"The Last Full Measure"

A fellow blogger and friend, John Coffey, graciously presented to me a couple of years ago the Civil War Trilogy authored by the late Michael Shaara and his son, Jeff, who today continues to be recognized and acclaimed as being among the best councilors of Civil War history. John and I share an impassioned fondness for this unique period in America's history, being enthralled with the individual accounts of the hundreds of persons whose stories gave greater depth and meaning to this epic struggle of ideologies that transcends the mere recording of the bloody battles fought upon our country's landscape.

Of the three volumes, The Killer Angels, Gods and Generals, and The Last Full Measure, the latter book proved to be the most enthralling to me, as it captured the slow but steady death throes of the Confederate cause in the final two years of the war. The opening paragraphs recount General Robert E. Lee dejectedly retreating from the Waterloo of the Confederacy; Gettysburg. Staring southward across the swollen Potomac, Lee was heartsick that his brave army of Northern Virgina had been so severely repulsed by the Union forces. Once again, Lee realized that the fight would again have to waged to a bloody conclusion on his beloved Virginia soil if the south was to have any chance of establishing its independence.

The book culminates principally with Lee's surrender on April 9th, 1865 of the remnants of his beleaguered but still defiant army at Appomattox Court House, Virginia. Soon to follow, President Abraham Lincoln would die form a confederate sympathizer's gun shot and the hope of a peaceful transition from war to peace - "with malice toward none" - would die with Lincoln's last breath.

Having been so enmeshed in the book, where the author so purposefully and eloquently thrust me as a silent observer into the midst of the competing generals conversations within the confines of their respective field headquarters, as a noncombatant on each side of the many battles that left thousands dead and dying on a dozen fields of conflict, and as a humbled participant watching reverently as the ragtag soldiers of the confederacy stacked their arms a final time to return at long last to their loved ones left behind so many years before, I now wish to add to my personal "bucket list" a trip to northern Virginia where I may begin to trace the footsteps of the retreating Confederate army as they valiantly repulsed with ever dwindling odds the steady and unrelenting advance of the Union army's tide of victory.

I wish to begin my nostalgic journey on the northern side of the Rappahannock River, then cross over into Fredericksbug, where the confederate army unveiled victoriously again its fighting determination; then to Chancellorsville, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, Petersburg and all way stations in between until I come again to the Appomattox Court House where I will stand in reverent awe in the very room where a host of gallant and determined men brought to a final conclusion a most unique era of honor and pride in conflicting causes that ultimately made our nation the envy of the world.

I thank my friend John for his gift of these books that presented this small yet significant slice of our nation's history in a manner that stirs the soul and elevates the lesson of human history as best taught by those who endured the making of that history.

"JUST SHUT UP, JOE!!"

Our second doofus-in-charge managed to once again insert his rather sizable foot into his forever open mouth when during a speech in China this past week Vice President in charge of inane, stupid comments lauded the Chinese government's one-child per family policy. Apparently Biden's off-the-cuff comment, seen in some circles as merely being purposefully acquiescent to our nation's largest debt holder, would appear to have been providing tactic if not overt approval to government population control.

It seems that dim-witted Joe would sanction a government forcibly limiting the size of a nation's families in order to fit the government's budget, rather than trimming the national budget in order to fully serve the nation's families.

I for one, a Johnny-come-lately to the issue of family planning, would gladly henceforth endorse the notion of limiting the number of children within a family unit had Biden's mother and father exercised that option upon little Joey's conception. Since that obviously never occurred, the best I can hope for is that Joe will take the initiative to insert his genitals into his mouth from this point forward so as to prevent any future little Biden's from being loosed upon this earth. Darn... Too late...

Do mankind a gigantic favor, Joe. Just shut the hell up!

"Got This Postcard....

The nation's economy is on the brink of going to hell in a very deep handbasket and our clueless President determines he is in need of an eleven day vacation in Martha's Vineyard. Good for him! I want him to practice being on vacation so that, God willing, there will be sufficient numbers of the unemployed and disenchanted voters, come next November, to present him with the realization that he is to be permanently on vacation beginning in early January of 2013. Enjoy your tax payer's underwritten reprieve, Mr. Obama. The clock is ticking...and we're counting the days.

...And Now A Word From A Grateful Nation.

"STANDARD AND POORS DOWN GRADES AMERICA'S CREDIT RATING"

WAY TO GO, DUMB ASS!!

AISLE SIX...

I'm thinking about changing the name of my blog. Perhaps by doing so it will rekindle my flagging interest in keeping it more current. Maybe...

My wife, of almost 28 years, knows me like a well read, dog-eared book. She recognizes, as do I, that I have a very addictive nature. When I decide to do something, I throw myself into it head over heels. Thus that explains partially the underlying reason why I have elected not to pursue my blog fanatically over the past 12 months; another long time passion caught my full attention in the interim, which I'll explain at greater length further along in this post.

One of the reasons I decided to back off from attempting to compose a post on at least a weekly basis is that my blog was becoming too political; not in a positive way, but to the point to where I found myself becoming more cynical and angrier with every passing day as I observed how our polarized Washington leadership continually seems intent on sinking our nation to the point of no return. Like Don Quixote, my blog had become a feeble attempt to joust at distant windmills to no avail. I had lost my perspective. I was ranting. I was generating a lot of heat, but very little light. I had to back away.

The question became, "What to put in the blog's place to keep my creative juices engaged?" I decided to return to the hobby I had happily pursued before I move to Florida 27 years ago: model railroading. When Judi and I were married we moved from the town house we first inhabited as a couple and bought a home that, to my delight, had a detached garage. "Hurray!!" thought I. "Now I could finally build the model railroad empire I had been planning in my head for years." Not to be... As often times occurs with married folks, I was soon thereafter greeted by Judi with the news (and it was thrilling), "I'm pregnant." This announcement prompted me to get busy with creating a nursery for the anticipated arrival of daughter Megan. That project lead to another remodeling project, which lead to another, and a third, then a forth, and so on. I spent, as time and money permitted, the next 24 years remodeling our 86 year old home. It isn't totally finished, but now that I have a lot more time (due to the fact that I haven't been able to secure full time employment since 2008), I don't possess sufficient funds to tackle any of the remaining projects I had previously envisioned. Such is life into which bushels of lemons sometimes fall.

So, I again decided to try my hand at some sub-category of model railroading. Not in my detached garage. That is full to the gills with stored possessions of my 25 year old daughter (who is now residing in Chicago) and my 90 year old mother-in-law (who is residing in a local nursing home). Bless my wonderful wife's heart, she allowed me to use our dinning room table to construct my first 1/8 scale diorama in over 30 years (as long as I promised to clean up my "mess" after each modeling session). I began the project in February of last year and finished it this month...just in time to enter it into the local model train show contest next month. I'm excited.

Finally, I decided that if I am to continue to pursue my blog on an even semi-regular basis that I needed a new direction, and perhaps a name change would be in order. I'm thinking about entitling it, "Aisle Six." Why, you may ask. Three reasons. First, because the phrase "That's All I'm Saying" has been declared hackneyed, trite, and over-exposed. The urban dictionary explains that the phrase is like a "fire escape at the end of a sentence," whereby it makes it possible to deliver a rude comment and have it discounted as merely being an opinion disguised as an objective opinion, but an opinion that the author apparently doesn't really support. "I'm just saying..."

Secondly, I have a good friend that paid me a genuine compliment for some volunteer work I had accomplished for my church. I discounted his praise, flattered nevertheless, but wishing to downplay the role I had played. He countered by saying, "Take the cookie." In other words, accept the compliment. I appreciated his wise counsel.

And finally thirdly, my favorite aisle in the local grocery store is "Aisle Six." That's where all the brands of cookies are displayed. I will literally run over you for a cookie. I LOVE cookies! Send me to the grocery store with instructions to buy milk and bread, and I'm going to also purchase some type of cookies on aisle six. Never fails.

So, dear friends, if I decide to continue to blog I will probably depart from my cynical ways and attempt instead to be a provider of far less inflammatory rhetoric, leaving each reader with the admonition to "Take the cookie." time will tell...

"Ten Reason's Why I Like Al Gore..."

Let me see... Hum-m-m... Nope! Can't think of a thing!

"A City Morns..."

Not too many decades ago my home town of current residence for the past 28 years was unflatteringly referred to as "God's waiting room," euphemistically so labeled because it had been embraced as the final roosting spot for hundreds of our nation's seasoned citizens who had flocked from the colder northern climes to enjoy their remaining days basking in our warming sunshine. The streets of downtown St. Petersburg, Florida, particularly along both sides of Central Avenue, were neatly spaced rows of "green benches" upon which our elderly residents would while away the day's hours in casual communal communication. Those iconic green benches have long since disappeared, as has the city's melancholy reputation, to evolve and reinvent itself into the state's fourth largest city, teeming with a vibrant, younger and proud citizenship that is eager to make and keep their hometown an enviable place to live and raise family.

Not unlike Tuson, Arizona, where the recent tragedies unfolded, St. Petersburg also regards itself as a "biggest, little city." With a population of just under 250,000, the axiom of six degrees of separation firmly and lovingly holds we citizens in its embrace. We all know somebody that knows somebody who knows us. We proudly celebrate each other's victories and morn each other's tragedies. On this past Monday tragedy wrapped its icy fingers around the throat of our city. Two of our city's finest, police officers Tom Baitinger and Jeffery "Yaz" Yaslowitz, were fatally gunned down in a hale of bullets inflicted by a wanted felon as he attempted to cowardly hide in the attic. Collectively our hearts stopped and the expressions of disbelief and tears of sorrow poured forth.

Today my home church humbly, proudly and reverently served as the host facility for the funeral of these two fallen policeman. An estimated 15,000 people were in attendance at the memorial service. It was further anticipated that thousands more of we St. Petersburg and citizens of Flordia watched on television with quite and reflective hearts. For we citizens who were so humbly served by these two men, who gave their full measure of service to their fellow citizens, it is the very least that we can and should do.

May God rest their souls eternally and honor each of these fallen heroes as we who remain behind pay our final respects to the two lives so well spent in our service.