Flowers, by Ray S

Here is a detour down memory lane or maybe the Primrose Path of flowers. It is a good likely-hood that most of you have trodden both, but it is those thorny Primroses that can tell the more interesting stories, or maybe you don’t talk about that.

One of the questionable benefits of hanging on so long is the memories of another time and place. Things like a Hobo sitting on the back steps eating a handout Mother made for him, or the popular songs like “Minnie the Moocher” and “Brother Can You Spare a Dime?” and of course F.D. R. and the WPA and NRA.

With the above as background I take you to 1933-34 school year to see the Intermediate School’s (Junior High School to you youngsters) spring production of a memorable Gilbert and Sullivan Operetta—the name of which escapes me now. Maybe “the Mikado” or “HMS Pinafore”. No matter, the point of all of this is in deference to the “Flower” topic for our assignment today. The vision you’ll see and hear is one of all 195 pre-teen sopranos—boys and girls alike—straining to the jaunty words of “The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring,” etc., etc.

Here I present another flower. Long ago there was a World War I commemoration celebrated on November 11th called Armistice Day (later renamed Veteran’s Day in 1954). At school we were taught about that war and the terrible loss of lives to our country and our Allies’. In honor of the occasion volunteers and some veterans peopled the street corners with bouquets of red paper poppies, a symbol of Flanders Field where so many rested. With each contribution you received a poppy.

A sudden change of geography and landscape brought a new world of flowers to me. Imagine discovering magnolia trees, Poinciana trees, citrus trees, bougainvilleas, hibiscus in bloom, sights you’ve never seen up north. Those are just a few flowers and horticulture exposed to a kid from Illinois. Florida in 1939 was a complete culture shock.

A return to the land of four seasons and it was time for Victory Gardens, not many flowers except for flowering fruit trees. And perhaps the Junior-Senior Prom and the appropriate gardenia or camellias corsage for a young woman who didn’t have a date until the night before the dance. It was then that I began to wonder why the really sought-after girls didn’t attract me as much as the girls who were well known for their friendliness to dumb little weird boys like me.

Then there were the war years and all of those funereal wreaths, and the Japanese cherry blossom trees in Washington DC.

That war was followed by one more conflict after another until today. Believe me there aren’t enough paper poppies to meet the never ending need.

For all the beauty of nature’s abundant flowers, sometimes I feel when we push aside the curtain of flowers; our flower of the future will be a man-eating species.

And if that doesn’t catch us, there is always Mother Nature’s way—bud-bloom-wilt-and wither and return to where it all originated.

The Flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la, tra-la.

(I really like being a sensitive, thoughtful pansy—since I can’t be man of my dreams with lots of hair on my chest.) You do the best you are able to.

© 13 February 2017

About the Author

Patriotism, by Ricky

Exactly what is “patriotism”?  Who possesses “patriotism”?  What does “patriotism” look like to me?  What does “patriotism” look like to others?

Today is November 11^th, Veterans’ Day, the holiday Americans set aside to honor and remember our country’s military personnel, past and present, and the resulting deaths and heroic deeds.  At least that is what it was following the Korean “Police Action”.  The unpopular “non-declared-war conflict” in Vietnam with the anti-war protests, primarily lead by the under 21 draftees and draft-dodgers, tarnished this holiday for many decades.  During the years that followed, politicians and corporate board of directors expanded the roll of “capitalist greed” destroying American citizens’ confidence and trust in the concept of benevolent authority.

I am very cynical about businesses and corporate “chain” stores offering veterans special discounts on this one day per year.  Corporate business do these public relations gimmicks to attract money from those people they can fool into believing the corporation actually cares about our veterans both alive and dead.  If they really cared, the corporations and business groups would send their lobbyists to Congress to demand that the Veterans Administration be fully funded and have the best facilities to serve our veterans.  But instead, they send lobbyists to ensure laws are passed that favor their greed.  As I said, I am very cynical.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child; I understood as a child; I thought as a child; I trusted as a child: but when I became a man, I eventually learned to use my intelligence and actually think and reason.  This I can do fairly well.  I only act childish.

        During the American Revolution, everyone was a patriot and a traitor.  Colonists who were patriots for England were traitors to the revolutionaries.  Patriots to the revolution were traitors to King George.  Both groups believed they were “right”.

Lord Baden Powell of England founded the Boy Scout movement.  It was an organization to teach British boys the desired character traits, sense of honor, and moral values.  No boy would willingly join a character building group, so the name became “Scouting for Boys” and was patterned after Baden Powell’s experience in the British army, specifically his time as a military scout.  The Scout Oath begins, “On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country. …”  It is the duty to my country which is the patriotic problem.

        Raising generations of children to believe without critical thought that “duty to my country” means, “My country right or wrong” is a recipe for disaster.  This is never more historically apparent than during military activity.  For example, when the Redcoats retreated from Concord and Lexington back to Boston, they marched in ordered columns, shoulder-to-shoulder while those pesky and cowardly rebels shot them from behind trees and rock fencing, and ran away without giving a fair fight.  Another example is the fighting at Gettysburg during the Civil War; specifically Pickett’s Charge.  Thousands of brave men again stood shoulder-to-shoulder and walked across a mile of open field into the point blank firing of those damn Yankee soldiers and cannons all of whom were protected by a rock wall.  Thousands of very courageous Confederate soldiers died doing their duty to their country as they believed it to be.  Nonetheless, it was sheer stupidity.

        Back to the British: during WWI, the British army lost approximately 60,000 men on July 1, 1916 (at the battle of Somme) by sending them to cross an open field (the so called “no mans’ land”) into multiple German machine gun emplacements.  Again, sheer stupidity.  “Aye, but we showed the buggers.”  At least by WWII, everyone learned to make like Little Egypt and crawl on their bellies like a reptile when crossing open fields under fire; except the Japanese whose “banzai” charges into automatic weapons fire met with the exact same results obtained at Gettysburg and the battle Somme in WWI.

        “My country, right or wrong” brings death and destruction to soldiers and civilians alike.  This is not a good definition for “Duty to my country”.  I do believe that every citizen has responsibilities: voting, paying taxes, engaging in dialog over public issues, serving on juries when selected, and to use their God-given intelligence to think and reason and not to trust blindly.  I do not believe that any citizen need die overseas to keep Dick Chaney’s or Scrooge McDuck’s money-bin full.

        I believe a true patriot: resists warmongers and bullies, speaks out for truth, exposes government and corporate corruption, and when necessary or unavoidable, makes the other guy die stupidly for his country.

© 11 November 2013 

About the Author 

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com