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OUR SOLDIERS, NAVY AND MARINES... 'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE, IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE. I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE, AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE. I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE, NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE. NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND, ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS. WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND. FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY, I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER, ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY. THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING, SILENT, ALONE, CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME. THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER, NOT HOW I PICTURED A UNITED STATES SOLDIER. WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I'D JUST READ? CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED? I REALIZED THE FAMILIES THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT, OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT. SOON ROUND THE WORLD, THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY, AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY. THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR, BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS, LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE. I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY LAY ALONE, ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME. THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE, I DROPPED TO MY KNEES AND STARTED TO CRY. THE SOLDIER AWAKENED AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE, "SANTA DON'T CRY, THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE; I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, I DON'T ASK FOR MORE, MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS." THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP, I COULDN'T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP. I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS! SO SILENT AND STILL AND WE BOTH SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL. I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT, THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR SO WILLING TO FIGHT. THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE, WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA, IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE." ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. "MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT." This poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable..... PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U .S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please, do your small part to plant this small seed. Fred |
"Just a Common Soldier" He was getting old and paunchy and His hair was falling fast; And he sat around the Legion, telling Stories of the past. Of the war that he had fought in and The deeds that he done, In the exploits with his buddies, they Were heroes everyone. And tho' sometimes to his neighbors, His tales became a joke, All his Legion buddies listened, for They knew whereof he spoke. But we'll hear his tales no longer, For old Bill has passed away; And the world's a little poorer, for a Soldier died today. He'll not be mourned by many, Just his children and his wife, For he lived an ordinary and quiet, Uneventful life. He held a job and raised a family, Quietly going his own way. And the world won't note his passing, Though a soldier died today. When the politicians leave this earth, Their bodies lie in state, And thousands note their passing And proclaim that they were great. Newspapers tell their live stories, From the time that they young, But the passing of a simple soldier Goes unnoticed and unsung. Is the greatest contribution to the Welfare of our land, A person who breaks promises and Cons his fellow man; Or the ordinary fellow who in times Of war and strife, Goes off to serve his country an Offers up his life? It's so crazy to forget them, For it was not so long ago, That the "Old Bills" of our country Went to battle, but we know, It was not the politicians with their Compromises and ploys, Who won for us the freedom that Out country now enjoys. He was just a "Common Soldier" And his ranks are growing thin, But his presence should remind us, We may need his like again. For when countries are in conflict, Then we find the soldier's part, Is to clean up all the troubles that Others often start. If we cannot give him honor, while He's here to hear the praise, Then at least, let's give him homage, At the ending of his days. Perhaps a simple notice In the paper that would say, "Our country is in mourning, Cause a soldier passed away." © 1985 A. Lawrence Vaincourt A. Lawrence Vaincourt (WW II Air Force veteran) wrote this poem in 1985 for his newspaper column and it was reprinted in his 1991 book RHYMES AND REFLECTIONS. He continues to write a regular column for a national Canadian journal. Here is the Web Site for the actual, original text. |
Remember the day I borrowed your brand new
car and I dented it?
I thought you would kill me, but you
didn't.
And remember the time I dragged you to
the beach, and you said it would rain?
And it did?
I thought you would say "I told you
so". But you didn't.
Do you remember the time I flirted with
all the guys to make you jealous, and
you were?
I thought you would leave. But you
didn't.
Do you remember the time I spilled
strawberry pie all over your car
rug?
I thought you would hit me. But you
didn't.
And remember the time I forgot to tell
you the dance was formal and you showed
up in jeans?
I thought you would drop me. But you
didn't.
Yes, there were lots of things you
didn't do.
But you put up with me, and you loved
me, and you protected me.
There were lots of things I wanted to
make up to you when you returned from
Viet Nam.
But you didn't.
( Author Unknown )
I would rather die being sorry
for the things I had done than die being sorry for
the things I hadn't done.
(Anna Pendland - 1996)
It's not about sex. If it were about sex, you would be long gone. Just like a doctor, attorney or teacher who had sex with a patient,client or student half his age, you would have violated the ethics of your office and would be long gone. Just like a Sergeant Major of the Army, Gene McKinney, who though found not guilty, was forced to resign amid accusations of sexual abuse. Remember the Air Force General you wouldn't nominate to be Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff because he freely admitted to an affair almost 15 years before, while he and his wife were separated? Unlike you, he was never accused of having a starry-eyed office assistant my daughter's age perform oral sex on him while he was on the phone and his wife and daughter were upstairs. If it were about sex, you should be subjected to the same horrible hearings that Clarence Thomas was subjected to because of the accusations of Anita Hill. The only accusation then was that he talked dirty to her; He didn't even leave semen stains on her dress.
No, it's not about sex. It's about character. It's about lying. It's about arrogance. It's about abuse of power. It's about dodging the draft and lying about it. When caught in a lie by letters you wrote, you concocted a story that nobody believed. But we excused it and looked away. It's about smoking dope, and lying about it. "I didn't inhale," you said. Sure, and when I was 15 and my buddies and I swiped a beer from an unwatched refrigerator, we drank from it, but we didn't
swallow.
"I broke no laws of the United States," you said. That's right, you smoked dope in England or Norway or Moscow; where you were demonstrating against the U.S.A. You lied, but we excused it and looked away.
It's about you selling overnight stays in the White House to any foreigner or other contributor with untraceable cash. It's about Whitewater and Jim and Susan McDougal and Arkansas, Gov. Jim Guy Tucker and Vincent Foster and Jennifer Flowers and Paula Jones and Karen Willey and nearly countless others. It's about stealing the records from Foster's office while his body was still warm and putting them in your bedroom and "not noticing them" for two years.
It's about illegal political contributions. It's about you and Al Gore soliciting contributions and selling influence at Buddhist temples and in the same Oval Office where Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Roosevelt led their countries through the dark days of wars that threatened the very existence of our nation. But we excused you and looked away.
It's about hiding evidence from Ken Starr, refusing to testify, filing legal motions, coaching witnesses, obstruction of justice and delaying Judge Starr's inquiry for months and years, and then complaining that it has gone on too long. The polls agreed. Thank goodness that Judge Starr didn't read the polls, play politics or excuse you and look away. He held on to the evidence like a tenacious bulldog.
Your supporters say that you've confessed your wrong doings and asked for our forgiveness. Listen, what you said on TV the night you testified to the grand jury was not a confession. Confession in the face of overwhelming evidence is not a confession at all. Not that it would make a lot of difference. A murderer who contritely confesses his crime is still a murderer. When your "confession" didn't sell, even to your friends, you became more forthcoming. Maybe someday you'll confess more, but probably not. You've established such pattern of lying that we can't believe you anymore. Neither can your Cabinet, the Congress or any of the leaders of the nations of the world. When a leader's actions defame and emasculate our country as profoundly as yours have, it is no longer a personal matter, as you claim. It's no longer a matter among you, your family and your God. By the way, I don't believe for a minute that Hillary was unaware of your sexual misadventures, abuses of power and pattern of lying. She has been a party to your wrongdoings since Whitewater and Jennifer Flowers just as surely as she lied about the Rose law firm's billings and hid the Vincent Foster evidence in your bedroom for two years.
Why? So she could share in the raw power that your office carries. The two of you probably lied to Chelsea, but that is a matter among you, your family and your God. Remember the sign over James Carvill's desk during the l992 campaign? It said, "It's the economy, stupid! Place this sign over your desk: "It's about character, stupid!" No, it's not about sex, Mr. President. If it were, you would be long gone. It's about character; but we have to live with your filth, lies and arrogance for a while longer. Your lies, amorality and lack of character have been as pervasive as they have been despicable, so we have no reason to believe that you will quietly resign and go away. You'll count on half truths and spin doctors to see you through, the country be damned. It has always worked before. We excused you and looked the other way. No more, we've had enough.
You betrayed us enough. You have made every elected official, minister, teacher, diplomat, parent and grandparent in the country apologize for you and explain away your actions. Now go away, and let us show them that our country was not without morals. It was just that you were. Let us show them that America was not the problem. William Jefferson Clinton was.
Go away, Mr. President. Leave us alone. And when you leave, know that your legacy to the United States of America will be a stain on the Office of the President that is as filthy as the stain on Monica's dress. It will take a lot of scrubbing to make it clean again.![]()
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