the pup is on vacation.
the good news is that modern hotels, even cheap ones, have wireless access. The expensive water park the children and grandchildren stayed at had only "old-fashioned" ethernet.
and they made money selling the access cables.
so it all started on a warm last day of autumn in Kennesaw. I left the house, got gas, went back for missing items, went to Publix for ice, went back home, and finally left Kennesaw via US41.
what a shock crossing Lake Alatoona. there really is no water in it.
swiftly passing through GA, got to TN. a mess of traffic on I40/75 in west Knoxville. luckily there are now lots of lanes.
KY was mostly uneventful until I reached Ft Mitchell
I exited I75 at Buttermilk Pike. I began to feel an emotion rise up in me I could not name. I stopped at Blessed Sacrament Church but it was locked.
I went down Highland past Gertrude's house, then past 217, our old house. The neighborhood looks so small now. Cozy. Yet I was about to cry.
This didn't happen the last time when Kat was with me. But then it was day and not Christmas, and I was not alone.
I went to City Hall. The black stone monument still does not have Dad's name -- 22 yrs of service not worth remembering.
Then down Greenbriar, to Kroger's across from the cemetary, and onto 75N.
As I was passing King's Island, I saw a sign for Great Wolf Lodge. Large living quarters -- maybe 7 stories high, but smallish water park w/limited # of slides. Price about the same as Kalahari/Sandusky.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
A Christmas Story #3 - Even a stray cat
Any student of the 20th century would affirm that the Holocaust was one of the darkest chapters of modern history. Yet within that nightmare, there were in moments of humanity and life-giving compassion.
In August of 1942 my mother was one of the last survivors of the Lutsk ghetto in Poland. A young girl, not yet 20 years old, her life was saved by the miraculous appearance of one righteous Christian after another. No one could ever know why she was spared and her parents, her brothers and other family members were so brutally murdered. Evangelical Christians, farmers and peasants, each arriving at a precise life-saving moment, hid her in attics, cellars and chicken coops.
Fania Paszt's story began on 1942Aug19 when a Christian peasant came into the ghetto and proposed a plan to hide my mother's family in the town. Not wanting to jeopardize her entire family with a risky plan, my mother tore off her yellow Jewish star patch, covered her head with a shawl, and set out with the peasant to test the escape route. She left behind her entire family.
While leaving the ghetto she noticed an unusually large number of Ukrainian police, German soldiers, SS and Gestapo. Luck was with her and the escape route worked. The next morning, she attempted to return to the ghetto and smuggle out the rest of her family. The Ukrainian police, certain that she was a Ukrainian Christian, informed her that it was no longer possible to enter the ghetto - "something was about to take place."
Jews had lived in Lutsk since the tenth century and had flourished with the city as it became a political and economic center in the mid-sixteenth century. But on the morning of Aug.20, an order had been given to end that history once and for all. In the next two days, 17,000 Jews from the ghetto were led to the Polanka Hill on the outskirts of the city and thrown live into pits and machine gunned to death. Every Jew was murdered, including the leaders of the Judenrat and the Jewish police.
Having lost everything and everyone, my mother stayed hidden in the flue of the peasant's country oven.
But on 1942Dec24, Fania Paszt's luck seemed to run out. The Ukrainian peasant who had saved her life understood the risk to his own by continuing to harbor her, and threw her out of his house. This time there was no savior. She wandered the dirt roads of the Polish countryside, freezing cold in her tattered dress. As night descended, she knew her life was at its end. She recognized the home of the county warden and began to walk up its path. The warden's dogs jumped on her, ripped her dress and bit her. The warden, alerted by the barking, came out with a gun in hand.
The next morning, fearful that he could be killed for saving a Jew, he took her into town and gave her over to a Christian family.
Three more righteous Christians were to appear magically in her life until she descended from an attic during the Russian liberation of Lutsk in 1944.
Only decades later did I learn of the Polish expression,
Though a series of six righteous Christians had appeared miraculously to try and save my mother's life, on the evening of Dec24, my mother was abandoned like a stray cat in the Polish countryside. At that precise moment, God had to invoke Christmas Eve to save her life.
I am proud of my rich Jewish heritage and of my calling as a rabbi, but I will never forget the legacy that Christmas saved my mother's life. On this, the Eve of Christmas, peace on earth, goodwill to all men.
Merry Christmas, from a rabbi.
Rabbi Abie Ingber
[I got this from my mother so it is probably from a Cincinnati newspaper in the 1980s-1990s.]
In August of 1942 my mother was one of the last survivors of the Lutsk ghetto in Poland. A young girl, not yet 20 years old, her life was saved by the miraculous appearance of one righteous Christian after another. No one could ever know why she was spared and her parents, her brothers and other family members were so brutally murdered. Evangelical Christians, farmers and peasants, each arriving at a precise life-saving moment, hid her in attics, cellars and chicken coops.
Fania Paszt's story began on 1942Aug19 when a Christian peasant came into the ghetto and proposed a plan to hide my mother's family in the town. Not wanting to jeopardize her entire family with a risky plan, my mother tore off her yellow Jewish star patch, covered her head with a shawl, and set out with the peasant to test the escape route. She left behind her entire family.
While leaving the ghetto she noticed an unusually large number of Ukrainian police, German soldiers, SS and Gestapo. Luck was with her and the escape route worked. The next morning, she attempted to return to the ghetto and smuggle out the rest of her family. The Ukrainian police, certain that she was a Ukrainian Christian, informed her that it was no longer possible to enter the ghetto - "something was about to take place."
Jews had lived in Lutsk since the tenth century and had flourished with the city as it became a political and economic center in the mid-sixteenth century. But on the morning of Aug.20, an order had been given to end that history once and for all. In the next two days, 17,000 Jews from the ghetto were led to the Polanka Hill on the outskirts of the city and thrown live into pits and machine gunned to death. Every Jew was murdered, including the leaders of the Judenrat and the Jewish police.
Having lost everything and everyone, my mother stayed hidden in the flue of the peasant's country oven.
But on 1942Dec24, Fania Paszt's luck seemed to run out. The Ukrainian peasant who had saved her life understood the risk to his own by continuing to harbor her, and threw her out of his house. This time there was no savior. She wandered the dirt roads of the Polish countryside, freezing cold in her tattered dress. As night descended, she knew her life was at its end. She recognized the home of the county warden and began to walk up its path. The warden's dogs jumped on her, ripped her dress and bit her. The warden, alerted by the barking, came out with a gun in hand.
Please shoot me,my mother begged.
Let me share the fate of my family.
I cannot kill you tonight,responded the official. He took her inside, fed her, gave her a new dress and a place to sleep.
The next morning, fearful that he could be killed for saving a Jew, he took her into town and gave her over to a Christian family.
Three more righteous Christians were to appear magically in her life until she descended from an attic during the Russian liberation of Lutsk in 1944.
Only decades later did I learn of the Polish expression,
On Christmas Eve, even a stray cat is allowed to live.
Though a series of six righteous Christians had appeared miraculously to try and save my mother's life, on the evening of Dec24, my mother was abandoned like a stray cat in the Polish countryside. At that precise moment, God had to invoke Christmas Eve to save her life.
I am proud of my rich Jewish heritage and of my calling as a rabbi, but I will never forget the legacy that Christmas saved my mother's life. On this, the Eve of Christmas, peace on earth, goodwill to all men.
Merry Christmas, from a rabbi.
Rabbi Abie Ingber
[I got this from my mother so it is probably from a Cincinnati newspaper in the 1980s-1990s.]
A Christmas Story #2 - Listen to the angels singing
Pa never had much compassion for the lazy or those who squandered their means and then never had enough for the necessities. But for those who were genuinely in need, his heart was as big as all outdoors. It was from him that I learned the greatest joy in life comes from giving, not from receiving.
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted so bad that year for Christmas.
We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. So after supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read scriptures.
But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see.
We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up the big sled unless we were going to haul a big load.
Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
When we had exchanged the sideboards Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight.
Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him.
We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
"What's in the little sack?" I asked.
"Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the wood-pile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us. It shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.
We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all.
Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children -- sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last.
I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said, then he turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up."
I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and, much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.
In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks and so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy filled my soul that I'd never known before. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference.
I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people. I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord himself has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two older brothers and two older sisters were all married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, 'May the Lord bless you.' I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. So, Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Just then the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
- Rian B. Anderson
It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted so bad that year for Christmas.
We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. So after supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible. I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read scriptures.
But Pa didn't get the Bible, instead he bundled up and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though, I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.
Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see.
We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my cap, coat, and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what.
Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up the big sled unless we were going to haul a big load.
Pa was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed. "I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards on.
When we had exchanged the sideboards Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood---the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. "Pa," I asked, "what are you doing?"
"You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight.
Sure, I'd been by, but so what? "Yeah," I said, "why?"
"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him.
We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading, then we went to the smoke house and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.
"What's in the little sack?" I asked.
"Shoes. They're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the wood-pile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."
We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us. It shouldn't have been our concern.
We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible, then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door.
We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?"
"Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"
Widow Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all.
Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp. "We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children -- sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last.
I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.
"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said, then he turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring enough in to last for awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up."
I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and, much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too.
In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks and so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak. My heart swelled within me and a joy filled my soul that I'd never known before. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference.
I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people. I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord himself has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."
In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.
Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.
Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their pa, and I was glad that I still had mine.
At the door Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two older brothers and two older sisters were all married and had moved away. Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, 'May the Lord bless you.' I know for certain that He will."
Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough. Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. So, Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."
I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Just then the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children.
For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life.
- Rian B. Anderson
Christmas Greetings
Great joy to thee
Good friend of mine,
And May thy joy be,
In giving of thyself for him
Who gave himself for thee
Remember Him
Good friend of mine
And what he said to thee
And what he said to me
"Do unto others as thou would'st
Have them do to thee."
Good fortune friend
In the New Year
And may thy fortune be
The love of folk and loving them
Who love or love not thee.
- Richard Orme Flinn 1962 q.Celestine Sibley
Good friend of mine,
And May thy joy be,
In giving of thyself for him
Who gave himself for thee
Remember Him
Good friend of mine
And what he said to thee
And what he said to me
"Do unto others as thou would'st
Have them do to thee."
Good fortune friend
In the New Year
And may thy fortune be
The love of folk and loving them
Who love or love not thee.
- Richard Orme Flinn 1962 q.Celestine Sibley
wait for the reindeer solo - then echoes of the past
Joshua Held 2002 [2008 - cobweb -- the website may be back]
and from the wayback files
http://puptrax.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-eve-in-iraq-from-my-son.html
simplicity
a Christmas story #1
not the usual Christmas story
Which Holiday Relative Are You?
and from the wayback files
http://puptrax.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-eve-in-iraq-from-my-son.html
simplicity
a Christmas story #1
not the usual Christmas story
Which Holiday Relative Are You?
Thursday, December 13, 2007
son report
As of December the 1st, I'm no longer a Polar Bear. My reassignment from Battalion Headquarters to Brigade Headquarters stripped me of my 31st Infantry Regimental Crest but moved me higher up the food chain and further from the fight. 4-31 conducted their Change of Command Ceremony yesterday, 2nd Brigade will do so today.
By Michelle Tan - Staff writer
Posted : Tuesday Dec 11, 2007 5:33:35 EST
Col. Michael Kershaw will relinquish command Tuesday of 2nd Brigade,10th Mountain Division, during a ceremony at Fort Drum NY. Kershaw,who led the brigade during its recent 15-month deployment to Iraq, will turn over command of the brigade to Col. David Miller, whose previous assignment was at Fort Polk LA. Kershaw will leave Fort Drum for Fort Sam Houston, TX. The change of command ceremony is scheduled for 10 am at Magrath Gym. The brigade, known as the “Commando Brigade,” deployed to Iraq in 2006Aug. The soldiers served in south Baghdad and returned to Fort Drum in November of this year. Two of the brigade’s soldiers, Spc. Alex Jimenez, 25, and Pvt. Byron Fouty, 19, remain missing in Iraq. The soldiers disappeared May12 in an ambush that also claimed the lives of seven fellow soldiers and one Iraqi interpreter. Jimenez and Fouty, of 4th Battalion, 31st Infantry Regiment, are listed as missing/captured. Soldiers from 3rd Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, who replaced 2nd Brigade, 10th Mountain Division, in Iraq, continue to search for Jimenez and Fouty.
By Michelle Tan - Staff writer
Posted : Tuesday Dec 11, 2007 5:33:35 EST
Col. Michael Kershaw will relinquish command Tuesday of 2nd Brigade,10th Mountain Division, during a ceremony at Fort Drum NY. Kershaw,who led the brigade during its recent 15-month deployment to Iraq, will turn over command of the brigade to Col. David Miller, whose previous assignment was at Fort Polk LA. Kershaw will leave Fort Drum for Fort Sam Houston, TX. The change of command ceremony is scheduled for 10 am at Magrath Gym. The brigade, known as the “Commando Brigade,” deployed to Iraq in 2006Aug. The soldiers served in south Baghdad and returned to Fort Drum in November of this year. Two of the brigade’s soldiers, Spc. Alex Jimenez, 25, and Pvt. Byron Fouty, 19, remain missing in Iraq. The soldiers disappeared May12 in an ambush that also claimed the lives of seven fellow soldiers and one Iraqi interpreter. Jimenez and Fouty, of 4th Battalion, 31st Infantry Regiment, are listed as missing/captured. Soldiers from 3rd Brigade, 101st Airborne Division, who replaced 2nd Brigade, 10th Mountain Division, in Iraq, continue to search for Jimenez and Fouty.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
where does he get the energy?
Cliff Card was browsing the Web to read about the newly elected PM of Australia and came across the opening sentence of the biography entry in Wikipedia for Mr Rudd's wife: "Thérèse Rein is the 26th Spouse of the Prime Minister of Australia." Busy man. [Ms Rein is actually the spouse of the 26th Prime Minister of Australia.]
[[So powerful is the World Wide Words website that, subsequent to this posting, the bio entry was changed. See link in the sidebar.]]
[[So powerful is the World Wide Words website that, subsequent to this posting, the bio entry was changed. See link in the sidebar.]]
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
AMEN
I also have a rule of never donating money or buying anything from anyone that calls my house. I don't care if you are selling the greatest product/service on the planet or your organization is only a hundred dollar donation away from curing cancer. I will not reward any organization or person that harasses me by calling my house. - Aggie-master
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
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