The 11th Hour, The 11th Day, The 11th Month

Tuesdays, with my current schedule, are normally an off day for me.  However, today is Veterans Day in the United States and Remembrance Day in various other parts of the world.

It was to be the war that ended all wars, the war that we know as World War I.

It didn't.  

Reading various posts yesterday, I was reminded of something that happened long ago and far away.......

Many years ago, when we were a lot younger and my spouse was serving in the military, we befriended a younger single man.  At the time we were stationed in Kansas.  This young man had grown up in neighboring Missouri.  One day he invited us to his parents' home in rural Missouri.

I got the feeling this invitation was quite a leap of faith for him.  That he didn't do this kind of thing very often.    We accepted the invitation and spent a weekend with his family.

His father was a Korean War veteran.  It was a Saturday night and,we were warned, the father was going to overindulge in alcohol.  And so he did.  He, and some friends, took us to a bar.  Then we went back to his house.

It was obvious that this inebriated older man was reliving his experience in war.  He was in the middle of a battle.  He shouted out commands.  He fought demons only he could see.  Finally, he was carried to bed.

Our friend's mother explained this happened every weekend.  Long ago, the father was young and in battle.  His commanding officer was killed.  The Dad received a battlefield promotion and he was suddenly in charge.   It did something to him, hurt him in a way he was never able to recover from.  Every Saturday night he would seek solace in the bottle. Although he relived the battle and was obviously suffering, in the morning he would remember nothing.

I have never been in war.  I know people who have.  I know people who were civilian casualties of war, too.  But this Korean War veteran has stuck in my mind over many years.  

We never received another invitation.  We drifted apart when our friend, sadly, became more interested in drugs than in our friendship.  In his own way he fought demons too.

So have so many others.  This You Tube video is of a TV show segment that aired this past Sunday.  It is called The Wounded Generation.

I will end this post with a poem that makes me cry every time I read it.

 I am not a "poetry person" (although there are a couple of poets I do enjoy) but this poem always touches my heart. Written by a Canadian soldier in 1915 upon the battle death of his friend in Flanders, Belgium, during World War I, the author, himself, did not survive the war.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

John McCrae

The Sleeping Trees of Memory #ThursdayTreeLove

The trees of memory, they are in their winter hibernation.  Because Skywatch Friday is tomorrow, I am writing my Veterans Day post early.

Today, on the 57th anniversary of my mother's passing, I remember the trees.  There was the crabapple tree that was planted just outside the entrance of the apartment building in the Bronx (part of New York City) where I grew up.  Each May, I think of its beautiful blooming in a city of eight million people.

Now, crabapples line the street that intersects the street I live on, and other streets in this area. Bare now, they brighten the streets they are planted on each May.

My father was a veteran of World War II.  He served in non-combat roles as an airplane mechanic and also a military policeman in the Army Air Corp and had various postings, including one in India.  He returned home prematurely due to a head injury that left him suffering from seizures the rest of his life.

Memories...

When I was young, we would get mailings from various organizations, imploring us to send money to plant trees to honor a deceased loved one.

The weeping willows along Seneca Lake near Geneva, New York that commemorate the war casualties of World War I.  In many countries (France, Belgium, Australia, among others) November 11, the anniversary of the ending of that war,which we call Veterans Day here, is called Remembrance Day.

Here is one Canadian blogger's thoughts on Remembrance Day.  We in the United States do not pay enough attention to the fact that many of our allies have suffered in wars where we fought side by side.

Walking in our local park, I saw this oak tree glowing in the setting sun on Sunday.  The color is gone now, but the memory remains.  Soon, this tree will be fast asleep, too.

They bring back memories of snow, cold, and biting winds, the chill of winter that is about to descend upon us after a stretch of beautiful fall weather.

This Northern cardinal (this photo taken last year on Christmas Eve) is a symbol, where I live, of deceased loved ones sending love and positivity to you.  Yesterday, I saw both a male and a female cardinal sitting on this fence looking at me. 

Each Veterans Day (as we call Remembrance Day or Armistice Day in the United States I publish the poem "In Flanders Fields".  This year, I link to our own Veterans Administration for the history of this poem and why poppies have become the Flower of Remembrance.

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly.
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Poppy, Riverside Drive, Binghamton, New York

May all our loved ones forever rest in peace-our beloved family members, our friends, and those lost in war. 

Joining Parul at Happiness and Food for #ThursdayTreeLove.

Veterans and PTSD

This is the 11th day of the 11th month and, in the United States, we call this day Veterans Day.  In other countries, it is called Remembrance Day.

I've written a number of posts about Veterans Day over the years.  Here are some of them:

The 11th Hour of the 11th Day.

The War that Didn't End Anything 

And, for my Canadian readers:

In Those Very Halls

Repeating a previous post, though, doesn't seem to do the job this year.  Afghanistan war veterans, especially, have found this year especially challenging.  I used to work with two women whose sons went off to that war, and came back....changed.

There is also my link above titled "The 11th Hour of the 11th Day", about the father of a man my spouse (a non-combat vet) served with in the military and his/his father's PTSD burden.

In their honor, I want to link to a special report on TV the other night on a PTSD boot camp which has helped those who go through the program.

It's only been in recent years that the military has come to address PTSD more openly.  Until recent years, a soldier just had to "suck it up", as the saying goes.

War is something you truly can't understand unless you've been through it, either as a civilian, or a soldier.  I am fortunate enough not to be in either category. 

I want to end this post with one of the several poems I really love, one that may be special to my Canadian readers, who call today Remembrance Day.  Let us remember all those touched by wars. 

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
    In Flanders Fields, the poppies grow
         Between the crosses, row on row,
       That mark our place; and in the sky
       The larks, still bravely singing, fly
    Scarce heard amid the guns below.

    We are the dead. Short days ago
    We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
       Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
                              In Flanders fields.

    Take up our quarrel with the foe:
    To you from failing hands we throw
       The torch; be yours to hold it high.
       If ye break faith with us who die
    We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
                                In Flanders fields. 

Leonard Cohen recites the poem here.  

The poet, who fought in World War I, did not survive the war.

Will we ever have peace?

Two Views of Victory

 I don't often show the aged and decrepit side of the village of Johnson City, New York, but today I feel I need to show a contrast of past and present.

The major industry in this area, back in the early to mid 20th century, was shoe manufacture.  In fact, the Village of Johnson City was named for shoe manufacturers - twice.  First, Lestershire, after the Lester Brothers Boot and Shoe Company.  And then, the village became Johnson City, renamed in 1916 in honor of George F. Johnson, who was originally hired by the Lester Brothers Boot and Shoe Company and eventually became co owner of the shoe company with another man, Henry Endicott as the Lester Brothers sold out to them.

The story is a lot more complex, but for today's purposes you should know that Endicott-Johnson, at one time, was the largest shoe manufacturer in the United States and employed thousands in Johnson City, in nearby Endicott (yes, named after Henry Endicott) and other nearby communities.

The Victory Plant was built in 1921, and named Victory after our victory in World War I.  Just think, at the tail end of a pandemic which killed some 50 million people worldwide, this shoe manufacturing plant was state of the art.  This is what it looked like at one time (third photo down on the page this links to).

A view today of the defunct Victory Plant, Johnson City, New York

Today, it lies in ruins, closed up in the 1970's.  

But, within walking distance is CFJ Park (named after another member of the Johnson family), and near that, tents have gone up near a closed newspaper printing plant.  A vaccination facility is supposed to open there tomorrow.

Hopefully, thousands will receive COVID vaccines there in the coming months.

Two view of victory - past victory from 1921, and what we hope is eventual victory over COVID in 2021.

Songs of Wartime #MusicMovesMe

It's Monday- time for Music Moves Me.

Who are the #MusicMovesMe bloggers? We are bloggers who blog about music each Monday.  Every other week we have a theme, and on alternate weeks, we can blog about any music we wish.  First, there is XmasDolly,   Her co-conductors are:  ♥Callie of JAmerican Spice♥,  and ♥Stacy of Stacy Uncorked♥   Also, co-conducting  is  ♥Cathy from Curious as a Cathy♥ .  And finally, there's me. 

<!-- end LinkyTools script —> Our honorary co-host for November is Stacy of Stacy Uncorked.  Today, we have a "freebie" week but next week Stacy will be back with another weekly theme.

Yesterday was the centennial of the end of World War I.  Throughout the world yesterday was Armistice Day - in the United States it's now called Veterans Day. In honor of my late father and father in law, my husband, a couple of Aunts(one was a WAC and one a WAVE), various cousins on both sides of our family and others, I offer these songs reflecting war and the home front.

From our Civil War (1863) as performed by Mitch Miller's chorus:  When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again . 

World War I - Keep The Home Fires Burning 

World War II. This was a tough one for me, as I was born only seven years after the end of the war and my childhood was full of watching World War II movies on TV, and knowing adults who were both veterans and adult casualties (Holocaust survivors).  Do I pick a song sung by soldiers?  A song about the folks at home?  "As Time Goes By" from perhaps the best movie ever made, Casablanca?  A satirical song by Spike Jones and his City Slickers? Something by the Andrew Sisters? 

I'm choosing two.  First, Vera Lynn's The White Cliffs of Dover from 1942.

The other, the hit song "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller, by a man who became, himself, a war casualty on December 15, 1944, over the English Channel.  The plane has never been recovered and the crash remains a mystery to this day.

I didn't find much for the Korean War, so I turned to the TV show M*A*S*H and its opening theme, Suicide is Painless.

I will end with Vietnam, the war I came of age during.  Both the boys growing up next door to me in my early childhood fought in Vietnam (both survived)  and someone I worked with for about ten years.  When I think of that war, I think of the years of anti-war protests.  But what I did was reach for a list of songs veterans of the war remembered the most - and from that, I chose "Fortunate Son" by Credence Clearwater Revival.

I see we have time for one more.
Here is a Billy Joel song I featured on my blog several months ago - Goodnight Saigon.  This is a tribute version and the video has disturbing images (some iconic) of that war. I love the lyrics of this song and how they seem to circle back on themselves - but not quite.  Listening to this song still takes my breath away.

Join the #MusicMovesMe bloggers next Monday for songs of Thankfulness.

The War that Didn't End Anything

Monocacy battlefield, near Frederick, Maryland, 2012

Today is November 11, 2018.  One hundred years ago today, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, World War I ended.  It had been a war full of trenches, and chemical warfare.  It changed history in ways we wouldn't realize until years later.  It was supposed to be the war that ended all wars.  Today, Europe pauses and commemorates the anniversary of what they call Armistice Day.

My fellow blogger Roy wrote a fascinating blog post on its personal meaning to him.

And I wrote this post last year.

My father was a World War II veteran.  My spouse is a peacetime veteran.  I know, unfortunately, mothers of other veterans (Iraq/Afghanistan) whose sons have suffered due to their wartime service.  Our country still has a long way to go in helping these men and women.


Years ago, I visited the Peace Tower in Ottawa, Canada.  There is inscribed a poem called "In Flanders Fields".  I am not much of a poetry lover but this one of several poems that I have loved for years.

Here it is:  written in May, 1915 by Canadian Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, M.D. the day after his friend died in battle.  If you've ever wondered what Flanders Fields looked like right after the war, here's a photo.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Reenactment of 1862 battle of Antietam, Maryland September 2012

I've walked on many battlefields in the United States - a handful of Revolutionary War battlefields (in New York, Pennsylvania and South Carolina) and Civil War battlefields (Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, Missouri, Arkansas).  I have never been off the North American continent.  One day, I hope to travel abroad and pay my respects to those who died in the War that was supposed to end all wars.

Finally, I want to thank everyone who reached out to me due to my post yesterday.  It's my cousin (and his wife) who are truly suffering and, today, I want to reach out and thank my cousin for his service in the United States Navy on a submarine.  If any of you have ever been on a submarine, you know that it is a very different type of service, requiring a different kind of bravery.

I thank him, and all others who fought for our freedom. 

If only World War I had truly been the war that ended all wars, but it wasn't.  There was a young foot soldier who had fought for the Germans.  His name was Adolf Hitler.....

Willows of Geneva #ThursdayTreeLove

At the top of Seneca Lake, one of the Finger Lakes of upstate New York, lies the small city of Geneva.

On the lakefront, willows were planted years back to honor those lost during World War I. (The plaque, by the way, talks about how you can travel from Seneca Lake by boat to anywhere in the United States.)

The line of willows.

Several years ago, a number of these willows were uprooted or damaged by a storm, but, back in July, I was able to view some of those that remain.

Pause, and reflect, and then enjoy this beautiful lake, is what these old trees tell us.


Join Parul and other bloggers who love trees every 2nd and 4th Thursday of the month at #ThursdayTreeLove.

Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red

On November 11, 1918, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, World War I ended, but not before eight million plus people died.

Of that total 888,246 were British.

The British and Canadians call today, November 11, Remembrance Day.  We in the United States call it Veterans Day.

This is a breakdown of the  total death toll worldwide.

Just for one country - the number 888,246.  It is impossible to visualize this, or the total World War casualties, but the British found a way to help us.

In the dry moat of the Tower of London, 888,246 ceramic poppies were planted starting this summer, a sea of red, there since August but I (an American) did not see this on television until just recently.

My ancestry is not British but one of my uncles was a civilian casualty of World War I.

Although in this country we don't use the imagery of poppies in the same way as the inhabitants of the former British Empire do, I can appreciate the imagery.  It is so different than the way we in the States tend to commemorate the holiday.  We have parades, but so much (everything from "Veterans Day sales" to the more recent practice of retail stores giving vets discounts on Veterans day) seems to revolve around retail sales and not really honoring our veterans.

Lest we forgot, a poem that still gives me chills, years after I read it for the first time, written by a Canadian doctor, Lt. Colonel John McCrae, in 1915.  

Some feel the poem glorifies war but there is the first part of the poem to consider.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

And Lt. Colonel McCrae?  He died, in military service, before World War I ended, from complications of pneumonia.  But before he died, he had seen too much death.

Perhaps that is how we must visualize war - the story of human suffering, one person at a time.

Veterans Day

Yesterday was the 48th anniversary of the untimely death of my mother.  I was raised after that point by my father, a single Dad who had to cope all the rest of his life with the aftermath of a head injury suffered (not in combat but in support) in his service in the U.S. Army Air Force during World War II.  I've always been aware of how badly we sometimes (well, too many times) treat our veterans here in the United States.

Today, let us all take a moment out of our busy schedules to think of those who made this day possible for us.

Our veterans, past and present, deserve our thanks, and so much more.

As you look at these monuments, please take a moment to ponder the poem at the end of this post.

These are some memorials in our area of upstate New York.  I took the Endicott photos this past August - I wish things were that green here now!

 Endicott, New York, just down Main Street from where I live.

Veterans Memorial statue.

Plaques commemorating the war dead.  An American flag is kept,fresh, on each one.

The war memorials - World War II, which my father served in (in the Army Air Force) as did one of his brothers, and one of his sisters.

The Korean War. When I grew up it wasn't a "war", it was a "police action". But the people were just as dead.

The forgotten war, Vietnam, where our dead were dishonored and our veterans were mocked - a sad thing I will never forget. Both of my next door neighbor boys (growing up in the Bronx) served in 'Nam, as did other young men I grew up with.

Binghamton - part of the Korean War monument on the Broome County courthouse lawn.

And the Revolutionary War monument, also on the Courthouse lawn.

I am not a "poetry person" (although there are a couple of poets I do enjoy) but this poem always touches my heart. Written by a Canadian soldier in 1915 upon the battle death of his friend in Flanders, Belgium, during World War I.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
      Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
   The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
   If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

John McCrae

Being 110 Isn't Much Different From Being 109

What a shame that Florence Green never made it to age 111.  She came pretty close, though.

What was Florence Green's claim to fame, besides living to almost 111?  Well, she was the last living veteran of World War I.

The last combat veteran died in May.

Florence Green joined the Women's Royal Air Force in September 1918 at the age of 17.  Women were put into support roles (such as mechanics) to free men up to "go to war".  Green served as a steward in the officer's mess. After the war, she married and had three children.  It is unknown if any of them had to go to war.

When the last participant in a war dies, all of us lose something valuable - memories, and a physical link to the past.  I was alive when the last (undisputed) veteran of the Civil War died, when the last veteran of the Spanish-American War died, and even when the last survivor of the Titanic died in 2009.  If I live long enough I will see the last veteran of World War II die, of the Holocaust die.  My son will (if he lives long enough) see the last veteran of the Vietnam War die.

But what was special about World War I was that it was supposed to be the "war to end war". Obviously, it was not.  Each of the survivors of that horrible war was a living witness to that horror.

We are poorer today for the passing of Florence Green, even if she did not spend a minute on the battlefield.