Happy Hour


Mother, Mother Ocean

Mother, Mother Ocean, I've heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You've seen it all, you've seen it all
Watched the men who rode you, switch from sails to steam
In your belly you hold the treasures, few have ever seen
Most of 'em dream, most of 'em dream
Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred year's too late
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin' to plunder
I'm an over-forty victim of fate
Arriving too late, arriving too late


"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is."
―Yoda, to Luke Skywalker

Counted the Stars

Counted the stars on the 4th of July
Wishing we were rockets bursting in the sky
Talking about redemption and leaving things behind
As the sun sinks west of the Mendocino county line

Psalm 107:

23They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;

24These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

From a friend of mine, for our Good Captain, Lex.

My Facebook friend and Lexican Kanani Fong thought this would be appropiate. 
Unfortunately, I was unable to read it...........mainly because I was having a bit of difficulty keeping it together.
I told Kanani this and said it would be posted here. 
The email is as it was sent. 
Many Thanks to Kanani

Glen. Am very sad I can't be there today. If you want to stop in at Fullerton on your way home, let me know.
Here's the poem I picked out for today. If you want, read it aloud in your best big voice at a pub for his friends. 
The Wild Swans at Coole
By William Butler Yeats

The trees are in their autumn beauty,   
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water   
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones   
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me   
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings   
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,   
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,   
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,   
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;   
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,   
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,   
Mysterious, beautiful;   
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day   
To find they have flown away?

Castle Argghhh! has a great post about it.
The big hat tip goes to Beth. Luv ya kid as if you were my own.


Kanani said...

Thank you Glenn! So glad you went!

ORPO1 said...

I do wish you could have been there. It was something.
Beth has a post at Castle Argghhh! that is truly awesome.
I am so going to miss Lex in the blogosphere and those other bloggers who I finally got to meet there.
Buck at Exile in Portales simply had his post simply titled Tears.....
Buck finished second in the Milbloggies Veteran Category to Lex last year.

ORPO1 said...

You are now on the blog roll here and at Among The Joshua Trees.

Buck said...

I'm glad you were there, Glenn, and I SO wish I could've been there as well. But I'm sharing the experience vicariously through you and others who have so graciously posted their thoughts about the memorial service.

I still can't get over the outpouring of grief and I'm not quite over my own feelings in this space. It's gonna be some time.

ORPO1 said...

Same here Buck. It may take some time to get used to no more Lex on a daily basis.

I will not go down and tell my children I didn't have the courage, the conviction, the commitment or the character to fight for this country...Don't go home and let your children down~~ LTC Allen West

Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus

‎"Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum.("Therefore, he who desires peace, let him prepare for war")" from "Epitoma Rei Militaris," by Vegetius (Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus)