Grace is a New Day

Grace is each new day. Some days she's dressed like a child on Merry-Go-Round, laughing, kicking, swinging and swaying. One time I felt her next to me when oncoming traffic slide on ice and by her grace missed our car. I gave thanks to her flutter touch on my shoulder, and placed my hand on top of hers. 

I saw him once, standing on distant hill. The clouds came in that evening from the hilltop in shades of blue and gold. He stood gloriously looking down at us like a shepherd whose sheep were safe for the night.

I do not have to see Grace to believe in her or feel him in my heart. It is a knowing deep down inside that lifts me up in ways I can't describe. A chirping Bewick wren returning for the winter months peeks at the feeders in our yard. When the bird finds food I watch her tiny tail flip into the air and then jerk back in forth in eager movements. Is he pleased, hungry, curious or communicating with others?  I lose track of time and worries when I watch our birds outside. This is Grace.

I've been beaten down lately, by man-made rifles of death in the hands of angry people.  I hurt so deeply for people who are victims of Hate that my insides quiver from my heart to my toes.  

Hate comes dressed in dirt and filth with a sad grim expression. He eats selfishly off the plates of those who are starving. She slays another and another without stopping for fear of death meeting her first. 

If only, I think, others could see the beauty out my window each day, thanks to Grace.

National Museum of the Pacific War Tributes

Admiral Nimitz truly stands head and shoulders above the many. 

A few weeks ago my husband and I toured the National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas. I cried both internally and outwardly, as I slowly read, step by step the many stories people wrote about their family members who gave their lives for us. Fortunately, many of the stories have happy endings where their father, son, brother or sister returned. 

We toured the museum twice in two days and still could have returned. This museum above all others felt personal, as my father and Jack's father both fought in the Pacific.  We knew about war.   National Museum of the Pacific War

Where are the words to describe the surrounding walls of heroes and heroines of the war? The museum covers over a full block of land inside and out, plus a field of artillery on another block. I noticed tears flowed from many of us as we quietly read story by story and walked away. 

What's it all about, Alfie?

Is it just for the moment we live?

On Day One I walked and read the walls inside the   George H.W. Bush Gallery  where I began to piece together centuries of war and decades of senseless fighting that seem to culminate in World War II. To better describe the layout, it is best to imagine a maze of endless hallways of pictures of the war on one side (my right), along the top of the pictures was a timeline of what was happening worldwide. On my left, which I never had time nor the fortitude to read were details about rulers, ruling countries, governments and hierarchical systems. 

What's is all about when you sort it out, Alfie?

Are we meant to take more than we give?

Or are we meant to be kind?

    There were cubby holes or special rooms to the right and to the left that showed exhibits such as these:

F4F-4 Wildcat (Marine)

  
Necessity was the reason for the famous "Cactus Air Force" being a mixed Marine, Navy, and Army/Air Force command. Despite being cobbled together, it performed an indispensable role in the long campaign for Guadalcanal. Australian and New Zealand units supplemented the Cactus Air Force. It is this kind of strength and fortitude that fascinates me about people and makes me proud inside and out. 
Cactus Air Force History

And if only fools are kind Alfie

Then I guess it is wise to be cruel

And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie

What will you lend on an old golden rule?

This is where I exited on Day One. My stomach swirled in agony, not hunger.

Spending the evening with Jack's brother, Jerry, his wife Vreni, daughter and son-in-law Sophia and Tim lifted our spirits. Thank heavens for good food and tasty brews.  

As sure as I believe there's a heaven above, Alfie
I know there's something much more
Something even non-believers can believe in

Day Two for us found our family members walking different directions around the museum. I meandered to the quiet Japanese Garden of Peace on the same grounds as the weapons of war and destruction, the tributes, and the history. Such a contrast and so needed to calm my inner soul that runs from conflict. 

My father always spoke with respect for Admiral Nimitz and Jack has often quoted and regaled Nimitz's leadership abilities. Story after story expresses his strengths and diplomatic skills. The garden is a result of two men who showed respect and understanding for each other.  After World War II, Admiral Nimitz was instrumental in saving Admiral Togo's flagship, the Mikasa, from destruction. 

The friendship between Nimitz and Admiral Togo, started when the two men met in Tokyo at a reception honoring Admiral Togo and his victory at the Battle of the Sea of Japan in 1905. This friendship continued through Admiral Togo's death in May 1934. Then-Captain Nimitz and his entire crew marched in Admiral Togo's funeral. At a rededication ceremony Muneko Hosaka, the great-granddaughter of Admiral Togo, spoke, "My father was sincere and rational and that became my image of Togo Heihachiro as my great grandfather," she said. "It is very special that this garden of peace is the birthplace of Admiral Nimitz, who showed respect for Admiral Togo. The garden shows the strong spirit and importance of peach and it was given with prayers for everlasting peace.

I believe in love, Alfie
Without true love we just exist, Alfie

I slowly made my way back to join our family and even though I walked through the Bush Gallery again, reading, pondering, and soaking in the agony that the world must have felt during those world war years and after, my strongest image and gut feelings in the garden of peace where I felt reverence, and honor for the peace that I found in the garden. 

May our veterans be always remembered and thanked. 

Letter: A Veteran Named Old Bill  I felt honor this weekend to have the Norman Transcript share how I learned what fighting in the war meant to my father and his generation. I am here writing in English with a beautiful garden out my window. The only winds that blow here are filled with dust and leaves, not weapons of mass destruction.

What's It All About Alfie? Thank you Burt Bacharach and Hal David for these words that took a generation through a war called Vietnam and all the years to follow.