Since the sound of the first shots being fired at sunrise on April 19, 1775, in Lexington, MA, through the present-day sounds of battle being heard in Afghanistan, there have been an estimated 1,314,000 Americans killed in combat in service to this Nation.
Think of it this way: Twenty-two miles driving distance from Lexington is Boston's Fenway Park, with a capacity of 39,600 people. Fenway would have to fill to capacity a total of 33 times to equal the number of American war dead in our history. Thirty-three times! It would have to sell out every day in May, plus June 1st and 2nd, with different people each day, to reach the 1.3 million total.
And that doesn't count the thousands upon thousands of wounded--physically and/or emotionally--who bled and suffered and came home changed forever. It doesn't count the grieving parents or the widowed spouses. It doesn't count the children left without a parent. It doesn't count the friends and classmates and teammates and unit buddies whose grief also adds to and pushes out those ripples of impact that spread far beyond the home address of the deceased. For every U.S. soldier, sailor, Marine, or airman who has fallen, for every white cross or Star of David in an American or foreign cemetery, many, many more have been touched.
Our fallen heroes are our collective loss. And, odd as it sounds, it is also our collective gain. We are free because of them. We can choose how we work, how we play, how we worship, whom we vote for, where we live, because of them. We have life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness in more than just the theoretical, because of them.
This weekend, when Old Glory snaps in the breeze, proudly displaying its radiant colors and soliciting emotions that tend to constrict one's throat and moisten one's eyes, when taps plays and drives its somber notes into the very deepest parts of us, think of them. And their families. And those who are in harm's way, still, in dangerous and far-away places.
But especially think of them.
All 1,314,000 of them.
They gave us all they had. They've honored us, and made us better. "The last full measure," as Mr. Lincoln so aptly spoke at Gettysburg.
Now we pause to honor them.
And to thank them. All of them. The thirty-three stadiums of them.
May they rest in peace, and may God bless.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
FAQs
Here are some of the frequently asked questions from readers, either directly or thru my website, that I've been asked concerning my book Shall Never See So Much:
Q - How did you come to choose the year 1968 as the setting for your story?
A - So much happened in 1968 that there was an unusually large number of events with major historical significance. Though my novel deals largely with the first half of 1968, the story still includes the large Tet Offensive in Vietnam, the growing anti-war movement at home, the decision of LBJ not to seek re-election as president, the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and the presidential-primary campaign and eventual assassination of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy.
Q - Why the choice of a brother and sister as the main characters?
A - Mostly, for balance. The story told via the point-of-view of a Marine brother in combat, and his estranged and politically active sister, seemed to offer such a conduit for portraying what was unquestionably a divisive, complex period.
Q - Did you serve in Vietnam?
A - No. I served as an artillery officer in the U.S. Marine Corps in the early Seventies, and certainly trained for combat in Vietnam, but I was not sent. I spent a year in Okinawa and mainland Japan as the regular Marine Corps units drew down from Vietnam.
Q - What do you want readers to come away with after reading your book?
A - If the reader is old enough to have lived through the period covered, then I hope he/she enjoys the trip back in time. If the reader was born after the period covered, then I hope he/she gets a sense of the times--the cultural and political divide, the war, the momentous events, and the courage and spirit of Americans doing what they thought was right. In the end, though, it's my hope that the reader is entertained with a good story and compelling characters.
Q - Do you have another novel planned after Shall Never See So Much?
A - Yes. It's a business novel . . . and I'll leave it at that for now.
Q - How did you come to choose the year 1968 as the setting for your story?
A - So much happened in 1968 that there was an unusually large number of events with major historical significance. Though my novel deals largely with the first half of 1968, the story still includes the large Tet Offensive in Vietnam, the growing anti-war movement at home, the decision of LBJ not to seek re-election as president, the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and the presidential-primary campaign and eventual assassination of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy.
Q - Why the choice of a brother and sister as the main characters?
A - Mostly, for balance. The story told via the point-of-view of a Marine brother in combat, and his estranged and politically active sister, seemed to offer such a conduit for portraying what was unquestionably a divisive, complex period.
Q - Did you serve in Vietnam?
A - No. I served as an artillery officer in the U.S. Marine Corps in the early Seventies, and certainly trained for combat in Vietnam, but I was not sent. I spent a year in Okinawa and mainland Japan as the regular Marine Corps units drew down from Vietnam.
Q - What do you want readers to come away with after reading your book?
A - If the reader is old enough to have lived through the period covered, then I hope he/she enjoys the trip back in time. If the reader was born after the period covered, then I hope he/she gets a sense of the times--the cultural and political divide, the war, the momentous events, and the courage and spirit of Americans doing what they thought was right. In the end, though, it's my hope that the reader is entertained with a good story and compelling characters.
Q - Do you have another novel planned after Shall Never See So Much?
A - Yes. It's a business novel . . . and I'll leave it at that for now.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Robert F. Kennedy And His Unfulfilled Potential
June 6, 2010, will mark the 42nd anniversary of the death of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy. Kennedy died of wounds from an assassin's bullets the morning after his victory in the California Democratic primary in his quest for the presidency in 1968.
He was only 42-years-old at the time of his death.
Bobby Kennedy remains a compelling figure in contemporary American history, arguably as much for what might have been than what he actually left as a political legacy. His years as Attorney General--for most of that time during his brother John's presidency--were not without significance during the early Civil Rights period, the fight against organized crime, and the Cuban Missile Crisis. Afterward, his election to the U.S. Senate from the State of New York, and his eventual opposition to the Vietnam War, propelled RFK into the national limelight as a likely presidential aspirant. But it was when Kennedy's life suddenly ended while closing in on what may have been an eventual national-election showdown with Richard Nixon, that left millions of Americans wondering what had been lost.
While the figure of Robert F. Kennedy has appeared over the years in fictionalized films and books, I feature Kennedy's final campaign in my new historical novel Shall Never See So Much. RFK is seen through the eyes of Kate Flanagan, who accepts a position on Kennedy's staff and thereafter participates in the Indiana, Oregon, and California primaries.
Kate is present at L.A.'s Ambassador Hotel on the June night when the campaign tragically expires with its candidate.
Shall Never See So Much takes the reader through the first six months of 1968. Kate Flanagan's brother, Tom, is a young Marine officer serving in Vietnam. Their relationship is strained over their differences concerning the war and the growing national divisiveness surrounding it. Kate sees Kennedy's hesitation to enter into the '68 presidential fray, and the lack of unanimity even among his closest advisers. She later sees how RFK gets in it to win, Kennedy-style, once the decision is finally made. And she is among the many left aching and dumbfounded at the end.
While my novel Shall Never See So Much was not specifically written as a commemoration of Robert Kennedy, it does seem to raise the question, "What if?"
He was only 42-years-old at the time of his death.
Bobby Kennedy remains a compelling figure in contemporary American history, arguably as much for what might have been than what he actually left as a political legacy. His years as Attorney General--for most of that time during his brother John's presidency--were not without significance during the early Civil Rights period, the fight against organized crime, and the Cuban Missile Crisis. Afterward, his election to the U.S. Senate from the State of New York, and his eventual opposition to the Vietnam War, propelled RFK into the national limelight as a likely presidential aspirant. But it was when Kennedy's life suddenly ended while closing in on what may have been an eventual national-election showdown with Richard Nixon, that left millions of Americans wondering what had been lost.
While the figure of Robert F. Kennedy has appeared over the years in fictionalized films and books, I feature Kennedy's final campaign in my new historical novel Shall Never See So Much. RFK is seen through the eyes of Kate Flanagan, who accepts a position on Kennedy's staff and thereafter participates in the Indiana, Oregon, and California primaries.
Kate is present at L.A.'s Ambassador Hotel on the June night when the campaign tragically expires with its candidate.
Shall Never See So Much takes the reader through the first six months of 1968. Kate Flanagan's brother, Tom, is a young Marine officer serving in Vietnam. Their relationship is strained over their differences concerning the war and the growing national divisiveness surrounding it. Kate sees Kennedy's hesitation to enter into the '68 presidential fray, and the lack of unanimity even among his closest advisers. She later sees how RFK gets in it to win, Kennedy-style, once the decision is finally made. And she is among the many left aching and dumbfounded at the end.
While my novel Shall Never See So Much was not specifically written as a commemoration of Robert Kennedy, it does seem to raise the question, "What if?"
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