The murderer turned out to be a tragic figure, a man who was unhinged by illness. The madman was not a tea partier as initially presumed.  He was not driven by any recognizable political philosophy.  He is simply and unfortunately insane.

Nevertheless, the calls for civility continued.

Candidly, when it was reported this week that Democrats as highly ranked as the Vice President called me a terrorist – among other gems of civil discourse –  because I object to having the future opportunities of my children destroyed by Washington spendthrifts, my first response was to shrug.   This is only the latest foolish, hyperbolic and hypocritical thing to spring forth from an ever-gushing fountain.  I can’t swing at every pitch.

That said,  the blazing hypocrisy was sharply focused by this:  On the day conservatives were being called terrorists for forcing a “sugar coated Satan Sandwich” compromise by “holding a gun to Democrat’s heads”, Representative Gabby Giffords had returned to her duties on Capitol Hill.  

Apparently the Democrats did not get the message of civility.

It is a waste of time to demand an apology.  We just need to send them packing in the next election.

News followed that the Pentagon had been struck. Then the towers collapsed. Later we would hear of Flight 93, later still of their heroism. Reports began to flow out about the tens of thousands who would normally have been in the World Trade Center on any given day, and the thousands of people who worked day in and day out in the Pentagon.

I remember not quite being able to fathom that tens of thousands may have been lost in one strike. Over the course of time as news trickled out that the awful collapse of the towers may have claimed far fewer lives than had been feared, I began to pray that my friends were among those who had escaped the fire and subsequent avalanche of steel and concrete.

I have had more prayers answered in my life than I have any right to expect – the Father is good to me – but this particular prayer was not among them.

Few servicemen in our history have spent this much time in active hostilities. My brother has spent most of his career in the Marines at war. This generation of warriors will always be different as they transition from the field into civilian life and begin to take account of the toll years of slow relentless work. Their labor has yielded nearly a decade free of terrorist attacks on America.

Time’s inexorable effect has taken the immediate sting out of my personal loss.  Still, I regularly  reflect on where America is as it relates to protecting our citizens. Candidly, our cultural and political leadership have lost their way and are not taking the poorly named War on Terror seriously. They seem hell-bent to dither away the advantage our fighting men and women have purchased at enormous cost.

Americans know in our guts that we remain in grave peril, but the leaders in which we trust are indulging themselves  in double-talking and handwringing, allowing the enemies of this nation to fight way above their weight class. America as it is represented today stands idly by as our enemies regroup, retool and rearm. They watch us like thieves might watch a guard who tipples while on duty, waiting for just the right time to slip past.

Those at the apex of American society have allowed their vigilance to be eroded, their seriousness diluted to the point that they say and do things before the nation and the world that makes a mockery of the perilous reality we live in, and the enemy watches. A list of particulars is unnecessary to those who understand, and those who do not understand are unlikely to be convinced by the likes of me. I am convinced that there are elements in the world who believe that America is ready to be struck again.

I do not pray enough, but among my too-infrequent prayers is that we restore our seriousness and vigilance without another 9/11.

Ed

I used to think of Father’s Day and other “new” holidays as a consumer-generated “Hallmark” initiative meant to force “celebration” and encourage purchasing by a nation so often filled with sentimental folks. Now that I am a father, I have changed my tune about Father’s day … I still know it’s a Hallmark holiday but I enjoy the day in a way I never could have imagined. Having children changes a lot of things ….

This year, my children made me special Father’s Day cards, let me take a nap on the couch (for just a few minutes before jumping on me!), and set the table for my favorite meal (open faced turkey, mashed potatoes and lots of gravy!). Watching them comport themselves as they usually do in Church, I remembered to thank God for blessing me with them.

Early this week, Carol asked me if I wanted anything for Father’s Day. I surprised myself by saying that I wanted to buy Maddie and Edward fishing poles. This seemed like a great idea – then we could all go and drown worms together (while I like to fish and was taught how by my father, I follow in his example and rarely catch many!). On Saturday, we visited Paul’s Tackle Shop on Chippewa (ShopLocalHireLocal.com!) and bought two rods, two reels and a license for me. The kids were as impressed by the plastic worms as the rods but we are ready for worm-drowning.

Recently, after a long conversation with a friend, I found myself reflecting on the Gospel of John 1:114: “And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.” The Lord, in his generosity to each of us as His children, gave us His Son … but He did so in a special way: this Son was sent down to live and dwell among us. That is, He was part of our lives right here on Earth. The Lord could have infused us with grace in any way He wanted. He could have enlightened us or turned our hearts. Instead, He gave His Son to live and be among us … to be one of us. This was more than just generous as I believe the Lord was teaching us how to be present with one other.

The best celebration of Father’s Day – or most any holiday, it seems to me – is to simply be together. Having the children and my amazing wife around and underfoot this weekend – amidst campaign events, meals, church, or whatever – reminded me that the central mystery of human loving is being together. We model the Creator’s love for us in being together.

This is why the epidemic of children who are left without the presence of their fathers is so terrible. When we look back on the ill-fated “War on Poverty” that began in the 1960s, we see that social engineering that created more dependency on a welfare state also drove families apart. Every man who does not live up to his paternal responsibility has robbed themselves of a wonderful thing. Each of these men, if they understood the depths of their loss, would curse the paternalist government that creates incentives for fatherless children.

A large part of Father’s Day is marking the fathers who are deceased and the sense of loss for their families. I know that my parents, my siblings and I wish we could spend time with my grandfathers, both of whom have long ago faced their maker. I never met my paternal grandfather, a World War II veteran who died nearly a decade before I was born. My maternal grandfather, Phillip, was a dominant part of my life for the first fourteen years. He remains a hero to me; a man whose presence in my life as teacher, friend, and grandfather, is a model for my life today.

On Saturday, I helped my children record a video message for their grandfathers that we emailed to them today. With this email, I wish all fathers, grandfathers, and future fathers a happy father’s day. I pray especially for those fathers who are serving in our Armed Forces and who are away from home.

Finally, to Our Father who art in Heaven, I offer thanksgiving for His creation and especially for His son who dwelt among us.

Ed

For a variety of reasons, I have a special place in my heart  for active duty military and for veterans.  Among those reasons is the fact that vets have a unique wit about them.  We lawyers tend to be circumspect, being officers of the court.  That circumspection can become a kind of obscurity in which you can hear many words and not quite know what has been said.  Generally veterans do not suffer from this malady.  Vets are able to call upon an emotional reservoir that has been distilled by training and hardship.   They tend to be direct and plain-spoken.  Their passion is not divided or ambiguous, not toward their faith, their family or their nation.  They have a raucous cheer about them.  It is impossible to hang out with a group of veterans and not be inspired to think or laugh.  Usually both.

Sunday I joined local Boy Scouts in ceremonies at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery.  Under the hot sun Boy and Girl Scouts, along with family members and other patriots fanned out to place a single flag on the resting place of the thousands of service men and women interred there.

If you visit the cemetery, pause to read the inscriptions, particularly those made over the last few years.  The aforementioned wit and passion is on display even after their earthly lives have ended.  One gravestone has a statement of priority:  “LOVED GOD LOVED HIS FAMILY AND HIS COUNTRY.”  This sentiment encapsulates so much of what I’ve come to know about our veterans.

Spouses of veterans are laid to rest at Jefferson Barracks, and you can find beautiful inscriptions that reflect the lifelong love we who are married aspire to have.  Some captions illuminate the fact that Vets don’t take themselves too seriously (click here to see more markers).

We have tremendous freedom in this nation, freedoms that are worth protecting.  Each white stone in these cemeteries reserved for our service men and women indicates an individual who put at risk life and limb against the threats to our nation of laws.  The countless hours of toil and deprivation endured deserve to be honored on special days to be sure, but each day we must honor them as we make decisions that will affect the lives of those they have left behind.

It is for the children, grandchildren and generations beyond that the heat, cold, hunger, sweat and pain was not too great a burden to bear.  Their legacy deserves honor and the purpose of their sacrifice must be fulfilled.

Thanks to our Veterans..

Ed

They pointed to maps, then pointed out the window then back to the map, or a photo.  I followed the narrative that began in 1826 when it was established as an infantry school to compliment training at West Point.  As America expanded westward the Army provided law to the new territories, “…not only to protect the settlers from the Indians, but also to protect the Indians from the settlers and from each other.”  In time Jefferson Barracks became the staging area from which the Army would project troops to the west.  In a few years, it was the largest post in America.

Joe Frank, a wounded Vietnam veteran shared with me stories of the “citizen soldiers” who passed through Jefferson Barracks.  Great Generals – Grant, Lee, Eisenhower and others have served and trained  in Missouri.  Tens of thousands more flowed through Jefferson Barracks, officers and enlisted noted less by history but known to their families as brothers, sisters, sons and daughters to serve as champions of our nation.

The American military is unique in its composition.  There is no more refined meritocracy than among America’s armed forces.  The British raised regiments and fleets as nobles invested in the men, material and training, receiving payment from the crown or by confiscating property from conquered lands or ships.  Other societies populated the ranks of their commissioned officers – such as they are – based on loyalty to party or by selecting closely related kin.  In these militaries enlisted members are typically poorly trained, poorly outfitted and poorly cared-for conscripts upon whom the burden of being a soldier falls like a boot on the neck.  Pressed into service, these men will oppress as they are oppressed.

In contrast, American officers and enlisted come from all walks of life, all economic strata.  Dirt farmers and accountants flooded the beaches of Anzio and Okinawa.  Bankers and ranch hands stood in ranks at Appomattox. Physicists and roofers work together on the  tarmacs of Diego Garcia and the decks of frigates, destroyers and carriers all over the globe.  Their motives vary – being a serviceman is a better gig now than it was in Valley Forge, but every uniformed man and woman knows that it may come upon them to fight. American servicemen are well regarded by their fellow citizens.  We see them as our friends and families.  We idealize them as protectors of liberty.

My brother is a Marine, and I am very proud of him.  I have a Kevlar “pot” of his, and it reeks of the sweat from those hot theaters where he and his comrades close with the enemy.  He is smart and driven.   He would be a success in anything he chose to do, but he chose the life of low pay and grinding sacrifice in his beloved Corps for his beloved Country.  To him and the vets I have had the privilege to meet, service is a privilege and an honor.

Jefferson Barracks is home to a unit of the Missouri National Guard.  It is also the final resting place Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen, Coast Guardsmen and Merchant Mariners.  Many of them came home after America’s wars and the flag that draped their casket honored an old man or elderly woman whose end came long after their particular conflict ended.  Other flags envelop a hero lost in battle, a life cut short when they were the protective wall made flesh when harm threatened their people.

Others still are like Joe, and left part of their life in a distant mud hole.  Where his place in Jefferson Barracks will be is not yet known – and may it be unknown for many years –  but still he has already given much for his home, and he continues to give.

The gravestones of Jefferson Barracks are so white that on a day with any sun the sheen will hurt your eyes.  This is fitting in a sense, that this orderly stone garden where our protectors are laid would by its nature induce an American look for a moment, then look away in honor and reverence.

The Savior taught us that greater love has no man than that he lay down his life for his friends.  Memorial day is the day where we ought to commemorate not just the sacrifice, but the greater love of these men and women who carried arms and tended wounds  in our service . I find inspiration in the love they had for their comrades and their liberty.  My brother loves his men, Joe loved his fellow soldiers and continues to look out for their well-being to this day.  Both love their country in a way not many of us experience.  I am grateful for them because they have studied war so that my children can live in peace and freedom.  My Memorial Day prayer is that I can match their devotion to our country.

God bless you, Veterans. God rest the fallen.

Ed