The Daily Brief

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Monday is for rememberance of those who paid the ultimate price, but it also gives me a chance to say “thank you” to those who are currently serving, or have ever served.

Thank you Dad, Uncle Jack, Aunt Ruth, Uncle Bill, and Grandpa, for your service. Thank you Paul, Sgt Mom, Timmer, Sgt/Cpl Blondie, Radar, Detailed Recruiter, & Joe (R.I.P.) for serving. Thank you, wounded veterans, for your sacrifice. Thank you, those who gave all, whose names are written on a black wall in DC, on stone columns in towns all over the country, and in the hearts of those who loved them.

I don’t know that I’ve ever known anyone who’s died in the service of our country, but I know that those who have gone before did not die in vain, and that those who serve today stand on the shoulders of giants who look like ordinary people.

My heart is full, and I raise my glass to you, in gratitude, and in salute.

To all of you, past, present and future warriors, SALUD!

Thieves steal 26.5million veterans’ “personal data”

Apparently, a VA employee took home a laptop containing veterans’ information, in order to work on a project from home. The information included names, birthdates, and Social Security numbers. This is, of course, against all bureau policies. (interesting – the news vid I saw earlier said it was a disk – now it’s a laptop)

Sometime after that, the employee’s house was burgled, and the veterans’ data came up missing.

The employee, according to the news-piece I saw before leaving work today, is “on leave.” Why is the employee not fired? Or at least suspended?

Those of you in the know – what would be the result if a military person had done this? I keep wondering if it was really stolen, or if it was … deliberately mislaid… you know, where someone who paid a ton of money could find it. Have I gotten too cynical in my old age? Turned into a conspiracy-theorist in spite of my best efforts?

And should we be worried, that somewhere out there, someone has a disk that potentially contains data on all veterans from 1975 and later? Exactly the kind of data that identity thefts are happy to come across?

The VA has set up a hotline (1-800-FED-INFO) and a website for our further edification, or in case you have concerns that your identity has been stolen as a result of this fiasco.

Blonde Sagacity tells about a memorial hummer, complete with photos. It seems that Karla Comfort wanted to memorialize her son’s sacrifice. Lance Corporal Holmason was killed in Iraq last Dec, along with 9 members of his unit.

She purchased the H3 in January, and took it to the custom paint shop 2 days later. They only charged her for the paint, so she paid about $3K for the $25K paint job. She was amazed at the result of the 250 man-hours.

“I love it,” she said. “I’m really impressed with it, and I think John would be happy with the vehicle. He would have a big smile on his face because he loved Hummers.”

“Karla Comfort gave Powell basic instructions on what to include in the paint job. But in addition to the image of her son in Dress Blues and the faces of the nine other Marines, there were several surprises. “He put a lot more on than I expected,” she said. “I think my favorite part is the heaven scene.”

On the left side of the vehicle, a detail of Marines are depicted carrying their fallen comrades through the clouds to their final resting place. The American flag drapes across the hood, the words, “Semper Fi” crown the front windshield and the spare tire cover carries the same Eagle Globe and Anchor design that her son had tattooed on his back.

Lt Smash put a comment from one of his readers on his front page. The writer is a naturalized citizen who immigrated from Russia 17 years ago. He says the problem is assimilation, or lack thereof.

It’s interesting reading, and I’m curious as to what the rest of you think about it.

Just a quick public service announcement:

Comments at The Daily Brief are moderated, due to the high volume of spambots that troll the blogosphere. This means that you will not always see your comment appear immediately after you hit “submit.” There are several of us moderating the comments, but even so, we’re not always as timely as could be desired.

Please be patient with us – all valid comments will eventually be posted.

Mostly because I need to hear what others think.

When I told people that I had seen United 93, the general reaction was first “what movie is that? – Oh, the one about the airplane…” usually followed with “I don’t think I could see it.” or “It’s too soon.” or “I think it’s wrong to exploit the families like that.”

I even got all of the above reactions from one person, over breakfast on Sat morning. This friend (and she is a friend, or we’d not have been going to breakfast together) also said that not only was it too soon, it was *way* too soon. As evidence, she trumpeted something she had read somewhere, where the writer had listed out various attacks and how long it took for them to come to film. In all cases, it was well over five years.

To which I replied: We’ve only been attacked on our own soil twice since the invention of movies. The first time was Pearl Harbor, and Frank Capra gave us the “Why We Fight” series very shortly thereafter, to help people understand what was going on in Europe and Asia. The second time was 9/11 (unless you want to count the 1993 bombing), and it took us almost 4 years for this movie.

She quickly back-pedaled, and said the article was about disasters, more than attacks, but she still didn’t think it was right, and that it irritated her that someone was going to make money off a film about 9/11. My response to that, of course, was did she think the film-maker should do it for free?

That’s not what she meant, she said. So then she said she did’nt think it belonged on the big screen. She goes to movies for entertainment, and this isn’t entertainment (I had to agree with her there. I would never call this movie “entertainment.”)

She said it should only be on television, not the big screen, and that ideally, PBS should be the ones to do it.

I chose not to respond to those comments, and we changed topics about then. Interestingly enough, other than a History Channel show on the engineering behind why the towers collapsed, I’ve not watched any of the TV shows/movies about 9/11, because I don’t trust TV to do it right. And I certainly wouldn’t trust PBS to give a balanced, non-partisan, non-judgemental show about it.

I agree with Sgt Mom – I’m not looking for flag-waving, “America can do no wrong” propaganda. But I would like to see movies that explore that day, and the days since. I’d like to see movies about our Marines in Fallujah, movies about pulling down Saddam’s statues, and building water treatment plants. Movies about Afghan girls going to school in public, instead of hiding their learning. Movies that celebrate courage and compassion, going ahead even when scared. Shoot, I’d like to see a movie about Friday nights at Fran O’Briens, and the differences it made in the lives of the wounded veterans.

How about a Rick Rescorla movie?

(disclaimer: I had no idea Sgt Mom was also planning to attend this and write about it today)

I went to the 150pm show today (earliest showing at my local theater). I wanted to go to a weekday showing, so the theater wouldn’t be crowded. There might have been 2 dozen of us in the room – certainly no more than 3 dozen. I sat by myself in the very back row, directly under the projectionist’s window.

I’m just now getting home from all my other Friday stuff, but I sat in a parking lot about 430 and wrote my thoughts down, so I wouldn’t lose them. My thoughts/reactions are pretty much divided into 2 sections – the emotions I felt, and other thoughts.

Emotions first.

I remember the first time I saw the movie “HAIR”. I was in college, so probably about 21, and totally unfamiliar with the story. I knew it took place in NYC, and that one of my college roomies had been an extra in the Central Park scene. I also knew it was about hippies. I didn’t know it was about love. I didn’t know it was about friendship, and the sacrifices a friend will make. And I most definitely didn’t know how it ended.

I remember sitting in the campus theater, watching it end, watching time tick by inexorably, desperately hoping the blonde guy would get back from his date in time to trade places back with Treat Williams, who was pretending to be him. I remember watching Treat Williams marching onto the transport plane, knowing he couldn’t survive on eday in combat, and I remember his grave marker.

It’s been almost 25 years since I saw “HAIR,” and I’ve only ever seen it the one time. There are lots of details I don’t remember (character and actor names, for instance), but I remember the stunned disappointment – -no, it was grief — when the blonde guy didn’t get back in time, and Treat Williams went to war in his place.

I saw a movie today that left me with a similar feeling, even though I knew in advance how it would end.

I’ve known the ending of this movie for almost 5 years, and still, I sat there holding my breath at the end, watching time tick by inexorably, and hoping against reality for the happy ending.

There wasn’t enough time, not enough airspace, for United 93 to have a happy ending. They were too close to the ground, moving too fast.

The movie faded to black, and the theater was silent, as it had been throughout.

I had told some friends earlier this week that I considered it a movie about heroes and heroism, and it was.

But more than that, it was a movie about ordinary people, doing what they could in extraordinary situations. From Air Traffic Control to FAA to NORAD, to passengers and crew, it showed reactions to crises, both good and bad.

Yes, it brought back memories. Yes, I shed some tears. There was a point, early on, where it showed the 2nd plane hitting the towers, and I was back in 2001, watching it for the first time.

It reminded me of that horrible day, and the wonder I felt when I first heard about Flight 93’s bravery. It’s good to be reminded of that. I’m glad I went, even though it was a hard movie to watch.

I drove home in silence.

************************

Other thoughts:

I grew up in the era of disaster films. Poseideon Adventure, Towering Inferno, Airport 1 through 1,000,000, etc. I even have vague memories of some TV movie about a huge pile-up on some California coastal highway. And of course there was Jaws 1 through 1,000,000, as well.

In each case, these films of my childhood/adolescence worked hard to give you backstory, and/or build sympathy for the characters. And dont’ forget the music. Shoot, the music *was* Jaws.

United 93 did none of that (well, there were a couple spots where the soundtrack stole my attention from the film, but only a couple). Instead, it gave us a slice of life. There was no attempt to identify the passengers as they boarded, no recognizable stars (at least, none that I recognized).

We saw people sitting at a terminal gate, boarding the plane, etc., much like the flyers I see on my business trips. Much like the flyer that I was, back in 2001. Air Traffice Controllers, FAA personnel, etc., were never specifically identified, other than their location. We were watching people who knew each other – who worked with each other on a daily basis, and it was like we walked into a conversation that was already ongoing.

I’ll let the more knowledgeable folks comment on the NORAD scenes. I’ve not been in a command post since my first year in the Air Force, and that was only for one exercise.

It was a movie about facing the unface-able, a movie about coming together, about keeping going when you’d rather curl up in a corner and hide.

It felt balanced to me. It showed devout muslims who looked just like any other people – not monsters. One was a little more zealous than the other 3, and one a little less thrilled. All were nervous, and perhaps a little scared about what they were doing. It did not inflame my emotions, or leave me hating all muslims, or all Arabs (or our gov’t, for that matter).

Instead, it reminded me that we are handicapped by our imaginations. We had a hard time realizing/believing that the planes had been hijacked, because it had been almost 20 years since our last hijacking. We didn’t think about using planes as weapons, because we wouldn’t fly a commercial airliner into a civilian building, and so it’s hard for us to believe someone else would.

I know that a lot of what they showed on the plane is speculation. But it felt believable. And even though I knew how it ended before the first reel was loaded, it still had me on the edge of my seat.

It was well-done, and worth watching. But if I had seen it first-hand, it would be hard to watch, if not impossible.

Also, if you have a hard time hearing movies in theaters, you may want to wait for the DVD and use the subtitles. I had a hard time hearing in some spots.

Last month, one of our own (I’m ashamed to say I’ve forgotten who) posted his enjoyment of the spring season, and I bragged about having already moved my houseplants outside. I was, as ever, premature in my rejoicing of the warm weather. It seems that our wonderful warm spell was immediately followed by another 2-3 weeks of chill, with the nights falling down towards the freezing mark (the plants survived).

But now it’s April, and we have indeed reached the warm days. The days when you can actually see the pollen drifting yellow from the pines that surround my apartment. The days when you could wash your car every five minutes, and still have it covered in yellow dust as the pollen continues to drift. The days when you could spend your every waking hour browsing the aisles at your favorite plant nursery.

It’s time to re-seed the beds, fertilize the soil, plant the annuals, and plan the garden enhancements. All normal parts of being a home-owner.

How frustrating, then, to have the home-owner’s instincts, but no home to use them on. As an apartment dweller, even in a townhome, one’s options are limited. The red Georgia clay is not mine to dig up, not mine to fill with azaleas, hydrangeas and hostas. It belongs to the apartment owners, and so I content myself with containers.

Green plastic pots, of various sizes, hold an assortment of plant life outside my front door. And four half-barrels, and a couple wash-tubs. Last year, I went hog-wild, and my neighbor started calling my yard the “botanical garden annex.” It’s not, of course. It was just a reaction to having spent most of February in Chicago, and being grateful to be back where it was warm. My neighbor, who loves to wander the property and salvage treasures from the dumpsters, was forever bringing me plants or empty pots that he had found.

The dumpster plants seem to thrive in my care, somehow. Thanksgiving 2004, we pulled a 6-foot palm tree out of the dumpster, dragging it from its pot as we pulled. I re-potted it and brought it inside, and it’s still going strong. This year, my neighbor found an abandoned schefflera – it’s only problem was that it was ridiculously rootbound (still in its original nursery pot, I think). I pruned the deadwood from it, and it’s doing well.

And whenever my neighbor brought me an empty pot last year, I had an overwhelming urge to find a plant for it.

Not this year.

This year, my plans are more for maintenance, less for expansion. Some plants will need to be re-potted into larger homes, and all the pots need soil enrichment. So I visited the big-box store the other day, and stocked up on gravel, sand and compost, with a little extra potting soil, just in case I run across a plant I can’t live without.

I’m trying to figure out what to do with my Norfolk Pine… he’s in the largest plastic pot I’ve run across, and I honestly think his next re-potting will be into a half-barrel, but I don’t want to do that until I’m in a house of my own. Once he moves into the barrel, he’ll never be able to come inside for the winter again.

I also have a small tree that the squirrels planted for me. It grew last year in the windowbox with my petunias. I transplanted it last fall into a pot of its own, and it has leaves this spring, so I’ll see how it weathers the summer, and maybe move it into a larger pot this fall. Last year’s butterfly bush (buddleia davidii) survived the winter, and the miniature roses did, as well. I planted 2 new butterfly bushes this year, of a different variety than the other, that blooms earlier (buddleia alternifola) – I saw it at Biltmore last year and fell in love with it.

I’m waiting to plant my petunias – last fall’s pansies are still going strong, so I don’t need to replace them yet. I always have petunias, because Mom always had petunias along the side of our house, so when I see the petunias, I think of Mom, and remember childhood.

But the petunias are the only other flowers I’m planting this year. Well, petunias and some Sweet Pea that will vine all over the backs of the metal chairs someone threw away. The seats are missing, but they’re just the right size to hold a flowerpot, and it makes for an interesting look.

I’m also creating a bird-bath this year, with my neighbor’s help. We found a discarded satellite dish, which is exactly the right shape for a bird bath, so he’s going to fix it up for me.

Looking forward to the butterflies, and the hummingbirds, and the color when everything’s in bloom. Until then, I’m enjoying the green, and the new growth, and the preparation.

Kevin already posted that Medal of Honor winner (and conscientious objector) Desmond T. Doss passed away, and linked to the newspaper article about it. For those who want to know more, this site provides more details. Be aware that it makes numerous mention of Doss’ faith. That might bother some folks, but it was an integral part of who this man was, just as was true for Sgt Henry A. York, a conscientious objector in WWI who also won the Medal of Honor.

From the first day of training everyone could tell he was different. A devout Seventh-Day Adventist, the first night Doss knelt beside his bunk in the barracks, oblivious to the taunts around him and the boots they threw his way, to spend his time talking to God. Regularly he pulled the small Bible his new wife had given him for a wedding gift, and read it as well. Among the men of the unit, disdain turned to resentment. Doss refused to train or work on Saturday, the Lord’s Sabbath. Though he felt no reservation about caring for the medical needs of the men or otherwise helping them on the Sabbath, he refused to violate it. The fact that he worked overtime to make up for it the rest of the week made little difference. Doss was teased, harassed, and ridiculed. And it only got worse.

When it came time for the men of Doss’ training company to begin qualifications on weaponry, Doss refused. He had entered the service as a medic, to heal the wounded, not to kill. As a small boy he had seen a poster showing Cain standing over the body of his dead brother. From that moment on Doss determined that he would never, under any circumstances, take another life.

So what do you do with a soldier who won’t train on Saturday, eat meat, or carry a gun or bayonet? Doss’ commanding officer knew what to do. Paperwork was initiated to declare him unstable, a miss-fit, and wash him out of military service with a Section-8 discharge as “unsuitable for military service.” But Doss wanted to serve his country, he just refused to kill. He performed all of his other duties with dedication, was an exemplary a soldier in every other way. At his hearing he told the board, “I’d be a very poor Christian if I accepted a discharge implying that I was mentally off because of my religion. I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I can’t accept that kind of a discharge.” So the Army was “stuck” with Desmond Doss.

Of all the crazy emails I”ve gotten over the years, of people phishing for info, this most recent one floored me. I just got an email, purporting to be from EBay, appearing to be sent from their “ask ebay member a question” thing.

Subject line was: Question for item #5880058165 – PANASONIC 50 TH-50PHD8UK PLASMA TELEVISION IN STOCK

Message was: This message was sent while the listing was active.
Hey are you going to buy the unit or not??? It appears to me that you’re nothing but a fraud!! I’m reporting you to ebay !

Naturally, I was confused, since I’ve not bid on any EBay items in over a year. So I pulled up full headers, and forwarded it to spoof@ebay.com.

Then, while typing this post, I thought — Hmmm…. let me just go look… here’s the link to the listing for the item referenced.

It had zero bids, and was removed by seller due to an error. So obviously the email I got was bogus. What I originally feared was that someone was using my ebay account to bid on things. But that can’t be, because the email I got didn’t come to my registered EBay email address. It came to the email address that’s registered with my PayPal account.

I hate phishers.

It’s amazing how so much can happen in such a short period of time. On Feb 26, Kevin told us that Joe Comer (Herkybirdman) had a stroke, and was in hospice care. On Mar 1, Kevin told us that Joe was flying without wings. And on Mar 4, he was laid to rest. I promised my fellow TDBers that I would post about that, but I’ve found myself curiously reluctant to do so, as if publishing this piece makes it all final, and drives home the reality that our friend Joe won’t be posting here anymore.

I left Atlanta between 8 and 830am on Sat, heading southeast to Joe’s small town. I had contacted the funeral director (didn’t want to bother his family) to find out the details of where and when, and he gave me excellent directions, and asked me to find him when I got there, and introduce myself.

Saturday was beautiful – the sky was that clear blue that you get on days that start chilly and warm up nicely, with no clouds to mar its beauty. I kept thinking it was a great day for flying – I know that’s what Joe would have said. And that reminded me of my favorite picture of him, that he posted one time on his own blog (and possibly here, as well).

It was easy to forget why I was heading southeast, on such a beautiful day. Eventually, after another stop to stretch my legs, I turned off on the state route that would lead to Joe’s town, and enjoyed several miles of back-roads Georgia scenery before arriving at the church.

It was time for me to swallow hard, take some deep breaths, and remind myself that I’m an adult. I don’t know that I’ve ever before attended a funeral where I had never met anyone involved. But I *knew* Joe, even if we’d never met in real life, just like I know Timmer & Kevin & Sgt Blondie & Sgt Mom. We share ourselves in our writings, here, and we form community, and this is the power of the internet, and the value of the information superhighway. In our fragmented society, we form bonds that are not bound by the laws of geography, but only by the laws of love and caring. And we are the better for it.

So I swallowed hard, took some deep breaths, and headed into the church, to find the funeral director. He was thrilled to see me, and told me to make sure that I introduced myself to Nurse Jenny & the family. I promised I would (it’s why I came, after all, but my hidden shyness was trying to reassert itself).

Joe’s casket was at the front of the church, flanked by flowers and plants. An easel stood next to the head of the casket, bearing a photo collage – Joe as a youngster, Joe in the Air Force, Joe with his family. In the center of the collage was a photo of Joe in a cowboy hat, looking very happy. Below that picture, neatly printed out, was a poem. Although I couldn’t see the words from where I was standing with Mr. Stewart, I had a hunch that I knew what poem it was. My hunch was correct – every family member I met told me that they had printed out “Flying Without Wings” and put it in the photo collage. They loved it, as they loved all our posts, and our obvious affection for their beloved Joe.

As Mr. Stewart was escorting me to Nurse Jenny, he stopped beside a young man who looked barely old enough to shave. Mr. Stewart said: “This is Joe,” and it took a minute to sink it that he meant Joe JR, our Joe’s son.

I introduced myself, and he shook my hand and smiled politely, until I said “A Proud Veteran” – then I was pulled into a fantastic hug. (That was when I stopped worrying about whether I was intruding on the family). We clung to each other for a minute or two, sharing tears, and then he took my hand and pulled me over to where the rest of his family was sitting, and I got to meet Nurse Jenny.

Oh, I wish you guys could have been there. No wonder Joe was so in love with her… she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life, and every inch a lady.

We cried on each others’ shoulder for a minute or two, as well. I wanted to just hang onto her until her pain eased, trusting that my encircling arms were joined by those of all the TDBers who were thinking of them on that day.

Then I met “Daddy’s Little Girl,” Joe’s daughter Sheri, and her relatively new husband, also named Joe.

Finally, just before the service was due to start, I approached the casket, and gazed for the first and last time on the face of my friend. After a brief pause, I centered myself, stiffened to attention, and saluted what was now just the shell of my friend, lying under the flag he loved.

The service was everything you would expect for a man who truly loved his God and believed wholeheartedly in his God’s promises.

Joe’s online activities were mentioned, included blogging (the pastor said “I can’t tell you what blogging is, but I know Joe loved it.” ). His love of flying was also mentioned, as well as his love for his family, and for the world around him. I think I remember hearing the pastor say that Joe’s online friends had been a source of comfort for his family this week – I *know* I heard each of his family members tell me so.

They were so touched by our various posts, and the responses to them by our readers. They said Joe would have been so proud, if he knew. I told them he knows. 🙂

After the service, I met most of the rest of Joe’s family, shared hugs and tears again, and got my picture taken with Nurse Jenny. Joe Jr. took the pics, and I got camera envy. He has the next generation of my digicam, and it’s awesome. So is he, for that matter. Joe had every right to be proud of his kids and his grandkids – the ones I met were top-notch.

The interment was about 30 miles away, with no processional, so I followed Joe’s family. They’re good leaders, and I’m very grateful, because we were in small-town backwoods areas, and I had no idea where I was, where I was going, or how to get from point A to point B.

Joe was buried with full military honors provided by an Air Force honor guard from Robins AFB. I used to be a member of my base’s honor guard, so I stood where I could see them remove the casket from the hearse, fold the flag, and fire the volleys. I could also see the bugler, tall and proud as he sounded Taps.

I wanted to stay longer, and visit more with the family, but I had a 3-4 hour drive ahead of me, so after another round of hugs, and another batch of directions, I headed out.

Nurse Jenny hasn’t been able to find words to describe how blessed she’s been by our honoring Joe here at TDB, but I’m telling you folks… every post or comment you made here was like a virtual hug for them. There is an inexpressible comfort just in knowing that someone cares. Our caring comforted and nurtured them, and reminded them that they’re not alone, that others share their loss, and their grief.

Thank you for those posts, my friends. Thank you for finding the words and images to convey your thoughts, and sharing those thoughts “out loud,” so Nurse Jenny & her family could be blessed.

And thank you, Nurse Jenny, Joe Jr, and Sheri, for so graciously receiving a virtual stranger, and making her feel like an honored guest.

And thank you, Joe Sr, for flying along with me on Saturday, keeping me company all the way to your small town, and to your cemetery. I know it sounds crazy, but I could almsot see you, gliding between your family’s car and mine. After all, it was a great day for flying.

I’m heading south in the morning (southeast, more accurately), to attend Joe’s funeral. I’ve printed out copies of our various postings about Joe for Nurse Jenny, and I’ll stop along the way and get a sympathy card, signing it on behalf of all of us here. Sgt Mom and I talked about flowers/plants, and if I get a chance, I’ll get something, again saying that it’s from all of us. I spent 9 hours getting from point A to point B today, and by the time I landed, I’d forgotten about tracking down flowers, darn it.

Afterwards, I’m spending the night with some other friends in that general area, so it will most likely be Sunday evening before I’m back in the land of the internet (although I might be setting up their wireless network while I’m at my friends’, so that might mean that I *am* able to get online Sat night. we’ll see).

At any rate, once I’m back and have composed some coherent thoughts, I’ll do a final “Joe post,” about the funeral. I’m glad I’m able to be there and bid him one last farewell, but man, I’m wishing that it wasn’t necessary. I’d much rather have him here, posting his thoughts and enjoying his grandkids, ya know?

Flying Without Wings

Some folks are bound to earth
with heavy chains of tempered steel,
Others with but silken threads
they seem to break at will.

Some folks fly high because they know
the art of air machines,
and some, like Joe, can know the joy
of flying without wings.

He’s soaring now, above the clouds
that block our earthbound view,
and we celebrate his flight
although our hearts are torn in two.

He flies alone, without his wife
and kids – it’s solo time.
We’re left behind, and yet our friend
is with us for all time.

We watch his acrobatic flight
with hearts that are tear-dimmed.
He soars, he wheels, he dips and dives,
then skyward soars again.

We sense his joy at chains released,
delighting in his flight,
and even though the sky is dark,
he’s flying into Light.

One last approach over his old home,
one last message to send.
A feather-kiss to Jenny,
then skyward he ascends.

He’ll wait for her to join him,
for their hearts are so entwined
that even in his new home,
she’ll be always on his mind.

Love doesn’t stop for death or grief,
or other earthly things,
and when the time is right
they’ll both be flying without wings.

3/1/06, mvy
In memory of Joe Comer, cyberfriend and honorary dad.
I’ll fly with you someday, my friend. I promise.

Yesterday, Kevin posted the news he received from Nurse Jenny about our own Joe Comer (herkybirdman). I spent the rest of my evening thinking about Joe, and emailing friends asking them to pray for him and his family. I also posted about him on my personal blog, so that the 2-3 readers I have there can also be praying for him.

I’d like to share those thoughts with you, because Joe and Jenny are still on my mind and heart, and talking is one of my ways of dealing with my emotions.

**************
Joe Comer is a retired AF member, vietnam vet, and devout Christian. He’s also a ham radio operator, and spent a few weeks in MS last summer helping with the aftermath of Katrina. He loves to fly (has his own small plane), and loves to share his thoughts on the internet. That’s how I met him. He was a regular contributor to a milblog I’m part of, The Daily Brief . He also had his own blog at http://patriotflyer.blogspot.com/

It was thanks to a post on TDB that I learned of his current precarious status. My friend Joe had a massive stroke, and is in hospice care. My immediate response was tears, and a prayer for his family.

For all that he’s a crusty old country boy, Joe has a heart of gold, and one of the sweetest emails I’ve ever gotten in my life was from him last spring/summer, where he told me that he and his wife (Nurse Jenny, as he calls her online) considered me to be another daughter, even though we’d never met.

When I was driving back from FL last sept, we intended to meet, but he was enroute to Atlanta to buy more ham radio equipment the day I passed within 20 miles of his home, and we just never connected.

And now he’s in hospice, which means he’s just waiting to hear those magic words: “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” and I find that everytime I think about it, I’m crying for the loss of a man I’ve never met, that I’ve only known as words on a computer screen, but who somehow was able to send compassion and caring across the void we call cyberspace, and touch another person’s heart.

Godspeed, Joe. Vaya con Dios.

Please link your heart with mine, and say a prayer for Joe and his family, and his cyberfriends. Thanks.

*****

My heart hurts, and my eyes keep leaking. I was gonna run down to Vidalia this spring, and go to the airshow with Joe & Nurse Jenny. And now that won’t happen.

What amazes me is how deeply I’m touched by the circumstances of someone I barely know, and have never met in real life.

I trust that God is comforting his family, and preparing them for his homecoming. I know that Joe’s not worried about where he’ll wind up, or who he’ll be visiting for the next gazillion years or so. Maybe he’ll find out what it’s like to fly without being strapped to an airplane – I’m sure he’d like that.

And I can smile at the picture of him gliding through the air, arms outstretched like Superman, but still, my heart hurts.

You scored as Millennium Falcon (Star Wars). The world around you is at war. Fortunately you know how to handle that with the greatest of ease. You are one of the best at what you do and no one needs to tell you that. Now if only the droids could be quiet for five seconds. Millennium Falcon (Star Wars) 81% Nebuchadnezzar (The Matrix) 75% Enterprise D (Star Trek) 75% Babylon 5 (Babylon 5) 69% Moya (Farscape) 69% Serenity (Firefly) 69% Deep Space Nine (Star Trek) 63% SG-1 (Stargate) 63% FBI's X-Files Division (The X-Files) 56% Galactica (Battlestar: Galactica) 50% Bebop (Cowboy Bebop) 50% Andromeda Ascendant (Andromeda) 38%

Your Ultimate Sci-Fi Profile II: which sci-fi crew would you best fit in? (pics)
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