I miss those two World Trade Centers. I miss the America they represented. Like the country I once knew, I thought they were magnificent! I agree with Rush Limbaugh who, shortly after jihadists brought them down, opined something to the effect that we ought to build exact duplicates of them, make them just a few stories taller, and we should have started immediately.
Photo credit: Ken Tannenbaum/Shutterstock
Imagine it’s December 7, 1941. A small group of fanatical, militarist Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor. They kill 2,977 people, most of them civilians, including some peaceful Japanese who are either American citizens or are aspiring to be so.
Imagine some days after the raid, memorials and candlelight vigils are held for people of all faiths, but where the Shinto religion suddenly is newly stressed, because we cannot forget those who worship it.
Imagine, in addition to American military retaliation, there is general talk in the media and by some of the citizens of the United States that we must understand why the Japanese did this to us before we can retaliate. Perhaps “we deserved it”?
Imagine, despite a nearly unanimous vote to retaliate, to punish the militarist Japanese, sometime after the war has begun, large numbers of one political party begin to openly, vociferously question the motives of the leadership, our president’s motives, in the conduct of the war. Forget patriotism. There are even those among us who insist—despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary—that the unprovoked attack by the Japanese was actually a secret plot by the United States government to bring down the World Trade Centers.
Imagine rather than calls for limits on immigration of the Japanese—because we are in a protracted war with them, and they are controlled by militarists—we are suddenly not allowed to criticize the Japanese or to question their faith or their motives.
Imagine, little by little, over 3,000 shrines to the Shinto religion are erected all across the fruited plain, places where non-Japanese are not welcome, and non-Japanese are not allowed to enter.
Imagine that 22 armed compounds where Japanese are able to practice their religion and to openly train for armed combat suddenly spring up throughout the United States. These are compounds—no-go zones on American soil— where the local police fear to tread and the locals of the nearby town are forbidden to enter.
Imagine these militarists and those who sympathize with them live by a warrior code to which they are more loyal than to our constitution, one which subjugates women and holds that we who are not Japanese are lesser than they are.
Imagine after Franklin Roosevelt, instead of Harry Truman, we elect a president who is more sympathetic to the Japanese cause than to his own fellow American citizens.
Imagine rather than having been raised the Judeo-Christian religious tradition, he is actually a practicing Shinto worshiper who erects a small Shinto shrine in the White House where he prays daily.
Imagine this president sends money and arms at the end of his term by surreptitious means to the Japanese and their allies. He and his cohorts in the United Nations and the State Department spend the entirety of his two terms importing Japanese into this country, all the while knowing that among them are militarist fanatics who are intent upon bringing down the United States.
Imagine we’ve even gone so far as to elect a few Japanese militarist sympathetic congressmen who daily whinge against the United States.
Photo Credit: Ken Tannenbaum/Shutterstock
Finally, imagine that if one is brave enough to point this out, one finds on the internet, and in public discourse, censure and derision to be the order of his day. To Hell with the First Amendment. We must, after all, not engage in Nipponophobia.
This is where we find ourselves 18 years after 9-11: blinded by misguided empathy, hamstrung by enforced contrition, disarmed by lack of reason while dangerous enemies, who wish us ill, live and worship among us.
Does this scenario make any sense to you? Me neither. Evidently, we lost more than the Twin Towers on that infamous day.
Mention the word Sabbath to the average person. If he or she doesn’t give you a blank stare, he or she is most likely entertaining images of puritanical orthodoxy in his or her head, perhaps of quaintly dressed, old-fashioned Quakers or Mennonites. True Sabbath observation in accordance with Biblical principles in our society is probably limited to a small devout group of Christians of less than 10%, more like 5%.
My Sabbath began with the requisite ferry trip across the river and the customary 40-minute drive to church with the obligatory stop at a local fast food restaurant for a chicken biscuit. The only difference this day was the ferry being bound by fog on the trip across the river. Not quite pea soup, but close, I endured a cold, damp—from the omnipresent moisture—ride. The brightest part of the trip was seeing a little brown and white Sheltie pup for the second time. Since I do not have his master’s or mistress’ permission to use his name in this blog, I’ll call him Winston. (An hommage to Winston Churchill.) A cheerful, enthusiastic boy, he displayed none of the yappy, anxious characteristics I so often associate with that breed. The deck hands always have a dog biscuit for each canine passenger, today being no exception. My lucky, little tail-wagging friend got two! Perfectly content in his master’s arms, Winston never barked, not once. Just thinking back on the trip brings a smile to my lips.
I have observed the Sabbath from time to time, but I would venture to say that I haven’t done so faithfully for at least two years. Like most people, I have busied myself with all manner of projects and unburdened myself with a nap at the end of each Sunday, but I have not contemplated the Lord and his work as much as I have in the past. A not-so-subtle reminder of my Christian duties came this past Thursday, when I went to an evening presentation on the Sabbath by my friend and mentor, Pastor Eddie. Even though he was giving the presentation to the Methodist Women’s Group, I snuck in. After all, I reasoned, no one had said that men were excluded from attending. He seemed genuinely glad for the moral support, as he mentioned twice, once while there and once in a post-event email. I commented to him in a subsequent email, “I’ve forgotten how nice it can be to have an evening chat with you!” To Pastor Eddie I owe my understanding of the book of Nehemiah, thanks to Bible study with him a few years ago.
I wholeheartedly agree with Pastor Eddie’s observation that our society would be better off if each of us took the Sabbath. Our families would be stronger, and we would be happier. We might even visit each other and have meals together, a novel thought in this day and age. Citing informal statistics, he noted that we’re killing ourselves with work. Americans, in his estimation, are working harder and harder each year. If it’s not our boss at our back, we have the drive to make our children happy with the latest toy and to keep up with our neighbors through the acquisition of material possessions. I’ll often buy something only to regret the acquisition later as happened once with a rather expensive camera I returned to the photography store. It took me hours to decide on this particular model. I brought it home, took it out of the box, messed with it for an hour and knew in my heart that I had made a dreadful mistake. On that gray winter’s day, I even lost time obsessing about the return. With the charge for the memory cards and the restocking fee, I suddenly found myself $400.00 poorer. Lesson learned. Ouch.
Driving home from Thursday’s lecture, I resolved to spend this Sabbath differently. First things first, I would forgo my usual Sunday evening mint julep. Although I enjoy mint juleps immensely—one, mind you—dispensing with one would help me focus on the Lord and lead to a more restful night. I would eat dinner at home and would also stay in with my cats, Raleigh and Georgia, spending more time with them, foregoing the temptation to eat out with friends who usually gather Sunday evenings at a local eatery. I would attend church in the morning, as is my custom, make my usual fast food lunch stop with favorite church friends and try not to make a grocery run on the way home. Once home, I would write this blog—if the Lord’s hand was in it.
Upon pulling into the driveway in my golf cart, I was amazed, as I often am on a Sunday afternoon, at how exhausted I suddenly felt. Maybe it was the trip, maybe it was the salt air, but after tending to the cat’s needs, litterboxes and food, I lay down on my bed and fell fast asleep. When I awoke, I still felt groggy, so I lay there on the bed concentrating on my state of mind. Was I ready to get up, or still sleepy? I don’t know how long I lay there reminding myself that if the cats were happy, I had no reason to arise, not Facebook, not Twitter, not even the blog would get me out of bed. I don’t know how long I rested motionless, drifting in and out of consciousness. I most definitely felt as if I needed to lie there, so I did, pushing disturbing thoughts and frenetic preoccupations out of my mind. I wanted to write a friend who needed some cheer, but not tonight. Dinner would be a Jersey Mike’s turkey sub with extra turkey and extra cheese, so I needn’t have worried about dinner. Georgia, my almost chocolate-point Siamese cat, slept at the foot of the bed on her favorite pedestal, while Raleigh, my tabby-Maine Coon mix, quite unusually, lay down the hall, serenity and contentment the order of the afternoon.
Christmas has long since come and gone, but yours truly still sports a tree in the dinning room, complete with gorgeous decorations collected by my sister and my friends and miniature white lights, along with a fully set Christmas dinner table of Spode® china. It looked so beautiful when we first set it up, I asked my housekeeper to leave everything in place until the beginning of February. We’re a bit late, as you might observe. The island can be so dreary this time of year—what’s wrong with a bit of Christmas cheer?
Surveying this scene by the light of a single large, green Christmas candle from my place setting at the head of the table, I focused on a simple red, green and white Christmas card that a friend had given me. With its profound message, I had placed it at my setting throughout the Christmas season: “Be still and know that I am God.” (Kings James Version, Psalm 46:10) Perfect for Sabbath contemplations. God is surely in control, as many have often opined. At the other end of the table, perched on a small empty silver chest, is a rustic cross created from the last wood to come from my dad’s farm. Daily reminded of Christ’s sacrifice by it, I caught a glimpse just before coming downstairs to write this blog.
So, there you have my first Sabbath in a long time. Nothing spectacular: just a friendly Sheltie dog, church, two blissfully happy, rescued, formerly feral cats, a thoughtfully trimmed Christmas tree, a fully set table, a Christmas card, a rugged wooden cross, and my blog. I marvel though: like Winston, having passed the Sabbath in the manner in which I did, I am “perfectly content in {my] Master’s arms.”
Sandman
Photo credit: Joseph Thomas Photography/Shutterstock
It’s been a bit over two and a half weeks since Governor Andrew M. Cuomo signed a law in the State of New York legalizing the abortion of a baby up to birth. I said to myself, “But wait, isn’t he a Catholic?” Where are the cardinals and the Pope on this? Shouldn’t he be excommunicated? I just cannot get that awful image out of my head: a fully-formed little baby being forcibly taken from its mother’s womb, a person to be who will never be.
Maybe it’s because with me it’s personal. Back in 1958, my life was saved the day I was born by a surgeon of great skill. I won’t bore you with the details, but I narrowly made it. I think the only reason my life was saved was that my mother was in the hospital in New York City where she had access to then state of the art heath care.
What about the Book? Wasn’t this the basis of all laws in the Judeo-Christian tradition?
I posed these questions in Facebook, on which I am most likely shadow banned because so few people ever see what I write:
“What kind of a people are we that we are so willing to kill the defenseless unborn and celebrate this as some kind of rite? If you can kill a child in the womb right up until the day it is born without remorse, no life is sacred.”
And:
“What does it matter that our nation strives for ground-breaking lifesaving medical technology when in some states a fetus doesn’t even have the right to be born? America, where are your priorities?”
I just posted this on Twitter and have posted similar sentiments in the past: “Maybe the Democratic Party wouldn’t be so slavishly devoted to importing illegal immigrants if it stopped aborting the next generation of babies.”
I plan to write Governor Cuomo a letter. I tried to email his office just now and am unable to do so due to an “unknown error.” I’ll bet. Here’s what I was going to say:
“I will restrict my visits to your state until this shameful law is repealed. What you have done is legalized murder. How can you stand for any person’s rights, if you will not stand for the rights of the unborn? Shame on you, sir!”
I know there is no chance he’ll ever read my letter, and even if he did, that he would have enough of a soul left to care, but in the words of Edmund Burke: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
This blog gives me chest pains….ouch.
Sandman
Photo credits:
Bible: ireneuke/Shutterstock
Compass at top of page: Dmytro Amanzholov/Shutterstock
Beating to windward! Ah, how I love that point of sail! Ah, how I love that phrase! Actually, I love all points of sail; each has its own rhythm, its own disciplines. To be sure, it is a rhythm with which you must learn to be in sync, and you must adhere to the disciplines or you will betray your course. I’ve been sailing since I was 14, even before that, but at 14, my friend Chris and a few other contemporaries–instructors–who were way ahead of me, made sure that I knew how to handle the helm. I never was much of a racer, but I have a life-long love of sailing thanks to the Yacht Club at Point O’Woods.
If you’ve read my post, “Advice to My Daughter,” you know that I do not have a daughter. Well, most unfortunately, I do not have a son either. About the closest I can come to a son is my young friend Sean, whose career I have followed since he rode his bicycle from the next town over many years ago to mow my lawn. I have tried not to drown him in advice. Thankfully, he had a dad, a wonderful one at that, who taught him all kinds of practical knowledge, in addition to what I would call the Christian basics. Sean is as bright a young man, as worldly smart as any, but he can also tear apart a car and rebuild it in a manner befitting the best racing mechanics on the track.
If I had a son, what would I teach him? If I only had two pieces of advice to give, well, they would probably be “love your neighbor and “love the Lord with all your heart.” Beyond those biblical missives, “learn to sail and get a boat” would surely follow. “Start with a small one you can handle and work your way up to a cruising sailboat. I’ll teach you what I know, and we can fill out the rest of your education with sailing courses, if need be.” My first boat was a Sunfish, my second and last, a 35 foot Catalina sloop. What a jump! You cannot “strike a match on a buoy in a 35 foot sloop,” I admonished my cousin Robert during one sail. The Sunfish belonged to my brother Brian, and I bought the Catalina 350 myself. Between ownership of those two of hulls, I assiduously avoided doing what I loved, sailing. Early on, I practiced on Cape Cod Mercuries, fooled around on Thistles and even crewed aboard a graceful Zephyr and Narrasketuck or two. The latter two boats will take you back in time….
“Sailing and maintaining your own boat will teach you just about every skill you need to advance in life, especially if you own one big enough to invite others aboard, either as passengers or crew.”
Photo credit: cdrin/Shutterstock
That’s what I would tell my boy, if I had one. Continuing on:
“Sailboats require work.” You cannot just turn on the engine, point the bow and and run from point A to point B as power boats do. If the wind is in your favor going out, it will be against you coming back, unless it changes during the day. The same is true for the tide. “If the wind and wave oppose, you’ll get the heck beaten out of you. So, you have to plan your trip.”
“Your crew can turn a pleasant sail into hell on the water.” Not everyone likes to sail. “I don’t like it when it tips,” is a sentence I have heard many a trip. No matter how I tried, I could never convince some reluctant crew members that we weren’t going over. He or she had apparently never been exposed to a pendulum. I had a girl I was dating who actually thought we were not going to make it under the Verrazano Narrows Bridge when she spied it from our location off Ellis Island. Despite the fact that I assured her I had been underneath at least 100 times, she just wouldn’t take my word for it! Choose the wrong person or people, and you are in for a miserable day, morning, afternoon or evening. “As captain, you learn quickly who can be trusted, who is lazy, selfish or short of patience. You learn who has a Napoleon complex, who thinks he or she is a better sailor. As captain, you learn to forgive and who forgives.” In all the time I sailed aboard my boat, I only had to put two people off, one bi-polar young lady (I decided she had to go), and the other–let’s just say– he decided to return to shore of his own volition. With his USCG license, he outranked me, and I wasn’t slavishly taking his direction aboard my boat. It was clear, however, that neither person had the respect for the captain, the boat or for the other crew I had aboard, and this was a situation I couldn’t tolerate. “You don’t have time for people who don’t respect you.”
“As captain, USCG licensed or not, you are responsible for the safety of your boat and your crew at all times.If you don’t want to be in charge and take the risk, you shouldn’t be captain. If you want to be crew, be crew.No shame in crewing, but make yourself invaluable.” Captains don’t have it easy. Twenty-four-seven responsibility is the reason, I never drank a drop of alcohol when I was at the helm. I also watched the amount of alcohol my crew consumed, if they drank at all. (Two beer limit over an afternoon.) Most drank nothing, as I kept them busy trimming the jib or main. “If you want to find out what someone is made of, teach them a skill and give them a job.” I would share the wheel frequently. “A drunk crew is useless in an emergency and might even create one. Forget about drugs.” If you strike a match aboard my boat, it better be to light a barbecue grill. Stoners never boarded my boat. If someone was feeling seasick or uneasy, I would turn to him or her and say, “I’m not feeling that well myself, you had better take the wheel.” You would be amazed how well people responded. “Challenge your crew; give them a reason to be aboard.” Thank you Ernie McVey. (it’s been a long time. Hope I got your name right.)
“Finally, the boat itself must be well-provisioned and kept in great shape, since there are no pit-stops at sea.You have to learn to make do with what you have.” From hardware to provisions, you had better have planned ahead. You cannot repair engines and your boat with tools and hardware you don’t have, and you cannot dine on what you didn’t bring. Fire extinguishers are a must. I have put out two fires in my life, and one was aboard my boat. Quick thinking and actions by me and Captain Harris, who helped me sail her from North Carolina to New Jersey, saved us from having a smoldering tachometer turn into a raging inferno. Great team effort. (Floating fiberglass hulks that have burned to the waterline are not a pretty sight.) As luck and planing on my part would have it, I happened to have the exact replacement part aboard. (The tachometer hadn’t been operating correctly before the trip. Something told me I needed to have a spare.) We were able to make it to port where timely repairs could be made. “The right tool in your toolbox is vital.” If I reached for a tool on my boat to find that I didn’t have it, the next trip out I would have whatever it was stowed safely below.
“You learn so much about yourself–what makes you tick, and about your crew, when you sail. Every day–fair weather or foul–can be a learning experience.” This is why I have always loved sailing. The wind and the waves can be unpredictable and unforgiving at times. “Much like life, you have to be practical, and have to rely upon common sense honed by experience.” Electronics can help you, but they cannot save you if you don’t know what you are doing. “Men have been sailing for thousands of years. Learn a bit of the wisdom they knew.” In a gale, or a bad storm, you can lose your boat, a limb or even your life, not to mention the lives of your crew, if you are not careful. “Prepare and prepare, but you still learn your most valuable lessons through trial and error.” Hopefully, your trials and your errors won’t cost you too much. Ask me about dislocating my left shoulder sometime. I would chance dislocating the other one for one more opportunity to sail aboard my Catalina.
For the love of the sailing–to me the essence of freedom–you learn and you challenge yourself. You sail day in and day out, regardless of weather, in hope of the gentle zephyrs gracing your boat. Ah zephyrs….
Sandman
(Photo credit – top of page Sailing Yacht: Cameris/Shutterstock)
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
Winston Churchill
Happy Father’s Day to all! Thought I might write a little about my father, but perhaps that’s a book and not a blog….While the rest of the world is celebrating Father’s
Day, I have been thinking….
Not being a father, I don’t have a daughter, but if I did, and if I only had one thought with which I could leave her, it would probably be this: “Always remember: You are the prize. If a man doesn’t realize this, then he doesn’t need to be in your life.” Over the course of my wanderings in life, I’ve run into so many women who, for whatever reason, are broken, chronically broken-hearted, recovering from a series of horrendous relationships. To start, somehow, each one came away from her family with such low self-esteem. The very thought makes my head spin. All of them are beautiful, inside and out. Aside from a rocky start, many have found the wrong man along the way — some regrettably more than once — and each accordingly has suffered and is suffering mightily. Low self-esteem—unless one is vigilant—is like gout; it never really goes away and can flare up disablingly under the worst circumstances.
If I had her attention, I might go on to say this:
You are not ugly. You— darling one— are beautiful, so very beautiful! Your mother and I celebrated the day you came into this world. You are not a faddish cell phone to be carelessly tossed out at the earliest opportunity in favor of a newer, shinier, younger model. You’re not, forgive me, a what my father delicately referred to as “a lady of the evening,” —a woman who sleeps with a man for money, status or power — perhaps all three. Cherish your many God-given gifts and do not share them with just any man. Make a man prove himself to you, prove that he is worthy of your love, your time and your affection. You—dear one—are the gift.
You are, quite simply, a divinely-inspired gift from God. He was proud of His creation when he made you, and he gave you to the world to be unwrapped as the precious gift that you are.
Honor your Father in heaven by the way that you behave. Glorify Him in the way you comport yourself, most especially, in your choice of a mate, and let your mate do the same with you. Your mother and I will always be here for you, as long as God gives us breath and life. We have faith in you. You will make the right choices. When you are unsure seek, first and foremost, your Father’s counsel. His wisdom— ageless and unfaltering— will serve you well.
God bless you,
Sandman
Photo credit: David Porras/Shutterstock)
(Photo credit at top of page- Rose: Maglara/Shutterstock)
“To our allies: bipartisan majorities of Americans remain pro-free trade, pro-globalization & supportive of alliances based on 70 years of shared values. Americans stand with you, even if our president doesn’t.” – John McCain Tweet of June 9, 2018.
John McCain, United States Senator from the State of Arizona, those are your words. You haven’t apologized, so I think you are standing by them. I did a little research on you, just a little. Turns out, you’ve been in Congress almost as long as I have been out of college. You first ran for the House of Representatives in 1982 after leaving the Navy in 1981. You have been in the Senate from 1987 up until the present time. You say you’re a Republican—and though it is a personal reflection on my part—I cannot remember a single time that you voted in favor of a conservative Republican piece of legislation, not a single time when your vote actually counted, not once. If memory serves, you’re always part of one of those “gangs”—you know, “The Gang of Five” or “The Gang of Eight,” who usually stand in the way of some important piece of conservative legislation. (Usually one that I and millions of others favor.) I could go through your voting record here, boring my readers; however, it is well-known. No, I am not going to waste their time. You, sir, have a much greater sin for which I would like you to answer. I doubt you’ll take the time, so I’m going to have to leave your answer up to the Almighty.
Since you are suffering with cancer and dying, I wish to be somewhat delicate with my observations and criticism. (I have prayed for you, by the way.) Cancer is horribly, wretchedly painful. I know, because I have watched my best friend and many other friends and relatives whom I have loved dearly die from this dreaded scourge. Herewith a short list of the types of cancer: pancreatic cancer, breast cancer, lung cancer, metastatic lung cancer, the last having claimed my dad. He survived the battle of Iwo Jima, but metastatic lung cancer claimed this fearless Marine in his 89th year. Watching cancer steal one of the brightest Marines to ever fight in the Corps was horrific and personally devastating, to say the least. Thus, I mean it when I say I do not wish you any more pain than what you presently suffer. I do not even wish you that pain, because I have empathy, even for those to whom I am manifestly politically opposed.
On some level, one must have compassion for one’s enemies, Would you not agree? I use the term enemy here as a figure of speech, a metaphor, if you will. Not that you are my enemy—though we seem diametrically opposed when it comes to our interpretation of your constitutional duty—disagreeing mightily about what you tweeted. Many would question my compassion for having taken you on at this time in your life while on your deathbed. I would not have done so, but apparently you chose to enter the political fray right up until your last breath. So, as far as I am concerned, your tweet invites a response, a defense of our Constitution, the very same gifted to us by God through our framers. I never learned to fence, but I venture to say, “A sword raised by one’s opponent from any position is an invitation to spar, thrust and parry.”
Photo credit: Boris-B/Shutterstock
Before I go any further, I must acknowledge your service in Vietnam and most definitely your time as a prisoner of war, where from all accounts, you endured unspeakable horrors, cruelty, and torture—conduct on the part of your captors and beyond squalid conditions that would surely have killed me—and behaved in an exemplary fashion. You even let other prisoners return home first. Your conduct made you a hero to me because you behaved in a most heroic manner. Unfortunately, a man who is a hero at one time in his life does not always behave heroically. History is replete with tawdry examples of the fallen soldier, heroic in battle only to live the remainder of his life as the worst of alcoholics in peacetime. Fallen, his heroic deeds may ultimately outweigh his misdeeds, but judgement is for the fine screen of history and the even finer screen of our Lord. Thankfully, some, like Louis Zamperini, find Christ and redeem themselves during their lifetimes. Humility through Christ is the key to redemption.
Thank you, Senator McCain, for your service in the Navy and for your exemplary, brave conduct while a prisoner in Vietnam.
Photo credit: r.classen/Shutterstock
Let us return to the present: Senator McCain, did you not take an oath to support and defend the Constitution? I double-checked just now and the oath which the Constitution requires you to take has been in force since the 1860s. The primary purpose of the present wording, according to http://www.senate.gov, was to root out traitors. Remember these words? You should; you have repeated them often enough.
I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.Senate Oath of Office.
So, Senator McCain, you did take an oath. You took an oath before God to “support and defend the Constitution…against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” What about “…bear true faith and allegiance…”? Tell me sir, where does “pro-globalization” fit in? I am puzzled. Where exactly is the “pro-globalization” Article in the United States Constitution? Our Constitution has seven Articles. Globalization isn’t one of them. I do not see it in the Sections either. Forgive my ignorance, but is not globalization a process whereby the nation state—in this case the United States of America—is minimized in favor of a global entity run by a largely unaccountable administrative bureaucracy answering only to a ruling elite? How is that “supporting and defending” our Constitution? What about “We the People…”? Have you ever noticed that “People” is capitalized? Capitalization must mean that the framers of our Constitution thought that we the people were important. Did I miss something?
What exactly do you mean by the words “pro-globalization”? And, while I am on the subject of your tweet, what do you mean by undercutting our duly elected President of the United States, Donald J. Trump? (Sorry if you dislike him.) Did not the Electoral College settle the matter of who is in charge at present? Poor Hilary, if only she could accept it, but that would mean adhering to the rule of law. (Forgive me, I digress.) What about the old adage: “Politics ends at the water’s edge.” Remember that oft quoted line? One of your fellow Republicans, Arthur Vanderberg, said it. What is it about your ego that you would not take his sage advice:
To me, “bipartisan foreign policy” means a mutual effort, under our indispensable two-party system, to unite our official voice at the water’s edge so that America speaks with maximum authority against those who would divide and conquer us and the free world. It does not involve the remotest surrender of free debate in determining our position. On the contrary, frank co-operation and free debate are indispensable to ultimate unity. In a word, it simply seeks national security ahead of partisan advantage. Every foreign policy must be totally debated (and I think the record proves it has been) and the “loyal opposition” is under special obligation to see that this occurs.
Here we are with President Trump travelling to North Korea to potentially end the Korean War, a war we have been engaged in for all intents and purposes since June 25th 1950, and you, rather than stand down and show unity with our President to the face of our enemy, decide to undercut him with a tweet to the world. Tell me, do you remember when Jane Fonda visited the North Vietnamese while you were in prison in Vietnam? Did that help your cause? While you were in the Navy, were you ever insubordinate to your commanding officer? No? Why then do you think you can dictate foreign policy to the world, usurping the role of President Trump, our duly-elected commander-in-chief?
A wise friend once told me: “People don’t change; you only get more of the same.” You might say the good become better, and the bad become worse. Having been betrayed many times, and literally having had to jettison all manner of scoundrels from my life, I quite agree. To this I might add: “True personal change is rare. A person only changes if he or she sincerely wants to change, and if the benefits of such change outweigh the negatives.” So, during the past 36 years, what happened to your character in Washington, D. C.? What became of the man who made the nation proud back in 1973? By the way, did you read my last blog entitled: “If You Can’t Say Anything Nice…” about Ivanka Trump, wherein I wrote that I thought the word weasel should be in the dictionary as a definition for the word politician? Just curious.
Toward the end of a man’s life, one can see who he really is, and what is important to him by his deeds and the company he keeps. One can take the measure of the man, so to speak. Personally, I would rather remember the John McCain who behaved so admirably in Vietnam. I sincerely doubt I am alone.
Sandman
(Photo credit at top of page-McCain: Krista Kennell/Shutterstock)
