A Presidential Visit

President Barack Obama visited my city, Atlanta, today. He gave a speech at a downtown hotel to the Disabled Veterans of America. His address spanned several topics, to include updates on the efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan. And, of course, there was the requisite political posturing that comes with any presidential appearance.

With regard to politics and positions, I don't have enough in common with this president's policies to fill up a thimble. He's on one end; I'm on the other. And we'll stay that way, I'm quite certain.

But today the president struck the right tone and chose the right words to express his admiration for America's veterans, especially those who have been disabled by their service in war. President Obama was respectful and appreciative, and more than once he underscored his commitment to take care of the men and women who have served and suffered in taking care of this nation.

Some issues transcend politics, and the care of America's disabled veterans is clearly one of those. I got the distinct impression today that the president understands that. I can only speak for myself--a healthy, non-disabled vet--but I'm glad President Obama gave a salute to the many thousands of wounded and disabled veterans of this nation. And I'm glad he came to my city to do it.

I return the salute, Mister President.

Where Are The Heroes?

Do we live in a society that no longer has heroes? Have we become so indifferent and cynical that men and women doing heroic things are seldom reported and hardly noticed, and consequently never celebrated or emulated? Are we too sophisticated to become caught up in something as yesterday as a hero?

And if so, where did our heroes go?

Admittedly, it's a stretch to find public officials nowadays whose behavior could be considered heroic. If anything, based upon the sheer number of ethics complaints and court proceedings, the opposite is often more descriptive. Our Hollywood celebrity culture provides an endless supply of beautiful but shallow, egocentric, sparsely talented individuals who provide us with an entertainment outlet not just with their "craft," but also with their antics and opinions.

The sporting world has become so soiled with cheating, pampered, self-absorbed athletes and coaches, and so driven by college and professional organizations that devalue longstanding virtues like loyalty and integrity, that past sports giants like Tom Landry and Vince Lombardi would likely be filled with disgust. And the corporate world has recently had more than its share of arrogant industry titans who have lied, bilked, and bullied their way to lifetime riches with an astonishing amount of collateral damage to their companies, customers, and shareholders.

There have been six Medals of Honor awarded to American servicemen during the course of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. How many Americans have seen television or print media coverage of these men? How many Americans know the names of all six? Or perhaps just one? And is this confirmation that we no longer have any heroes?

No. We still have heroes. The skill and calmness of U.S. Airways pilot Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger who, with an airplane full of crew and passengers, landed the stricken jetliner safely in the Hudson River, captivated the nation. We will never forget the incomprehensible bravery of the FDNY firefighters as they climbed the smoke-filled stairwells of the World Trade Center towers on September 11, 2001. The outpouring of goodwill toward New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees was as much about his efforts in offering a helping hand to a still-reeling post-Katrina community as it was his Super Bowl victory.

Americans still pull their fellow citizens from rain-swollen rivers. Single moms hold jobs and raise kids and sometimes even manage to go back to school. Cancer victims fight back against their disease, often against overwhelming odds, and still make contributions to their communities or companies or churches. They are heroes, all. We are still a nation that needs its heroes, even without the high profile, to provide us with examples to follow, to cause us to remember our past, to give us reason for hope and encouragement.

And we still have men and women in uniform who are as heroic as any previous generation. By the way, the following Medal of Honor awardees are genuine American heroes:

SFC Paul R. Smith, U.S. Army (posthumous) - Iraq
CPL Jason L. Dunham, U.S. Marine Corps (posthumous) - Iraq
LT Michael P. Murphy, U.S. Navy (posthumous) - Afghanistan
Petty Officer Michael A. Monsoor, U.S. Navy (posthumous) - Iraq
PFC Ross A. McGinnis, U.S. Army (posthumous) - Iraq
SFC Jared C. Monti, U.S. Army (posthumous) - Afghanistan

With gratitude. May they Rest in Peace.

Public Confidence

I saw a recent Gallup Poll that rated the American public's confidence in a number of institutions. The question, specifically, was tell me how much confidence you, yourself have in each of these institutions.

Overall, the military showed a positive score of 82%, the highest among all categories. Small business was a distant second at 67%. Following, only the police (59%), the church (52%), and the presidency (51%) were above 50%. Public schools came in at 38%. Television news was rated at 23%, banks at 22%, and HMOs at 18%. Congress and big business were the lowest at 17% and 16%, respectively.

Is the American public losing confidence in many of its longstanding institutions? And is that loss of confidence justified?

The answer to both questions is, in my opinion, yes. Network television news is shedding viewers in much the same manner as a theater would shed moviegoers if someone entered and shouted, "Hijacked plane circling overhead." Dealing with banks and HMOs is rarely joyful, even when you finally get past the "If you'd like to hear this in English, press 1 now" to start your long wait. And what about Congress? Their rating seems a bit charitable, actually. In general the more the public sees of its elected officials, the more repulsed it becomes. With big business, some of the sharks who run (or did run) several of the major corporations have created far more misery than "value" in the past several years. They loved Bush, then they hated him. Then they loved Obama, now they hate him. Their great skill is in creating astonishing wealth for themselves, and not much else beyond sniffing the rumps of the political class. Isn't that a lovely image?

So why does the military hold such high confidence? The uniformed services are hardly without blemish, and plenty of politically driven rump-sniffers can be found in this institution, as well. Why the elevated trust on the part of the public?


It has something to do with the stakes. The American people understand that military men and women put their lives on the line as a matter of routine. The American people respect courage and sacrifice; professional skill and competence have always been admired by Americans. The public hurts when a flag-draped coffin returns one of our young fallen warriors. My own experience tells me that the Marine officers with whom I served were the most talented, dedicated, unselfish people I've ever known. I sincerely doubt that much has changed there.

The U.S. military has served our Republic well, and has earned the respect of our nation by having paid a considerable price in human life. What do the other institutions have at stake? A pension? A legacy? Enhanced profitability and cash flow?

It seems to me that in this survey, as in most other matters, the American people got it about right.

Independence Day

Not long ago I read David McCullough’s wonderful books John Adams and 1776. In each of those great works, there was an emphasis on what would have happened to those early American statesmen had the Revolution failed. Names like Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Hamilton, Franklin, Webster, and Adams. It’s foregone that those men would have been arrested, tried and most probably hanged, and left to become little more than footnotes in British history about how the colonial uprising had been subdued, and how the Empire had gloriously prevailed.

But the Revolution didn’t fail.

Those brave statesmen who staked their lives, their fortunes, and the lives of their families on an outcome that was far from certain, somehow crafted an amazing political and military victory over a numerically superior, battle-hardened, and eventually ruthless foe. Against all odds, those early Americans won with guile, perseverance, courage, and a deep belief that what they were risking would be worth the cost required. We had on our side the genius of Jefferson, the wisdom of Adams, the generalship of Washington, and the common men who left their homes and farms, who braved cold, hunger, and scarcity, and who valiantly fought the battles on their way to becoming uncommon men. Thank God Almighty for those people, for without them we’d be . . .

Well, the Revolution didn’t fail.

Ours isn’t a perfect union; far from it. And nowadays it’s a stretch to look at our elected representatives and find among them the same grit and fiber of the sort that won our national independence. Maybe it’s just me, but if tomorrow the Redcoats were bearing down on Washington, D.C. and our current elected officials were in charge, our newscasts would soon enough switch from CNN to BBC. Maybe that’s an unfair characterization. Maybe there really are stately men and women governing our nation. Maybe. Look for one the next time there’s a televised congressional hearing. Or another disaster in Louisiana. Again, ours isn’t a perfect union.

The good news is that the Revolution didn’t fail.

And we should remember that, always. Thomas Jefferson and John Adams died within hours of one another on July 4, 1826. We know how history has judged them. How will history judge us in 200 years?

Memorial Day, 2010

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.

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.

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?"