for ping, the day after

this is a column that had its origins on a memorial day post here before it was cleaned up and expanded for the paper on the ensuing veterans day. it includes a correction from a retired army sergeant on military funerals and another edit for clarity.

i'm posting this for a young friend who finished his tour of iraq more than a year ago and is settling back to civilian and student life.

Perspective has changed on observing Veteran's Day

No one in my immediate family has served in the armed forces.

My brother-in-law did a hitch with the Army at Fort Sill in Oklahoma to pay back a school loan.

I visited him and my sister once, and learned that Oklahoma in the summer is very, very hot and you can get pretty good deals at the PX.

My uncle was a guerrilla fighter during the occupation of the Philippines in World War II. He was killing Japanese soldiers in the jungle at about the same age I was fretting over driver's ed and geometry.

I once asked him about his experience, but all I got was a far-off look.

It took attending the funeral of a friend's father for me to get a close-up look at the military culture.

My friend's dad died very suddenly and the family was in shock. My girlfriend and I met him at the funeral home to offer support.

We knew his dad was a decorated Vietnam War vet who saw combat in multiple tours.

Among the eulogizers was a fellow veteran who spoke of the adjustments all those who served there had to make upon their return to the states and how my friend's dad was no different.

I grew up during the conflict and backlash of the Vietnam era, when the antiwar movement made it fashionable to reject all things soldierlike.

The regard with which our fighting men had been held in previous struggles was at a low ebb, where the warrior was maligned with the war. Respect for the military was a vague, touchy puzzle.

It wasn't until the casket was being carried out to the hearse that all the ceremony and honor that are accorded a soldier's life made sense to me.

Watching the body leave the place where you last see the face and form of the deceased can be a wrenching experience. Finality sets in and the weight of it can be more than the emotions can bear.

But my spine stiffened as uniformed officers folded the flag that draped the casket and handed it to my friend's mom, and then again as I heard the bugler play taps and the crack of three rifle volleys as the casket was taken away.

The service reminded me that soldiers are in the death business -- sworn to give their lives for the sake of their country -- and they have established protocols and structure to maintain dignity and bearing in the face of it.

I did my best to emulate it for my own composure and to honor my friend's dad.

I now try to remember that on days like today when we commemorate those who put their lives at risk and made it home.

With this insight, I don't think of bands and speeches so much as empty gestures of patriotism; somewhere amid the flags and bunting is military decorum gently and stoically reminding the public of the serious cost of taking up arms.

Copyright 2007 Charleston Daily Mail

outside my window

it's memorial day, a holiday for most, a newsroom workday for me, though not for a few hours.

as per the morning ritual, i'm checking the internets as otto checks the outside world from her buffet perch.

with no radio or television on, i have as my background noise the sound of my backyard waking up.

while i can enjoy this woodsy din throughout the summer, somehow in the spring it conjures a truer sense of life.

i suppose after the dormancy of winter, the chirps and songs sound like nature roused from sleep as these buggers are out and about, foraging, i guess, for their breakfasts.

even as the season is winding down and the leaves have lost their brilliant green, it still feels like the outside is in its state of becoming, girding for the long haul of growth and storage in the summer sun.

it must be the creative part of me that so enjoys watching process and works in progress. seriously, it seems as the outdoors gets revved up, you can smell the green in the warm, thickening air. it's quite amazing.

one of the things mom said to avoid in conversation with strangers

a few links on religion:

america, the catholic news weekly, featured a well-reasoned opinion piece on the barack obama-notre dame commencement brouhaha. you can totally tell the columnist is a philosophy professor in his use of argument on the danger posed to the perception of catholics in the vitriol regarding the event.

the new york times had good coverage of the actual event and the message the president tried to deliver. rather than sidestepping the issue of abortion that had so many up in arms, he took it head-on.

finally, the los angeles times had a funny op-ed piece about atheists. here, the author points out a lack of creativity and dimension to their efforts to convince believers to cease in their belief. for instance, insults, she points out, aren't exactly the means by which to win converts.

i post them here because it's quieter than the facebook and the nature of topics are heavier than your average "wall post" can carry on the social networking site.

the king tut drive-in

if i were forced to pick one fast-food joint to eat from for the rest of my life, it would probably be this place, the king tut drive-in in my hometown of beckley, w.va.

simply put, they make everything and they make it well.

having missed out on supper to watch my sister's twins in a dance recital last night, kris and i were more than ready to eat.

we pulled up under the canopy, took a look at the menu painted on the signboards and knew we would have a job to do just winnowing down our choices.

all we knew was we wanted sandwiches. that helped us eliminate their wicked good pizzas, fish platters, bean dinners and assorted knife and fork meals.

now which one? i lived on their roast beef for the better part of a summer in college. the fish sandwich was tempting. meatloaf? bbq?

on the flow chart of culinary decision making, the decider was my choice of beverage.

i was going to have a milkshake. ergo, it would have to be a mild red meat.

cheeseburger it was. kris went with the meatloaf.

we both ordered onion rings. her milkshake was chocolate; mine, vanilla.

our carhop girl, as they have been since i've been going there, was sweet, kind, easy-going and charming.

we had enough time to discuss the evening's entertainment and the remarkable job director jerry rose's beckley dance theater has done with teaching young people movement and dance for as long as i've been alive.

then the food arrived.

i made sure the window was rolled up enough to hold the serving tray and oh so carefully passed the food into the jeep, pulling in the thinner burger first, then the thick meatloaf sandwich, the shakes and, now clear of obstructions, the trays of onion rings were next.

(i was trying to avoid the pathos of food dropped in transit. few things make me sadder.)

one order went on the center armrest; the other on the console near the shift lever.

a quick prayer of thanks and blessing, and we were on.

the burger was diner classic -- thin, cheesy and pickle in every bite. kris was well-pleased with the meatloaf, which was thick and flavorful, and the split, homemade roll tasted like heaven.

she was especially enamored with the onion rings, though. the batter had perfect crunch and a great, golden hue.

the shakes were thick -- "made with real ice cream," as the sign said. perfect to wash down and anchor the fast-food feast.

it's rare that we're in town long enough or with proper opportunity to take the time sit in the car, listen to the radio, chat and eat.

i posted the photos on my facebook page and it brought back memories for my friend reggie, who recalled nights after high school football games swinging by with his friends in the band.

more often than not, as a junior and senior, afterward, i think i went home after shooting games for the yearbook, although there is documentation i hung out more often with the class after me than my own -- and they didn't go to king tut.

i came to frequent it more often when i was home for summers during college and when i worked for the beckley paper.

it's one of those hidden gems of my hometown, fondly remembered by generations of beckleyans and epitomizing its small town roots and character.

do swing by if you're ever in the area.

settled in

i'm guessing by the paucity of entries lately that nothing is happening in my life.

in my paper journal days, i always noticed i wrote the most whenever i was madly in "luv."

the infatuation, the agonizing, the connection, the disconnection and more agonizing -- all documented in glorious, horrifying black and white.

once this online blogging business got underway, i suppose i chronicled life the way a teenager experiences emotions -- as if everything going on around me has never happened to anyone anywhere anytime before.

and, well, from this perspective, it hadn't.

the blog began in earnest just about the same time i got serious with kris, got engaged, got married, established a household, participated in and documented an historic election and had my professional world turned upside down.

that was a lot to write about for two years.

and now, it's just life. and it keeps happening.

except when i can't sleep and all i can do is think. (which must mean i've been sleeping ok up until tonight.)

coming off my second or third bout of illness since the paper switched to mornings, i can partially blame the schedule for the tapering off.

awake time is more precious -- once the sun comes up, we have about six or seven good hours that belong to us before we have to get ready for work.

an hour or more writing navel-gazing drivel is a load of laundry that doesn't get done or bills that don't get paid. (if i'm wire editor, those are stories i haven't looked at.)

i suppose i could rail against the sufferings we endure at having our lives so compartmentalized by our horrible job situation.

but any job situation beats no job situation. and in this line of work, again, a friday-saturday weekend is to die for.

it occurs to me the true test of creativity is how well one uses the spaces between the borders. good artists can make do with a lot or a little.

ours were re-drawn at the start of the year. maybe it's time i stopped pining for the canvas we had and seriously working with the one we have.