tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43495195203567914182024-03-14T00:59:50.224-07:00Hodgepodge from Dave HarmLegal stuff, awards, words, tunes, cartoons, and other goodiesDave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-15699571133073895552021-02-02T12:07:00.002-08:002021-02-02T12:07:34.289-08:00Time Has Come<iframe frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://youtube.com/embed/jb6O5wWbomU" style="background-image: url(https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jb6O5wWbomU/hqdefault.jpg);" width="480"></iframe>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-29527682603047204352019-06-29T08:46:00.003-07:002019-06-29T08:46:57.267-07:0012 Steps for everyone!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-80067907396390115932019-06-29T08:45:00.002-07:002019-06-29T08:45:33.662-07:00Strange Brew<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-1990470941713473422019-06-29T08:44:00.000-07:002019-06-29T08:44:11.715-07:00Tardiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-17198479186675958622019-06-29T08:43:00.001-07:002019-06-29T08:43:15.037-07:00Normal Parents<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-80328298253134728532019-06-23T01:02:00.001-07:002019-06-23T01:02:39.284-07:00Centerness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-39927245854846225252019-06-23T00:54:00.007-07:002019-06-23T00:54:53.843-07:00Feeding the wolves<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">I can find so much peace and serenity from the stories and legends of the Native Americans. </span><a href="http://www.aaanativearts.com/" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span></i></a><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">An elder Cherokee Native American was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, "A fight is going on inside me ... it is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too." <br /><br />They thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The old Cherokee simply replied... "The one you feed."</span></span>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-61138138350105792332019-06-22T22:41:00.000-07:002019-06-22T22:41:18.315-07:00My Love With Native American Spirituality...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqT417-D9PpVIh3A53w3RTIkZk46BnlQVpj3VB9hkNjTgvd52ys5AX4uot2il0IGIuK9ZOt_-F_BG_J7in5NuYas8S_wYfV3sl1syV1dxyQpJVBEQWhCnNP7vHH7BIHaiEPchHhE3B3D_/s1600/black_elk-140x188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqT417-D9PpVIh3A53w3RTIkZk46BnlQVpj3VB9hkNjTgvd52ys5AX4uot2il0IGIuK9ZOt_-F_BG_J7in5NuYas8S_wYfV3sl1syV1dxyQpJVBEQWhCnNP7vHH7BIHaiEPchHhE3B3D_/s1600/black_elk-140x188.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">"This knowledge came to us from the outer world with our religion. Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same, and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were. The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is in everything where power moves. Our teepees were round like the nests of birds, and these were always set in a circle, the nation's hoop, a nest of many nests, where the Great Spirit meant for us to hatch our children." - Black Elk - Oglala Sioux</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"> </span></i></span><span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">It was because of my alcoholism that I began looking at different philosophies and religions of the world to find my own unique Higher
Power. I'm not talking about religion and truth be told it upsets me
when others can't separate religion from spirituality. I believe
religion is a very private and personal thing that is between me and my
Creator. Spirituality, to me, is the presence of someone or
something that makes my life more manageable while I'm alive. With that
being said, I would like to share something I read years ago and was recently reintroduced too. And that is the power of circles.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">When
I said I studied different beliefs early in my recovery, my mind really
opened a lot when I looked at mythology... especially the
Greeks and Romans. As I read the stories it was easy for me to imagine
living in a time like that, before science, which would make
everything into a special Higher Power. From a thunderstorm, to fires,
to earthquakes... it was all because of the gods that these things happened.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">For me, it all came together when I started looking at the ways of the American Indian. I believe it was from the book </span><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Black Elk Speaks </span></i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">that I began learning about the power of the circle for an individual. The Indian believed that no good can come in a square
or a rectangle... it puts boundaries on not only the physical body but
also the soul as well. And it was with this faith that the elders of the Indians believed this was why they didn't do well on reservations... they were given houses and huts that were square and their circle died, which killed part of them.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">The
Lakota believe that the center of the Universe was in the Black Hills
of South Dakota, yet it was also said that wherever you were
was the center of the universe. And part of that center was the circle
that covered you... an invisible tube that protected you as well as guided you.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">With
a circle, there isn't any straight lines like that in a square.
Straight lines that could stop your progress. Squares also have corners
that could trap you. But a circle? No straight lines to stop your
progress, nor corners to trap you. You are free to move in any direction and your journey can move freely.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Our
universe, is part of a large circle. The earth where we live is a
circle. The water and the land are part of that circle. Every breath we take is not only a part of our individual circle, but also part of earth's circle.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">We
also can use a circles as an imaginary friend. Just look at the ground
in front of you. See that circle... in it place your good traits...
your honesty and integrity... everything that is good place in that
circle... step forward and as you do... give thanks to your Higher Power for your strengths which were freely given to you and enjoy your walk and journey in the circle of life.</span></span>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-89622189573962130642019-06-22T14:47:00.004-07:002019-06-22T14:49:29.151-07:00Native American 10 Commandments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoH2UDPcz86_ERFfVI3f4je35VGtCPFNvmry3LG_yrFBILy0kgVjaAy2KTqp_88_nn06Pi8J07VxQoprp-VG0AVwR6KehDAazSjSv0UEqDZYhYSbaJRDmz13ryOe2YKb-62gI0GUEnvHC/s1600/native+american.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPoH2UDPcz86_ERFfVI3f4je35VGtCPFNvmry3LG_yrFBILy0kgVjaAy2KTqp_88_nn06Pi8J07VxQoprp-VG0AVwR6KehDAazSjSv0UEqDZYhYSbaJRDmz13ryOe2YKb-62gI0GUEnvHC/s1600/native+american.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">1. The Earth is our mother; Care for her</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />2. Honor all your relations</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />3. Open your heart and soul to the great Spirit</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />4. All life is sacred; treat all beings with respect</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />5. Take from the Earth what is needed and nothing more</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />6. Do what needs to be done for the good of all</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />7. Give constant thanks to the great Spirit for each new day</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />8. Speak the truth, but only of the good in others</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />9. Follow the rhythms of nature; rise and retire with the sun</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br />10. Enjoy life's journey, but leave no tracks</span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"><br /> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">original origin is unknown</span></span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-24566327075702996472019-06-22T09:31:00.001-07:002019-06-22T09:32:16.669-07:00Closter, NJ Vietnam Vets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EHyZoEbftU3nZ7_ktBE8WE4WtacAe3AjmYLI2RtwFzO3tcwKiEVNuiWgZYImqKDtYs9_vb6T2Frhtqg-cZzhT1GxGVfRpvVJtMxM2LB6U474M1s973OlEFncoDKG-tcX2oF_temYWPw9/s1600/usa+flag-vert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="500" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EHyZoEbftU3nZ7_ktBE8WE4WtacAe3AjmYLI2RtwFzO3tcwKiEVNuiWgZYImqKDtYs9_vb6T2Frhtqg-cZzhT1GxGVfRpvVJtMxM2LB6U474M1s973OlEFncoDKG-tcX2oF_temYWPw9/s320/usa+flag-vert.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Below is the list of men and women who served during the Vietnam War. Not everyone on the list served in Vietnam but rather they were in active duty during the conflict. The list are people from my hometown. And a note - 1(*) means killed in action and 2(**) means wounded in action...<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 0.45cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Richard
Ambrose <br />
James Amendola*<br />
Walter Ancker <br />
Daniel
Anderson <br />
Alfred Anderson <br />
Robert Anderson <br />
Valerie
Barkley <br />
Howard Bartholf <br />
Harold Beaumont <br />
Robert
Beaumont <br />
David Berrian <br />
Thomas Berrian<br />
Richard Biggar
<br />
Jo Anne Binaghi<br />
Word Bizzell<br />
Henry
Blankenship**<br />
Joseph Blais<br />
Thomas Bosco<br />
Norman
Bottie<br />
Thomas Braun<br />
Tim Brinkerhoff<br />
Frederick
Brue<br />
Geoffrey Brue<br />
Wayne Brue <br />
Paul Carabetta <br />
Richard
Christensen <br />
John Kenneth Conboy <br />
John Kevin Conboy<br />
Michael
Conway <br />
William Cook <br />
David Cosgrove<br />
Lawrence Crawford
<br />
James D'Amico <br />
Stephen Daly <br />
James DaMico <br />
Nicholas
DaMico <br />
Paul Daraghy<br />
Donald deMarigny <br />
Robert
deMarigny<br />
Robert Depinto <br />
David Doremus<br />
Raymond Dorow
<br />
John Doyle**<br />
Harold Endres <br />
Bruce Evans</span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.45cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Barbara
Farrell<br />
Kevin Flanagan<br />
Daniel Fitzgerald<br />
John
Fitzgerald<br />
Lawrence Fitzgerald<br />
Ralph Folsom <br />
George
Foss<br />
James Frank <br />
Robert
Frank**<br />
Peter Fulchiron <br />
Albert Giannotti<br />
John
Giannotti <br />
Donald Gill**<br />
Charles
Gnerlich <br />
Robert Gnerlich <br />
Ken
Guile <br />
Kenneth
Haass<br />
Michael Harm <br />
Richard
Harm<br />
Donald Harvey <br />
William
Hayes<br />
Walter Hawley<br />
Mark Hettinger <br />
Dennis Hoag
<br />
Glenn Hoag <br />
Gary
Hoag <br />
Louis
Hoffman<br />
Anthony Holmes** <br />
Edward
Holtzbach <br />
Michael Horowitz<br />
William
Howley<br />
David Hughes <br />
Dennis Iafrate<br />
Doug
Isbecque<br />
Ron Jacobs <br />
Hugh
Johnson </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.45cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Donald
Jones <br />
Walter Kangas<br />
Allen
Kanze <br />
David
Kanze<br />
Anthony Karlovich <br />
Joseph Keegan**<br />
Bernard
Kelly <br />
John Koker<br />
Robert
Kuhnert <br />
James Langhorst<br />
Denis Lapp
<br />
Michael Lapp<br />
Allen
Layne JR <br />
Ronnie Layne<br />
Craig
Limbert <br />
Frank Limbert<br />
Anthony
Lione** <br />
James Locovare<br />
Thomas
Locovare<br />
Wayne Lowery<br />
Earl Lucious<br />
Richard
Lynott<br />
Charles Lyons <br />
Everett
MacDonald<br />
Robert Magel<br />
Bruce Marshall <br />
Joseph
Martin JR <br />
Robert Maurer <br />
Laurence
McCabe <br />
Dennis McGuire**<br />
Francis McLean <br />
Thomas
McNamara<br />
Ronald Menti <br />
Frank
Mitchell </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.45cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">John
Mitchell JR <br />
James Moeser <br />
Donald
Mollicone*<br />
Clifford Morelli <br />
John Motta<br />
Robert
Mueller <br />
Anthony Nasuto JR<br />
Roy Nicolosi
<br />
Joseph Novack** <br />
Thomas
Oettinger <br />
Emory Oman<br />
Edward Onny<br />
Andrew
Orlich<br />
James O'Shaughnessy* <br />
Thomas
O'Shaughnessy<br />
John Paccagnini <br />
Donald
Parsells<br />
Frederick Parsells<br />
Reginald Parsells<br />
Russell
Parsells<br />
William Parsells <br />
Robert Pierro<br />
Thomas
Pierro<br />
Gerald Poh <br />
Patricia
Portas<br />
Richard Prodigo <br />
Robert
Regino<br />
William Ricciardella <br />
Robert
Richard<br />
Albert Richardson <br />
Charles
Richardson<br />
Arnold Ritter <br />
Robert
Roe<br />
Lynn Rosso <br />
John
Saladino<br />
Robert Santo <br />
Al
Savianeso<br />
Robert Scherer <br />
Thomas
Scherer<br />
Ernest Schirmer <br />
Kenneth Shauble*
<br />
James Skinner <br />
Walter
Soderquist<br />
Joel Stern <br />
Roy
Stevenson<br />
Gary Stewart <br />
Richard
Stone <br />
Richard Terrell<br />
Louis Troiano<br />
Warren
Vanderbush<br />
Thomas Wanamaker <br />
Dean Ward<br />
Stephen
Woodard <br />
Edmond Wynn </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 0.45cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 0.45cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Note
- * - Killed in Action **- Wounded in Action</span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-65027570378982262062019-06-22T03:30:00.002-07:002019-06-22T03:30:41.194-07:00Men (And Women) Of Closter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEStbeCORm7dyh5_bjaYffaa3Nzbmis0Z57kPth-WhHd8CGsa9DkfRUfEZJZ2URAc84DuhT8hTfqdv13P8jU2HBedpIJ8CYVLDuSYb_33TMXXUMmI5qPw8SWB1vyh-jdZCUzhKCytRnje/s1600/Closter_NJ-229x112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="112" data-original-width="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEStbeCORm7dyh5_bjaYffaa3Nzbmis0Z57kPth-WhHd8CGsa9DkfRUfEZJZ2URAc84DuhT8hTfqdv13P8jU2HBedpIJ8CYVLDuSYb_33TMXXUMmI5qPw8SWB1vyh-jdZCUzhKCytRnje/s1600/Closter_NJ-229x112.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Front of the courthouse,<br />it found its home.<br />Names of people,<br />standing together,<br />yet… all alone.<br />Served their country<br />in a far away land.<br />In the jungles of Vietnam<br />they made their stand.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">There was respect for names<br />on the wall.<br />The town of Closter,<br />was proud of them all.<br />Young men and women,<br />from my hometown.<br />Most made it back…<br />but… four ended up in the ground.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">A few years earlier,<br />going to school,<br />at old Demarest.<br />Then we prayed,<br />that they’d be blessed.<br />No longer girls and boys,<br />playing games with innocent toys.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Only their “brothers” could understand,<br />when they returned,<br />from that strange land.<br />It’s been thirty years since wars end.<br />Hearts still healing,<br />still on the mend…<br />I hope we never forget,<br />to be proud of our…<br />Vietnam Vets</span></span></span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-41405105408739289292019-06-22T03:27:00.001-07:002019-06-22T03:27:20.483-07:00Known But To God<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULKa1uv5v-_3xybm6O-3RAAKxy9JhQkQbMBpsOMVr5tPbkJoQgGdC03tPT1jPGL6wBvcsDTJS8t3JWaoUz-IxejBrnesY70EQ0PJFXwuN7Ft1oRJ3TbvEQ7YKiEfLOnkMadYeR3OMBuqb/s1600/tomb_of_the_unknown-227x122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="122" data-original-width="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgULKa1uv5v-_3xybm6O-3RAAKxy9JhQkQbMBpsOMVr5tPbkJoQgGdC03tPT1jPGL6wBvcsDTJS8t3JWaoUz-IxejBrnesY70EQ0PJFXwuN7Ft1oRJ3TbvEQ7YKiEfLOnkMadYeR3OMBuqb/s1600/tomb_of_the_unknown-227x122.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">What happened to you?<br />How did you die?<br />Where did it occur?<br />Were you a husband, a dad?<br />Or were you a wife, a mom?</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">So many questions,<br />yet… the answers will never be known.<br />We can say… your home!<br />Not the place of your birth,<br />but a place of respect… and love.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">A place of peace…<br />where we can promise…<br />you’ll never be hurt again.<br />Forever guarded… forever protected</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">A nation will come and visit you,<br />and witness the dignity of your life.<br />When we walk away,<br />we’ll leave with pride…<br />You fought for us and our ideals,<br />and though we’ll never know<br />who you were, we’re comforted…<br />that you’re known to God.</span></span></span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-5125087952992413782019-06-22T03:25:00.001-07:002019-06-22T03:25:10.547-07:00Reflections In The Wall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9KE0Z0sTQj0bB08SPaQnlBG2W6gSMpw9YgAM8gung7FTzmPTG7k90llQ0uppiP1SO1BWhY5RGuA-tTg8zf1qXrb3QfA3jLPzEWQQM-mYXOYoI6SndTJuEMITGfTFbfwamv7moJFP9XJd/s1600/Vietnam_wall-232x147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="147" data-original-width="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9KE0Z0sTQj0bB08SPaQnlBG2W6gSMpw9YgAM8gung7FTzmPTG7k90llQ0uppiP1SO1BWhY5RGuA-tTg8zf1qXrb3QfA3jLPzEWQQM-mYXOYoI6SndTJuEMITGfTFbfwamv7moJFP9XJd/s1600/Vietnam_wall-232x147.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></b></span><span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"></span></span></b></span><br /><span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"></span></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">the mirrored image</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">doesn’t show the many names</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">symbolic in the realm…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">that the name and the mirror</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">could be ours</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">starts slowly in a triangle</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">just a name or two</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">more steps… more panels…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">many more names</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">approaching the middle</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">an overpowering presence</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">of life… and the loss of…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">the head tilts back</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">to see all their names</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">who were they…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">where were they from…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">someone’s child…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">maybe a parent…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">someone’s brother or sister</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">a name on a wall</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">but our reflection</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">tells their story…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">they had dreams and hopes</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and like us…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">they were people</span></span></span>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-47970837102514757992019-06-22T03:23:00.002-07:002019-06-22T03:23:27.572-07:00Our Boy Is A Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP1JumVDylNLDpdno-Bcp5v4dWgVdzFVdhV68lhP5Q1oZRtqHCivsan10lT2SzZIrzRun6r7rMynzrXcpe97vJ1WFbeAH43MSDxgnsCrxDe6XjCCcOAVLXdQDKFEHadGGTWOn8LlIG-D0F/s1600/A_Johnson-231x130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP1JumVDylNLDpdno-Bcp5v4dWgVdzFVdhV68lhP5Q1oZRtqHCivsan10lT2SzZIrzRun6r7rMynzrXcpe97vJ1WFbeAH43MSDxgnsCrxDe6XjCCcOAVLXdQDKFEHadGGTWOn8LlIG-D0F/s1600/A_Johnson-231x130.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></b></span><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">we changed your diapers</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and watched you grow…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">so very fast</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">little league baseball</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and midget football</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">you learned to compete</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">we shared your victories</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and hugged you through defeats</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">where did the time go</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">one year in kindergarten</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">then… off to the prom</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">riding a tricycle</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">then… cruising main street</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">in your sports car</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">holding mommy and daddy’s hands</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">then… hugging your own child</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">you grew into a young man</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and made choices…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">that brought us pride</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">but now we’ll live with anxiety</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">we’re parents and we’ll always…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">think of you as our little boy</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and as you fight to protect our freedom</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">we’ll count the days until you come home</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">we’re sorry if we shed some tears</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">and don’t want to stop hugging you</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">but it’s the last time we’ll see you for awhile</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">we know you’re trained and ready to go</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">just always remember…</span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">your whole family loves you</span></span></span>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-52986781782233548292019-06-22T03:21:00.001-07:002019-06-22T03:21:40.023-07:00The Presidents<div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCorriReXcpOwxbxExcGpwtl3eK9Vq-0hw_Ky7ZEhN4CAIvczCuxEQ5twUXibQO0JWC8eTxmyQEyaCcxJ_uERSipJytzuA6bKrPeWIngz-tpXAEmukvQOR7Db0VkCYQF3TI7rEwTo2JEiY/s1600/presidents-243x152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCorriReXcpOwxbxExcGpwtl3eK9Vq-0hw_Ky7ZEhN4CAIvczCuxEQ5twUXibQO0JWC8eTxmyQEyaCcxJ_uERSipJytzuA6bKrPeWIngz-tpXAEmukvQOR7Db0VkCYQF3TI7rEwTo2JEiY/s1600/presidents-243x152.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">42 men have led our great nation<br />through trials and tribulations<br />so many sleepless nights<br />but our freedom is worth the fight<br />sometimes we take for granted<br />all that they have done<br />their decisions are the reason<br />our flag still flies in the sun</span></span></span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-58969762147220694352019-06-22T03:19:00.002-07:002019-06-22T03:19:30.620-07:00Veterans can't depend on VA for assistance<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> I use to enjoy this time of the year. A presidential election around the corner, celebrating our heritage as a nation. This year, with troops in Iraq, Afghanistan, and elsewhere around the world, who cares about Vietnam? The <i>Swift Boat Veterans for Truth</i> and their counterparts <i>Texans for Truth</i>, have made this election a joke and we should all be outraged! I believe the more important issue is what happen to the veterans when they returned home? I'm not talking about parades or a pat on the back, I'm talking about years from now. Will the government keep their promises to all these heroes? Right now, I can say they won't! Last year I wrote a poem entitled "Where is the VA?", which the Daily-Sun published on Veteran's Day. From that time to July 30, 2004, I watched a World War II veteran fade away. This veteran was my father-in-law, George Rohr. The VA seemed to do everything possible to help speed along the process. To cut costs, seeing a VA doctor became a once a year appointment. The government "outsourced" its responsibility to local doctors, which would have been OK, if the government, worked with these doctors. The last year and a half of my father-in-laws life was filled with disgust for a government he believed in his whole life.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">In the end, he was tired and in pain. For family members the last 24 hours will never be forgotten. A feeling of hopelessness with acceptance. And we were all comforted by the fact that nurses, doctors, and Hospice, all said he was in no pain. You want to know something? I now understand his disgust. The VA, won't pay for the pain medication, because they didn't approve it! The VA would have rather seen an old man suffer and die in pain, instead of paying $650 as a final "Thank you" to one of its heroes!</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">I think its time we tell our politicians to stop it! Stop the lies, stop the games. Our nation deserves more then this. Instead of wondering who did what in Vietnam, maybe we should be more concerned about who is going to take care of all these veterans. The poem below I wrote, trying to share my frustration, with an issue that isn't right, and both political parties seem to ignore.</span></span></span><br />
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<br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">BROKEN, NEVER DEFEATED!</span></span></b></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></b></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Families cried when they went to war.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Cheered! Upon return, walking through their door!</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">They were all happy and relieved.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Years later, they learned, they were deceived.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">For the soldier, the war would never end.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The government destroyed his heart -</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">It was impossible to mend.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Tossed aside, hoping they'd disappear.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The VA, taught them a new fear.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Clinics and doctors, rarely returning calls.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Their appointments, they'd sit, for hours,</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Staring at the walls.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">As the soldier dies,</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">He leaves behind a family, to mourn and cry.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">They remember, their hero,</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Dressed in white, green, or blue.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Then the VA says, "We're not quite through!"</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">"This bill won't be paid,</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Because of an error that was made."</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">"One other thing, we should mention,</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">His wife, is not entitled to his pension."</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">For the USA, he fought, day after day.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">He believed in what he was fighting for.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">But, in the end the VA - SLAM SHUT THE DOOR.</span></span></span></span></span></span>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-48388195132936232252019-06-22T03:12:00.003-07:002019-06-22T03:12:44.790-07:00Veterans should be getting help due them from the government<span class="text"><b><span style="color: #cccc00; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px;"></span></span></b><b><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Veterans Day is a holiday for the men and women who have served for our nation. It isn't a holiday for our government.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">This past year, The Legion magazine has done a series of articles on the health care for our heroes. It's basically, in a shambles. Budget cuts and broken promises are the rule rather then the exception. There were stories of veterans waiting over a year to see a doctor. Another story, was with a gentleman who after waiting 18 months, finally got an appointment. His appointment was in a college gym, where he and hundreds of other veterans were serviced all in one day.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Our government made a promise to these people. Now that they are no longer needed, the promises are being broken. If you're a World War II vet or a Korean vet, your chances of getting help are slipping away. From what I've seen in the last year, the older veterans are left out in the cold, their government waiting for them to die.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">This is from experience. My ex-father-in-law is a WWII veteran, a humble man who has never had mass riches or wealth. The one thing he could count on was good medical care, until recently. First, the Lincoln VA was drastically cut back in size. More and more of his appointments were in Omaha. That's a long way for an 86 year old man with diabetes. Then in March, he had some serious medical problems. We called for our local ambulance, then was transported 20 miles to a community hospital. Checked out there, then transported to a larger hospital in Lincoln.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The VA wouldn't pay the bill because the ambulance, stopped at the community hospital. They didn't care that our local ambulance didn't have the equipment, nor the personnel, to travel the extra 45 miles. I've known this man for over seven years and until this year, I've never seen him upset or worried. He could share horror stories about his time in Japan, but there was no hate in his voice. His health is now to the point, where he couldn't return home. Both my in-laws are now residents at a assisted living facility. Every day, my ex-wife and sister-in-law try to calm them down because the VA won't pay this bill or that bill. But through it all, they still believe in our government. They just wish they would honor their promise. None of this was a handout, it was a commitment from our government. A commitment based on the ideal of keeping America - America!<br /><br />I'm sharing a poem that illustrates my feelings on veterans and the government.</span></span></span><br />
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<b><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span></b><span class="text"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">WHERE IS THE VA?</span></span></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Saved some money.<br />The nation won't forget.<br />Though our government will.<br />Thinking, families would soon forget,<br />They never looked back with regret.<br />It was just a building.<br />Sure, it served our heroes.<br />Medical staff, helped as best they could<br />For our leaders, just a structure,<br />Made of brick and wood.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Vets shared stories,<br />Some told many times.<br />They weren't always about glory,<br />In the end, they found peace of mind.<br />Others, were never told before.<br />These men found comfort,<br />Inside the building's doors.<br />There were no dads, brothers, or sons.<br />Just guys sharing stories,<br />From when they carried a gun.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">At nights, these buildings...<br />Sit silent and in the dark.<br />You can almost hear the whispers,<br />Of children, running the halls,<br />Their fingerprints, covering the walls.<br />Visiting dads and grandpas, too.<br />Giving them hugs, saying, "I love you."<br />From the road driving by,<br />You knew, America's best, were inside.<br />A handout isn't what they received,<br />A commitment from their government,<br />Is what they believed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Different ages, different wars,<br />Come on USA, open the VA doors.<br />To see a doctor, takes a year or more.<br />Come on, please, re-open the VA doors.<br />Don't care, what their age.<br />Come on, let our heroes in.<br />The way they're being treated,<br />Is nothing short of a sin.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">The poem <i>Where is the VA? </i>is from the book <a href="https://daveharm2.blogspot.com/2019/05/damaged-merchandise.html"><i>Damaged Merchandise</i></a> </span></span></span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-8185821938372803822019-06-22T03:02:00.003-07:002019-06-22T03:02:53.050-07:00Christmas In Iraq<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEEKEQz-uoOLNQJIdUIpFlYBnQuDt0Hyu73oFZj0Cy2JXbblyXDq0xI7sRJ2wLQLacPyIkGewpxmdVZmsVJSmb3SLo2S9_9bH4izcOwgGbjFUrH3PkLIFCoawQS_oyJ38XATEddyHYJuM/s1600/ryan-225x165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEEKEQz-uoOLNQJIdUIpFlYBnQuDt0Hyu73oFZj0Cy2JXbblyXDq0xI7sRJ2wLQLacPyIkGewpxmdVZmsVJSmb3SLo2S9_9bH4izcOwgGbjFUrH3PkLIFCoawQS_oyJ38XATEddyHYJuM/s1600/ryan-225x165.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">As a child, I remember my parents sending “care” packages to my brother, Mike, while he was in Vietnam. At that time, our only means of communication was by mail. We’d wait sometimes for weeks to get a response. Everyday checking the mail. It was a joyous event when that letter finally arrived. We’d take turns reading that letter over and over again. I had forgotten about those times tilla new set of letters entered my life...<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">A couple of years ago, I received an e-mail from a gentleman wondering if I was any relation to the Harm family that lived in Closter, New Jersey and if I had a brother named Mike. After a few e-mails I found out that Howard lived a couple a streets away from our home. He played baseball with my brothers and they were in the Cub Scouts together.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Over time, I learned that Howard was a career military man who had also served his country in Vietnam. Through our conversations he sent me some old clippings from our home town and a list of all who served in Vietnam from our community. For me, it was a trip down memory lane and one that inspired me to write a poem about the Closter Vietnam Vet. That Veteran’s Day, Howard read my poem at a ceremony dedicating a new Veteran’s Park, in Closter, NJ.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">Howard and I still exchange occasional e-mails and share stories about our lives. Recently, he sent me an exchange he had with his son, who at the time was serving in Iraq.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">“Hi buddy, How are things going? Have any of the packages I sent arrived yet? I have mailed you three. What do you guys think about the Rumsfeld resignation? If you get a chance, send me an e-mail and tell me what they have been having you do. Stay safe and take care.” - Love you bud, Dad and Jan</span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">In the days of Vietnam, there wasn’t any Internet. Waiting for an answer seemed like an eternity. What use to take weeks, now only takes a matter of days or maybe even minutes. But for a parent, I’m sure it still feels like an eternity.</span></span><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"> </span></span></i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">“Dad,<br />Yes, I received two boxes and a letter the day before yesterday. I think it actually arrived earlier, but I was so busy I didn't have time to pick up mail until the day before yesterday. I have been flying my tail off. 5 or 6 hours at a time. I've already hit 15 hours Combat Flight time, and that's in 3 flights. I flew today during the day and this place is crazy. I flew two night missions before today, so I didn't actually see what this place looks like during the day. I guess in Biblical terms this was where life began(Babylon), and some of it is beautiful, however, most of the landscape is scared by war, and the Iraqis burn everything, including sewage, so there is quite an odor in the air. There are thousands of canals branching off the Euphraties and the Tigris Rivers, giving the enemy plenty of places to hide. Anyway, I was really happy to receive mail from home. The Virginia Peanuts are fantastic and my roommate Rich agrees. Thanks for everything, I should be set for quite sometime. The Christmas Tree is awesome and I have it set up in my room. I <br />remember seeing a picture of you in Vietnam with your Xmas tree. It's strange how we've kinda been down the same road in life. I was going to wait until after Thanksgiving to set up the tree, but I said what the heck, I'm in Iraq. We'll start celebrating Xmas early. The music book and army bottle opener were a very nice touch. Thanks for my American Legion Membership Card and especially the picture of Madelyn Grace, she is adorable. It's amazing how much she resembles Steve. What a cutie! The Cashews are great and they really help out when I work through meals. We're almost too busy to eat sometimes. Rumsfeld, I don't think anyone here cares about him anymore. A lot of guys were pretty happy. I guess the Democrats are back. We'll see how they handle this war. Hopefully we can accomplish our mission and get home. We would be done here if the Iraqis would get on board and fight for their country. Well, its 1:45am my time and I'm exhausted, must go to sleep now. Thanks again for the packages, you guys are great. I love you guys and tell everyone I said hello. Tell Scott I'm waiting for my email from him. Ok, I'll talk to you guys soon.”<br />Your Son,<br />Ryan<br /></span></span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">It is easy to feel the love between a father and his son in this letter. I feel honored that Howard has shared this letter with me and given me permission to share it with you. Ryan makes a comparison by remembering seeing a picture of his Dad next to a Christmas tree in Vietnam, now he has a Christmas tree in Iraq. Not where either one of them wanted to be, but both realizing they were called to duty and a job had to be done. Our soldiers for generations have given so much and have asked for so little. They deserve our respect and our support. This holiday season pray for our soldiers safety and pray that by this time next year everyone is back home.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="text"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;">More of these e-mail exchanges can be found <a href="http://daveharm.blogspot.com/search/label/Letters%20from%20Iraq" target="_blank"><i>here </i></a></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-49380460261959882002019-06-21T08:47:00.000-07:002019-06-21T08:47:04.048-07:00Thinking Of Our Angel<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Thinking of our Angel </span></i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">I wrote on the sixth anniversary of Andrea's death. ( 5 FEB 2006)<br /><br />Andrea Marie Scherling, was a lot more then my stepson Brad's girlfriend. She was a friend to everyone she ever met. I truly believe she knew her time in this world would be short, so she lived it with love and happiness...</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLVJnoq7yyfNVgErexIGPUwb2YEi8s3P9aNwTOw0v-HBne2UwKGhQnnNWXm1UlalSGsJYdQ3NQL6bjQ7A3RZCjEmpKQhPxY3bYgsMOGmf5tMKFzorabBd3G3Vq3-lU0VzkRT0U_EBv92W/s1600/andreaBRAD-275x345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="275" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLVJnoq7yyfNVgErexIGPUwb2YEi8s3P9aNwTOw0v-HBne2UwKGhQnnNWXm1UlalSGsJYdQ3NQL6bjQ7A3RZCjEmpKQhPxY3bYgsMOGmf5tMKFzorabBd3G3Vq3-lU0VzkRT0U_EBv92W/s320/andreaBRAD-275x345.jpg" width="255" /></a></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span></span><span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">It's been six years,<br />yet... time seems<br />like it was yesterday.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Wonderful memories<br />will always guide us<br />and lead us...</span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">We all know<br />that we were blessed...<br />a vibrant smile,<br />a warmth shown<br />by an enlightened<br />spiritual presence.</span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">It's been six years<br />since Andrea Marie left<br />and it's been six years<br />since an angel<br />entered our lives</span></span></div>
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<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">We've been blessed<br />more then once<br />for we know<br />by our side...<br />she will stay</span></span></div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-6623971001896561392019-06-21T08:42:00.001-07:002019-06-21T08:42:30.733-07:00Andrea Scherling<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">My tribute poems started with the lady pictured below. The poem below is not one of them though. Andrea <br />Scherling wrote it two weeks before her death. Andrea died at the age of 18, from a rare heart defect. She <br />was truly a special person, wise before her years. She left this world on February 5, 2000. She loved to <br />write, years later, people were still finding notes of hers. So today, I'd like to introduce her to all of you.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Andrea wrote this in a card and gave it to me, shortly before one of my ex-wife's surgeries for cancer. She <br />was a vital part of our families recovery plans. She often stayed up late talking with Betty at our kitchen <br />table. She offered to babysit, if Betty couldn't do it and offered to drive Betty to her chemo sessions. She <br />was a true friend to this whole family and I'm still amazed at how much she taught me. Andrea was part of <br />the reason, my book ended up with a chapter entitled "Omega." When I presented the idea to include her in <br />my book to her Mom, she loved it, saying her worse fear would be that people would forget her daughter. <br />Believe me, anyone who knew her will never forget her. Now folks... here is Andrea...</span></span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<span class="text"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span></span><span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">"The love of those,<br />who care for us,<br />can be a healing thing.<br />As warm and bright and comforting,<br />as sunny days in spring.</span></i></span><br />
<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">The love of those who care for us,<br />So often brings a smile.<br />To cheer our thoughts,<br />To lift our hearts,<br />To make life, more worthwhile.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">The love of those who care for us,<br />Can help us everyday.<br />For love's the kind of miracle,<br />That always finds a way."</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">No, this won't be easy,<br />Nor will it be short.<br />But the situation exists.<br />What we need to do now,<br />Is let the doctors do their work,<br />And be at Betty's side.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text"><i><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Through each operation,<br />And each therapy session,<br />We must hold Betty's hand.<br />She is strong and so are you.<br />But when you start to break down,<br />Dave, remember all the people,<br />That are here for you.<br />I'll be the first in line,<br />To listen, if you let me.<br />Let's get Betty through this.<br />God Bless,<br />Sincerely,<br />Andrea Scherling</span></i></span>Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-90673232948992566432019-06-21T08:07:00.003-07:002019-06-21T08:07:54.873-07:00Mr. Production Superintendent Man
How many bosses in your life did you truly admire and respect?
That made your work fun and you took pride in it? How many bosses
have you worked for that wouldn't ask you to do something that he
wouldn't do? In July of 2004, my boss retired. I wrote this poem in
his honour. It was also the first poem someone asked me to autograph.
If you got a good boss, cherish him (or her) because when they leave,
nothing is ever the same. Jerry, I now appreciate more than ever all
the things you did for ALL of us. Jerry, was originally from
Oklahoma, so any southerners out there may understand the "twang"
in his voice, which I tried to do in the poem.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br /><br />
<br />
God Damn, Mr.
Superintendent man.<br />
Running a bakery on cruise control,<br />
Always
running at a steady flow!<br />
He gave it his all - his heart and
soul.<br />
Tell us, you don't have to go!<br />
Your stories you told
a time or two,<br />
From Dallas and Kansas City, too.<br />
But the
one's we'll remember best,<br />
Happened right here.<br />
I'm sure,
they'll never, be put to rest.<br />
<br />
By the oven, nuts on the
floor.<br />
A scared worker,<br />
Heading for the mixing room
door.<br />
"I wouldn't have done that,<br />
If I was you!"<br />
All
he saw was Jerry's veins,<br />
Turning deep blue.<br />
"Get the
buckets,"<br />
Said more then one time.<br />
But you always
restored order,<br />
Until things were running just fine.<br />
<br />
You
could see through our lies.<br />
"Bull
shhhhiiittttt."<br />
Originality, we would try.<br />
"I'm
in jail,"<br />
But this too, would fail.<br />
How many gray
hairs,<br />
Did you receive,<br />
When we tried to deceive?<br />
<br />
You
told us your roots,<br />
Down Oklahoma way.<br />
Kunta Campbell, was
born that day!<br />
Words you never wanted to hear,<br />
"Not my
job."<br />
And you proved it, year after year.<br />
Our "String
bean,"<br />
Was a tall, lean, working machine!<br />
<br />
On
July 2nd, 2004,<br />
You'll take one final walk,<br />
Out the side
door.<br />
With tears and applause,<br />
We'll say good-bye.<br />
If
you listen closely,<br />
The building....<br />
Will let out a sigh.
<br />
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-64652336350331605322019-06-21T08:05:00.003-07:002019-06-21T08:05:57.858-07:00Ode To The Fruitcake Man
A man I worked with for the last 11 plus years retired in 2007,
after being in the baking business for over 40 years. I wrote this
poem and the company put it on some fancy paper and than had it
professionally matted and framed. I enjoy these types of
personal poems, which I read at the retirement party. The real
thrill, for me, is reading it with a pause in a certain place,
bringing it to life. By the end, I had the guy in tears! Success!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
there was a man a long, long,
time ago<br />
who talked of fruits and bread dough<br />
he preached
of the sweets and the booze thrown in<br />
and how his product was
better then sin<br />
<br />
through the years he walked in many
doors<br />
coast to coast at food shows, shops, and stores<br />
it
didn't take long for the word to get around<br />
when the fruitcake
man was back in town<br />
<br />
trying to convince others of its
unique appeal<br />
always dreaming of the million pound deal<br />
"if
we could do this," or "if we could do that"<br />
"man,
our wallets would certainly get fat"<br />
<br />
Yeah, he was the
man that sold fruitcakes<br />
don't laugh, he heard all the jokes,
for goodness sakes<br />
fruits and nuts will never look the same<br />
he's
throwing in the towel, retiring from this game<br />
<br />
somewhere
in fruitcake lore<br />
will be the story of the man who walked these
floors<br />
as he gets in his truck and rides away<br />
we'll wave...
and remember the good old days
<br />
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-23901752921708327732019-06-21T08:04:00.004-07:002019-06-21T08:04:47.260-07:00Joyful Memories
For two years, I worked with a young man, who was a joy and a
headache at the same time. He lived life to the fullest and found joy
in making others laugh. He was killed in a car crash about eight
months ago and I don't think there was one day at work that didn't
pass without someone telling a story about Jon. He was an innocent,
carefree, intelligent man who at the same time could be characterized
as a "bull in a china shop."<br />
<br />
July 9, 2005 would
have been Jon's 25th birthday. With this poem I wanted his parents to
know, that we still think about them and that Jon is still a very big
part of our memories...
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Not quite a quarter of a century<br />
dreams
never totally realized<br />
not quite long enough to leave a
legacy<br />
broken hearts, still mourns, still cries<br />
<br />
Not
quite 25 years<br />
couldn’t achieve your goals<br />
today, we
remember with tears<br />
a young man with a carefree soul<br />
<br />
At
work, you seem to make the day<br />
joking and looking for a bite to
eat<br />
with things you did or words you’d say<br />
shaking our
heads, laughing out of our seats<br />
<br />
Your memory will always
live on<br />
stories retold time after time<br />
still hard to
believe you’re gone<br />
your smile lives on in our mind<br />
<br />
It
was hard to stay mad<br />
at some of the things that were done<br />
you’re
one of a kind and I’m glad<br />
we got to share time under the same
sun<br />
<br />
Gave it your all and you lived with a zest<br />
Today
on your birthday,<br />
wishing you peace and rest<br />
Spreading your
wings you began to fly<br />
And I’m sure you’re saying…<br />
“I’m
happy, please don’t cry.”
<br />
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-84435389139574971602019-06-21T08:01:00.001-07:002019-06-21T08:02:41.144-07:00What Would He Had SaidIn memory of Jon Shada, died in a car crash in October of 2004. I
trained Jon where we worked. A young man who loved life.
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
When this young man,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Is
laid to rest,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We're left wondering,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Did we see him at his
best?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Plans for a future, he often told.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ideas were
creative and bold!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Told with a sparkle in his eye,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Of
inventions,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He'd be willing to try.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy and
carefree,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is what we'd all see.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A smile, that put us
at ease.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
With a joke, he'd try to tease.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There was no anger
or hatred,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
From this gentle-man.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He enjoyed his
time,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Living in this land.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dreams of college,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Were
on the way.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He had hopes for a better day.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We lost
more,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then a young man today.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
A voice for our
future....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
.....went silent....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
...........nothing more to
say....
</div>
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4349519520356791418.post-43637714007452797612019-06-21T07:59:00.002-07:002019-06-21T07:59:28.034-07:00A Man With Many Title
A poem I wrote and read at my ex-father-in-law's funeral in 2004<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Many years ago,<br />
A child was
born!<br />
George would be his name.<br />
For the rest of his
time,<br />
In this world,<br />
Many lives, would never be the
same.<br />
<br />
He was the joy,<br />
Of his Father and Mother.<br />
And
his titles had begun.<br />
He was a son,<br />
And also a
brother!<br />
Adulthood made him a husband and a Dad.<br />
War came,
his little family,<br />
Became fearful and sad.<br />
A son, brother,
husband, Dad,<br />
And now, a soldier, too.<br />
But his titles were
far from being through!<br />
<br />
When he returned, his family
grew!<br />
Four sons and a daughter, too.<br />
A simple life, is what
he would stress.<br />
For five kids, on a farm,<br />
They were truly
blessed.<br />
A new title, a farmer,<br />
He would receive.<br />
But
his wife and children,<br />
Would be all he'd need.<br />
<br />
His
titles still far from done,<br />
George would add a few more,<br />
Living
his days, under the Sun.<br />
Grandpa came!<br />
For his
grandkids,<br />
He always had time,<br />
To play some games.<br />
He
watched his family, grow and thrive.<br />
Pretty soon, Great-Grandpa,
came alive!<br />
He reminded us, that family came first.<br />
It
helped fill our spiritual thirst.<br />
<br />
When his time comes to
an end,<br />
A message to his family, he will send.<br />
"By
your side, I will stay.<br />
I'll be here each and everyday.<br />
Its
OK, the pain is no more.<br />
Please don't rush, I'll be waiting for
you,<br />
At Heaven's door."
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Dave Harmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12333299637196061338noreply@blogger.com0