Commentary on Ascension Day Observance

My dear reader, for any of you that are procrastinators (like yours truly), and never got around to sending Easter cards to those near (and not so dear) to you that honor the day, fear not; it's not too late for you to send a card to express your thoughts (and hopefully you will choose ones from the selections in the store-front of my web-site for such purposes) because we are still in the Easter Season, and will be until Sunday, June 12th, 2011, when the Feast of Pentecost will close the Easter Season. Meanwhile, today is Ascension Day, one of the feasts of the Easter Season. The observance of Ascension Day dates back to the latter part of the fourth century.
It commemorates Jesus's ascension into heaven, which is identified as one of the "glorious mysteries", and this event has been the subject of many celebrated paintings including a work of Rembrandt's completed in 1636 titled, The Ascension, which can be seen in the screen shot above this blog post (further information relating to this image can be found by clicking here).



The celebration of The Ascension is ecumenical;, therefore, it is a well known feast day, and it has always occurred forty days after Easter, which means it always falls on a Thursday. However, for a number of years now, Canadian Catholics, have celebrated The Ascension on the Seventh Sunday of Easter. Additionally, a number of dioceses in the United States have opted to roll Ascension Day over from its "traditional Thursday" to the Seventh Sunday of Easter. This move is not unlike what has happened to The Feast of the Epiphany, a day that historically was celebrated on January 6th (also known as the Twelfth Day of Christmas), but has been moved to the first Sunday after Christmas, which means if Christmas falls on a Saturday,The Feast of the Epiphany is the day after Christmas! As you may recall,  dear reader, the moving of the Epiphany celebration is something I wrote about towards the onset of 2011, and if you would like to refer to what I said, please click here as well as here and here.


The moving of religious celebrations and national holidays is not uncommon (I just addressed this issue a few days ago when I blogged about the moving of Memorial Day from May 30th to the last Monday in May), but the question remains if moving observances for the sake of convenience will make folks lose respect for the initial intent of the given day. 

Monday Morning Musings: Reflections on Thee "Official" Memorial Day

The photograph posted above, which was taken in the northwest corner of  my urban terrace garden, features a few of my Roses — mugging a shot of my Rosmarinus officinalis (Rosemary), is quite apropos for this blog posting, because today is "officially" Memorial Day, and  roses are often laid at graves, while Rosmarinus officinalis, is the herb that signifies remembrance (as discussed in a prior posting on this blog which you may read by clicking here). In my blog entry this past Saturday, I wrote about the fact that the 30th of May, was initially set aside for observing Memorial Day, and, I  pointed out that it is now celebrated on the last Monday in May, which this year is indeed May 30th. However, next year, Memorial Day, will be celebrated on May 28th 2012, which may bring back the perhaps much needed rhetoric to help re-educate and remind Americans of the true meaning of this solemn day. Details about these efforts can be found by clicking here.


As a child, I was very sensitive to the solemnity of Memorial Day, having had a father who served in the war, and, therefore, I was thrilled at the prospect to be able to participate in the Memorial Day Parade which marched down Main Street in my hometown. My being allowed to participate in the parade was due to the fact that I was a Brownie, and my troop, because of our service to the community, had been invited to join the commemoration of the solemn day.
My accounting of that experience is the following vignette extrapolated from my book, which tells about the consequences of growing up with legal blindness and Neurofibromatosis in the context of the 1960s and 1970s. It is written in a child's voice. (This book was referred to in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here.)


This is the vignette: "Because I am nearly seven years old, I'm able to join the local Brownie troop. I like my pale brown scout uniform and dark-chocolate-colored cap with an orange design of a Brownie printed on it. Once at a troop meeting I made a papier-mâché puppet and gave it to the Children's Hospital in Chicago. I wanted to give it to them because, after watching President Kennedy's speech at the beginning of this year and hearing his words, 'Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country,' I wanted to do something.


Soon after hearing the speech and sending in my puppet, I was notified that my puppet had been chosen to be on The Lee Philip Show, a program that airs during the daytime. The news of my being chosen seems to worry my mother as she expresses to me that she thinks the other children who created puppets will be upset that their handmade toys were not selected. I had thought she'd be pleased for me, but sometimes she acts like it is wrong to succeed.


I have a lot of badges for arts and crafts and am excited about marching in the Memorial Day Parade. After I put on the sash with all the badges I earned, my mother comes into my room with a yellow cardigan sweater and says I must wear it so I don't catch cold. Maybe she thinks it is wrong that I have so many badges and wants me to cover them. Still, I point out to her that it is a nice sunny day and that I am unlikely to get sick by not wearing a sweater. Unfortunately she won't listen. Instead, she shouts at me, insisting that if i want to march in the parade, I have to wear it. I want to cry because my badges won't show if I wear the sweater. For a moment, I daydream about arriving at the parade and setting the sweater on a bench. Then, I imagine marching down Main Street, with people ooh-ing and ah-ing at my badges. In the end though, I wear the dumb sweater because my mother is a troop leader, She will be marching too and I don't want her to hit me. All the girls in my troop laugh at me as we get ready for the procession. They mock me saying that I am a big baby because I have to wear a sweater.


The next morning my mother wakes me up at six o'clock. She is holding a small, round gray suitcase and tells me that I have to go to the hospital to get my tonsils removed.'The operation is the reason I had you wear a sweater in the parade,' she tells me. Even though there had been no clouds in the sky and the temperature had been over eighty degrees yesterday morning, my mother insists that she, 'hadn't wanted me to catch a chill because the procedure would've been canceled.'


I realize that she meant well, but I still think she should have told me about the operation before the parade so I could have explained why I had to wear the sweater to the girls in the troop. They probably would have thought I was cool. Instead, they said I was  baby.


As we pack my suitcase for me to take to the hospital, my mother tells me that she needs to stay home with my sisters, so it is my father who takes me to the hospital. When I arrive, I notice that the girl in my room has one of the plant holders that I had made in a Brownie meeting. It is sitting on her nightstand, and I want to tell her that I made it, but I am afraid  that my father will think I'm bragging.


The next thing I remember is waking up in a room of bright lights with people standing around wearing aqua-colored clothes. When I sit up, a nurse pushes me back down on the operating table, screams at me, saying that I woke up too soon. I open my mouth to apologize, but instead, I throw up blood."


I admit dear reader, that this might be TMI for a blog entry, but on the other hand, I hope it gives voice to those who had a similar experience either as a child wanting so much to be accepted, or gives consolation to a mother trying to make the right choices. Upon reflection, it looks like I was more interested in having folks who watched the parade see my badges than I was in being reverent to the solemn day, a consequence of being almost seven years old, I suppose.


Nonetheless, war, and the despair that it invoked, was a big part of my life. I was in high school in the 1970s, and I suppose some of my peers feared being drafted to serve in the Vietnam War. I say "suppose" because I did not share my feelings about anything with anyone during those years, but, I do recall having a crush on Hamil Miller, a fellow student in Creative Writing class who  wrote the following piece of fiction about the Vietnam War.  


 "The shrill sound of the buzzer signified the end of the basketball game. It also meant that our high school had won its final game of the season. The locker room was like a mad house. Everybody was jumping up and down and hugging each other. Having won was especially great for me and a few other members of the team, because we were the seniors and it was our last game together.
Two of my friends who felt the same way as I about having won were Paul and Steve, We did everything together. So joining the army all at the same time seemed very logical to us. In fact just joining the army seemed very logical since the United States was involved with Vietnam.


All three of us had always been Gung-Ho about the Army. There had never been a doubt in my mind that we would all join upon graduating from high school. I remember that we used to make fun of long-haired or even short-haired kids at school when they would march in war moratoriums. It just never occurred to us to think if war was right or wrong. I can now admit that my friends and I were what is commonly known as jocks. A jock is a term applied to people that are Gung-Ho about anything and everything whether it is right or wrong.  I find it very easy to call myself and my friends jocks. I think it fits our actions perfectly. It's just a shame that my friends cannot be here today to experience my realization. Both of my friends are dead now. Friends that I did everything with as a kid. They were killed in Vietnam.


Paul was killed by an enemy he never saw or knew. He stepped on a booby trap which blew him apart. Steve was shot through the head while climbing from a helicopter to invade a small village which came back under Communist control the very next day.


I am a bit luckier than my late friends or am I?  I have been laid up in a hospital bed for six months now and am missing only half of my intestinal tract. My injury being due to a hot piece of shrapnel that came screaming into my stomach. I wonder if it would have been better to have been killed with my friends than to feel this great bitterness I have. At least if I had died I would not know that they and many others had died fighting a senseless war which does not even threaten our own shores.


Yes, my friends and I went to war under false pretenses. We thought that it would be a simple game. War is a game — a game that cost lives to play. The lives are usually spent by very narrow minded men behind desks. I know now as most men that men that go off to war expecting a game to be simply played, that there are no locker room celebrations."


Hamil Miller, the author of this essay, died in a horrific car crash soon after turning in his assignment. Hamil Miller was a high school senior (and I was a high school sophomore at the time). Hamil was the object of many school-girl "crushes" — including one from yours truly. Our devastated Creative Writing  teacher, in an effort to console us students, mimeographed copies of Hamil's last essay, and this essay, along with my P.O.W. Bracelet  bearing the name Major Ernest Olds (which I wrote about this past Saturday), are the only things I've kept from those school girl days.


I have kept the P.O.W. Bracelet because of my reverence to the cause, and, I've kept the essay because I had thought it would be nice to write about it one day, and now I finally am; on this solemn day, when we not only honor those who lost their lives in war, but, also recall all of those deeply affected by the devastation of war. Therefore, dear reader, once again, I will recall a José Narosky's quote mentioned in my Veteran's Day blog entry, "In war, there are no unwounded soldiers".

Honoring Major Ernest Olds with Reflections on Mustard Seeds and P.O.W. Bracelets

I am not a collector of material things per se; that is, I do not hold on to many things that I don't need, other than emotional scars, which I confess I mull over far too much before I let them go. However, as far as letting go of material things, I am glad that I've kept this amber candy dish (pictured in the photograph posted above this blog entry), which belonged to my maternal grandmother, Clara May Fitchie Melahn, who died in 1987, shortly before what would have been her 87th birthday.
My grandmother always hated the fact that she was born in 1900, "because," she said, "it was too easy for folks to calculate her age".

I was living in New York City, in New York State, when she died at her home, in West Dundee, Illinois, and the miles between the two states were unnoticed by me, as I felt her presence constantly, though I am not so sure that she realized this, which at times breaks my heart, for my grandmother was near and dear to me always. And so I keep her beloved amber candy dish on my book shelf which stands behind my bed,

and I have filled the dish with mustard seeds and a bracelet. The bracelet is a P.O.W. Bracelet, and that fact brings me to to the "reason" for today's post, which folks that are in the field of marketing may consider to be a bit off topic. However, I have "covered" myself on this issue, by my "disclaimer" set out in the 'About' field of this blog (which can be found in the first "box" on the left panel of this blog), where I have informed my readers that, in addition to my "mainstay" posts about my terrace garden and my work as a photo-artist,"sometimes I reflect on current events, or discuss what people that currently influence me are doing (as well as people that have had an influence on me from their place in history"). And you, dear reader, if you have been following this blog regularly, most likely know this to be true — as evident in my blog entries on a variety of  historical events, including posts about prominent figures such as Steve Jobs, the renowned Apple C.E.O., and the deaths of Presidents John F. Kennedy and Abrahamn Lincoln; as well the deaths of Arthur Miller and Sidney Lumet — whose paths I crossed when I did some work as an actress. In any event, today's post, in the middle of Memorial Day weekend is in honor of Major Ernest Olds, the name of someone who served in the Vietnam War, and the name which is engraved on the P.O.W. Bracelet (pictured below).

I keep it in my departed grandmother's amber candy dish which is filled with mustard seeds.  The date, 3-11-68, which is engraved below his name, is all the information I have regarding Major Ernest Olds, and it is the date, I was told by Tim McName (the the guy who sold me this bracelet in 1972), that Major Ernest Olds was presumed to be missing in action.


McNamee worked as a cook in the same restaurant where I worked as a busgirl back in my high school years, and, he told me that the income earned from the sales of these bracelets went towards efforts to rescue prisoners of the Vietnam War. Although, McNamee was able to beat the draft, he died in action when he was murdered while visiting a client that he represented as an attorney. (Details about McNamee's murder can be found by clicking here.)


While I learned the fate of McNamee in 1987, for years and years I have continued to research the whereabouts of Major Ernest Olds, but I have been unable to find out anything about what happened to him, and I am plagued with questions. Had he been held captive as a prisoner of war? If so, was he rescued? Or did he die fighting in the Vietnam War, and if that is the case, did he receive a proper burial? If he survived the war, did he sustain long term physical injuries? If any of you, dear readers, know how I might ever find out what happened to him, please advise me. It is still not impossible to find out about the fate of  Major Ernest Olds, even though the date imprinted on the P.O.W. Bracelet bearing his name reads 3-11-68.


I have faith, though it  be often only the size of one single mustard seed, that perhaps Major Ernest Olds survived. In my continued efforts to find out about Major Ernest Olds' fate, I came across a moving story about a woman named Kathy Strong, who received a P.O.W. Bracelet bearing the name James Moreland, in 1972, when she was twelve, and, she still remembers watching footage"of soldiers coming off planes" in hopes that her Green Beret would be among those returning home but that was not to be the case.


According to the story (which you may read in full by clicking here), Moreland's sisters who are the"closest surviving relatives" of the Green Beret, James Moreland, received word this past January, that "their brother's remains had been found and identified", and, James Moreland will be buried between his mother and father after a full military funeral this Memorial Day. "Strong says she is going to remove the bracelet and have it buried with him."


My bracelet, as I've said, still remains immersed in mustard seeds. This is because it is much too large for my small wrists, and I do not want it to slip off after having it all these years, but  in no way have I forgotten about Major Ernest Olds . 


As for the story of Kathy Strong, the author of the story which accounts her experience has also observed, that regarding P.O.W. Bracelets,"they eventually went the way of the Pet Rock . . . "; therefore, now, with Memorial Day having been moved by Congress in 1971 as per the National Holiday Act of 1971, it too seems to be going the way of the Pet Rock (Don't know what a Pet Rock is? See my post from earlier this yer by clicking here.) Consequently, the result of moving Memorial Day in this way has made it all the easier to be distracted from the spirit and meaning of the day. As the V.F.W. stated in 2002 (in their Memorial Day address),"Changing the date merely to create three-day weekends has undermined  the very meaning of the day. No doubt, this has contributed greatly to the general public's nonchalant observance of Memorial Day".

This Yellow Rose (Associated with Texas) Is In "A New York State of Mind"

Hello, allow me to introduce myself, although the bush that I am thriving on at the moment, has been in Youngquist's New York City terrace garden for a number of years. I am one of the newer flowers on this bush, and, therefore, I am one the latest arrivals on Youngquist's terrace.
Youngquist, as you may know, is the blogger for The Last Leaf Gardener, which, if you have been following, dear reader, you have undoubtedly noticed it is a blog, where occasionally Youngquist puts down her Mac Book Pro, and lets us herbs, vines, plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees, put in our two cents about urban garden life. Case in point: the posts authored by Youngquist's Tulipia (Tulips) that voiced its thoughts in blog entries that you can read by clicking here and here  as well as the blog entry authored by her Physocarpus opulisosos (Coppertina Tree) which can be found by clicking here.

This "business" of allowing the flowers to post goes back to the first spring season of the onset of Youngquist's blog, when in April, 2010, her Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony), posted a shy introduction to herself, which you can check out by clicking here. It paid off for the Paeonia suffruiticosa to do this because, not only was the  Paeonia suffruiticosa subsequently featured in seventeen blog posts (which you can read by going to the labels menu that can be found on the left side of this page and click on  Paeonia suffruiticosa), it was also ultimately featured as the "cover girl"in a solo shot in a photograph that appears on the Welcome Page of Youngquist's on-line brochure and the Paeonia suffruiticosa was also chosen to be featured on the prominent back page of her downloadable brochure! That is prime real estate for the Paeonia suffruiticosa because those venues are where Youngquist showcases her line of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and her greeting cards that are about more than communication. Most of these items are based on images inspired from this terrace garden, and she sells them in the store-front of her web-site. I am hoping that she will include me in some of these images soon, but for now I am consoled by the fact that she is currently making her second  movie about her urban terrace garden, and I will be featured  in it! Please continue to check her blog for details about the forthcoming movie, or leave her a comment in the field provided below this blog entry, with your contact information, and I will make sure Youngquist lets you know when the movie is released.

BTW, have you seen Youngquist's movie, The Kiwi Vine Speaks Fifteen Minutes of Fame almost — a movie in which her Actinida kolomikta (Kiwi Vine) stars? I've seen it, as have the other herbs, vines, plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees in this terrace garden, and, to quote a fan who has seen the movie, we agree that The Kiwi Vine Speaks Fifteen Minutes of Fame  almost has "humor, pathos, drama", and you, dear reader, can see it at a computer near you (on Vimeo by clicking here). But also be sure to check out the trailer for The Kiwi Vine Speaks Fifteen Minutes of Fame almost (included in the press release found in the blog posting which can be accessed by clicking here).

Being a yellow rose, and thus often associated with Texas, I am truly thrilled at the prospect of being in Youngquist's next film, which is shooting right now, so I gotta go soon and get ready for my close-up, but before I sign off, dear reader, I am wondering if you know that, in addition to being featured in the song, The Rose (discussed in an April 2011 blog entry which can be found by clicking here) that Amanda McBroom wrote, in which her haunting words "far beneath the bitter snow, lies the seed that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose", provide inspiration, that the rose is also New York State's flower? However, as you know I am yellow, and I actually think the NY State Flower is the red rose, which is a fact that I don't mind because, as Gertrude Stein once said, "a rose is a rose is a rose". (Even though the meaning of Ms. Stein's quote is very different than how I am using it here.) 

The fact that yours truly is a member of the Rose family — a family recognized for being New York State's Flower — is one of the reasons I decided to post today in an effort to beat the Memorial Day Weekend rush (which begins tomorrow). I'd rather be in New York City than anywhere else, and I intend to stay here for the Memorial Day Weekend, but I know that folks are getting into their SUVS to leave town. Good for them! Makes it quieter for me! I am happy to hang out with the herbs, vines, flowers, plants, shrubs and trees in this terrace garden, and plan to sing along with Billy Joel,"Some folks like to get away . . . I don't want to waste more time, I'm in a New York state of mind ." 

And, dear reader, I am in a"New York state of mind" on the eve of this solemn holiday weekend because not only is the rose New York State's flower, but, New York State was the first state to accept, recognize and celebrate memorial day! Therefore, I invite you to join in the singing, music and lyrics of Mr. Joel's song, and, to keep you on point, Billy Joel singing New York State of Mind, at a performance, can be found in the You Tube video posted at the end of today's blog entry.

Meanwhile, whether you care to sing New York State of Mind, or not,whatever you do this holiday weekend, don't forget to stop, and (you guessed it) smell the roses (such as the ones like these seen in the images below which also grows in Youngquist's terrace garden. Have a good Memorial Day, and please allow a moment of silence for those who lost their lives to war as well as for those who sustained war related injuries, recalling that in war there are no unwounded soldiers, a sentiment I expressed this past Veterans' Day.