Ten Years After--Who really remembers anymore? (Ans: We do!)

We in the military often are accused of being slow to adjust to change and the passage of time. We are told to "get over it and move on."

Get over it? I don't think so.

After the Imperial Japanese attacks on the US Navy Base at Pearl Harbor, HI, the entire country was aflame, just as the sad hulks continued smoldering away at their moorings on Battleship Row. Everyone in this nation was shocked and angry ... and wanted to hit back. Records show that the nation stayed involved, stayed angry, throughout most of World War II. Everyone was directly or indirectly involved with the war effort.

There were meatless and wheatless days at home, so US troops in the field wouldn't go hungry. Gas was rationed. Nylon was rationed. Scrap metal drives insured there was enough metal in the foundries to make armaments and munitions. Women's groups would meet weekly to roll bandages for the troops. Recruiters' offices were mobbed. Families proudly hung out flags with service stars, quietly boasting how many family members were in uniform. Some families shared their grief by hanging out gold service stars, mutely stating for all to see that some in their family had paid the ultimate price for freedom. US and Allied battles merited front page coverage in every newspaper.

We as a people, arose and answered the Call to Arms.

Now? Ehh.

Except for that tiny percentage of Americans actually in military families, almost no one is connected to the war effort. Most high school graduates are far more worried about getting into school than they are getting into their country's service.

Daily I talk to people who tell me that military service is fine for those who can't get into a good school, but their kids are going to college to get a good job. Military recruiters tell me they still treated like pariahs in Milwaukee Public Schools, even though statistics show that only 1 out of 4 high school graduates are actually cut out to finish college.

The US populace is far more interested in the fact that the Green Bay Packers beat the New Orleans Saints in the NFL opener recently, than in the fact that the job of making this country safe against terrorism is not yet finished!

I seriously doubt whether anyone in this country has actually forgotten the events of 9/11. Even if they did, the plethora of TV and Internet images depicting flaming crashes and falling towers will remind them what happened on that otherwise beautiful fall day ten years ago.

But as I reminded a Marine friend of mine on Facebook today, the nation has lost sight of its sense of anger ... righteous indignation ... of having been stabbed in the heart for virtually no other reason than the fact that we don't follow a 13th Century nightmare version of Islam.

But we in the military are your corporate memory on this issue. We remember not only the events, we remember also feeling the wrongness of what happened, and how we individually and collectively vowed to help right those wrongs.

We, each of us, vowed to carry the fight to the enemy that had reached across oceans to kill us. We, each of us, vowed not to quit and leave the job half-done.

I recall one of the Guantanamo detainees -- a Saudi Arabian cardiac surgeon who studied at Oxford and who speaks better English than I do. He likened all Americans to "insects," saying that if he could push some button somewhere that would instantly annihilate our babies, he would already have done so and lost not a moment's sleep over it.

Like insects, he said, we needed to be exterminated and forgotten about by history.

We in the military are still cold inside at the thought of those who wish to kill as many of us as they can. We are still "cold angry."

This post, then, is a plea to the rest of you.

Never forget. Never forget!

Jury Duty -- a Necessary Pain in the Ass

"In a democracy, making law is like making sausage. You may or may not love the final product, but the process for making both of them will probably make you sick." old Lawyer's aphorism

I've been required for the second time in 16 years to perform jury duty.

The fact that I'm sitting here in the jury assembly room, blogging and updating FaceBook, says much about the key survival tools for a prospective juror ... the ability to endure REALLY uncomfortable chairs, surly civil servants and hours of boredom while waiting to be selected for a trial.

I came REAL close to weaseling out. I mean, there's not much going for this gig: You only get paid about $18 per day. (Even in a tanking economy, I make a good deal more than that at work, even working part time.) But wait, it gets worse. In addition to almost no money, there's also no free lunch, no free coffee, and -- Hell -- not even free parking!!!

I came THIS close to weaseling out and asking for a medical excuse. I really did.

I wish I could claim it was my better nature and high civic virtues that made me go through with it ... but it wasn't anything like that. I was just too lazy to have to jump through all those hoops to get excused. (Maybe they design the system that way for that very reason, I'm thinking)

So anyway, here I am, digesting my $8.56 lunch from the courthouse cafeteria, listening to some of my fellow jurors snore away during their post-prandial naps, trying not to watch the second Sandra Bullock movie of the day on the jury room television .... but I'm kind of glad I'm here.

Having served once before on this gig, I can tell you that the courthouse is ALWAYS the Great Leveler.

It is within these magnificent stonepile courthouses, scattered at county seats all across America, that we all come before the scrutiny of our fellow citizens. (I know, I know ... you're about to mention O. J. Simpson and Casey Anthony. Fuck them.)

Most of only enter these halls when there's some sort of trouble or life-changing event (marriage, divorce, birth, death, buying a home, etc.) Or when we or someone in our family is in trouble.

That's when your ability to look me and my fellow jurors in the eye and speak the truth will be the determining factor in your status.

... if you can wake my fellow jurors up, that is.

OK ... next? (No, seriously ... now what?)

"The Mills of God grind slowly ... but they grind exceedingly small" Rudyard Kipling

OK ... time to take a deep, collective breath and consider what has been accomplished here.

Most pundits are in agreement that this is certainly NOT an end to terrorism worldwide. (Hell, there is enough state-sponsored terrorism to more than fill any putative gap left by the mass murderer Osama bin Laden.)

Interviews with families who lost loved ones in the attacks on 9/11 show that this certainly won't bring back lost loves, nor even provide all that much closure.

Initial polling shows that, with the economy still in the tank and gas prices well over $4 per gallon, Pres. Obama's popularity may temporarily soar ... but it's gonna' be a long haul for him until the elections of November, 2012. (Nothing is shorter than the collective memory of the American electorate, it seems.)

OK ... so what, then? What's been achieved?

Balance...sort of. (A little, at least)

Given the sheer size of the damage done to us on our own soil on 9/11, we had to do this. We simply had to hunt him down and kill him to bring the scales of the universe back into balance. To simply shrug it off and go on about our lives would have called into question our basic values and outlook on the worth of an American citizen's life. We simply couldn't let this man remain alive with impugnity.

We followed established precedent. Remember Timothy McVeigh? The Oklahoma City bomber? Executing him in federal prison certainly didn't ease the loss of loved ones there ... but the US Government showed the world that if you declare open war on the US or its citizens, you will be hunted and hounded to (literally in bin Laden's case) the ends of the Earth.

The only thing you get by killing Americans is dead.

For his pains, the only thing Osama bin Laden got was being cut off, surrounded, and -- in the end -- very messily dead and dumped in an unmarked grave in the lonely ocean.

Terrorism will go on. Killings will go on. But the point is made.

You want to see Allah? Go out of your way to fuck with us and we'll facilitate the meeting ... no matter how long it takes.

TOP TEN signs that Spring has come to Wisconsin

After another long winter in Wisconsin, smart Cheeseheads know to look for the Top Ten signs that Spring has come again to Wisconsin:

10. The long rows of snow fence lining the highways disappear and are replaced by long lines of orange traffic construction barrels .

9. It's 80 degrees out today. Tomorrow, it's going down to 34 again. No big deal.

8. You've brought out your T-shirts and shorts, but don't feel like putting away your heavy coat just yet.

7. By the same token, your patio furniture now shares the front yard with your snow shovels.

6. The glacier-sized piles of dirty snow are gradually receding and reveal dead, brown grass beneath ... not to mention hundreds of frozen dog turds.

5. Migratory birds have returned to the trees outside your house. So have the mosquitoes.

4. You are nearly blinded by the light reflected off of the fish-belly-white legs and arms of your now shorts-wearing neighbors.

3. It's only April, but you're already pestering your building's property manager for news of the pool reopening.

2. Even though I work in a windowless building, I'm actually starting to CARE what the weather is like outside.

And the Number ONE sign that Spring has come again to Wisconsin is (drumroll!):

1. I went and took my Trek Series 7200 mountain bike out of Winter storage. (Can't wait to ride!)

Republicans vs Democrats: Enough already ... run the government!

"In a mature society, 'Civil Servant' is semantically equal to 'Civil Master.'" Author Robert Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

Heinlein, one of my favorite curmudgeon authors, commented often that democracy ain't perfect and it surely ain't pretty ... but it's better than anything anyone else has come up with so far. But, jeez, it can be irritating to watch our politicians and civil servants behaving like spoiled children, can't it?

Show of hands now: Who really thinks that, if the government shuts down in a few days, anyone of us is really going to notice right away? Didn't think so. (Frankly, I'd kind of welcome the peace and quiet for a short while.)

I for one am sick and tired of hearing the spoiled children we elect to state and national office pointing fingers at each other, and threatening to hold their breath unless the other side relents.

These politicos of both stripes always seem to forget, once they're elected, that MOST of their constituents live quite happily in the political middle. Despite that, once these people make it to Congress or the Statehouse, they spend most of their time positioning themselves against each other and moving as a group towards the political extremes... INSTEAD of actually representing us and doing the peoples' work.

I mean, wouldn't it be nice if, instead of attaching ideological manifestos (disguised as amendments) to a simple budget bill, these politicians actually grew a "set" and fixed social security? Balanced the budget? Came up with genuine national healthcare?

To any of my handful of younger readers note this: I'm going to start collecting Social Security this Summer and in all likelihood I'll get it and my Navy pension until the end of my days. You guys? Maybe not so much.

It is the decided best interests of anyone NOT a Baby Boomer, anyone who may NOT have Social Security to fall back on, to get busy and hold your elected official's collective feet to the fire. They won't quit having these political temper tantrums in office unless WE make them!

And as for the Wisconsin public workers' unions, I say, respectfully, "Having been one of you, I value your work and honor your work ethic. But all other unions have already had to give back tone in this rotten economy in order to save their jobs. Now it's your turn. Get over it and get back to work."

Where am I going? Why am I headed downhill and why am I in this handbasket?

It's official. I'm old and getting older, and it's scary as shit.

Have you ever noticed how we humans tend to look at milemarkers in our lives since we tend to have difficulty focusing on the totality of our existence? Well, a couple of weeks ago, I passed a huge milemarker and I'm now officially bound for scary uncharted waters ... old age.

You see, a couple of weeks ago, I filed for early Social Security benefits, and told my supervisors at work that I'm only going to work part-time, once the benefits arrive in June. Scary, right?

I always knew S.S. was there (for us Baby Boomers at least ... God knows what my kids are going to do if politicians don't grow a set and fix this.) But S.S. was something my grandparents relied upon. My mom lived on her benefits and a small pension from her job as a credit manager. Social Security checks are what we associate with widows and wizened elders, as they slowly make their way to the bank to cash their checks. For many, the monthly check means the difference between eating groceries and eating dog food.

OK ... I really hope it won't come down to that! With a Navy and a small City of Milwaukee pension, I ought to be OK if I keep working part-time, and if Kathy and I can carefully manage expenses. (crossing fingers, here)

But jeez, do I really want to go there? Do I really want to quit working full-time and depend on an unreliable government to take care of me and Kathy?

Quitting full-time work is committing myself to this new life. I officially surrender my status as "relevant" in this cash-and-credit-driven society. I officially become one of those old codgers I always used to pity whenever I saw them in the stores. I always hoped I'd never be one of those old guys who had "nothing to do."

I've already surrendered half my worklife identity by retiring from the Navy. No more can I tell people that I'm a Lieutenant Commander and a Combat Cameraman. Now I have to tell my customers I'm a "retired" Navy Combat Cameraman. But having a full-time job at least partially related to photography (selling cameras) entitles me to a certain amount of status in others' eyes, I think.

Now having only a part-time job officially makes me an old dodderer. Hell, what's next? Greeter at WalMart?

And yet, I am reminded of the quip that "No one, lying on their death bed, ever wished they'd spent more time at the office."

I remind myself that my "Bucket List" is calling to me. I really DO have places to go and less time to go there than I used to have.

I also am reminded, especially after watching my wife beat a life-threatening disease (You go, Girl!), that life and old-age won't wait for me to get over myself.

I also am reminded of the soreness and pain that comes from standing on a sales floor for eight hours a day. As my knees daily remind me, I'm simply not 26 anymore.

On a more positive note, I LOVE the fact that I'm going to have time to work on some of my long-back-burnered projects. (Kathy, Sweetie, I apologize in advance for doing things like putting up shelves in the mailbox, carpeting the ferret cage, and alphabetizing your sock drawer.)

Finally, I've always prided myself on facing scary shit and not letting it rule me.

For instance:

* I'm scared shitless of the deep, black water churned up by the ship's screws, as I imagine myself falling overboard and falling forever into the deep, cold blackness of the ocean. Always have been. So what did I go and do? Joined the Navy and learned SCUBA diving, 'natch.

* I've got a bad case of acrophobia. Being up in tall buildings weakens my knees. So what did I do? Asked for Aircrew training as an aerial photographer, whose job it is to literally hang out of helicopters on a gunner's belt and shoot aerial intel photos.

Come to think of it, as scary as old age and irrelevance are, maybe I can do this after all.

Right before his death at age 97, television show host Art Linkletter authored his last of several books, titled, "Old Age is not for Sissies."

Amen, Brother!

Football is a game, not a religion ... except maybe in Wisconsin

OK, I admit it. Never was into football much. I guess I never did get it ... the adoration we as a nation heap upon these millionaires who make a living chasing a ball around a field. I mean, they play a GAME for a living ... a game ... like checkers ... or (better yet) Monopoly.

Frankly, I get it even less now. Allow me to elucidate.

I live in Wisconsin, where the state bird is the mosquito, the state symbol is the orange traffic construction barrel, and the state motto is "Go Packers." The Packers' arch nemesis, the Evil that Dwells in Chicago, (just about an hour's drive south of the state line,) must never be named aloud without also adding "Da Bears Still Suck."

There's something about Illinois in general, and Chicago in particular, that is just awful in the eyes of most Wisconsinites. One of the most oft-heard jokes up here is: (Q) What's the difference between a Cheesehead and a Dickhead? (A) The Illinois state line.

(OK, I realize this isn't all that unusual. I recall serving in Cuba with some soldiers from the Rhode Island National Guard. Some of the soldiers were from neighboring Massachusetts, and were generally referred to as the "Masshole Contingent.") But then again, Massachusetts and Rhode Island don't wrap themselves around two archrival NFL football teams like we do.

So the Packers beat the Bears yesterday and are on their way to the Superbowl.

Who cares?

Am I the only one who thinks that all this drunken celebration is unseemly in the midst of two wars? Am I the only one who thinks that few, if any, of these millionaire jocks are worth of all this adulation? How many of these millionaires show the same loyalty to US that their fans show them? (Once upon a time, we in Wisconsin actually BELIEVED that Brett Favre was loyal to his fans and would never leave. Hah!) How many of these NFL players have ever taken their massive wealth and truly helped helped others? Then again, how many of these steroidal behemoths have prison records?

Are they really worth all this? How have they helped improve the human condition?

You want some heroes in your lives? You need look no further than:

* the public school teacher who wonders how she can afford to purchase school supplies -- or even coats! -- for her impoverished students;

* the firefighter who, in defiance of all instinct and logic, rushes INTO a burning building;

* the solder, sailor, airman or Marine who's shivvering in a fighting position and can't remember the last hot meal

Heroes are all around us, and really deserve adulation. Damned few of them play football for a living.