For Veteran's Day

(Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

                         

For Veteran's Day, two memorial poems. One by British poet John McCrae and the other by American poet Walt Whitman.

After World War I, November 11 became known as Remembrance Day in Europe, commemorating the end of the war “on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.” 

Red poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War I. Their bright red color came to symbolize the blood spilt in war, and the poppy became the emblem of Remembrance Day because of the poem In Flanders Fields.

In Flanders Fields

By John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. 

       

                                   *         *         *         *         *         *

During the American Civil War Walt Whitman volunteered as a nurse in army hospitals. He also made visits to the wounded and read the newspaper, literature, and poetry to the young men which many found more comforting that visits from chaplains. The war inspired many poems from Whitman, and he was obviously deeply moved by the conflict within his country.

         Old War Dreams

By Walt Whitman

In midnight sleep of many a face of anguish,
Of the look at first of the mortally wounded, (of that indescribable look,)
Of the dead on their backs with arms extended wide,
I dream, I dream, I dream.

Of scenes of Nature, fields and mountains,
Of skies so beauteous after a storm, and at night the moon so
unearthly bright,
Shining sweetly, shining down, where we dig the trenches and
gather the heaps,
I dream, I dream, I dream.

Long have they pass'd, faces and trenches and fields,
Where through the carnage I moved with a callous composure, or away
from the fallen,
Onward I sped at the time--but now of their forms at night,
I dream, I dream, I dream.

The Case of Penn State and Joe Paterno

It keeps happening. In the news we hear of yet another case of child molestation. This time it is not a case of Vatican-sanctioned cover-up, but it is the same old story of an old boys club that seems to think that its own Very Important Business is best preserved by keeping quite about abuse. Of course, today's story comes from the holy magisterium of college football, and involves the firing of the great Penn State football coach, Joe Paterno.

Some say Paterno did what was legally required in reporting what he knew to let others deal with it, others say that it was a moral failure that nothing else was done. Some are hailing Penn State's decision to fire the coach as an great moral decision on the part of the university, while others explain that the university is only protecting is vast financial interests in the football industry. One more sacrifice offered to keep their power in the game.

Old Boys Club, economic and institutional power, protection of corporate interests – these are a familiar and recurring theme as cases of child sexual abuse continue to come to light. It is shocking and embarrassing to hear of these things, and it is an outrage that these abuses occur within our society. If there is any silver lining that I can see it is the fact that were are much more aware as a society that these abuses should not occur.

I wrote the following poem in 2002, after being troubled by increasing reports of sexual abuse of children by clergy. I first posted it on my blog on January 29, 2010. I stated then that my consolation was "at least now we are aware of the problem and are calling people to account. In many ways, we are progressing in areas of ethics, enlightenment and compassion." I present the poem again today in the hope that we will continue to try to do better in moving toward a society that works and a public consciousness that protects its vulnerable citizens.
      

Slowly God Arises

And slowly God arises

Arising, God turns

Pulling up tent stakes,

Cracking the foundation

And loosening the ties

Of a stagnant civilization.

One turn showed us not to enslave.

Another turn gave honor to women.

Yet another turn showed us

Not to send our children to factories and fields,

   forfeiting their lives for illicit capital gain.

Now the turn shows us

To respect our children

And to protect them from harm.

And slowly God arises

Until a new awareness comes;

An awareness that children have been crippled

By the abusive actions of people we trusted.

No longer can we tolerate such abuse.

Slowly God arises.

Arising, God turns;

Cracking the foundation of tradition,

Breaking the bonds that held us.

With each turn

We are astounded.

Why did we not see this before?

How could we have let this happen?

Yet with each turn

We see that we cannot go back.

Astounded by sight

Loosed by light,

We walk at a new level

As slowly God arises

And rising, God turns.

The church did not show us.

Governments never called for justice

Until sight came upon the people

And scattered throughout the land.

"Just as the lightening comes from the east

    and flashes into the west..."

But none can stop the rising

And the turning of a new day.

And slowly God arises.

Arising, God turns

Carrying the pain and the hope

Of broken bonds and shattered illusions.

Arising, God turns

To present us with the challenge of a new day,

To walk on a different level.

We are astounded by sight

And loosed by light

As slowly God arises.

                               ~ Charles Kinnaird

A Bit of Authentic Music

"I went to Nashville to learn to write country music. When I finally learned how to write it, they stopped recording it."

                             ~ Pat Terry

I tend to take music in spells. A while back I was listening to jazz.  Before that I was into classical sacred music, then is was folk (it is often folk). We keep a radio on in the back of the house where our dogs are so they will have some stimulation when we are out of the house. We used to keep their radio on NPR, then my wife read some research demonstrating that dogs are most content with rock, so now we have the radio tuned to classic rock, which I've enjoyed when I'm at home with the dogs.

The music I am into now when I'm driving is country. That doesn't happen often but it does on occasion. I love the authentic music you hear on the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band anthology albums and on blue grass recordings. What I've found this week is authentic music from Emmylou Harris and Rosanne Cash.  I began to get a taste for it again when I heard Pat Terry in a local concert at Moonlight on the Mountain. Then when browsing the record shop, I came across a CD of Emmylou Harris called Duets.  Emmylou Harris definitely does authentic music, and this recording is one I have enjoyed. It includes previously recorded material she has sung with other artists. One such song is "Green Pastures" in which a young Ricky Skaggs accompanied her from her pivotal album, Roses in the Snow. That album was the one where she firmly planted herself in the bluegrass tradition. Other memorable songs include, "Love Hurts," with Gram Parsons; "That Lovin' You Feelin' Again," with Roy Orbison and "Gulf Coast Highway," with Willie Nelson.

Listening to Emmylou Harris reminded me that I have been wanting to hear Rosanne Cash's The List.  I drove by the public library and found that CD to borrow. If you don't know, "the list" refers to a handwritten list from her father, Johnny Cash, of the 100 songs that she needed to know if she wanted to know anything about country music. Rosanne Cash mentions in the liner notes that at the time she was a teenager oriented mostly to the pop hits on the radio. Thankfully, she kept that list from her dad and recorded 12 of the songs from that list of 100. If you listen to The List you will hear some truly authentic country music – the kind that  Pat Terry half-jokingly says they stopped recording about the time he learned to write it. It's music that speaks to the heart and tells of the hardships and realities of life.

Here's a track off  The List to give you a sample of the music: