, my 2 best friends in the frat and I were numbers 49, 50, and 51. So we were likely to become cannon fodder. When my draft physical neared I asked my Dad for details my doctor had regarding my health, and the doctor responded, citing asthmatic bronchitis. It turned out that when it came to the draft, asthma meant I was deemed physically unfit to serve. To this day I suspect my Dad had had a hand in the doctor's letter that cited asthma. Like many WWII vets, serving in that war was an absolute duty to Dad, but I suspect he had a different feeling about the Viet Nam war.
According to my morning news, today is National Hamburger Day in the US (probably another "holiday" made up by producers an sellers of various products).
Anyway, here was my lunch: a large (1/4 lb or 113 grams) seasoned with garlic powder and red pepper flakes and topped with sharp cheddar, dill pickle relish, and yellow mustard, Bush's Grillin' beans seasoned with lime juice to cut the sweetness and black pepper. Once again by the time I got photos it was cold.
Have yourselves a good evening.
Don't blame me - I didn't vote for him!
Nikon D7500 with Nikkor 18-300 mm; PSE2021, PSCS5 Ny Flickr Albums
05-28-2025, 08:16 PM (This post was last modified: 05-29-2025, 03:23 PM by Man From Ironbark.)
I had similar experience in that my dad who was 12 when WWI broke out, had to run the farm and feed his mother and sisters because all the older men in the family were off to the war by 1915.
In WWII he enlisted but the enlisting officer changed the birth date he put down because men over 35 were unable to enlist. Yes I do have the enlistment form adjusted down from age 37 to 35 and signed by the officer. He was an engineer(sapper) and served in Tobruk as a Rat of Tobruk and various other engagements, El Alemain and in Syria where he was wounded in the leg by a strafing Stuka. He nearly lost his leg there in a tent in the desert but a nurse saved it by bathing it all night and day and he was put on a plane back to Australia and repaired and recuperated. The doctors said there is something else wrong but we are not sure and the Army sent him to the Kokoda Traxk where it was his mob of engineers who dragged 25 pounder field guns up and down the same muddy track that mere men were having trouble on. It was these guns set on high ground that stopped the Japanese advance through Papua New Guinea. It was discoverd on return that apart from the Dengue fever and stuff everyone had, he had done all of that with a dislodged kidney from Syria.
When I was 15 the school cadets did a 10 day camp where we did simulated jungle warfare as in Vietnam. I was only in the cadets for three months and only did the one camp but I'd been selected to go on a patrol surviving on rations and all hand signals stuff. At the end of that patrol we joied with some others who were supposed to be a Vientamese village. We wore black because we wee supposed to be the Vietnamese and the rest of the assembled cadets from different schools were told that some villages may be under control of the enemy, so they had to treat us as normal villagers while they loooked/searched for evidence of the Viet-Cong.
Most of the cadets charged the village rather than entering diplomatically. They were largely eliminated by my agricultural field that I was pretending to hoe the weeds in. Id' previously planted purple smoke mines in this field. The rest were surprised by my machine gun under the compost heap.
The army came to my house and asked my father for permission to train me to become an officer trainer. Dad said, "I'm his guardian but essentially he has to want to go before I give permission". So they came to my room and asked me. I said, "It is fun playing war games with blanks but I really don't want to teach people how to kill each other so that You can get the medals". They left.
Three years later I was due for the draft when Gough Whitlam became our new Prime Minister and cancelled our involment with sending conscripts to Vietnam and thus, I escaped the draft.
My father never talked about the war but he did have photographs he'd taken in Tobruk and other parts of North Africa and some he'd captured from the Germans in the desert.
Just before all of the above, when I was 14, they eventually had to remove his leg. So he was legless when I turned 15.
Wow, thanks for sharing all of these stories.
Sounds like we all come from good stock and are proud of our heritage.
Dave your foodie shot belongs on a menu and makes me hungry fir a burger. I am going out to lunch with a friend, I may just get mine done medium with grilled onions or a mushroom burger with Swiss cheese.
