Who Are You? What Do You Want? Where Are You Going? Whom Do You Serve – And Whom Do You Trust?!
The idea that Islam, as a religion, is the enemy is growing here in the United States.
Is this a radical idea that’s drifted into the mainstream or is it a matter of the constant sound of silence from the “moderate Muslim world” when radical Islam rears its head time and time again wearing thin on the American psyche? Is it something else entirely?
Bonus Question:
Is not appeasing the same as antagonizing?
…in the wake of this weekend’s Protein Wisdom-Deborah Frisch blog-swarm du jour:
1. Life is short, and the blog-universe is huge.
2. If you are not interested in what you are reading on a particular blog, move on.
3. If you get off on arguing in the comments… well, that’s your hobby. Mine is gardening. No one gets paid for a hobby.
4. Being the object of a blogswarm is about as much fun as being repeatedly stung by a swarm of African killer-bees.
5. There is a lot to be said for veiling certain aspects of your personal life in your blog. Like your children, your home address, and where you work.
6. Implied threats and sexual aspersions about someone’s immediate family are beyond the pale. So are DOS attacks on their site.
7. This is one for the theory that people who study psychology have a shaky grip on their own sanity.
8. What the &$%# do we have to *%^$ing do to get some &$%ing civility between people who disagree strenuously?
9. Frankly, I am glad that the biggest problem I have with comments here are the torrents of automated spam. Getting the sort of comments that some other bloggers get would make me pretty sour about the whole open comments concept.
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Too good for the floor.
To: Those Insisting Upon A Death Sentence For Apostasy
From: Sgt. Mom
Re: The Case of Abdul Rahman
I would refer you to the matchless words of the “Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom- 16 June 1786”: Read them, heed them, commit them to heart, for this is where we are coming from.
Whereas, Almighty God hath created the mind free; that all attempts to influence it by temporal punishments or burthens, or by civil incapacitations tend only to beget habits of hypocrisy and meanness, and are a departure from the plan of the holy author of our religion, who being Lord, both of body and mind yet chose not to propagate it by coercions on either, as was in his Almighty power to do…. More »
The only place I’ve seen this so far is over at Blackfive posted by Cassandra:
“Islamic scholars say the original rulings on apostasy were similar to those for treasonous acts in legal systems worldwide and do not apply to an individual’s choice of religion. Islam advocates both freedom of religion and freedom of conscience, a position supported by verses in the Quran, Islam’s revealed text, such as:
1) ‘If it had been the will of your Lord that all the people of the world should be believers, all the people of the earth would have believed! Would you then compel mankind against their will to believe?’ (10:99)
2) ‘(O Prophet) proclaim: ‘This is the Truth from your Lord. Now let him who will, believe in it, and him who will, deny it.’’ (18:29)
3) ‘If they turn away from thee (O Muhammad) they should know that We have not sent you to be their keeper. Your only duty is to convey My message.’ (42:48)
4) ‘Let there be no compulsion in religion.’ (2:256)
“Religious decisions should be matters of personal choice, not a cause for state intervention. Faith imposed by force is not true belief, but coercion. Islam has no need to compel belief in its divine truth. As the Quran states: ‘Truth stands out clear from error. Therefore, whoever rejects evil and believes in God has grasped the most trustworthy hand-hold that never breaks.’ (2:256)
“We urge the government of Afghanistan to order the immediate release of Mr. Abdul Rahman.”
CAIR
Meanwhile, over at Michelle Malkin we see from the AP/WaPO:
Senior Muslim clerics demanded Thursday that an Afghan man on trial for converting from Islam to Christianity be executed, warning that if the government caves in to Western pressure and frees him, they will incite people to “pull him into pieces.”
…”Rejecting Islam is insulting God. We will not allow God to be humiliated. This man must die,” said cleric Abdul Raoulf, who is considered a moderate and was jailed three times for opposing the Taliban before the hard-line regime was ousted in 2001.
So do “Senior Muslim Clerics” not READ the Koran or is this just one of those things that an infidel wouldn’t understand?
I’ve finally finished Robert Ferrigno’s, Prayers for the Assassin.
I’m not a literary critic. I’ve got a relatively decent vocabulary and I can write in a way that usually gets my point across. I read a LOT. I read popular fiction and science fiction and, to the surprise of one of the guys in my office with a big ol’ brain, I read non-fiction on occasion. So if you’re looking for a scholarly review of this book, move on. I’m just an ol’ fart AF MSgt who’s going to do a couple more years and then go teach high school back home.
Before I say anything else, I want to thank Robert Ferrigno for sending advanced copies of his book to bloggers and giving us the opportunity to comment on his work. First of all, I LOVE free books. More importantly, I love it when someone asks a shmoe like me what I think.
To: Ms. Jill Edwards, Ms. Ashley Miller, Student Body Senate, University of Washington
From: Sgt Mom
Re: “The University of Washington’s student senate rejected a memorial for alumnus Gregory “Pappy” Boyington of “Black Sheep Squadron” fame amid concerns a military hero who shot down enemy planes was not the right kind of person to represent the school.”
1. How very, very precious, and I do not mean that in a complimentary way, Ms. Edwards & Ms. Miller. It does not reflect well on the education for which someone is presumably paying a great deal of money, to be so casually dismissive of the qualities of someone who of someone who— along with a great many of his contemporaries— risked his life decades ago in order to make it possible for you to sit in a quiet, well-appointed classroom and pass judgment… and a factually misplaced judgment, at that.
2. I really can’t, at this distance, make out what you and your peers may have been taught or not taught in your comfortable, academic Eden, but it appears that history, ancient and modern, is most decidedly not on your personal study plan. If more than anything can be learned in a… ahem… a real history class, not the thinly disguised Marxist polemic so in fashion at certain establishments, it would be the truth of the old adage that “Peace is the dream of the wise, but wars are the history of men.” And by “men” of course, I mean humankind as a whole, not the gender in particular. So sic the Women’s Studies Department on me for not using the approved PC phrase du jour… like I give a flying F**k anyway.
3. Since war is lamentably a certain constant, much as we might wish and hope and pray otherwise, warriors are also a constant. Let me break it to you gently, Ms Edwards, Ms Miller, the common experience of a lot of your fellow humans down the ages has been that of being hapless, inoffensive, hardworking and peace-and-quiet loving… prey. Yes, my dear, sweet innocent student body senators, they wound up having their peaceful happy little agrarian communities or states smashed and ravaged, burnt and sacked, and themselves and their families murdered, raped and/or enslaved by every robber gang, army or larger, more un-socially aware human organization… unless the community, state or kingdom which they happened to find themselves resident in had the ability and the will to prevent this from happening.
4. Yes, my dear innocent students, peace is not the natural happy state of humankind… it is a rare and dear-bought commodity, purchased in blood for, and sometimes by the citizens of the state or city in which they lived. The first, and most original obligation owed by the free citizens of ancient Greece and Rome was their duty to defend their polis, their city, their community and their fellows and families with arms, as soldiers, according to their means. This, alas, was a necessary duty, for people who just want to live in peace and quiet, with their families, communities and livelihoods all secure. If you don’t believe me on this, just check any of the recent news stories about Darfur. Just because you are not interested in war, does not mean that war is uninterested in you.
5. Of late, in this age of specialization, we have tended to farm the job of military defense of the polis out to those who are truly interested in doing it, and who have a natural skill. There are, and have always been people who do not mind going into danger, and in fact rather enjoy blowing stuff up. They are good at it, for the most part. Warriors, like war, and the poor, are always with us; wishing it weren’t so won’t make it all go away. The whole purpose of a military, as I have written before, is to kill those designated as our enemies. Think of our warriors as another blogosphere essayist did, as they are our sheepdogs, protection against the wolves, the wolves that always threaten any community.
6. Yes, I can see why Colonel Gregory “Pappy” Boyington would not exactly be the beau ideal of your pretty little campus: he was crude and rude, an unrepentant killer; a rowdy, undisciplined and brawling menace; a drinker and alleged wife-beater, cheerfully willing to go to China as a mercenary… not exactly anyone’s notion of a model citizen. He lived fast and recklessly, and was probably the most surprised of all that he lived long enough to die within a breath of old age; No, Ms. Miller, he would not have been your set’s cup of tea at all. Very probably in some vast imaginary late 20th century dictionary, there is a picture of him, next to the entry for “Politically Incorrect.”
7. And yet… there you go; he had a certain set of skills; as a pilot, a leader, and a warrior. For whatever his reasons, he served, in China and in the Pacific. He and his ilk kept the wolf of the moment from the door of the peaceful, the harmless and the inoffensive, in such security that they could begin to think their shelter owed everything to their own honest good will, and not the blood and dedication of those who secured such for them at such cost. For all his faults, and in company with his peers, “Pappy” Boyington might have done more to protect the defenseless than all the college senates and interest groups ever convened.
8. Frankly, I am enjoying a mental image of a statue of Colonel Boyington coming to life and delivering a good old-fashioned and profane Marine Corps ass-chewing. Such might be a truly educational experience to a student body which, lamentably appears to be a collection of sheltered, spoiled, candy-ass yuppy puppies… and one which seems to exist in ignorance of the means by which they can continue to be sheltered, spoiled, etc cetera.
Sincerely,
Sgt Mom.
(Link courtesy of The Belmont Club.. BTW, Cpl/Sgt. Blondie points out that most USMC Medal of Honor awards were made postumously)
The automotive industry throughout the late seventies and into the eighties underwent a major shift in it’s supply practices, outsourcing many products and services that it had traditionally built and performed in-house. One consequence of this was that the suppliers were required to attend frequent on-site meetings at various auto maker facilities, many of which were located in steel belt cities such as Detroit, Toledo, etc. This presented somewhat of a logistical problem for our company, which is located in the corn belt, over 100 miles from the nearest major airport. Not only was the travel inconvenient, but fielding the appropriate number of troops (believe me, numbers mattered in some of these meetings) was not inexpensive when considering airfare, lodging, etc. Another issue was that glitches in the then-new supply chain management technique of just-in-time delivery often meant that delivery of critical components was needed in a matter of hours to avert a line shutdown. A friend and local entrepreneur earned a pilot’s license, leased some ground for a small airstrip, and bought two or three Piper Aztecs to provide the solution to these problems.
The Piper Aztec is a twin engine (five passenger + pilot) plane that, although not terribly fast with a cruising speed of around 180 knots, was virtually indestructible and could fly even when considerably overloaded. Our pilot, we’ll call him Charlie (not his real name), was a partying sort who often flew on just a few hours sleep (I know this for fact; we often closed the bars together). Generally, he would take off, check all of the instruments, set the autopilot, and take a nice nap until we got about 30 minutes from our intended destination – he had a pretty remarkable internal alarm clock. Charlie also viewed weather advisories with a grain of salt, leading to a number of rather interesting trips with often some spectacular views of major storm cells in close proximity. Believe when I say that a cloud formation that rises to thirty or forty thousand feet, when viewed at ten thousand feet altitude and only a mile or two away, is very awe inspiring. Being sandwiched between two of them is downright terrifying.
More »
…only after he loses out on a multi-million dollar deal.
TEL AVIV, Israel (AP) — Christian broadcaster Pat Robertson has sent a letter apologizing for suggesting that Ariel Sharon’s massive stroke was divine punishment for pulling Israel out of the Gaza Strip.
Robertson’s comments drew widespread condemnation from other Christian leaders, President Bush and Israeli officials, who canceled plans to include the American evangelist in the construction of a Christian tourist center in northern Israel.
In a letter dated Wednesday and marked for hand delivery to Sharon’s son Omri, Robertson called the Israeli prime minister a “kind, gracious and gentle man” who was “carrying an almost insurmountable burden of making decisions for his nation.”
“My concern for the future safety of your nation led me to make remarks which I can now view in retrospect as inappropriate and insensitive in light of a national grief experienced because of your father’s illness,” the letter said.
“I ask your forgiveness and the forgiveness of the people of Israel,” Robertson wrote.
Emphasis mine.
I’m not sure what’s worse, the original comments or the fact that he only apologized after taking a hit to the pocketbook. You have to wonder who’s handling his image? Why not just come out and say, “I’m so sorry I lost all that money?”
Let’s look at the official response from the good reverend’s website:
ISRAEL
Robertson Spokesperson Addresses Comments Made by Pat Robertson Regarding Ariel Sharon
VIRGINIA BEACH, VA., January 5, 2006—Pat Robertson expresses his deep sadness over Ariel Sharon’s life threatening stroke and concern for Israel’s future security.
On The 700 Club broadcast this morning Robertson said he has met with Sharon at significant times and considers him a friend. Robertson, an ordained minister and bible teacher, has been a life long supporter of Israel and has continually expressed grave concern over dividing the land of Israel. Robertson pointed to the book of Joel in the Old Testament to show a biblical perspective of God’s view of Israel and efforts made from people who try to divide God’s land:
“In the book of Joel, the prophet Joel makes it very clear that God has ‘enmity against those who divide My land.’ God considers this land to be His. When you read the Bible, He said this is my land. For any Prime Minister of Israel who decides he will carve it up and give it away, God said, “No, this is Mine.”
According to his spokesperson, Angell Watts, Robertson is simply reminding his viewers what the Bible has to say about efforts made to divide the land of Israel.
She also expressed Dr. Robertson’s outrage at People for the American Way, who have a clear left-wing political agenda and who, on an ongoing basis, lift his comments out of context and widely circulate them in an attempt to discredit him.
Okay, so because a book that was composed around 400 B.C. says that the Hebrew God doesn’t like anyone carving up His backyard, somehow this is explanation for what’s happened to the Prime Minister of Israel? Nothing personal, the Bible says it. Oh, and because it’s a liberal group pointing out that this bullshit is bullshit, we’re supposed to be mad at THEM instead.
The Reverend Robertson’s dogma has been run over by his kharma…again.
Luke, Chapter 2:
7And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
8And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
9And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
10And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
11For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
12And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
14Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
God bless us. Everyone.
In the past 18 months or so since coming to this blog, I’ve learned a lot from the many friends I’ve made here on The Daily Brief, and on occasion, even the one or two jerks who visit regularly or not, have given me pause….Hmmm, OK.
Anyway, let me wish everyone a very merry Christmas, or happy Hannukah, as applies, and my very best wishes for your new year as it approaches with the speed of a runaway train! We have had a very good year at our house, and we very much appreciate the great interaction we have enjoyed with each of you.
See ya on the other side of the Holidays!
Joe & Jenny
Happy dayze is a-comin! Yahoooo! Sweet li’l daughter is a-gittin’ married next Friday! And we are a-leavin’ for Colorado first thing Wednesday morning! After Nurse Jenny finishes work on Tuesday, we’re headed out for Hotlanta, where we will be jumping up and….wait a minute…. easing ourselves onto a great big bird for the short 3 1/2 hour ride to Denver, and we get to spend a glorious week in our favorite of all states! We’ll be renting a car in Denver and driving the rest of the way to Florence, just south of Colorado Springs, where Sheryl lives. I guess we have to make a quick stop at Monument and see our old house, and maybe visit with my old pals at the fire house, where I once was the only paramedic. A couple of miles south of there is the AF Academy, and we plan to meet our son and his family at the gift shop at Focus on the Family’s huge campus.
(A great place to visit, I was involved in some of the initial construction phases there, and it was my privilege to furnish the radios used in the dedication day festivities back in 1993.)
Sheri had one of those disasters that sometimes happens from her first marriage, but she has three of the most wonderful daughters from that time around. This time she gets another Joe…..Too many Joes in this family! Her Joe is Joe Caruso, one of those great Italian guys, and we believe she has the grand prize winner this time! Joe is a really super guy, and he’s gonna be a teriffic son-in-law, for sure. They’ve been dating for about two years now, so they should be pretty much getting used to having each other around by now. All I can say is that Joe had better mind his manners, because she’s a small package of high-explosive dynamite. I oughta know – I raised her! Whooff!
The hard part is that I gotta walk her down the aisle and give her away: And I happen to be one of those old softies with emotions on my sleeves! Somebody’s gonna have to help the doddering old man back to his seat!
We’ll be taking tons of pictures, as this will be the first time in many years that – wait a minute! This will be the first time EVER that we’ve had both our children and ALL of our grandchildren together at the same time! Wow! Last time we were together, two of the granddaughters were with Sheri’s ex, he had absconded with them, starting an eight year battle that she finally won just weeks ago. But what a happy family reunion this will be, us, five grandkids, and our two wonderful children, both with the best spouses anywhere! Who could ever ask for anything more?
Friends at the Brief, join us in wishing them all the best in the world!
Earlier this week, I returned from doing what I could to help in the wake of hurricane Katrina, finding disaster at home, but we’re on the road to normal again, as are the victims of this destructive storm. The President spoke last night of the courage of those who survived Katrina, and I got a chance to witness that up close and personal. Here’s what we did and how and when….
After the first roadblock, losing the transmission in my van, I got underway again, in my wife’s Dodge Durango. I have no idea why she wanted to buy a 4wd, but I’m glad she did. However, it doesn’t hold nearly as much as my Lumina! BTW, the van is now in the shop, the transmission is out, and a new used one should be installed by Monday. I opted for the used one instead of a rebuilt not only due to cost, but as the van has 155,000 miles on it, I probably will replace it sometime next year. We just pray that a used transmission will hold up better than the one that just gave up the ghost! You see, the original one failed at 100,000, and this one only lasted 55,000 miles. OK, it was some 3 years ago that it was put in. It probably would have lasted for a good long time without such a heavy load, but I had it loaded to the gills, so it was hauling about the max weight, which I believe is why it failed…..
I have already blogged here about leaving home and stopping for the night at our son’s home in Alabama. That post has the links to the earlier posts about the trip. Visit those links, and that brings you up to date with the whole history of this adventure.
Leaving Birmingham, I took I-20/I-59 west and south, entering Mississippi a couple of hours later. I had picked up an additional radio that I had purchased from a fellow ham in Atlanta the day before, and the materials I needed to construct an antenna for it in Birmingham. I already had VHF radios, and the new one is a “low bands” rig, for frequencies from 1.8 MHZ to 50 MHz. I had earlier sold my low band radio, and regretted it the day I did! I like the new one a lot better, though, it’s a lot more advanced technology. For the fellow hams, it’s an Alinco DX-70-TH. Enough of the technical stuff.
Damage seemed to start like a switch being turned on as I entered Mississippi. We have a niece who lives in Laurel, and they took a couple of trees on – and in – the house they had just moved into. Thank God they had spent the night in a shelter, as one tree went through the roof over their bedroom, and another wound up with a huge limb in their baby’s crib. I talked to her on her cell phone as I was going through Laurel, she was out buying furniture, they have an apartment now while their house is being repaired…glad they’re OK. I dropped off the interstate at Hattiesburg, some 60 miles or so from Gulfport, and that’s where I got my assignment, to Gulfport. From Hattiesburg, which had significant damage with trees and power lines down everywhere, I took US 49 south. The road was mostly clear by this time, and I had a lot of company on the trip south. All kinds of vehicles, especially 18-wheelers with loads of relief supplies.
About 25 miles out of Gulfport, I managed to make contact with the Harrison County EOC (Emergency Operations Center – the hq for coordination of all relief efforts) and got directions to my operating location. We had taken over an elementary school in Gulfport, and it was the comm center coordinating with the Red Cross locations throughout the Mississippi coast region. Other radio operators were already there, and some seemed really glad for the relief.
They sent me over to Biloxi, to the largest RC distribution center, to get orientated, and I was in for a big surprise there. Special recognition is due the Alabama Baptist Convention for their massive Disaster Relief Team. They had several 18-wheelers with such things as a kitchen for cooking the food that was distributed daily to residents, and they were coordinating delivery of food by Salvation Army vans throughout Biloxi and Ocean Springs. Located at a very large Baptist church on Popps Ferry Road, they were together with the Red Cross, giving out everything from soap to soup, clothing, ice, water, just everything. And not only for the residents, the ABC was also providing everything for relief workers, from showers to food to ice and water. They even had a laundry trailer, where they were doing laundry for us. Incredible! I had never seen such a large effort by any one organization, and my hat is off to those great Baptists from Alabama. Especially to one guy, Rick, a ham op who gave me the tour and orientation. I don’t think he stopped the whole time he was there, every time I went over to Biloxi he was there, doing one thing or another. Wish I had gotten his last name, and I’m gonna try to get it from the ABC, he was just such a super guy, tears in his eyes as he brought me up to speed. Like everyone I met there, Rick really cared about what he was doing there….
Back in Gulfport, it was 24/7 on several radios. One was the separate freq for the Red Cross, another for VHF, a repeater that covered the area well, and the other a low-bands radio used for more distant comm. I finally got some sleep late the first night, moving stuff out of the back so I could lie on my air mattress bed. I was so tired I was gone by the time my head hit the pillow. Some of the guys slept in the building, but there was no power except generator power, and no A/C, so it was about 90 degrees inside. Others did like me, sleeping in their vehicles with the engine idling, running the AC. Worked fine, and didn’t use much gas.
I woke up about daylight, some 5 AM or so, and went inside to work radios for the day. A couple of hours into the shift, one of the Biloxi guys was calling for a technician to help put another repeater on the air. Since they knew I was a radio tech, the finger pointed to me, and I was off for the 10-mile trip to Biloxi via I-10. You couldn’t get there by Beach Boulevard or by Pass Road, two of the main roads. And Popps Ferry road was impassible just west of Biloxi, a bridge had washed completely out. It is unbelievable just how powerful was the storm surge, about 30 feet in the MS area, and so wide spread. Can you imagine how much force it takes to completely destroy a bridge weighing tons? The bridge across Lake Ponchartrain in LA, from Hammond to New Orleans, is just gone! It was only recently that they constructed a second bridge alongside the old one, making it a 4-lane road. For many years it was a 2-lane, 24 miles over water, and a lot of people, including the folks that Jen worked for, had to commute daily across the lake. I will say this: I wouldn’t have wanted to be there to watch those bridges being destroyed.
From Biloxi, the US-90 bridge to Ocean Springs to the east, is totally gone. Good Lord, the power of that water seems to have been many times more than just wind alone. Well, that’s backed up by the National Hurricane Center, who warns every time that the storm surge will get ya if you don’t get out of the way. (We saw the same results in 1989, hurricane Hugo, in SC. The small town we were sent to had been mostly flattened by storm surge. Shrimp boats were 1/2 mile inland!) Back to Katrina, it is, or was, really difficult to get through many of the streets in Biloxi, and I just went with the flow, deviating where I had to. At the Biloxi center, Rick gave me a map, showing how to get to the repeater site. It was only a few blocks away in one of the Cable Company’s buildings. We needed the second repeater to take some of the strain off the 13/73 machine, which was nearly constantly in transmit mode. They were afraid that it would quit, and we’d be left without a repeater to cover the area.
For the most part, we had to tune the duplexer, a device that keeps the transmitter signal isolated from the receiver, enabling one single antenna to be used for transmit and receive. Now, tuning those “cans” isn’t fun even with proper test equipment, which was very noticeably absent at first, but it was nearly impossible with nothing but my portable, handheld radio, to work with. Finally, one of the local techs showed up with the right equipment, and we got a 28/88 machine on the air, taking up slack from the other one. The numbers I put there are for the hams. They are part of the frequencies of the TX and RX, and that’s what we use to identify a repeater. For instance, 13/73 means that the repeater receives on 146.13 MHz (Input) , and transmits on 146.73 MHz (Output). Now you all know one more “ham” secret…..
While at the cable building, since they had power, I plugged in my cell phone charger to an outlet, as I had misplaced my vehicle charger and it was getting low. I also took advantage of enough room, to build my tree-mounted antenna for the HF, making what is called a “folded dipole” for 80, 40, and 20 meters. That’s a simple, old-fashionedlong wire antenna that can be configured in a number of ways, making multi-freq ops easier. Now we were ready for boondocks ops if needed.
By the third day, Sep 7, someone noticed that he had some amount of cell signal. Sure enough, there was a fairly good signal on my phone, but it was impossible to get a channel. I guess, as the day went on, cell techs got more channels up and running, and by evening I was able to talk to Jen. That was really a pleasant surprise, as these days we don’t usually have TDY’s like this, and we miss each other! It was really nice for each of us to know the other was fine. Jen’s a big worrier (ducking!) and (LOOK OUT!) she was glad to know I wasn’t lying in a ditch bleeding to death. (That’s an inside joke. It’s what we used to tell the kids when they were teenage drivers and they didn’t let us know where they were when they were driving around)
Having cell phone signal back was great, and at first we thought it would ease the traffic load, but what we were doing didn’t lend itself to phone contact. When one of the shelters, or distribution centers, needed something routed to them, they called us, and we had to find the resource and direct it to them. There was lots of that, calls for more ice, calls for more MRE’s, and such. I went over a couple of times to Biloxi to pick up things like that and take them to the Gulfport area. Ice and water were really important to everyone. It was 90 degrees in the daytime, not much better at night until just before dawn, and really easy to get dehydrated. People working in debris removal or traffic control had it rough. I kept my cooler full of ice, sitting on the right front seat, water inside, and when I came to an intersection where traffic was being directed by a NG troop or a police officer, I got into the habit of passing him a bottle of water as I passed. Sometimes some of those guys had several empty bottles at their posts, so others were doing the same thing. Around Thursday of last week – I lost track of the days – power came back on at our base location. Then it went off. Then back on. OK, by that evening, we had AC working, and it began to be cooler in the building.
Destruction in the Gulfport – Biloxi area was pretty bad, but the speed with which recovery is going is really impressive. Power companies from all over the country are working to get power back on, and other people, such as law enforcement folks are there from nearly everywhere. I met a group of state troopers from Indiana at Hattiesburg, even before I got to Gulfport. They were on their way down. There were groups of Florida state troopers there. Sonar guy asked me in a comment if there were Naval Reservists there. In fact, there were. On Thursday, on a trip to the Biloxi center, I met up with a whole group of Naval reservists, unloading trucks and passing out supplies. They were really working hard, doing the grunt work. Someone else asked me about NG and ANG troops. They were all over. Many of the NG troops were directing traffic in both cities, and that was really needed, as both power being out and many of the traffic lights just completely missing. It was impressive to see that many troops working so diligently, helping others when they could have been home in comfort and doing their civilian jobs.
Getting gas was no problem, as my Durango had been given a placard designating it an official vehicle. A Chevron station across from the school where we were had been designated for official vehicles only, and their gas was only $2.39, while folks here in GA were paying more than a dollar more per gallon. We had to go in at night to fill up, and I tried to keep my tank full, just in case.
On Friday, the EOC sent me to check on a few other towns, small towns west of Gulfport, such as Picayune. I left, traveling on I-10, going west along to Bay St. Louis and Waveland. You may have seen pictures on Fox News of the destruction there, but it was near total. I did take a lot of pictures, which I will try to post on my web site, Patriot Flyer.
Along I-10, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but there were cars just blown off the road lying upside down in the ditch, and even up in some of the trees. Trees, of course, were down everywhere, and animals of all kinds were lying, washed up and drowned, in the median and alongside the road. There were cats, dogs, even hogs and possums, raccoons, it was amazing. Something else brought to my attention, was, “Where are the birds?” There were no birds, no bugs, and I saw only one mosquito the whole time. I’m sure they’re breeding by now, and birds, probably totally blown away, will return. One other thing on that subject: We had a garbage dump at the Biloxi center, and nowhere to be found were the usual varmints, like possums, coons, squirrels, and other scavengers. There were none around! Also along I-10, there used to be these huge billboards, and every single one of them is gone. Every billboard, the frame is blown inward from the gulf, or completely knocked down. Got some good pictures of that.
At Stennis airport, I stopped in at Hancock County EOC, where I found the greatest concentration of NG and ANG troops. I took time to eat lunch there, an MRE, and sat and talked with a guy from I believe, Ohio. The Guard had also set up a medical facility, as the Hancock Med Center had been largely destroyed. They had one of those packaged MASH units, very impressive. I took the time to talk with a Lt. Col, doctor, outside the tent, and didn’t get his name or where he was from.
Stennis Airport is one of those ventures, a “boondoggle,” that was constructed, and named after the late Mississippi senator, John Stennis, in the early 70’s. It was supposed to be a reliever airport for New Orleans, something which never happened. Being some 35 miles away, it was just too far. In 1979, when we lived in NO, I took Jenny and flew over to Stennis, which was at the time just an 8,000 foot runway with nothing else around. I was trying to teach her to land the plane, in case something happened to me, so she could get us down safely. Lost cause. We flew over there in a Cessna 150, old, worn out, with wind whistling through holes in the thing, and she was just too nervous to learn. I think today she could keep it in the air until somebody could get up there to help her get down, but Stennis didn’t work out!
Stennis today has a few hangars, but they’ve all been damaged, and I saw a few planes lying in heaps. I forgot to mention the military airlift into Gulfport. While I was there, it was constant, with a C-17 or a C-130 Herky Bird landing every few minutes. I even saw a few KC-135’s, also one of my past aircraft, on approach. I mean, it was just a constant stream of military aircraft. Reserve and AD both, and that itself was impressive.
While I was at Stennis, I checked my cell phone, and was surprised that there was a good signal. With the return of cell phone service along the coast, the need for ham operators decreased pretty quickly, and time came that I decided to go back home, as my funds were dwindling pretty rapidly and there was no more to draw on, and no ATM’s working anyway. Over the weekend I began the long drive home, some 900 miles. Leaving Picayune, I drove back to Birmingham, intending to drive all the way home, but Jen called and insisted that I stop at L’Joe’s for the night. That was a good call, as I was pretty tired by the time I got there. The next morning, I finished the trip, and was home by Monday night.
It was not like my experience with other storms. Frederick, in 1979, did nearly as much damage to Mississippi and Alabama, but this monster was much bigger, and the damage will take a lot more to recover from. It will happen, though, and will probably take more than five years to replace all the large structures, like bridges, that were destroyed. Imagine the incredible force it takes to destroy something as heavy and strong as a concrete and steel highway bridge! I’m grateful for the experience of meeting the heroes of this storm, the people who live there, and the folks from everywhere who are doing so much for them. The Red Cross is really doing a fantastic job of helping, and their volunteers are great. Give to the Red Cross if you can, as it is really going to the right place, I can testify to that. Pray for those folks who have to start their lives over again, they need your prayers and I know they appreciate everything that is being done for them.
And, thanks for reading this enormous post! God bless!
I’m back. In one piece, got home night before last, still too tired to write a decent post. I can say though, that we should each hug our loved ones more tightly than ever. And if you have a house to live in – you’re blessed. Later on this week I’ll try to write more comprehensively about what life is like from Biloxi to Waveland, MS, these days. (They stationed me at Gulfport for most of the time.) Folks, we have thousands of NG, ANG, and reserve troops to be extremely proud of. (Not to mention our great AD folks!) From an NG private that ate an MRE sitting next to me, to the doctor, Lt. Col, that I talked to outside the med tent at Stennis Airport. Much more later.
Now, I’m not complaining, at all. But, have you heard the cliche that everything goes wrong while you’re away? This is laughable. We have already talked about the dead van: sitting under the carport without a working transmission. Here’s the rest. I’m really thankful that I took enough cash for gas while I was gone. ATM’s didn’t work there, and anyway, when I got home my bank account was overdrawn. My bad, I screwed up a deposit before I left… Then, as I was walking into the house, Jen told me that the washing machine had quit. No kidding. Only had it 2 months – used. Of course. To top it off, my paycheck, which has never had a hickup, was not in the bank this morning. No, there’s more. Sewer workers putting in a new line across my back yard accidentally cut my phone line yesterday! I would ask, “what next,” but I’m scared to! Like I said though, I wouldn’t dare complain, not after the folks I’ve met this past week or so. No sir, I’m really blessed!
After a long, hot day, exhausted, tired of driving, I’m grateful for the nice hot shower and a cot to sleep on, where it’s air conditioned. This may well be the last I see of these wonderful comforts that so many of us, including myself, take for granted, for a few days.
This will probably be my last attempt at blogging for a couple of weeks or so, as after tonight I will be in the area where so much is needed and my efforts just seem so small. I just pray that whatever I may be able to do in the coming days, that it will make some people’s lives more bearable.
To recap, Lovely, wonderful Nurse Jenny’s precious sister, Janis the Great, who is married to Good Ole Mikey (Who grew up across the street from me with his brother and my best friend for life, Johnny), lent us their second car so I could take Sweet Nurse Jenny’s SUV and recover this trip. So far, so good!
I finished transferring things over from my poor, KO’d van last night (Sunday) about 10 PM, then hit the sheets, ever so mindful that I at least had sheets. God, please let me never again forget to be thankful! I don’t think my head had hit the pillow before I was out like a light. The alarm was set for 5 AM, but I think I drop-kicked the clock out the door, and got up about 7. I was on the road by 9, and made a stop in Atlanta to pick up one more radio – I think that gives me a total of about 6 – and then on to Birmingham. First-born – and only – son – lives here, and is senior pastor for Calvary Temple Assembly of God in the Hoover suburb. I’m staying with them tonight, and enjoying every minute with our two teenage grandsons…..
NEWS FLASH! LOVELY DAUGHTER IN COLORADO HAS ANNOUNCED HER UPCOMING WEDDING! TO A JOE! That means that now we will have three Joes in this family….) Now, where was I?….hee hee hee…..
Number One Son had steaks on the grill when I arrived, much appreciated, for sure. After supper, I finished setting up the radios for maximum benefit, and off to the shower. Tomorrow morning, it will be off to the war zone, and I will let everyone know how it goes, when I get back to BHam.
In the mean time, your prayers will be highly prized, and for those of you who helped make this trip possible, my gratitude knows no bounds. I just hope that the radio messages I pass will ease the heartaches of all with whom I meet. Those of you, my friends, who pray, ask only that I will do my best to help, and that many other ham radio operators will jump into the fray.
: My call sign is W 1 F K Y, /mobile W5. Look for me on 75 meters; 3965, 3835, and wherever the GCHEN (GULF COAST HURRICANE EMERGENCY NET) happens to be meeting. On 40 meters, 7265, I’m told, is the primary frequency. I don’t know about 20 or above. I will probably be operating physically somewhere between Fairhope, AL, and Slidell, LA. Prime contact will be MEMA, AEMA, LEMA, and FEMA.
Again, many, many thanks to those of you who helped, and God bless each of you!
I was just reading through my daily emails and one of the inspirational newsletters I get was doing a compare and contrast to the hoodlums of The San Fransisco Earthquake/Fire of 1906 and of Katrina from last week. The common denominator being that the folks that lost their minds came from poor areas. That was interesting in and of itself but then the cleric who writes these newsletters started in on the gas companies and took them to task for raising gas prices. This is the first time I can remember him going after any group of folks like this.
From “Watch the Hoodlums,” A Mountain Wings Original.
Perhaps the real disaster was neither Katrina nor the earthquake.
It was the conditions that created such neighborhoods in the
first place while all around them was excessive wealth.Perhaps that is the real disaster, and perhaps the real hoodlums
don’t live in poor neighborhoods. The real hoodlums don’t use
ghetto guns. They don’t shoot at helicopters; they own them.There is nothing wrong with being rich. But there is something
wrong with getting richer and exploiting others to make yourself
wealthier beyond what you will ever need or spend.Tell me if you don’t feel robbed when you fill up your car.
Tell me if you don’t feel robbed when you get your heating bill
this winter and it is double the high bills of last year.Tell me if you don’t feel robbed when you can’t afford the gas
to get to work or to take your child to baseball practice.If you can’t afford the gas to get to work, guess which
neighborhood you are headed to?While you were watching people wade down the street with a few
purloined items, did you notice that YOUR wallet was much lighter?A real good pickpocket takes your money, and you don’t realize
he’s got it.It’s called the art of distraction.
So sit back in your easy chair and watch the hoodlums.
I saw O’Reilly foaming at the mouth about this the other night but I’m not sure anyone’s really paying attention to him anymore, but when a man who normally spends his days writing inspirational bits to brighten your day turns his guns on you, I’m thinkin’ that perhaps the Oil Companies need to start paying attention.
A lot sadder, maybe wiser, here we go again, off to bring help to people who need it most. I have transferred everything from my dead van to Nurse Jenny’s 4WD Dodge Durango, probably a more sensible vehicle anyway, for going to the gulf coast right now. For those who aren’t aware of the mission, reference my earlier posts here and here. (It has been a while since I worked with the html tags. Whew!) It has been quite a saga for the past few days, believe me!
Yesterday, when I got only 100 miles from home and the transmission in my van died, my heart was broken, and I was devastated. But, as we talked about it and cried, on the way home behind a rollback truck, we felt maybe the Lord has a hand in this, as we believe He does in all things – in one way or another. It is just possible that I may need the 4WD, something that had vaguely crossed my mind. Anyway, when I actually leave our driveway tomorrow morning, I believe I will be more careful and a lot more sober in my assessment of situations. (And Mary, maybe we can have lunch tomorrow, after all!)
Thanks to everyone who has contributed to the effort, whether to our own small pittance of effort, or to the larger, mega-need ! Now, just so everyone knows, and I would much rather stay in the background without mentioning this; we need help to be able to do this. I am accountable to those who help me, and Jenny is going to keep records of all who help. We have a paypal account, in the name of our email address, come5311@bellsouth.net. Anyone who can and does contribute, will be acknowledged, and we will pass the same thing on to others after this need is over and we again become able to help other people financially.
I spent nearly everything we had getting ready to go on the trip. When I had to pay a tow truck operator to haul the dead van back home, that did it completely. My neighbors have made small contributions, and anyone who feels that you can help, please leave something for us in the paypal account, and the depths of our gratitude will be boundless. As I said before, every single scrap will be accounted for. The accounting, BTW, is necessary on another level, as the Assemblies of God and the ARRL will be holding me strictly to the rules! And, face it, I was raised by my Mama to be honest, anyway…..
Thank you, thank you, thank you! God bless every single soul who helps.
Now, for the next step: We have enough room in our house to accomodate a family of 4 or 5. Would someone please step up and let’s start getting some temporary homes set up for these people who need to get out of those huge shelters and back into a more home-like setting? This is gonna take a lot of work, so maybe we need a committee. NEXT!!
Memo for the Mayor of New Orleans, the Govenor of Louisiana and the President of the United States:
Would you mind DOING SOMETHING?
…just sayin’.
I did my very last TDY at the little Naval station in Gulfport ten years ago to the month. It was a charming, sleepy place, flat as a pancake inland— as near as I could tell with my hill-bred senses—all around and between Gulfport and Biloxi. The highest bit of real estate anywhere around seemed to be a great artificially built ridge on Gulfport Naval Station, called the “Bauxite Mound”. We were sent there, and set up there, for a vast aerial war-game, involving the ANG camp by the airport, Keesler AFB, and an assortment of other units and bases.
I was there for two weeks or so, tasked to sit in a trailer on the Bauxite Mound, and hit “play/record” and “stop” on a videotape recorder twice daily. The VTR was connected to a Hi8 camera bungee-corded to a vantage-point in a mobile radar trailer, and focused on a radar screen. At the end of a two-hour exercise scenario session, I popped the tape out of the machine, another Combat Camera TDY expert did the same with the VTR that she monitored (from another camera, bungee-corded in another trailer) and we put them both in a padded envelope, and a runner with a security clearance came to collect them. I think they were Fedexed somewhere, for after action review and analysis. For this onerous duty twice daily for two weeks, the DOD paid airfare, travel and per diem. (Your tax dollars at work, people… the peacetime military had certain discrete charms.) Most of the unit videographers were on a real combat doc assignment elsewhere— those on this one were stray broadcasters, and a couple of engineers— I think they sent the unit graphic artist as well. The unit was essentially emptied of everyone but the commander and the admin NCO. We joked that they might as well pull down the blinds, turn on the answering machine and pretend that no one was home.
For all but the four hours or so that we were needed at the exercise, Monday through Friday, we were free. We had the use of a couple of rental vans, though, and by careful scheduling and cooperation, were also able to amuse ourselves in a mild way in what passed for the fleshpots of the Mississippi Gulf Coast— although I ought to make it clear that my own excursions were to a fabric store, services at an Anglican congregation in Gulfport on Sunday, and to funny little nursery and pottery where I bought some concrete and pottery animals for the garden.
People who don’t know better claim that Texas is a southern state. It isn’t. I found that out the first evening, a van full of us buying groceries at the largest upscale grocery in Gulfport. At six of an evening on a weekday night, it was all but deserted. Maybe one clerk, and a couple of other customers besides ourselves. At that time of day, that time of week, grocery stores in San Antonio are jumping. No, Texas hustles… Mississippi was lazy and languid and mellow. Except for the casino barges all along the coast to Biloxi, the sidewalks all rolled up at about 4 PM. (A clerk in the Navy Exchange told me that she had to finally take the afternoon off, when she wanted to buy a car. By the time she got off shift in the late afternoon, all the dealers were closed.)
Every local I met, on post or off— they were gracious, friendly, languid, unhurried. I was too much, I realized, the energetic and keyed-up Yankee to feel comfortable with that over a long period of time, not unless there was something mellowing in the water. I knew that otherwise, I would eventually snap and grab a local citizen by the shirt-front and begin screaming “Wake up! It’s the poppies, I tell you! Snap out of it!!” But since I knew that I would be going home long before I reached the exasperation point, I could accommodate the laid-back and casual attitude— well, for two weeks, at least— and enjoy the differences.
Back of the ocean front, the land seemed to be very flat, and lushly wooded, threaded by slow-moving creeks, ditches and canals. I loved to run a circuit around the back-forty of Gulfport NS, which featured a golf course and a picnic ground with a large lake. Turtles the size of soup plates basked in the sun, plopping hurriedly into the water almost as soon as I saw them. Egrets and other water birds haunted the woods and the tangle of canals, and one day I saw what I thought first was just a pathetically skinny, reddish little stray dog, grooming himself on the grass verge between a ditch and a paved road. But no, it had a sharp little muzzle and pointed ears edged in black; every time it looked down for a bit more grooming, I stepped closer to the fox. It would turn, and look at me uneasily, I would hold very still… and reassured, the fox would resume grooming, until I was almost close enough to touch it. I wouldn’t, of course. Besides fleas, parasites and rabies, it also had very sharp little teeth— but I had never seen a real fox, not up so close.
The coast between Gulfport and Biloxi was beautiful— not because the beaches were scenic like Big Sur—but because they were white sand, and the sea always smooth and calm, and Highway 90 was a four-lane motorway with a landscaped median that paralleled the shore, sweeping around every gentle curve and headland. On the inland side of it a graceful series of large and small houses overlooked the road and the endless beach. We drove along that highway a number of times, but the one that sticks in memory was coming back from dinner at one of the Biloxi casinos (the pirate ship one— I won $5.00 on a slot machine). It was just about sundown, daylight fading out of the sky. All along the coastal road, the beautiful homes sat, with their windows and curtains drawn open to the sea breeze, lights on inside the rooms. It was like looking into the windows of a series of elaborate doll houses, but ever in the back of my mind—even then— was the thought of how close the water was, how flat the country and how fragile those beautiful mansions and cottages would be, in the eye of a storm.
The news reports have the storm surge that hit Biloxi as being 30 feet, and I am wondering, without any way of ever knowing, how many of the lovely houses that I admired, and how many of the places that I spent my TDY money at, and how many of the people I met in passing— at the nursery, at the church service, or ringing up my groceries— are OK, and alive. Thirty feet of water, all at once…We think of our world as solid, immutable, but it is not— it has its own whims.
Jackson Offers Support to Chavez
So there you have it. This is why Jesse Jackson is a walking joke, and an asshat. This is why I will never call him “Reverend.” As bad as Pat Robertson’s comment was, at least he’s on our side.
I don’t know and neither do you. These people are sure they’re right. So are these folks.
Faith is sure one way…science is pretty sure the other. Nobody really knows and at most it’s kind of fun to talk bout it but let’s get serious shall we?
I’ve been a little absent from the blog for much of the last 2 weeks, and there are good reasons. We received a settlement from the social security admin, a real surprise, but so very welcome. As a result, I’ve been really busy. Paid off some $5,000 worth of bills, got rid of loans and credit card balances, and purchased a lot of things, some of them toys, that I’ve wanted for a long time. Changed from cable to satellite for TV (Directv, really great), got a satellite XM radio, and finally a new computer. The old one was in really bad shape. The new one, an “Emachines” model T4010, made by Gateway, has a Celeron proc, 2.93GHz, RAM 512MB, lots of extras, really nice. But changing over is really a lot of work and very time-consuming. I took the HD out of the old one, set it up as a D drive, and am slowly copying what I need from it to the new one. Since there are a lot of things I do not want, I’m not just doing a “copy*.*” so the way I’m doing it takes time.
The settlement I received was for my disability. I’ve been disabled since 1995, but the SS folks gave me 1998, don’t know why. Then they gave me back pay, but not all of it. OK, I’ll take what I can get, there’s not a lot of choice. It will be great, though, to have the extra monthly check. For so long, we’ve been struggling, having to borrow and scrape to make it from month to month, I just don’t know what it feels like to be worry-free. But it will be nice to find out. Oh, and we’re finally gonna go on a cruise, one thing Nurse Jenny has wanted to do since we got married. We’re just trying to figure out which one, there are so many to choose from!
Friends, rejoice with us in our good fortune, and thanks for being friends!
This entry over at Malkin’s place got me thinking about this yesterday and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.
Our President has told us that “Islam is a religion of peace.” Yet, I have seen absolutely no evidence of that ever. I read a translation of the Koran some 15 years ago and I didn’t grok it then, but understand that even though I don’t like the Catholic Church as an institution, my spiritual base is in the Catholic Tradition with some Taoism thrown in strictly on a pragmatic basis. Taoist are very into, “The universe seems to work THIS way, we’ll go with that instead of making up stuff.” I like that. It works for me.
But back to my point. Can anyone out there point me to any evidence, anecdotes, human interest stories, slices of life that show that “Islam is a religion of peace?” Because I’m missing it. I’m not seeing it. I want to be wrong, I do not want to agree with Michael Graham or Michelle Malkin, and I’m having a very hard time with it. I don’t want to be one of those guys who simply writes off an entire culture but it’s becoming harder and harder with each bombing when there seems to be nothing to counteract it.
And then there’s this bit over at Dr Sanity’s, whom I’m long overdue an appointment with:
I must agree with the author. I DON’T CARE ABOUT ISLAM except insofar that people of that faith want to destroy me, my family, my country and my way of life. For more than 50 years of my life, Islam and I got along famously. I completely ignored it; and praise be to Allah, it completely ignored me.
I know that makes me selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed, but there’s a part of me that’s really pissed off that I now HAVE to care about Islam. I don’t want to care about Islam. I want to care about things relating to MY life and these asshole terrorists keep intruding with “BOOM!!! Hahahahaha, think about Islam you wankers!”
I asked one of the Saudis I knew during Desert Storm what “Islam” meant? What was the translation? He’d been to school in Great Britain and seemed to really enjoy the English Language reading a lot of our classics in English and he loved discussing Mark Twain, especially his short stories. He especially liked “The Mysterious Stranger” and thought that was a great description of Christianity as he understood it. I happen to love that story myself so we had a lot of fun with that one. So WHAT IS ISLAM? He said there was no real English parallel but the closest thing that he’d found was “Islam means submission. Complete, total, with absolutely nothing held back, submission.” Submission to what? To whom? He sort of smiled and replied, “The Mullahs, the Clerics, the doctors of the law. They are the ones who understand the true meaning of the words of the prophet.” Uh huh. I see why you like “The Mysterious Stranger.”
And then we went and ate curry cakes at the cantina.
Mark Twain and curry cakes…okay, so there’s some hope…but man…it’s getting harder to get those two together.
