This is in memory of my “father”, Robert F. Harris and my “dad”, Winson D Ewing. Robert was a member of the B-24 “Screw Ball” crew, part of the 467th Bomb Group. He tragically died in a boating accident in 1957. At the time, he was a teacher at Blair Academy. I really did not know him.
My mother remarried several years later to another teacher at Blair, Winson D. Ewing. Win’s World War II service was with the 125th Mechanized Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron in Europe. His was the first Allied unit on the central front west of Berlin to meet up with the Russian army. A wonderful man who took on the family and lived a life of an average American citizen. His life was anything but average. Teaching math and music, his summers were taken over by the demands of an old 60-acre former farm with a very large garden. Through his and my mother’s labor, we grew up with apple-cider and maple syrup making, There was always fresh or canned vegetables and plenty of honey from the hives. Cords of wood were stacked for the winter. He knew where to find the mushrooms. He took on the challenge of preparing the “turducken” for Thanksgiving. The wood shop turned out many family heirlooms. And it goes on.
It’s taken me some time to reflect on the degree to which he unintentionally modelled citizenship for all that knew him. He played the organ at the church in Blairstown and then here on Whidbey every Sunday, and was always there for choir rehearsal. Every year was AARP tax assistance. He always came back with a small bag of garbage from his daily walk (Budweiser cans he found to be the worst offender). My parents lived simply so others may simply live. When the mouth cancer made it impossible to enjoy life, he was able to chose the time of his passing at 95.
I would like to remember five good friends who wore the uniform and gave their lives serving their country. "Woody" Knapp was a college classmate who was shot down in his U.S. Navy F4 Phantom fighter over North Viet Nam in November 1968. John Singer, Denny Gleason, John Potts and Bob Taylor were fellow aviators in U.S. Navy squadron VQ-1 who were shot down on 15 April 1969 over international waters in the Sea of Japan by North Korean MiG21's. I had flown scores of national priority reconnaissance Beggar Shadow missions over the Sea of Japan and Big Look national priority reconnaissance missions in southeast Asia with them. May they rest in peace.
I lost my beloved husband 9 years ago to lung cancer caused by exposure to Agent Orange during his Army service in Vietnam in 1970. He was only 62. Not only did he serve his country honorably ( he volunteered for service and was awarded the Bronze Star), in a war we shouldn't have been in, he and thousands of other brave men and women, died because they were told by big corporations and the Government that the chemicals they were exposed to were safe. More are sick and dying every day, 50 years later, and so many people have never even heard of Agent Orange now.. thanks to the Vietnam Memorial Foundation, victims of Agent Orange are now honored and remembered alongside their brothers and sisters who were KIA, on an Agent Orange Memorial in D.C. there is an induction ceremony every year. Keep those who suffered for years, decades, and who are still suffering today, in your prayers. They came home from war but are still fighting it every day.
I would like to honor my husband's brother, Mitsuo Hagio, who was a Lt. Col. in the Japanese 442 Combat Battalion in WW 11; and my husband Frank, a Petty Officer in the Korean Conflict, on board the USS Skagit.
Growing up in Hatboro Pennsylvania, every Memorial Day I would go with my father and other American Legion veterans as we went to various grave sites at the crack of dawn, listened to prayers of reverence followed by the firing of rifle volleys and the playing of taps. My dad always cried listening to those trumpet notes and the echo that followed, and I used to wonder why. Later in the day, we would decorate our bicycles with red, white, and blue crepe paper and follow our dignitaries, American Legion veterans, and high school bands in the annual Memorial Day Parade followed by the sirens and horns of the fire trucks behind us. We would all wind up at the American Legion Hall on Byberry Road for picnic lunches, community bonding, and to appreciate the good life we lived as a result of the sacrifice of others.
This year, more than five decades later, I celebrated Memorial Day weekend in Cape May, NJ at the Cape May Memorial Day Ceremony in conjunction with our local American Legion and VFW. As a Cape May Councilman, I was honored to share the stage with our mayor and deputy mayor, the mayors of surrounding communities, and the commander of the Coast Guard Training center along with veterans who spoke of the honor of serving our nation and the terrible loss of those who did not return. But what impressed me most was looking at the audience and seeing a woman in the first row wiping away the tears as the fallen were remembered. It reminded me of my dad when Taps was played.
After the ceremony, I went up to this woman and asked her if she had lost someone. She said she did and filled up with tears again. So did I. We held hands for a while and squeezed several times in sadness. As a kid, I did not really appreciate the significance of this day. Today I do. This is my most memorable Memorial Day ever.
I grew up remembering WW2, too young to serve, but knowing that my dad and all my uncles, on both sides of my family, served in the military, dad in the Navy, Warren in the Army Air Corps, Dick in the Marines, Buddy in the Armored Corps, and Bill, Bobby, and Paul in the Navy. All came back in one piece, but my dad told me stories of being on convey duty in the Atlantic and after VE Day, sailing through the Panama Canal to the Pacific in time for the liberation of the Philippines, and escorting the USS Missouri into Tokyo Harbor for the signing that ended that war. (I recently checked online to find it is all true, not heroic stories to impress a 13 year-old kid: USS Maurice J. Manuel, DE 351. It was the worst of times, it was the best of times. The country rose to defeat the external danger. I pray that the country rises to fight the internal strife we face today.
I watched the Memorial Day program on PBS on Sunday. I was brought to tears many times as actors recreated the heartbreaking stories of vets. Mentioned were the Battle of the Bulge and invasion of Italy, including the assault of Anzio where my 19 year old brother in law Billy died. Though I never met him, my husband was a little boy at the time and dearly loved him.
I remember John Gallagher who served in Vietnam as a radio operator. John was my pen pal and even sent a map of Vietnam that then hung in my 3rd grade classroom. John made it home to NJ and his mom had our family for dinner as a thanks for writing him. Unfortunately John developed a blood cancer that he succumbed to. I suspect this was due to agent orange.
Those who fight and die in America’s wars are disproportionately poor, including my father Henry Hartley and his 4 brothers Carl, Albert, Lafe and Jack. They survived physically but returned home to lives of hard physical labor to keep from becoming victims of the war against poor people still raging in this ungrateful nation.
My father was a WWII veteran: One of the lucky ones who came home. Born in 1952, the only WWII veterans I knew were the lucky ones; and virtually everyone's parent(s) was a veteran. My Dad, like most of them, didn't talk about his time in service. It was an unspoken rule that you didn't ask questions, even when the explanation for my godfather's terrible hearing was he had been a waist-gunner in the Eighth Air Force in Europe and the repeated close flak explosions left him all but deaf. I also noted that my brother, born in 1947, and all his friends born within a year or so were invariably 'Jr's, a kind of reaction to the number of friends and family who would never have a child - people I never met or heard about. Dealing with our human mortality isn't easy for any of us, but when you are in your teens and early twenties and you watch contemporaries fall it is harder - and I watched my Dad struggle. Late in his life he would talk about some of his experiences in the Pacific on a troop ship, where he would steer the landing craft that would drop marines on a beach in the face on enemy fire. He mentioned that driving the ammunition boat was rotated because they all knew that if it was hit there wouldn't be enough found to bury: He talked about going through typhoons, and how typically one or two destroyers would simply vanish - lost with all hands. He wanted to be cremated when he died, but he did want a headstone in the family plot in his hometown - just something that said he was here, he said.
My great uncle, Jack Holton died on one of the beaches in Normandy. I never knew him, but heard about him a lot when I was a kid. The memory of WW2 was very fresh in the 1960s when I was growing up. I always honor my great uncle for his service and sacrifice.
Robert, you noted: "President Biden did not mention Trump by name or identify former military officers—some West Point graduates—who have violated their oaths to the Constitution by putting Trump above country." I wonder how Mike Pompeo and Michael Flynn can live with themselves? Have they no core? Did their oaths of loyalty to our constitution get swept away by blind ambition? For those two especially, I hope their names get erased from the West Point class rolls.
As a citizen of the great RED state of Tennessee, I feel frustration at the extent that the republican (Now MAGA) party has dominated our state with gerrymandering and underhanded lawmaking that has resulted in 40 years of republican voter suppression. We have many districts where the MAGAs run unopposed without Democratic representatives running for those offices. We are graced with the likes of Bill Hagarty, Tim Burchett, and Marsha Blackburn who vote MAGA 99% of the time. In our state house, out of 100 representatives only 22 are Democrats! We must All work this year to flush out as many MAGAs as we can. That will begin the work of cleaning out the current infestation of anti-American politicians!
This is in memory of my “father”, Robert F. Harris and my “dad”, Winson D Ewing. Robert was a member of the B-24 “Screw Ball” crew, part of the 467th Bomb Group. He tragically died in a boating accident in 1957. At the time, he was a teacher at Blair Academy. I really did not know him.
My mother remarried several years later to another teacher at Blair, Winson D. Ewing. Win’s World War II service was with the 125th Mechanized Cavalry Reconnaissance Squadron in Europe. His was the first Allied unit on the central front west of Berlin to meet up with the Russian army. A wonderful man who took on the family and lived a life of an average American citizen. His life was anything but average. Teaching math and music, his summers were taken over by the demands of an old 60-acre former farm with a very large garden. Through his and my mother’s labor, we grew up with apple-cider and maple syrup making, There was always fresh or canned vegetables and plenty of honey from the hives. Cords of wood were stacked for the winter. He knew where to find the mushrooms. He took on the challenge of preparing the “turducken” for Thanksgiving. The wood shop turned out many family heirlooms. And it goes on.
It’s taken me some time to reflect on the degree to which he unintentionally modelled citizenship for all that knew him. He played the organ at the church in Blairstown and then here on Whidbey every Sunday, and was always there for choir rehearsal. Every year was AARP tax assistance. He always came back with a small bag of garbage from his daily walk (Budweiser cans he found to be the worst offender). My parents lived simply so others may simply live. When the mouth cancer made it impossible to enjoy life, he was able to chose the time of his passing at 95.
I would like to remember five good friends who wore the uniform and gave their lives serving their country. "Woody" Knapp was a college classmate who was shot down in his U.S. Navy F4 Phantom fighter over North Viet Nam in November 1968. John Singer, Denny Gleason, John Potts and Bob Taylor were fellow aviators in U.S. Navy squadron VQ-1 who were shot down on 15 April 1969 over international waters in the Sea of Japan by North Korean MiG21's. I had flown scores of national priority reconnaissance Beggar Shadow missions over the Sea of Japan and Big Look national priority reconnaissance missions in southeast Asia with them. May they rest in peace.
Tear-stained face
Head held in hands,
Remembering you on another Memorial Day.
I lost my beloved husband 9 years ago to lung cancer caused by exposure to Agent Orange during his Army service in Vietnam in 1970. He was only 62. Not only did he serve his country honorably ( he volunteered for service and was awarded the Bronze Star), in a war we shouldn't have been in, he and thousands of other brave men and women, died because they were told by big corporations and the Government that the chemicals they were exposed to were safe. More are sick and dying every day, 50 years later, and so many people have never even heard of Agent Orange now.. thanks to the Vietnam Memorial Foundation, victims of Agent Orange are now honored and remembered alongside their brothers and sisters who were KIA, on an Agent Orange Memorial in D.C. there is an induction ceremony every year. Keep those who suffered for years, decades, and who are still suffering today, in your prayers. They came home from war but are still fighting it every day.
I would like to honor my husband's brother, Mitsuo Hagio, who was a Lt. Col. in the Japanese 442 Combat Battalion in WW 11; and my husband Frank, a Petty Officer in the Korean Conflict, on board the USS Skagit.
Postsecret did a beautiful video for Memorial Day. It's a very interesting project.
The most memorable Memorial Day ever in 2016.
Growing up in Hatboro Pennsylvania, every Memorial Day I would go with my father and other American Legion veterans as we went to various grave sites at the crack of dawn, listened to prayers of reverence followed by the firing of rifle volleys and the playing of taps. My dad always cried listening to those trumpet notes and the echo that followed, and I used to wonder why. Later in the day, we would decorate our bicycles with red, white, and blue crepe paper and follow our dignitaries, American Legion veterans, and high school bands in the annual Memorial Day Parade followed by the sirens and horns of the fire trucks behind us. We would all wind up at the American Legion Hall on Byberry Road for picnic lunches, community bonding, and to appreciate the good life we lived as a result of the sacrifice of others.
This year, more than five decades later, I celebrated Memorial Day weekend in Cape May, NJ at the Cape May Memorial Day Ceremony in conjunction with our local American Legion and VFW. As a Cape May Councilman, I was honored to share the stage with our mayor and deputy mayor, the mayors of surrounding communities, and the commander of the Coast Guard Training center along with veterans who spoke of the honor of serving our nation and the terrible loss of those who did not return. But what impressed me most was looking at the audience and seeing a woman in the first row wiping away the tears as the fallen were remembered. It reminded me of my dad when Taps was played.
After the ceremony, I went up to this woman and asked her if she had lost someone. She said she did and filled up with tears again. So did I. We held hands for a while and squeezed several times in sadness. As a kid, I did not really appreciate the significance of this day. Today I do. This is my most memorable Memorial Day ever.
I grew up remembering WW2, too young to serve, but knowing that my dad and all my uncles, on both sides of my family, served in the military, dad in the Navy, Warren in the Army Air Corps, Dick in the Marines, Buddy in the Armored Corps, and Bill, Bobby, and Paul in the Navy. All came back in one piece, but my dad told me stories of being on convey duty in the Atlantic and after VE Day, sailing through the Panama Canal to the Pacific in time for the liberation of the Philippines, and escorting the USS Missouri into Tokyo Harbor for the signing that ended that war. (I recently checked online to find it is all true, not heroic stories to impress a 13 year-old kid: USS Maurice J. Manuel, DE 351. It was the worst of times, it was the best of times. The country rose to defeat the external danger. I pray that the country rises to fight the internal strife we face today.
It is worth noting this Memorial Day that Americans have died fighting for Ukraine, and deserve to be remembered. https://www.washingtonpost.com/national-security/2023/05/29/memorial-day-americans-killed-ukraine-russia-war/
I watched the Memorial Day program on PBS on Sunday. I was brought to tears many times as actors recreated the heartbreaking stories of vets. Mentioned were the Battle of the Bulge and invasion of Italy, including the assault of Anzio where my 19 year old brother in law Billy died. Though I never met him, my husband was a little boy at the time and dearly loved him.
I remember John Gallagher who served in Vietnam as a radio operator. John was my pen pal and even sent a map of Vietnam that then hung in my 3rd grade classroom. John made it home to NJ and his mom had our family for dinner as a thanks for writing him. Unfortunately John developed a blood cancer that he succumbed to. I suspect this was due to agent orange.
John served our honorably.
Those who fight and die in America’s wars are disproportionately poor, including my father Henry Hartley and his 4 brothers Carl, Albert, Lafe and Jack. They survived physically but returned home to lives of hard physical labor to keep from becoming victims of the war against poor people still raging in this ungrateful nation.
My father was a WWII veteran: One of the lucky ones who came home. Born in 1952, the only WWII veterans I knew were the lucky ones; and virtually everyone's parent(s) was a veteran. My Dad, like most of them, didn't talk about his time in service. It was an unspoken rule that you didn't ask questions, even when the explanation for my godfather's terrible hearing was he had been a waist-gunner in the Eighth Air Force in Europe and the repeated close flak explosions left him all but deaf. I also noted that my brother, born in 1947, and all his friends born within a year or so were invariably 'Jr's, a kind of reaction to the number of friends and family who would never have a child - people I never met or heard about. Dealing with our human mortality isn't easy for any of us, but when you are in your teens and early twenties and you watch contemporaries fall it is harder - and I watched my Dad struggle. Late in his life he would talk about some of his experiences in the Pacific on a troop ship, where he would steer the landing craft that would drop marines on a beach in the face on enemy fire. He mentioned that driving the ammunition boat was rotated because they all knew that if it was hit there wouldn't be enough found to bury: He talked about going through typhoons, and how typically one or two destroyers would simply vanish - lost with all hands. He wanted to be cremated when he died, but he did want a headstone in the family plot in his hometown - just something that said he was here, he said.
My great uncle, Jack Holton died on one of the beaches in Normandy. I never knew him, but heard about him a lot when I was a kid. The memory of WW2 was very fresh in the 1960s when I was growing up. I always honor my great uncle for his service and sacrifice.
Travis Fuller you are not forgotten.
Robert, you noted: "President Biden did not mention Trump by name or identify former military officers—some West Point graduates—who have violated their oaths to the Constitution by putting Trump above country." I wonder how Mike Pompeo and Michael Flynn can live with themselves? Have they no core? Did their oaths of loyalty to our constitution get swept away by blind ambition? For those two especially, I hope their names get erased from the West Point class rolls.
As a citizen of the great RED state of Tennessee, I feel frustration at the extent that the republican (Now MAGA) party has dominated our state with gerrymandering and underhanded lawmaking that has resulted in 40 years of republican voter suppression. We have many districts where the MAGAs run unopposed without Democratic representatives running for those offices. We are graced with the likes of Bill Hagarty, Tim Burchett, and Marsha Blackburn who vote MAGA 99% of the time. In our state house, out of 100 representatives only 22 are Democrats! We must All work this year to flush out as many MAGAs as we can. That will begin the work of cleaning out the current infestation of anti-American politicians!