Memorial Day: The Heros Among Us...

Like most kids my father will always be my hero. While he died suddenly sixteen years ago, I regret not telling him more when he was alive. It seems as I have matured and became a father of my own, his influence has not dwindled.  I have tried to emulate to the best of my abilities his positive attributes and I have learned from his mistakes.  But that is not what this post is about. It wasn’t until after his death that I realized he was a true hero. At the young age of seventeen, he was a young kid aboard the USS Franklin during WWII. The ship, an aircraft carrier loaded with bombs an fuel was attacked off the shore of Japan. That was all the details our father ever shared with us. It was later that I learned the details of this horrible tragedy. While the ship was engulfed in flames many men jumped overboard to their death. My father stayed. The captain refused to let them abandon ship. So for the next two months they stayed aboard a charred ship with thousands of their dead shipmates aboard.  This lasted until they were towed back to the US. I cannot begin to imagine the mental and emotional horror that must have been.  While my father never displayed the physical scars of war he did carry the emotional and psychological scars. Sometimes these can be the worse.  These scars didn’t manifest themselves in violence but one only of distance and sadness. There were moments of emotional instability mixed with some unresolved anger of what happened mixed with the inability to express normal emotions. While my father survived there was a lot of that seventeen year old boy that died that day. Something was lost in war that he never got back. Even with my father’s great qualities and character there was always a large part missing from him. There was something taken that day in war the robbed his children from the wholeness of a father. My point is twofold. First those who serve in war will carry the residual effects for the rest of their life. Even if you cannot see the physical scars, the mental damage is there. Sometimes pride and ego gets in the way of them seeking help. The sacrifice of war in not limited to physical conditions. Those of us who have not served cannot and will not ever understand.  Second on this Memorial Day cherish and remember the person who loved you and is gone. Remember that we never know what all they had to endure in this life. We may never know the emotion scars they carry. Scars cover old wounds with a tougher skin than the original skin to protect it from getting injured again. Last but not least, the world is full of heroes if we dare to notice. One may even be your own father.. Love & Miss You Big Daddy.. 

Thanks for all who served and sacrificed to I could live free…

Tommy

Color Blind.. the day I was called a racist…

There seems to be a lot of race baiting going on these days. We all know the players and this is not the place to start such diatribe or debate. Regardless there seems to be an effort for all people to focus on our differences than the things we find in common. I will admit my life journey this far has lead me down many diverse curvy roads. God has allowed me to experience many different cultures, races, and nationalities. But before we go any further this is not the “I have many (insert color or race here) friends” to try to defend my point of view, validated my opinion, or declare some type of intellectual superiority.  It is just to state that I have been blessed by diversity which may indicate I’m not as big as a jerk as I sometime feel. But the recent media attention to race reminded me of the first time I was called a racist to my face by a coworker.  In shock I reacted in silence. Me? Racist? Now I might have a lot of redneck in me that may come from my DNA but does that automatically align me with the KKK. Instead of agreeing or arguing back I did some serious soul searching. Even trying to live my life with a set of virtues where I honestly try to live without judgment could I deep down is yearning to turn in my clerical black rode I wear for a white one with a hood. So I did some more soul searching.  I made a list of why I honestly did not connect with my coworker. My list was long and included things like narcissistic, closed minded, chauvinistic, rude, and uncooperative. I had a long list with the summation of the guy was just as ass. The color or heritage of the ass did not make my list. I surmised that there are asses of all colors. There are days I am an ass. I pray that I am less of one each day and realize I have a way to go. However we all have differences. We all have preferences. We all have different backgrounds. We all have hardships, heartbreaks, disappointments, and pain in our lives. Hate only breeds on discontentment, entitlement, and lack of compassion. Empathy, understanding, and openness are the only remedy for racism. But it’s a two way street. Each side must be willing to first listen, question second, and lastly defend our position.  For me, I admit to the fact that I am neither a creator nor judge so I relinquish that to God. God does a better job than me in both those arenas.  Plus my hands are full trying to somewhat manage my own life. But in the meantime, maybe instead of baiting we adopt the habit of beginning all discussion on race relations with our commonalities then move deeper in trust and respect to address our differences. Because we all were created differently and it will allow us to eliminated some of the asses. And we just might find our society has more asses and less racist than we think.. 

Until we see each other.. take care of yourself and one another..

Peace Out! Tommy