The 11th Hour, of the 11th Day, of the 11th Month
Next post: November 11, 2020: Around the world in eleven minutes via the Net
Previous post: On Hyndford Street
Next post: November 11, 2020: Around the world in eleven minutes via the Net
Previous post: On Hyndford Street
Mailing Address for the Blue Planet
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Who Am I? by Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
Duty, Beauty, Liberty, Country, Honor, Family, Faith — Plus a few simple easy to follow rules for guys
The Vault
Take It Where You Find It
Men saw the stars at the edge of the sea
They thought great thoughts about liberty
Poets wrote down words that did fit
Writers wrote books
Thinkers thought about it
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
Many’s the road I have walked upon
Many’s the hour between dusk and dawn
Many’s the time
Many’s the mile
I see it all now
Through the eyes of a child
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
Lost dreams and found dreams
In America
In America
In America
And close your eyes
Leave it all for a while
Leave the world
And your worries behind
You will build on whatever is real
And wake up each day
To a new waking dream
Take it where you find it
Can’t leave it alone
You will find a purpose
To carry it on
Mainly when you find it
Your heart will be strong
About it
[Chorus]
Change, change come over
Change come over
Talkin’ about a change
Change, change
Change come over, now
Change, change, change come over
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I’m gonna walk down the street
Until I see
My shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
I see my light
See my light
See my shining light
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Rickenbaker’s autobiography is well worth your time.
As is this re-creation of sound ranging equipment recording the cessation of firing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTA10n1Ztqo
Awhile ago I was standing in the kitchen and my wife came in and said, “Look, (pointing at the clock) it’s 11:11…on 11/11!” I said, “Yay, it’s historical! Take a picture!” Then we laffed and laffed and laffed.
Eddie R. noted after he landed that there were new bullet holes in his plane…during his flight to the front that day, before the Armistice, the Germans were still firing at him.
It should have happened four years earlier, with the troops of both sides returning home to string up the politicians, bankers, and arms merchants that started and perpetuated that pointless mass-slaughter.
Deep, abiding respect to all veterans on this day.
Dear Skorpion
We in this house share “Deep, abiding respect to all veterans on this day.”
Only Europeans would do that. You think Africans or Asians or native Americans will do that?
The Great War killed Europe demographically and intellectually, IMHO. The best and brightest of their generations were slaughtered in those fields, and to ensure the death of Europe, they repeated it twenty years later. The artists, writers, scientists, inventors, musicians; those that would’ve led Europe into the 40’s and 50’s as some of the best of the world, instead turned to organic matter.
From the old shop – my grandfather’s Armistice Day, near Montfaucon:
http://westernrifleshooters.blogspot.com/2010/11/november-11th.html
“Deep, abiding respect to all veterans on this day.”
Indeed.
And for those interested, do read this recent history; what happened to the 79th Division (my grandfather’s unit) was criminal, and Pershing did himself no honor by aiding the cover-up:
https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Betrayal-at-Little-Gibraltar/William-Walker/9781501117916
Skorpion, You are spot on. And if you dig a little deeper you will find that it is and has been one family that has financed all sides. TC, you eloquently stated an ugly truth.
It was, “the war to end all wars”, they said.
I marvel at his work.
And yet today Norman Rockwell would be branded by the Left as being a White Supremacist, among other things.
Norman Rockwell abides. Rifles rise dynamically; soldiers abut and defend. The native colors of the uniforms rise up in the pageant of our military past, but these aren’t regulars – they are American men. The militia. Eyes fixed and dangerous.
There is nothing “correct”, polite or yielding about this painting. Like the Bill of Rights, it spells out the fact that we are at war. Have you read the Bill of Rights? It has teeth and it ain’t friendly.
World War I. I read Rickenbacker’s book, but it was so long ago and I completely forgot that bird’s eye view of the breakout of peace. Oh, that war was a waste, was it? Fuck off, mate! World War I was the event that accompanied and sealed the end of the monarchies. Did the Bilderburgs do that? The Illuminaughty? Uhhh, I doubt it, Slick.
We are living critical history as we speak. Do try to keep up, Bueller.
Army National Guard. Infantry Captain. 1975-1985.
If Rickenbacker has a memorial anywhere, I’m sure that the young leftists will demand it be torn down.
For ‘reasons’.
“Day by day and almost minute by minute the past was brought up to date. In this way every prediction made by the Party could be shown by documentary evidence to have been correct; nor was any item of news, or any expression of opinion, which conflicted with the needs of the moment, ever allowed to remain on record. All history was a palimpsest, scraped clean and reinscribed exactly as often as was necessary.”
George Orwell