Where have all the flowers gone?

June 6, 1944, D-Day, Normandy, France

In the distance are the 100-foot cliffs of Pointe du Hoc, climbed by American Army Rangers while under fire from German troops who were fortified above. During two days of fighting below and above the cliffs, the Ranger units suffered about 60 percent causalities. Fram's photos, taken in 2004.

Not just another day in June

This is one of the monuments commemorating the Allied landings on the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944. Approximately 160,000 Allied troops invaded France from the air and from the sea. This is on Omaha Beach, which was stormed by American troops.

About 1,500 Americans died on that one day

One of many cemeteries in which are buried thousands of soldiers from several nations who died 65 years ago during the invasion of France, and during ensuing weeks as Allied troops forced the German Army ever steadily to retreat into its homeland.

"Where Have All the Flowers Gone?"
Words and music by Pete Seeger

Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young girls gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young girls gone?
Taken husbands every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the young men gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the young men gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the young men gone?
Gone for soldiers every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Covered with flowers every one
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn?

A day for remembrance

These are the times that try men's souls ....

Memorial Day will be observed on Monday, May 25, this year. As you might guess, I prefer the traditional (the actual) Memorial Day, but Congress and most "patriotic Americans" do not. No three-day weekend necessarily when the traditional was observed, and we all know our priorities, do we not? I will be gone from Friday morning until Monday evening, or Tuesday, and otherwise would have posted this photograph on Monday.

Hopefully, this photograph, of an American cemetery in Normandy, France, where I spent a few hours walking among the stones in 2004 -- 60 years after the deaths of these young men during World War II -- will be a reminder for each of us to spend a few minutes in prayer or in commemoration or in remembrance for those who died in the cause of individual liberty and freedom -- and, not just for Americans, but for all people everywhere.

Stay safe, picnic in peace, as well, remember your heritage and the price so many have paid to ensure your right to be the .... never mind .... it is your freedom to retain or to squander .... at the ultimate cost so many others have paid for it ....

Collecting veils & thinking about ..... about .... about ....

Attention, young ladies age 21 and over: Applications sought from bright, attractive young ladies seeking to expand their horizons. Earn college credits while studying the history of motion pictures abroad. Scholarships available; also loans with very low interest rates and easy repayment plan. Must be single and unattached. Must bring your own personal veils.

This is sort of a "state of the blog speech"

As I have mentioned about a thousand times before, when January snow and cold hits, sometimes, I might go south for a couple of weeks; sometimes, I might go on a reading binge; sometimes, well, I won't tell you everything. This year, I went abloggin' (however a word of that approximation might be spelled) and roamed the sea of blogs.

I am not certain if doing this has served any purpose or not. I am no less restless today than I was a bit more than two months ago when I began to write. While it might not remain winter, neither is it July, which certainly explains some of my restlessness. A few questions I came here with have been answered, I think, but the heavy duty ones persist. If I'm lucky, those, too, will be resolved six months or a year from now.

Being here in "blogland" has been mostly enjoyable. I've only had one troll, and sure cannot cry about having had it rough in that respect. I have been surprised and pleased by the degree of good manners and consideration I have encountered. I've been involved in a few misunderstandings, but we all engage in them every day.

The few bloggers I have followed, I have done so by intent and for specific reason. I liked what you wrote or your topics or your guts or your enthusiasm or your effort to help people or the place you were traveling. There probably are a few other reasons, but there was a definite reason or two or three for each.

Nothing has changed my tentative jump off from sometime in July. Nothing has changed my initial jump location as being into Greece for a few weeks. After that? Unless something does change in his regard, I am thinking southern France near the Mediterranean, if not actually on it (ok, beside it, on the beach). From there, another map will have to be drawn. The world certainly has gotten geographically smaller in the past decade or two, hasn't it? A hop, skip and a jump, here we go and there we are.

Despite my "advertisement" above, I decided some time back that I am not looking for anyone to actually accompany me. Selfish me, I want to experience Greece without distraction. My more recent thought has been about the possibilities if I actually do settle in for a year or two. Then, I will want a "magic girl" to visit me, or maybe to hang out with me a while and see if anything develops.

I do have three or four other things on my mind, but they seem determined to stay there. I'm out of sync today. My fingers frequently replace my brain, and they are not doing so right now. I have said in the past that my fingers do my thinking for me. (Imagine my difficulties the two times I've had an arm and hand in a cast.)

Also, winter is moving away, and my mind and body reverse themselves between winter and summer. My body is coming out of hibernation for use during the warm weather months, and my mind is going toward its stagnant period to get some rest while I collect wind, water and sun on my face.

Music Note: Listening to Jimi Hendrix ....
Specifically, "Electric Ladyland" ....
Some lines from: "All Along the Watchtower," written by Bob Dylan:

There are many here among us
who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that
and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late

All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too

Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl

Hunters pass, ten things & sailing Italy

No, it is not Paris. It is Tahquamenon Falls in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I did not take this photograph, and have no idea who did or when it was taken, but it is an excellent illustration for another true story in column form. This is the way the woodlands were on a September day, once upon a time, in a place not too distant from there, when ....

Two hunters exchange thoughts ....
Part one of two

It is a warm day for September,
and the maples still hold their leaves,
while I wait, sitting, leaning against a fallen tree.
My vigil has lasted three hours,
and another hour of light remains
until the woodland belongs to itself.

My rifle rests across its own fallen tree
while I wait, eyes closed, listening
for any sound unnatural or new.
I sense movement at my crotch,
and my eyes open, glancing down
to discover what has found me there.

Two mice, babies, roll and wrestle
just as two kittens or two puppies often do
while waiting for time to pass.
I watch them for a moment, then slow
my breath and close my eyes again as I wait
for any sound unnatural or new.

Soft footfalls come on the trail out of sight;
my eyes open; my mice are gone,
no doubt fleeing the trail walker.
Through a tunnel, through the leaves,
I see him now, big, gray, eyes darting,
he listens, then bows his head to drink.

Seconds pass as the wolf drinks, looks,
eyes glancing, head shifting, drinks,
then steps into the midst of the stream.
He lies down, rolls around, stands,
shakes, drinks again, looks behind,
then slips off through the water.

Only my eyes move while I glimpse him,
as he goes his way, continuing his own hunt,
and the sounds return to dusky natural.
Seventeen yards, the distance had been,
so close we were, yet he stopped to drink;
did he not feel my eyes upon him there?

My intrusion to the woodland is not new,
my presence left many places upon the trails;
he must have known of me that autumn day.
He must have smelled the rifle by my hands,
but did not fear, for my mind was open to him,
and clearly he knew my prey was bear that day.

Thank you, writers of the blog ....

Several people I "follow" posted yesterday. As I keep noting, I entered the "sea of blogs" for the purpose of being a reader, not a writer, although now my presence involves both. I began writing as a diversion to winter and for fun. But, the most interesting element about being here, for me, continues being able to read about the thoughts and activities of others. Thank you, to everyone who wrote on Saturday.

The Talented Mr. Ripley ....

When I am home, I generally have three or four televisions running in various rooms. If I happen to pass by one and see something that interests me, I sit down and watch. The question usually is, for how long? Last evening, I happened to walk by "The Talented Mr. Ripley." I watched for maybe 10 minutes. Whether or not I watch the entire movie sometime is not my point, rather, it is this: While I watched, the characters were cruising the coast of Italy in a 30-foot(?) sailboat. Need I say more?

Ten things on my list ....

Here are ten activities I want to do along the way, not in any particular order. There are other things I've listed previously, here are some more: Anyone care to mention their list?

Go to a Rolling Stones concert and throw my girlfriend's bra up onto the stage and start blowing kisses at the band (what the heck, any band will do).

Go to Norway and see Fridtjof Nansen's ship, the Fram (but not for long; I generally do not eat fish).

Go to Germany and swim in the Rhine River (and drink some Rhine wine).

Go to the land of the Rus (Russia; Swedish Vikings) and swim in the Volga River (ok, I'll admit it, drink some real vodka, too).

Go to the island of Tarawa in the Gilbert Atoll of the Pacific Ocean and swim in the lagoon, sleep on the beach and maybe have a dream. (see Marine Corps; World War II.)

Live by the Mediterranean for a year or two (probably southern France; guns, books and vehicles can be stored).

Ride a horse enough so that I actually became comfortable doing it (might take a lot of riding).

Get drunk in Harry's Bar (again) to relive a teenage expectation (again).

Spend a few nights in Missolonghi (or however they spell it these days), Greece.

Canoe "the river of no return" (Salmon River, Idaho; we will put this one toward the last).

Music Note: Listening to Luciano Pavarotti ....
Specifically, "The Ultimate Collection" ....
("Torna a Surriento" .... mellow mood)

A queen! A queen! My kingdom for a queen!

Queen Sibylla is very lovely, indeed. But, can she paddle a canoe?

As one search ends, another begins ....

I am sorry to announce that I have ended my search for Ms. Perfect.

I have been informed, by a reliable, trustworthy, non-partisan, unbiased source, that Ms. Perfect has been won over by Mr. Perfect. (That scoundrel!) She no longer is available.

There is, I also have been told, a distinct possibility that there might be a Ms. Best-For-Me just waiting for my arrival, somewhere. With this thought in mind, I further announce that my search for her will be launched immediately upon the completion of this commentary.

Might I even find an actual queen? How many of them are on the loose these days? The last one I remember seeing was in a movie about Jerusalem with Crusaders and Moslems and big siege machines. "The Kingdom of Heaven." That was it. Queen Sibylla ran off to France with some guy at the end of the movie but, who knows? Maybe they got divorced, or maybe he went off on another Crusade, or maybe she's on vacation by herself in Greece.

It probably would cost a lot of money to keep a real queen happy. I'm sure she'd always be wanting more jewels and expensive clothing. Could be worth it, though. Just look at her in that outfit. Really nice. Exotic. Beautiful. Stunning. All right, cool off, boy.

Expensive? I suppose but, on the other hand, if she came with her own retinue I wouldn't have to worry about cutting the grass or shoveling the snow or feeding the camels. Her servants could attend to those chores.

Whoa, now. Not camels. If I remember right, she liked riding horses. She could ride far better than I can. I guess that would be OK. I’m pretty sure I can paddle a canoe in a straight line better than she could do it. If she'd be willing to practice her canoe work, I'd be willing to start riding again. Opposites might attract, but they don't last. I managed to figure that out.

I remember something else. Queen Sibylla liked dogs, too. All the better. There are some possibilities here. Something to think about.

Computers, cameras & suggestions?

Only one suggestion each so far regarding computers and cameras and Greece. Either no one is reading here or no one has any suggestions. Oh, well, such is life.

I did contact a friend, who is a programmer for Intel, regarding suggestions about middle-of-the-road computers (price, that is, not politics) and two friends, one who is a photography hobbyist and another who is a professional photographer, about possibilities for cameras. Never-the-less, I would value advice from anyone who has experience, good or bad, with a particular product. Any ideas?

A guy has to earn his banana cream pie ....

I don't know what it's doing in your neck of the woods (country talk for "your corner of the world"), but it's snowing here, with a cold wind pushing it. Winter returns. There are three to four inches down. I think it is done, but the wind might pile it up.

That means there are a driveway and a bit of sidewalk to shovel. Yes, shovel. At the risk of offending someone, snow blowers are for old folks. So are riding lawn mowers. I've always looked at shoveling snow and cutting the grass as forms of exercise. (Well, maybe not when I was a teenager.) It's no fun, but it's good for you (and it's good for me), and it reduces feelings of guilt about sitting down with an entire banana cream pie now and then.

We are what we eat, so I guess I'm sweet.

Music Note: Listening to Foreigner ....
Specifically, "Classic Hits Live" ....
Featuring, "I Want to Know What Love Is" ....
(Me, too)

Prometheus (sort of) Unbound

Better today. No chills, no fever, no pain.

It's time to discard bitter cold, deep snow and harsh wind for a few moments. Maybe, instead, a thought about summer would be good for today. Maybe a thought about beauty and timelessness and what truly is important.

The Legend of Mont St. Michel by Guy de Maupassant

"I had first seen it from Cancale, this fairy castle in the sea. I got an indistinct impression of it as of a gray shadow outlined against the misty sky. I saw it again from Avranches at sunset. The immense stretch of sand was red, the horizon was red, the whole boundless bay was red. The rocky castle rising out there in the distance like a weird, seignorial residence, like a dream palace, strange and beautiful-this alone remained black in the crimson light of the dying day."

Natural landscape, architecture and religion seem to blend into one. The island city, Benedictine Abbey and steepled church in Normandy, France, is spectacular, beautiful, historic and a whole bunch of other adjectives, but I do not know that I would want to live there.


Follow the road to Monet. The area around Giverny in northern France has to be among the most beautiful regions in Europe. Claude Monet, an impressionist painter, lived there once upon a time. Looking at a pair of photos of his garden is a reminder that soon it will be warm and sunny summer again. (Photos are Fram's, summer 2004)

While wandering here and there and ....

The closest thing I have to a brother is a man named Tom. He spent some time with the U.S. Army. Since I utilized this page on Saturday to sing praises for the Marine Corps, I decided the best way to avoid an argument with Brother Tom is to use the page today to acknowledge the service of Army veterans.

I don’t have a list of quotes about the Army as I did for the Marines. I never did any time with the Army, so I have no personal experience upon which to base any legitimate opinions about life on the inside. What I do have are photographs which recall perhaps the greatest feat ever accomplished by any army anytime in the history of warfare: The storming of the beaches at Normandy in France on D-Day, June 6, 1944:

Pointe du Hoc

American Army Rangers scaled those cliffs while under fire from German troops (probably some of my relatives among them) who were fortified above. It seems unbelievable any Rangers survived to reach the heights, but they did, and won the day. (Photos are Fram's, summer 2004)

Omaha Beach

There are many shorelines like it, beautiful and peaceful. But, on a summer day in 1944, more than 2,200 American soldiers died on that soft sand in the matter of a few hours.

American dead

Here, for eternity, rest some of the fallen on D-Day and in ensuing weeks. This is one of many cemeteries in the area of Normandy. Sons, brothers, husbands, each an individual soul ....