Ramblings, opinions, and general meanderings from the Deep South

Sunday, February 27, 2011


Of course they are sadly mistaken, but it was too much of an ego thangy not to publish this analysis. It's a free app from Chrome and I analyzed my last article about Celtic Woman (Joyce is/was from Ireland). Hmmmmm, maybe all that struggling through Ulysses, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and Finnegans Wake left residual cobwebs in my feeble brain. Gosh, reading those tomes is almost ancient history. Thanks out to JimC for the link. There is a link included in the graphic. Try it out. Share your results in the comments!

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

"I try to leave out the parts that people skip."
~Elmore Leonard

Monday, February 21, 2011

Music Monday - Marching to a Different "Drummer"

My apologies for not posting. Seems I needed another week to finish the "sort and organize." This Music Monday is a tune sent by my friend EdC. Beautiful tune sung with a beautiful voice. Take a listen:


"If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there are men on base."
~Dave Barry

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Songs From the Heart

In the past I've often been asked, "Who is the best group in a live performance?" My answer, "That's a hard choice since I've seen YES four times, Jimmy Buffett on three occasions, and Clapton twice." Well folks, earlier tonight that answer changed. Beyond a shadow of any doubt Celtic Woman is so far in front it's almost pathetic. Why? Several aspects come into play. Everyone is stunning. They are even prettier live than on DVDs - by far! They seem genuine. It shows in their music, manners and gratitude. Talent! Sitting there with goosebumps, tears rolling down my cheeks, barely able to speak, they became Sirens to my Odysseus.

They DO NOT make mistakes. This live performance blew away everything I have seen to date. They have such beautiful voices it's hard to choose who is best. They are far more animated than anything seen on PBS or DVD. Mairead, the Violinist, is just not satisfied standing in one place. Chloe ended a song on a high note that was powerfully sustained and got screams of glee as everyone rose to show respect. Lisa Lambe wooed the audience with a bright smile, wonderful Irish accent and a short tale about her fantastic solo performance sung in Gaelic. As we stood and cheered Lisa Kelly's rendition of The Moon's a Harsh Mistress I turned to MJ and said, "Okay, now I can die." Kudos to all the great musicians, pipes a piping and drums a drumming, instruments strumming while the support singers created a majestic background. Props to the sound engineers and lighting effects crew as well. A grand evening with fantastic musicians and a beautiful program. As the Bagpiper entered from the rear of the audience playing Amazing Grace God worked some magic and the audience became whole, steeped in the spirituality of this well known moving song.

Life has been rough of late. I've constantly shored up my vessel and prayed a lot. Family and friends have kept me from sinking in the water. Last night God gave me a chance to count my blessings. I did. MJ and Joe thank you. Thank you. Brandon, I am glad you enjoyed it. Good to see young people being appreciative of real music and real talent. What a great evening. My dreams will fair better now. Many thanks to my family and friends. I am sincere when I say, "I am not worthy."

"Once again I am mesmerized by the pure ease and beauty by which 'Celtic Woman' perform. A true talent that is a joy to behold and be a part of..."
~Daryn Crosbie, Stage Director

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Blogger or User?

Hmmmm, Blogger is still not responding. Will try another browser. Have been posting in Chrome and made some extension changes just a few days ago. Might be the 'person-in-chair' syndrome causing the problem. [EDIT: Just checked other browsers and they are all not letting stuff push up.] Oh well, they are probably working on it. Posting tomorrow night will be late. Going to a local concert and want to let everyone know how Celtic Woman performs live. Huge gratitude hug out to MJ and Joe for the wonderful gift. Really looking forward to it!

Friday, February 11, 2011

Internet Explorer 9

You can now download the release candidate of Internet Explorer 9. Be sure and know what version of Windows is on your PC. It's important information. Looks like Microsoft has delivered and the first thing I noticed was browsing approaching light speed. So far so good. Very smooth and if you use Chrome some of the new tweaks will be familiar. At first glance it seems stoic, but you have enormous ability to tailor it for personal preferences. For some reason Blogger is not linking at this time. I will put it in the perma links list whenever Blogger acts right. It's easy enough to find in Google.

Check it and and let me know what you think.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Random Thursday - Paris

WARNING: Even though this has been on TV many times it may not be appropriate for some younger children. That said, People this woman rocks!!!!! And she's actually a keyboard player who uses a Hammond/Leslie setup most of the time. The whole band is talented!!!!!

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

Weather Outside? Delightful, Frightful?

Once again North Mississippi residents are under a winter weather warning. There are several web articles speculating this unusual weather may be due to a shift in the magnetic poles. Stay inside, stay warm and emerge on Friday. Tomorrow is supposed to be extremely cold and the roads are predicted to be treacherous. Now it's time for some hot chocolate. Later.

"Winter is the time of promise because there is so little to do - or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so."
~Stanley Crawford

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

I Am Humbled

Thanks EdC for sharing an inspiring message. Folks, this is somewhat long, but should be REQUIRED reading for every human being in the USA. God Bless you Ed and God Bless this brave Colonel.

Even if some specifics are skewed, this is strong medicine. It brings home just some of the unimaginable sacrifices that have been made since the birth of our nation to keep us free and to preserve the America that we all grew up in and love so much. This striking example of American patriotism and sacrifice reminds us of the tremendous price paid to be the great America that we have been and yet appear to be in the process of turning away from. I don’t care about your politics…I care about my kids and grandkids, and the nation they are set to inherit. I hope they never forget what made this a great nation and a great people. I’m afraid too many today don’t understand. This is devoted to anyone who has worn the uniform. Good luck and God bless you all.

Burial at Sea
by Lt. Col. George Goodson, USMC (Ret)

In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial.

War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war. Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montangards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane:

*The smell of Nuc Mam.
*The heat, dust, and humidity.
*The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets.
*Elephants moving silently through the tall grass.
*Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers.
*Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar.
*A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby.
*The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao.
*My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland.

It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car.

A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two.

I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket."

Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?" I replied "18 months this time." Jolly breathed, "You must be a slow learner, Colonel." I smiled.

Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office." Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm worried about him." I nodded.

Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office. "Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Officer." The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you again, Colonel." I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?" Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door.

I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable. Finally, I said, "Walt, what the hell's wrong?" He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore." I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps."

Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up.

Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain.

My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed:
*Name, rank, and serial number.
*Name, address, and phone number of next of kin.
*Date of and limited details about the Marine's death.
*Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station.
*A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed.

The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store/service station/Post Office. I went in to ask directions.

Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The store owner walked up and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper."

I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin's name was John Cooper!

I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address)?

The father looked at me - I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor.

The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The store owner locked the store
and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving.

I returned the store owner to his business. He thanked me and said, "Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars." I shook his hand and said; "Neither would I."

I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone. My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification.

Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag.

When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, "All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On behalf of a grateful nation...." I didn't think the nation was grateful, so I didn't say that.

Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her.

Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!"

I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen minutes later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving.

The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly.

One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel." I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone
Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of employment.

The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman's Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father's schedule.

The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?" I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today." I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that." The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII."

I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?" She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?" I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now." She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for you."

A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, "Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!"

Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth....... I never could do that..... and held an imaginary phone to his ear. Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got it." and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago.

Jolly, "Where?"

Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam ...."

Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home."

He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?"

I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime.

He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00PM). "I've gone through my boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?" I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will."

My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?" I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying."

I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters?" General Bowser said, "George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you."

I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief of Staff responded with a name.

The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed..."

He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass." I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the hell out of his office.

I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, "These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?"

All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out."

They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worse for wear, and said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat."

The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth.

The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplain spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played "Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea.

The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever....

The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later.

I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up.

Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done."

I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor!

'A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America' for an amount of 'up to and including their life.'

That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.'

I am honored to pass this on and I hope you feel that way too. I want to say "Thank you" for your service to every Veteran who reads this.
God bless you.

Semper Fi...

Semper Fi

"When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty."
~Thomas Jefferson

Monday, February 07, 2011

Music Monday - Two of My Favorites and Sheryl Crow Isn't Too Shabby Either!

Nice to see Clapton and Sanborn rock! Smiles abound!

"Music is a safe kind of high."
~Jimi Hendrix

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

The Return

Posting will resume February 7, 2011. Of course, it's Music Monday. You will rock. Instead of lotsa whining the theme will be casual tech help and an occasional blurb about Guild Wars and Guild Wars 2. Appreciate all the support and tolerance of my sabbatical...