A Frustrated Thought on Memorial Day, 2017

At the risk of irritating those who may not understand, I am going to say this, at the end of this Memorial Day, when my Facebook timeline is filled with 'thanks' to those who "gave their all" and/or "laid down their lives."

I fought in a miserable war and I can tell you that, yes, I and many others volunteered to serve in our military. Many others were definitely not volunteers, but nobody "gave" their life. To give and to lay down are active verbs, presupposing some manner of thoughtful consideration followed by the action of giving something away.

Their lives were taken away, against their will, whether volunteer or draftee.

Sure, we all knew we could die at any time, in myriad horrid, slow ways or instantly and nearly painless. Everyone who fights in a war or combat situation of any kind understands that.

But not one of us gave our lives away.

Not one of the soldiers killed by punji stakes or Claymore mines in Vietnam.

Not one of the soldiers blown up by a roadside IED in Afghanistan.

Not even those thousands of soldiers who were the first off the landing craft onto the beaches of Normandy, knowing that they would be the first to face the withering, deadly gunfire of the entrenched German fortified pillboxes and the first to die "gave" their lives.

Not. One.

Every one of those lives was taken away by duty, not given away.

So, on days like this, thank them and their relatives for their service, but please do not make their wartime deaths more than what they were...tools of a political war machine's decision to make war on warriors. 

If you believe the hype, the last "good" war our country fought was World War II and those soldiers were "the greatest generation." All the conflicts, military actions, and just plain stupid wars after that were "bad" wars started by short-sighted or greedy politicians who wanted something. 

No plants shut down temporarily for re-tooling to support the Vietnam or Korean wars. 

No towns emptied of their young men, whose jobs were then taken over by women who worked valiantly to support a just Afghanistan conflict.

No, there have been no "good" wars since WW-II, just wars that kill people against their will. The dead bodies of our soldiers, then and now, have been just as dead.

At the end of this Memorial Day, when we see photos of soldiers, Cub Scouts, and family placing flags on graves of their departed family members, neighbors, and countrymen, please...instead of just "thanking" those who served and were killed, put pressure on your political leaders to stop the killing.

The killing continues. In fact, now, even women are allowed to take combat positions. How despicable is that? Which Dad will say his daughter "gave her life" for some greater good while serving the military machine? My guess is, not many.

I know I would not.

What's with Twitter, anyway?

I admit it. I was a Twitter addict. I had Twitter followers; how many, I cannot recall. I had professional sports players as followers. I had professional musicians as followers. Heck, I even had one of my early favorite singers, Anita Baker, as a follower.

All of that is past tense. I am no longer a Twitter account holder. But like a sober alcoholic, I am still addicted.

What is it with the power of Twitter, anyway? 140 characters and a weird, specific shorthand to meet that limitation. A lot of anger. And a lot of apparent racism.

A. LOT.

I say 'apparent' because maybe the writers are just acting out parts. I have done that. Not on Twitter, but at the live taping of a television talk show long ago. I played the part of a contrarian to one of the guests

It got me into some trouble. You see, he did not know I was acting. He thought I was serious.

People get serious when they think you're serious.

There's not much of earthshaking importance on Twitter, either. The news is not really revealed on Twitter, though the reporters love linking to their stories - makes for increased clicks, you know. The government does not seek your opinion on important questions on Twitter.

But everyone else has an opinion on Twitter. Right?

So, what is it about Twitter, anyway?

Birds In The 'Hood

One of the benefits of having the house I have with the view from my kitchen window onto my fairly large backyard is I get to see all kinds of bird activity. I have had a large, portable bird feeder on my deck for many years and that feeder has attracted a wide assortment of winged creatures.

In today's episode of Birds In The 'Hood, I will tell you about a blue jay. But first, let me say that this Spring season, in addition to the regular visits from an assortment of 'normal' birds - finches, starlings, robins, even brown-headed cow birds - I have two birds I have never seen here before, a male and a female cardinal. The male is the bright red one; the female a much-more muted red. You may have read my Facebook postings about the two killdeer birds, male and female, that I assumed were tending to their newly-created nest in my inoperable recirculating stream - though, after learning more from a helpful biologist, I am no longer so sure; that is why I mentioned the brown-headed cow birds.

Today, I had the bounty, short-lived as it was, of seeing another unusual, never-before-seen-in-my-backyard bird.

I saw a bluejay. Its visit to the area of my bird feeder took only about 15 seconds or so, but there it was. Large and blue.

Unfortunately for the jay, some of the much-smaller starlings have become very territorial about my bird feeder; two of them almost instantly ganged up on the jay and chased it away, first to the nearby tree that sits in my backyard, then, almost as immediately, completely out of the neighborhood. I have not seen it return and doubt it will.

I also just saw a huge crow, carrying what appeared to be a baby rabbit from a recently-disturbed burrow it had just caught, being chased away from the backyard by a much smaller bird.

I guess the "local" birds do not appreciate and will not tolerate uninvited visitors to my backyard.

Things That Will Soon Disappear Forever: Your Privacy

If you are online, you had better assume that you already have no privacy and act accordingly. 

Every mouse click and keystroke is tracked, logged and potentially analyzed and eventually used by Web site product managers, marketers, hackers and others. To use most services, users have to opt-in to lengthy terms and conditions that allow their data to be crunched by all sorts of actors.

But is not just computers.

The list of tracking devices is set to boom, as sensors are added to appliances, lights, locks, HVAC systems and even trash cans. Other innovations: Using wifi signals, for instance, to track movements, from where you're driving or walking down to your heartbeat. Retailers will use the technology to track in minute detail how folks walk around a store and reach for products. 

Also, facial-recognition software that can change display advertising to personalize it to you; time for a mask? Transcription software will be so good that many businesses will soon collect mountains of phone-conversation data to mine and analyze.

And think of this: Most of us already carry around an always-on tracking device for which we usually pay good money — a smart phone. Your phone is loaded up with sensors and GPS data. Is it linked to a FitBit perhaps? Now it has your health data.

One reason not to fret: Encryption methods are getting better at walling off at least some aspects of our digital lives. 

But living the reclusive life of J.D. Salinger might soon become real fiction.

Happy Thought for the Day

Yes, there is ugliness in the world. An unending supply, it seems, but if one only stays open to the Happy Spirit that is always around, yet invisible, one can glean some measure of joy in the ugliness.

Yesterday, I learned of the passing of a relative, a Viet Nam veteran like me, who died of several diseases related to his addiction to alcohol. That was my ugliness for the day, my sadness.

Yesterday, I also joined a Facebook group related to my childhood home, Wilton, New Hampshire. I have not been there in 50 years or more, but it is the place most of my USA ancestors are buried, having lived there since their immigrations in the early 1900's. Though I am a Traveler at heart and cannot identify any one place as "home," Wilton is where my parents' and grandparents' "are from." And really, it is also my "hometown."

The urge to return, if only for a visit to touch base with my ancestors' gravesites, is strong. It is something I must do before I, too, take that last journey to the ground somewhere.

I did not expect anyone to remember or even know me. After all, I have not been there in 50 years, only attended the first few grades of elementary school there before relocating to Amman, Jordan, where I would live for most of my childhood, before returning to the USA. And there have been many changes to every 'small town', including Wilton, NH.

Imagine my surprise after making my first post, a short one about Burns Hill, the hill on which my paternal grandparents, Fred and Minnie Wilkinson, lived in a mobile home after downsizing after their retirement from Abbott Mills, selling their house on Forest Street, and relocating.

A woman whose name I do not recognize wrote this:

"Ahhhh one of the five Js...."

That might not seem significant, but it is huge. Just YU-U-UGE. (Okay, sorry.)

You see, I have four siblings and my parents, Fred James and Beverly Wilkinson, gave us all first names starting with 'J'. My grandfather, Fred Wilkinson, had a New Hampshire vanity license plate on his car: JJJJJ, and everyone around town knew us as the 'five J's.'

So reading that from a woman whose name I do not recognize means she knows me. Perhaps she is a relative or a neighborhood friend. No matter.

The draw to return to Wilton got stronger yesterday. Much stronger. That was my happy moment.