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Ariel70
I am usually a day late and a dollar short. This is an awesome post. It is a writing from the heart. For all your toughness you are a man with a great heart. Those who fought whether through draft or volunteer wars and fell to the devestations of the war are the strong of our country. They may be less in body, those who made it home with disabilities, but they are high on principal. They should have all their needs met the rest of their lives, they gave us the opportunity to write, say, and be what we choose in this Great Land. Thank you Sir.
posted by
Justi
on November 13, 2006 at 7:07 PM
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this is excellent
posted by
Xeno-x
on November 13, 2006 at 2:51 PM
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A very fine piece, Terry.
"...as if playing chess" just about sums it up for me.
posted by
_dave_says_ack_
on November 13, 2006 at 10:40 AM
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Farewell, Picadilly, So long, Leicester Square, it's a long, long way to
Picadilly, but my heart is there. Bagpipes are a heartwrenching sound, such poignant but amazing grace.
posted by
Blanche.
on November 12, 2006 at 5:21 PM
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Ariel70, What else could I say. You have said it all. Thanks for this post.
posted by
TAPS.
on November 12, 2006 at 5:05 PM
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Hi El Tel
Very well-written, can't disagree with a word. I heard the bagpipes this morning in Salford, in the midst of the city. there was obviously a military band observing Remembrance Sunday in a nearby memorial spot. I didn't realise what it was at the time, as I was so busy getting ready to go out, but now I do. I'd have liked to have gone over there and stood and paid my respects. i do so now, and thanks for your piece. By the way, do pop over to mine. I think it's another take on a similar subject to yours, that somehow evolved unexpectedly but appropriately. It suggests a reason why wars always recur in spite of the traumatic experiences of earlier ones. Well done, Terry.
posted by
Antonionioni
on November 12, 2006 at 4:14 PM
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Ariel, I do pay homage to the young boys who've gallantly gone to every war
they've been ordered into, some naive, trusting and full of patriotic zeal, others under protest but going still. I think Wilfred Owens was the poet laureate of World War I, who said it best. When Johnny Got His Gun, he didn't come home again, and that is such a damned shame.
Here's to the best and the brightest of every generation, who never lived to see their promise as men fulfilled, to marry and to father children, and to those who came home shattered, in mind and body, beyond repair, to suffer the casualties of war for the rest of their lives.
We remember.
posted by
Blanche.
on November 12, 2006 at 3:15 PM
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