if he were still in this plane of existence, my sweet poppo would be 105 today.
as much as i miss my dad, as much as i would love to sit with him, to talk with him, to be quiet with him, to hug him, under the circumstances that we find ourselves in this country at this time, i would have to say i am glad he is not here.
because my dad’s heart would be utterly broken.
my dad fought against all this. he fought for the freedom of this country. he fought against fascism and authoritarianism. he fought against cruelty. he fought for democracy.
my dad’s own freedom was stolen from him when he was taken prisoner of war in WWII, his army air corps b24 shot down over the ploesti oil fields, his fellow dedicated airmen parachuting out, taken into camps by bulgarian forces.
my dad persisted through all of it – his injuries, his solitary confinement, his fear.
my dad came home, back to the country he loved, the country for which he fought and sacrificed, the country with a democracy about which he was zealous, the country where he and my sweet momma would build their own family.
so if my dad were here now, he would be crushed by what is happening. he would be crushed by the evil and deliberate intentions now set in place. he would be crushed at how his country is being severed. he would be crushed that anyone – any one! – in his family would champion any of this horror. he would be crushed that his family – his very family – had broken apart because of that. he would be ravaged by utter sadness.
my dad would be unable to celebrate his big birthday.
because no chocolate ganache cake could make it all better.
my dad went missing-in-action in world war II when my mom was expecting their first child. she gave birth to a baby girl who died later the same day – still while my sweet poppo was missing-in-action.
later, my dad was declared a prisoner of war, held captive, shot down over the ploesti oil fields of romania, taken prisoner in bulgaria.
my dad – who would have been 104 last week – had enlisted in the army air corps of the united states because he was invested in protecting the world against the rise of fascism and its horrors. despite having a brand new bride, he risked his young life to push back against authoritarianism, never wavering, courageous and stalwart.
to think that anyone related to my dad would vote then for a fascism-dreaming candidate to be the president of this country would be a slap in the face of my father, a wave of the hand dismissing his time as a soldier, missing-in-action, as a prisoner of war.
my dad was the good. he participated in an effort that was necessary to keep our democracy, to help the world regain some solid footing, to expose the terrors of extremism.
and now, with absolutely no uncertainty, i will do my part. i will carry forward his good.
i am not on the front lines, fighting a war or in the throes of bombing or intense strife. but i am living in these united states- a country divided like no other time. i am sickened by what i see in the maga candidate, the maga agenda – the hatred, the bigotry, the propaganda – intentions borne of the extreme, of the self-serving, of all manner of prejudice.
i know – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that my dad and my mom are casting their votes for this election from the heavens above.
they are calling from that other plane – no, they are shouting from that other plane – “BE THE GOOD!!!” they implore us.
i will not turn my back on the sacrifices of my father, the terror my sweet dad experienced. it is with gratitude for his service to our country – and with gratitude for the service of all veterans – that i vote for the continued democracy of these united states.
“and you wonder where we’re going where’s the rhyme and where’s the reason and it’s you cannot accept it is here we must begin to seek the wisdom of the children and the graceful way of flowers in the wind“
when i was little my family took vacations at upstate new york state parks. we stayed in rough-hewn cabins where, at night, my sweet momma would warn us all to pull up the covers and she’d run around the cabin spraying raid everywhere. the mosquitos were ruthless but the fun was grand.
one summer both my brother and sister and their spouses and children vacationed as well. we all had cabins next to each other and explored the lake and the woods and surrounding towns. one of these towns had a county fair. so we went.
naturally, those traveling carnival rides were a part of the fair – the ones where they tear them down and put them back up, trailer them to the next venue day after day. as an adult i feel somewhat leery of those – always wondering if they had leftover reassembling bolts or when the last time was that they checked belts and such – but as a child, i don’t think i gave any of that a thought. i just believed in goodness and that all was well.
because i simply cannot do anything spinny, we went on the merry-go-round and then my dad convinced me to go on the ferris wheel. it seemed inordinately large and went high into the sky. we stood in line and then took our seats in the little cabin.
i was excited until we went around once. then they stopped the wheel at the top, loading other riders down at the bottom. i must have felt imperiled. i began to freak out.
my dad had this loud whistle – he could whistle perry como tunes as well, but this was a really loud whistle. he whistled his whistle and the attendant looked up. my poppo yelled down to stop the ride when we got there – we needed to get off. and so the attendant stopped the wheel and we disembarked.
i wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about wanting to stop and get off. not back then.
and i’m not the least bit embarrassed now about every now and again wanting to stop the world and get off. i feel like we all need some time off. quiet time. time out. time outta this world that has gone off the deep end. time away from feeling imperiled. a breather.
the last weeks – months, years, really – have been over the top. though you don’t know my whole list, we all know our whole list. it is not an exaggeration to say that we are imperiled. we are on the top of the ferris wheel and the attendants are not quite sure they installed all the bolts.
on these days – of too-much – we – d and i – do stop the world. we go for a hike in beautiful places. we sit on our deck with our dogga. we read together. we prepare and cook food. we appreciate the sun streaming in the windows, spilling onto our quilt. we find rhyme. we seek reason.
and, before you screech me to a halt – stopping the world and getting off is not the same as sticking your head in the sand. it’s simply a way to reassess. it’s a way to think and plan. it’s a way to evaluate what can be done about the ferris wheel. it’s a way to be able to come back to the trenches and get back to work. it’s a way to resupply the energy drain that reading the news exacerbates every single day.
i wonder where we’re going. i wonder what the rhyme and what the reason of the bigotry and division and marginalization and diminishing of rights and the barreling toward extremism and authoritarianism and downright meanness. i’m astounded and not astounded. remember, we don’t know each other’s stories.
i do know that if stopping it were as easy as having my poppo whistle from the top of the ferris wheel, he would do it. in a second. for he and my sweet momma would have nothing to do with the direction of all this. no. my dad was not missing-in-action and a POW in world war II to watch his beloved country heading toward the possibility of turning into THIS. THIS is what he fought *against*.
i’d imagine that as my mom and dad are watching from that other plane, they are also astounded. and not. for they are just as aware as you and me that there are just really evil people with inordinately evil ideas ready to pounce in unconscionably evil ways.
and i’d imagine that – yes, in the same way he looked after me on that day at the county fair – he wishes he really could just whistle and make the ferris wheel stop. he likely wishes that the world stop in suspended animation for a moment and then come back to its senses – to the place where the children and the flowers are actually from where we draw wisdom. to a place of goodness. to a place of rhyme and a place of reason.
my sweet poppo ended up in solitary confinement. shot down over the ploesti oil fields in romania, he was a WWII prisoner of war and was being held in a prison camp in bulgaria. he was courageously condemning the rat-eaten stale bread the prisoners were served, throwing it down, and he was hauled off to solitary confinement. after months of imprisonment my dad, along with others, was able to escape this POW camp and find his way to freedom. freedom.
each of us has our own freedom route, courage to summon up. i look at both of my children as they make their way in this world. they are courageously carving out their lives. they are scrappy and they make sacrifices to seek happiness and freedom from fear of any kind. my sweet poppo is cheering them on, both of them.
this calendar page hangs in the choir room. the words seemed particularly timely to us, for many reasons, on many levels. we looked up the person to which they were credited: thucydides. a studier of human nature, he: “also has been called the father of the school of political realism, which views the political behavior of individuals and the subsequent outcomes of relations between states as ultimately mediated by, and constructed upon, the emotions of fear and self-interest.”
we owe the freedom of our country to the veterans, like my sweet dad, who we honor today and to wise, thoughtful, inspired leaders of this country. we have much to be grateful for.
and yet. these savvy words of this ancient greek historian…”the emotions of fear and self-interest”. this is relevant.
my poppo sat in a prison camp cell representing a country fighting against leaders filled with self-interest and the indiscriminate propagation of fear and atrocities upon innocent people. his courage was buoyed by the courage of his fellow soldiers. my father was staunchly determined to put others’ needs first.
i fear what is happening in our country today would sadden him; his response would be that our leaders are not acting out of courage, not out of a rallying call for equitable independence of all, but instead, out of bullying and grandiose self-serving.
and i believe my sweet poppo would throw down the rat-eaten stale philosophy of this current government. with his great courage. in true freedom.
my poppo would sit in the chair and gaze out at the lake behind their house. in the house before that, he would sit out on the lanai and gaze at the pool. in previous houses, he had chairs or his workbench, where he would sit or stand and gaze, clearly thinking, thinking, thinking.
now, when you’ve gotten to 91, there’s plenty to think about, many memories, many stages of life, many ways the world has changed. my poppo was a POW in world war II, escaping and coming back at a time that PTSD had little to no attention given to it. the atrocities he had experienced were his alone to process, with the help of my sweet momma, if he felt that he could burden her with it. my parents lost a child, a little girl named barbara lynn, who would be my oldest sister – even older than my sister sharyn! – while my dad was still missing in action, a little person, a part of him, he never met. i know that as they established themselves as a family, there were challenges that befell them, joys that they cherished, times of much sorrow, small moments and large moments of laughter and goodness. plenty to think about.
i always wondered what my poppo was thinking about, quietly sitting or puttering. sometimes i would ask, but other times i would respect his quiet-ness. now that i am getting older, i find myself spending time quietly thinking. memories, moments, decisions, good things, sad things, questions, things that make me cringe, things that make me laugh aloud. i think about what’s coming up…what is planned, what will remain a mystery. i wonder. i give thanks. i pray. pondering is a good thing. it’s necessary.
each time now when i sit outside or inside curled in a chair and find myself just staring off into space, i can’t help but think about my daddy. and i kind of feel him right there, quietly staring with me. pondering.
reverse threading 