Yes folks, here’s an old Ford. I believe it’s a 1956. A pure classic, a fine piece of machinery!
And yes folks, while at another repair shop getting things done on my truck, I walked around while waiting and noticed this old relic. She’s a 1956 Ford.
This past week I was on a run in Geneseo, New York. They have an old plane mini museum so to speak. They have plane rides with weekend aviationists, mini tours,etc.. While there I noticed this relic. It’s not the greatest picture due to the distance I shot it at, not the greatest lighting either. But I wanted to share it.
Today, the US of A celebrates its 241st birthday.
It was, like with any birth, one that was born out of travail, crying, shouts of glee, bloodshed and even death. Truly the continent was in heavy labor as the push and screams of thousands were heard around the world.
That sorrow and agony gave way, however, to jubilation as the nation emerged scathed and covered with the scars and trappings of nativity. But as difficult as that birth was, the struggle was not over.
There would be growing pains, illnesses and diseases to overcome. There would be those who would attempt to reclaim and to destroy that life which was born out of a pledge to devote honor, lives and fortunes to see this epic birth come to be and last through all time.
Through the years, as with any baby maturing to toddler to child to teen to adult, this great nation of states joined to form a “more perfect union” had to go through its share of perils, tests and trials. In each instance, in the end, the US of A emerged on the other side a better nation.
The most trying time is undisputed, which is what occurred during what I would call the teenage years, puberty, when literally brother was pitted against brother, sister against sister, sons and daughters against mothers and fathers. The greatest and most costly toll of lives and bloodshed threatened to tear the nation apart. Yet through the trauma of the Civil War, the War Between the States, a united and stronger country came of age.
Dark days still lay ahead, but it seemed the worst had passed.
Through more battles and more wars, we find ourselves today celebrating the nation we’ve become and feeling the pain of the mistakes we have made. We honor the lives who gave their all to keep this nation the home of the brave and the land of the free.
Now, we look forward to the days and years ahead.
We are traveling the rough and choppy sea of economic uncertainty, but which seems to be slowly recovering.
The ship of state must traverse the gulf as the skipper maneuvers the ship to avoid crashing on the rocks of lost hope, despair, keeping an eye on the course and the port of serenity which lies in the distance.
The tides of global unrest threaten to engulf us. We must stay resolute and strong. Together we can ride the waves and dock in safe harbor.
Many have lost hope.
Many no longer aspire to the American Dream.
Many wonder if the flag will still wave for much longer.
But we are Americans.
We will survive.
From the Cornfield, America, may she always be that shining city on a hill to which others seek to aspire.
Happy Independence Day!
Today, June 6th, 2017 is dedicated the memory of all those who gave their lives on Omaha Beach, Normandy, France 69 years ago in what proved to be the drive that led to the fall of the Nazi regime and brought peace to a world torn by war.
My grandfather and great uncles were among those who served. One of my great uncles, Homer Powell, did not return from that war. Though I never was given the pleasure of knowing him, he is still alive in our hearts and memories.
Of those who assaulted the beach that day, some came home, but many were left dying or dead in the sand. As the Nazi forces tried to beat back the coalition forces of Allied powers, the German High Command failed to understand the resolve of these brave soldiers to make the world safe, to end the scourge of the Nazi atrocities and to bring peace to a troubled people.
Those efforts, those deaths were not in vain. The comrades of those who had been killed kept pressing on until they marched into Berlin and put an end to the tyranny.
From the Cornfield, pause with me now to remember and to salute those who gave their lives and all of those whom Tom Brokaw rightly labeled, “The Greatest Generation“.
Today is Memorial Day.
It is a time to stop, reflect and remember those military personnel who have paid the ultimate sacrifice to maintain and protect our freedom and way of life in the US of A.
The tradition of Memorial Day originally began in commemoration of those soldiers lost during the Civil War. It was known in various communities and states as Decoration Day. The date set aside was May 30. This was later changed to allow for a 3-day weekend by Congress to be the last Monday in May.
For the vast majority of Americans it is just another holiday weekend and the unofficial start to the summer vacation season. For many others it’s the weekend when millions around the world tune in to watch or listen to the greatest spectacle in racing, the Indy 500.
To too many it’s just a day to get together with family, have picnics and barbecues, go to the opening of community pools across the nation.
It’s a time to lay back and enjoy having three days off in a row with no worries.
Yet, Memorial Day symbolizes much more.
Ask any veterans’ organization or any military person in uniform or any family member who has lost a loved one in war, whether declared or undeclared, in peacetime or wartime.
Memorial Day was meant to be a day upon which a grateful nation pauses to remember those who donned a uniform and gave their lives in defense of our American way of life.
These brave men and women paid the ultimate price to make sure we could have our picnics, our barbecues, our splashing around in the pool.
The sacrifice of those who gave their lives is honored with each election where not by coup, but by ordinary Americans casting a ballot and choosing those who will lead and represent them.
The power and authority of those officials are transferred from one elected official to the next, from the precinct level to the highest office in the land, the Presidency, without the need for troops in the streets because of those who answered the call to duty, honor and service.
The ability to vote, the ability to choose, the ability to speak our minds, the ability to worship or not worship, the ability to write these words without fear, the ability to work, to succeed, to fail, to rise above our circumstances, all of this we owe to those men and women who fought and died for peace, justice and freedom.
None of our liberties came without cost and thus we owe a debt to those men and women who died in defense of our freedom.
On a personal note:
In those dark days following the sneak attack by the Imperial Japanese Navy on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941, four brothers from Nashville, Brown County, Indiana lined up at the recruiting office and joined the US Navy. These four brothers went off to save the world for democracy both in the European Theater and in the Pacific.
Three made it back home at the close of the war. The one who didn’t return was my Great-Uncle Homer. My grandfather and his other two brothers, Herman and Wesley, came home, but changed, never to be the same.
I never was afforded the pleasure of meeting my Great-Uncle Hobert Powell, a sailor who gave his life for our nation during World War II and long before I was born. The family seldom mentioned his name, but it was apparent Great-Uncle Homer was not forgotten. His picture, in uniform, hung proudly in my Great-Grandpa Ancil Powell’s living room. In silence, his memory was honored.
Today thousands still are in the fight to keep us safe. Over the past 10+ years, thousands more have shed their blood and forfeited their lives. We must never forget their sacrifice, their bravery, the lives they lived.
This is why we owe a debt of gratitude we can never repay and should never stop repaying.
This is why the deaths of veterans waiting on care from the Veterans Affairs medical facilities is such a gaping wound on the American conscious and must be addressed not after another study, but with action now.
From the Cornfield, I hope each of you will take time from the barbecuing, the playing games with family, watching reruns of yesterday’s race or enjoying the water and sun to stop – remember our heroes who gave their all so that we can live in the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Imagine you are an 8-year-old boy in a small Kansas town in 1967. You are roused from bed, your body trembling from the sound and the shaking. Later you learn a commercial airliner has crashed a few miles away into a field.
That was the experience of one of CJL‘s own members, Ronald. Living not far from Unionville, Kansas on a fateful June morning when the plane fell from the sky.
Thanks to Ronald for allowing me to share this piece of history with you.
Over a century ago here in Rochester the Genesee Brewery was built. The original founders were the Wehle family. And like all businesses, it had its ups and downs. In recent years they have been under going changes, new owners, new beers, demolition of old brewery tanks, and bringing in new tanks.