Tag Archives: U.S. Army

Eastbound and Back, Day 34: Taking Stock

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Family, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Slow Food Prescott, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

June 1, 2024, Grapevine- The new apartment, Home Base II, is a tad smaller, kitchen and living room-wise, than its predecessor, but my little family is happier-which is all that counts. I am as comfortable here as I was on the other side of Grapevine Mills- a testament to the serenity that Aram and Yunhee have with one another. True to form, we dined in nicely, for all three meals and I joined them on a shopping journey, this evening. Sushi was for dinner and a Korean comedy followed, starring the actor Don Lee (Lee Dong-seok), a bilingual actor who is well-known in both South Korea and Los Angeles, for playing tough guys with hearts of gold. This one had Don as a would-be arm wrestling champion, who has to face down small time mobsters-a piece of cake, this being a comedy.

June has ever been a month of transition for me: It was the month when I got married, went on pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy Places in Israel, both 42 years ago. It was in June, that my father passed, 38 years ago. I graduated high school this month, 56 years ago, and joined the U.S. Army, a year later. So, June has become my time for taking stock and making whatever adjustments that may need to be made, in life and lifestyle.

In a few days, I will be back in Prescott, Home Base I. There are already appointments and commitments set for several days this month, most intensely the management of a youth camp, in Bellemont, for eight days, starting next Friday. A visit to our Congressman’s office awaits, followed by a visit to my chiropractor- though not because of what might happen that morning. Our Red Cross meeting comes a day later, and I will serve as Blood Ambassador, on June 20, then help with a Slow Food event on June 22.

In the background, though, is a family situation that may trump all of the above. We just take the matter one day at a time. It is the Hands of the Almighty now. Life in the wider world will always go on, regardless of what we face as individuals, or as families.

Perhaps the biggest change, long-term, is in how I am called to serve humanity. I have spent much time on the road, these past thirteen years, feeling that my time was best spent in one place or another. There remain, this year, a road trip to British Columbia, via the Pacific Northwest, and visits with friends, one in particular, and service activities in the Philippines. East Africa had been on the itinerary, until security concerns (relative to a transit stop in west Asia) prompted the airline to scrub the flight.

Extensive solo travel, and solo life, may well be coming to an end, with the above journeys. That’s all I feel it prudent to say for now, but I feel a change in the wind. One day at a time, dear Lord, one day at a time.

“All Means All”

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

January 16, 2023- The process tends to loop around in circles, sometimes spiraling forward and other times heading back the other way.

April, 1959- A tough-looking boy, a bit older than me, rode up on his bike as I was walking back from the south side of town. He said his name was Richard; that he was a Creole from New Orleans and that I looked like a money man. I was eight, Richard was probably ten. I showed my empty pockets and he sniffed and rode off. “Next time, Money Man!” I didn’t see him again until we were in Junior High. He was into other things by then, and never bothered me. I later learned, from another Black child, that Richard no one in his life, except his Grandma, who was a custodian at the high school.

June, 1963- A seasoned jazz saxophonist, named Wilton Felder, sat down and recorded a re-arrangement of “Lullaby by JS Brahms”. It was nothing close to a lullaby, when he was finished. Mr. Felder was expressing his rage-at the murder, in 1956, of Emmett Till; at the murder, a few days before the recording, of Medgar Evers; at the many instances of cruelty towards people who looked like him . He was in no mood to offer gentle comfort-and so he made the piece soar to the heavens-loud and angry. The performance was terribly prescient. Three months later, four young girls, dressed in their Sunday finest, were blown to bits by a crazed bomber, as they waited in a Birmingham church.

April, 1968- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke to a group of sanitation workers and others who were gathered in their support. He remarked that the people were “headed to the Promised Land”, and that he “may not get there with you”. That night, as he took in the night air of a Memphis spring, he was sent to the hereafter. Far to the north, in the mostly white town where I was coming of age, a few of my friends mused aloud, about going over to a black neighbourhood in the next town, and stirring things up. The father who overheard those remarks forbade his son from taking part-as my father would have, if I had even wanted to be part of such a thing. As it was, I only wanted to see black people treated fairly and my heart was broken. I went on home.

June, 1969- Communication was not my strong suit, as I entered Basic Training in the U.S. Army. Having had little direct experience with African-Americans, I found that I had committed a few faux pas. Lavern was already a beaten-down, world-weary soul, at age 19. He desperately wanted to be understood, and had a hard time expressing the ways in which people like me had hurt him. A sharp-eyed friend advised me that some other black trainees were talking with Lavern, and looking my way. I spoke with a mutual friend, who was also black; the two of us sat down with Lavern, and got things amicably settled.

September, 1969- One cold morning, at Advanced Individual Training, in Indianapolis, I was having a hard time waking up and must have had a sour expression on my face, as we gathered at the latrine sinks, to shave our faces. Wayne was spring-loaded and outspoken. He thought my scowl was directed at him-and put me on notice that this was not acceptable. A more even-tempered black colleague explained that this was how African-American men communicated with one another-direct, full-in-the-face. In this way, I was being let inside. I had no further issues with Wayne, or with any other person of colour, the rest of the time I was in the Army. Direct, and to the point, always worked.

July, 1995- I was getting ready to cross a busy street, in St. Louis, with my wife, son and our hosts. Of a sudden, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back-just as a car came speeding along in the inside lane. The man who saved me had appeared to be on drugs-but he was aware enough to keep a stranger safe. This gave the lie to our hosts’ musings about black people being worthless. There was no further racist talk coming out of their mouths during our visit.

All these years later, one of the main speakers at today’s Martin Luther King, Jr. Day of Service asked, among other things, how many friends of colour each of us had. It was a rhetorical query, intended to get us thinking. My unspoken answer is, “Many, but nowhere near enough”. The keynote speaker then underscored this question, saying that ALL people’s lives indeed mattered. To that African-American, female pastor, everyone was due respect and accordance of dignity-even if they act despicably.

All people means all people.

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A Matter of National Interest

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving

June 19, 2021- In the latter part of June, 1969, one of my fellow trainees, of African-American descent, confronted me about what he thought was my negative attitude towards people of colour. I had no ready answer for him, as truth be told, I had no attitude of any kind towards African-Americans, since until entering Basic Training, I did not know any. I believed then, as now, that all people are equal in the sight of God, and that therefore I was to show kindness and respect to Black people, as I did towards Whites and Asians, who were far more numerous in my hometown. What that meant, in practice, was far more complicated. I was to learn that the historical treatment, of all people of colour and of lower class Whites, was woeful in general and that each subgroup was treated in such a manner as made that group’s genetic memory needful of particular attention, distinct from other “minority” groups.

Lavern and I reached an understanding, and there was no further animosity between us. I continued to learn, from other men of colour, throughout my Army enlistment- and afterward, of the difficulties faced by their ancestors, and by they themselves, on a daily basis. Although it may be said that everyone has a hard life, at one time or another, most of those difficulties are transitory happenstance- a stock decline here, a broken down car there, a sick family member over yonder. They are no less problematic in the interim, but they are not compounded by the genetic memory of generations who were, and in many cases still are, excluded from equal treatment by society and by those in their midst.

So it is, that I welcome the national observance of Juneteenth-NOT as a replacement holiday for Independence Day, but as a day of affirmation of the principles upon this nation was founded. I have read much and learned much, about the abhorrent treatment of people of colour-and of lower class people of pallour, across the span of our nation’s, and other nations’ stories. I hope one and all are able to likewise reflect on the course of becoming more equal.

A Cup O’ Kindness

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Posted by on in Historical, Inspiration, Striving

August 27, 2016, Prescott- Last Sunday, I spent some time with a World War II veteran, retired from the U.S.Army, as a colonel, who commanded a battalion on Utah Beach, during the D-Day invasion, in 1944.  He was fading, when I saw him, so I knew it was a matter of time, before his departure from our midst.

That passing came this evening, and John A. Mortimer, “only 96”, found himself looking down upon many friends who will miss his presence.  His widow, a native of Britain, called him her “Laddie”.  Certainly, during his years of service to his country, including time in the Battle of the Bulge, when he pushed his unit into Germany, with General Patton’s blessing, he moved with the swagger of youth- and made it count for something.

John was still on active duty during the Korean War, but stayed stateside, to monitor the testing of atomic weapons.  It was a decent turn of events, that he did not suffer any ill effects from those unfortunate days.

He served, at our American Legion Post, as a member of the Honour Guard, and was its flag presenter at funerals and memorial services, for several years.  John was also the first person one saw, on Sunday mornings, when breakfast was being served, as he was the cashier.  All that ended, about 1 1/2 years ago, when he became confined to the VA Hospital here in town, and to a wheelchair.

His wit, and keenness for Turner Classic Movies, remained, though, until a couple of weeks ago, when the Good Lord let him know that it was time to start packing up for the journey homeward.  That journey became complete, around 9:30 this evening.

We, his comrades at the Post, will honour John on Labour Day- looking back on his extraordinary life, and taking a cup o’kindness, for his service, and all those long ago days.