text:
This new mode of messaging launched on June 15,1942. Called V-Mail, it was in operation for 41 months, and
helped expedite the tons and tons of mail for members of the American forces, stationed overseas.
Before e-mail, and before cell phones and the such, we had Victory Mail.
I am fortunate to have some examples and will post a look see for you, after the video.
Monday, January 12, 2015
Saturday, February 22, 2014
You Are Not Forgotten
Ever hear of the Middle East Conflicts Wall Memorial in Marseilles, Illinois?
An old friend sent me this in an E-Mail and brought it to my attention. I just had to share it with you.
The Illinois Motorcycle Freedom Run committee is a group of private citizens who had a dream to honor those who have sacrificed all in our Middle East Conflicts. They raised the funds to erect the wall, as well as organize an annual motorcycle run on the 3rd Saturday in June every year.
An old friend sent me this in an E-Mail and brought it to my attention. I just had to share it with you.
The Illinois Motorcycle Freedom Run committee is a group of private citizens who had a dream to honor those who have sacrificed all in our Middle East Conflicts. They raised the funds to erect the wall, as well as organize an annual motorcycle run on the 3rd Saturday in June every year.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Friday, April 29, 2011
Prisoner Of War
Thanks to a Mother that kept every letter that she received from her sons while they were in the military, I was able to provide proof certain, he was held captive by the Germans during World war II.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A wave of patriotism swept over the USA after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.
Young men and women from all walks of life were pouring into recruitment centers.
Between the period 1938 to 1946, more than 9 million Americans enlisted in the United States Army. Two of those men, Alan and Roy Badgerow, were my uncle and father.
They lived on a farm at 2058 Goodells Road, Goodells Michigan. Not big enough to make the claim to be a city, it is still a village, to this day. The biggest city near by is Port Huron. Just on the border of Canada a stones throw across the St. Clair River, at the mouth to Lake Huron. If you have never seen the area, you must
view the blue water in person. To say,
pictures do it no justice,would be a huge under statement.
Alan Lee was Roy Martin's elder brother, by 7 years. He was among the first to enlist, as so many did, just after December 7th,1941.
Roy on the other hand was just a teen when he entered the war. May 25,1942 was his 19th birthday.
Roy was just comping on the bit! He, and a great number of young people, were oh so very eager to get into the thick of it.
They saved the world, from the German, Italian, and Japanese that were hell bent on World Domination. We owe them all a huge debt of gratitude.
The men who survived that era are strong and silent.Those that were in the thick of it spoke rarely, if ever, about their experiences. After the war, both Roy and Alan came home
to the farm, in the sleepy little village, of Goodells.
As the story goes, they took their shot guns and rifles off the wall, where they had hung in their absence. Then promptly walked to the nearest fence post with their arms full. They paused and vowed together to never, fire another gun.
Taking their fire arms by the barrels one at time, they smashed them into smithereens.
A small solemn grave dug near the house, forever holds their message of peace.
Before the war the Badgerow boys loved to hunt the surrounding wooded area of their farm, with their father Martin Alan. Great Grandpa was known for his strawberries, far and wide. He supplied the surrounding area with the biggest and juiciest berries, you could imagine.
Also, there was always a row or two of corn, just for the deer.
"There is nothing like corn fed venison." Great Grandpa was noted to say. "It's like a fatted calf you shoot, from the comfort of your back porch."
During the war Alan drove a Red Cross Ambulance with the First Army in Europe.
Roy was a Ranger captured Jan 30,1944 in Italy.
Grandma Badgerow wrote the boys faithfully. She also saved and cherished those letters, the boys sent her.
Alan's letters never stopped. Roy's did.
Return to sender
was not what you wanted to see on the envelope you wrote to your youngest son.
Missing in action, presumed dead, that was the official message the government gave.
In time Roy surfaced as a P.O.W. being held by the Germans in stalag 344.
Roy Martin's number was 36131. P.O.W's had dog tags with their identification number stamped out.
Very few Americans were held in Stalag 344..... Grandfather Roy was one of those less fortunate men with that distintion. If anyone knows of another GI from America, that was held prisoner there, please contact me. Lots of RAF boys were held there and some of their descendants wrote articles and stories. Polish,Australian, Canadian,Russian,French,Yugoslavian,South African, prisoners passed through the the camp. I know from letters written in the camp that each group was held in their own respective nationality barracks. The officers on a norm were held away from the N.C.O.s. Grandpa Roy was a private and wrote of good friends he made while incarcerated. So anyone with a descendant that was there, that was from America and not an officer, may have been one of those great friends that helped him cope with the times. The Germans let them play baseball and provided them with some equipment. Roy had lost the two middle fingers on his right hand during his capture. He could still play ball and wrote his Mother and Father that he was fine.
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The Beijing Consensus
Campus News
By Daren Dean,
Columbia Business Times
Original Release: October 28, 2011
This year's focus at Westminster College's Sixth Annual Symposium was global technology, and the Skype event saw Coulter Lecture Hall filled to capacity. It's intended to be a friendly dialogue between the faculty, students and leaders of Westminster College and Beijing Union University as the two institutions pledge to work more closely together in the future. However, it soon becomes clear that a cultural exchange is playing out before our eyes and underscoring the differences between our cultures.
Dr. Edward Mirielli, chair of the computer services department, has his students occupy a conspicuous table front and center in the auditorium while the faculty sits on the first row. By contrast, Beijing Union University's faculty sit in a semicircle in front of a camera to illustrate their eminence in the social hierarchy with students seated behind them.
Westminster College is a small liberal arts college of roughly 1,200 students with an emphasis on teaching; BU University is a large research-level college of approximately 30,000 students. Its international students represent nearly 17 percent of the student population, and they tend to take on high-performing students. Jefferson explains: "We are the fourth most diverse institution in the United States for a small liberal arts college. We have 170 international from 69 different countries, and we pride ourselves in recruiting a diverse international student body."
At one point a BUU faculty member generously offers a scholarship for American students, and another faculty member tells Westminster students, "You will make history!" Thunderous applause erupts on both sides of the world. Westminster officials pledge to work with BUU to create opportunities for students from both countries to study abroad. Jefferson promises to host BUU students as early as February 2012.
Dr. Rob Havers, director of the Churchill Institute and co-director of the Westminster Symposium, gives opening remarks and explains the order of events for the evening. Each side introduces its faculty, but the quality of the audio makes it difficult to hear the names of the Beijing contingent. Representing the Westminster faculty is Dr. Carolyn Perry, vice president of academic affairs and dean of faculty; Dr. Scott Lowe, vice president and chief information officer; Dr. Bob Hanson, executive director for the Emerson Center for Leadership and Service; Dr. Kurt Jefferson, director of the Center for Engaging the World; Dr. Ed Mirielli, chair of computer services; Professor Henry Landry, lecturer in Asian studies; and Dr. Barney Forsythe, president of Westminster College.
Perry discusses the tradition of a liberal arts education and the mission of Westminster. "Westminster is a small liberal arts college in the very center of the United States," she says. "We are small by design. And the reason for that is we want every one of our students to have a high impact experience that not only trains them well in the liberal arts but teaches them to be leaders."
Techno Demo
Mirielli's computer studies students, also with an international mix, and the students of BUU are given the opportunity to participate in what Havers refers to as "the student technology demonstration." The students ask one another about study habits and free time activities. They ask one another specifically about the computer languages being studied such as C++, C-, VisualBasic, XHTML and Javascript, to name the most popular, and also briefly touch on favorite activities ranging from playing guitar and video games to music, sports and television programs. It's this dialogue about free time that soon touches a nerve.
Westminster students are asked specifically how much homework they are assigned, and Sean Roberts, an international student from South Africa, fields the question by stating the traditional wisdom that for every one hour of classroom work, he studies two or three hours. Later, Gwen Miller, another student on the panel, asks what BUU students do in their spare time. Wry grins from the faculty indicate that either students do not have spare time or it isn't a question that could be answered because it implies students are not being productive.
Big Exam
In China acceptance into college hinges on one massive examination. If a student doesn't do well on the examination, his or her chances of getting into the ideal college are extremely unlikely. By contrast, in the U.S. students who have great recommendations and demonstrate leadership and involvement in extracurricular activities are referred to as "well-rounded," which may outweigh grades or S.A.T. scores.
The translator at BUU on behalf of the president asks two questions: "What classes do you offer in character?" and "What kind of job will your students find after graduation?"
BUU, being a large research facility, notes that for its part, it might use graduate students but wonders how Westminster could give undergraduate students so much responsibility working on community technology needs. It's an important distinction but one that could be easily explained in that there's a difference in the U.S. between larger research universities such as the University of Missouri and private teaching colleges. At a larger university, funding and advancement is dependent on the research and publishing of its faculty; at a private college, faculty members are expected to be excellent teachers.
Ultimately, Forsythe steps in and explains Westminster's mission to shape students who would become leaders of character. He discusses the American tradition of liberal arts education. He emphasizes the position of seeing students as value-driven who relate to the global world compassionately and are moral members of the world around them.
The Chinese education system is very technically oriented, Forsythe admits. "Even though we couldn't understand each other, we could understand what was going on. It was wonderful. I want to get some students over there."
Reprinted with permission from the
Columbia Business Times
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One thing I've discovered in my prospect ranking ventures is that there just aren't enough rankings to appease my large appetite during the season. Waiting around for each season's new batch of prospect information like it's Christmas can be tough for those of us who crave prospect information as often as possible. So, I worked with a friend to create top three prospect lists for every major league organization.
Assembling these rankings, which are based on a combination of player potential and the likelihood of reaching that potential, was an arduous process, so much so that it pulled us away from our usual nightly MLB Extra Innings dosage for more than a week. We missed a full evening alone trying to audition players for organizations without a lot of top-tier talent such as the Nationals, Padres, and Cardinals.
Arizona Diamondbacks
1. Justin Upton, OF: The No. 1 overall pick from the 2005 draft didn't put up great numbers in South Bend (A) with a .263/.343/.413 line. He also doubled 28 times, hit 12 home runs, and stole 15 bases in 22 attempts. Upton, 19, did rate well in one indicator, K/BB, with a 96/52 ratio (1.85) and still owns the record for the largest signing bonus in amateur draft history ($6.1 million). His brother (Melvin/Bossman Jr./B.J.) played in A-ball and AA in his first professional season. Justin, perhaps baseball's second most "toolsy" prospect (behind Delmon Young) will likely be eased through the minors and kick 2007 off in A+ Lancaster.
2. Chris Young, OF: Javier Vazquez who? One of the few 21-year-olds in AAA, Young did not disappoint in his new franchise. His .276/.363/.532 line brought him from Tucson across the desert to Phoenix by the middle of August. The 16th round 2001 draft pick – he severely broke his left forearm a few days before the draft – out of Bellaire High School in Texas was also on the verge of going 20/20 in Tucson before he was called up; he had 20 home runs to go along with 17 steals in 22 attempts. Young looks like a very special talent, drawing comparisons to Carlos Beltran, Eric Davis, and Mike Cameron.
3. Carlos Gonzalez, OF: Signed in 2002 out of Venezuela, Gonzalez, 20, started the season in A+ Lancaster and finished in AA Tennessee, accumulating a combined line of .289/.348/.543, and launching 23 bombs to go along with 41 doubles, while stealing 16 bases in 24 attempts. Yet another "toolsy" outfielder, Gonzalez lost to Young in our rankings mainly because Young, the former White Sox farmhand, is closer to the majors, but also due to Gonzalez's poor 75.0% contact ratio. With Carlos Quentin, Upton, Young, and Gonzalez, the Diamondbacks have the problem of trying to figure out who doesn't fit into their long-term plans – Mike Rizzo and company A+.
Colorado Rockies
1. Troy Tulowitzki, SS: Known as a slick fielder will a powerful bat, the 2005 first round draft pick put up a .291/.370/.473 line in AA Tulsa before getting an August 30th promotion straight to the big league club in Colorado. Tulowitzki, 21, hit 13 home runs and 34 doubles in AA with just 6 steals in 11 attempts. Fans have tried to end the Tulowitzki to Bobby Crosby comparisons due to the peanut brittle factor surrounding the other former Long Beach State shortstop. While we still like the comparisons since both players sport similar plate discipline – Crosby had a 1.69K/BB ratio in the minors to Tulo's 1.62 – we recognize that Tulowitzki isn't too far from challenging his fellow former Dirtbag in the major league baseball shortstop ranks.
2. Franklin Morales, LHP: What's not to like about a 20-year-old lefty who can touch 98 and struck out 10.46 batters per nine innings in A+ Modesto? Morales also compiled a 1.40 WHIP (.223 BAA and 179K/89BB incase you prefer it that way). Signed out of the Dominican in 2002, Morales projects as a frontline starter. He entered the season at just 6-foot-0, 170-pounds, but Glenallen Hill, his Modesto coach, is big strong man, so Morales figures to have added a significant amount of muscle under Hill's tutelage.
3. Corey Wimberly, 2B: A .325/.404/.383 line in A+ Modesto looks kind of funky, until you see that the 6th round draft pick from 2005 out of Alcorn State in Mississippi had 50 stolen bases in 66 attempts. With his speed and ability to play all over the diamond, it's no wonder that he has drawn comparisons to Chone Figgins. Wimberly, 21, is 5-foot-8, 180-pounds – still taller than ½ our staff members and more ripped than our entire staff combined. He can hit from both sides of the plate and, more importantly, is one of the few prospects who has added us as friends on MySpace – we're casual at this stage of our website, don't take us too seriously.
P.S. Chris Iannetta, we feel for you. Just understand that you and Wimberly are neck and neck in an organization that is full of talent; if you had a MySpace or even a Xanga, you may have gotten the nod as our No. 3 Rockies prospect.
Los Angeles Dodgers
1. Andy LaRoche, 3B: Last year, the younger LaRoche brother had 56 extra base-hits in A+ and AA combined. This year, he totaled 47 in AA and AAA. But for some reason, LaRoche, 22 (turns 23 on 9/13), doesn't get much mention as one of the game's elite prospects. His .315/.410/.514 line is elite – as in top 10 overall prospect – as far as we're concerned. Only really rating below average in the speed department, LaRoche has the tools to be a standout major league third baseman, and he'll be ready to contribute by midseason 2007 at the latest.
2. Scott Elbert, LHP: Elbert, 21, is another prospect who will help keep the Dodgers in contention for the rest of the decade. A power pitcher with the potential to headline a rotation, the 2004 1st round draft pick struck out 10.66 batters per nine innings while splitting time between A+ and AA. He did, however, give up 15 home runs in 146.0 total innings and walked 85 batters vs. his 173 strikeouts. But the 6-foot-2, 190-pound Missouri native limited opposing batters to a .190 batting average, though, and he measures up as one of the top five pitching prospects in the game in our minds.
3. James Loney, 1B: Perhaps the first baseman of the future for the Dodgers, Loney, 22, only hits about as many homeruns as current Los Angeles first baseman, Nomar Garciaparra. Loney turned in a .380/.426/.546 line with 33 doubles and 8 home runs for AAA Las Vegas in 2006. He hit a career-high 11 home runs at AA Jacksonville in 2005, but only batted .284 that season. It's not like they relied on power in 2006, so stay tuned for how the Dodgers plan on using this immense talent.
San Diego Padres
1. Cedrick Hunter, OF: When it came to digging for top talent in the Padres organization, we not only reached water tables, but discovered some ancient confined aquifers, too. So, players like Cedrick Hunter, 18, aren't the type of guys who should be considered for anything but dynasty leagues that require owners to build mineshafts. Hunter was drafted in the 3rd round in 2006. He could some day be a 20/20 center fielder, evidence by his 89.67% contact ratio along with 951 OPS and 17 stolen bases in 213 rookie ball at bats last summer. The lefty should be in line to start 2007 in A-ball. He'll need to keep on raking to maintain his rank midway up the mineshaft for San Diego.
2. Chase Headley, 3B: A few years ago, Sean Burroughs ran into Headley at a slip and slide competition, eyed up his nearly identical frame, and said, "I shall call him mini-me." Headley, 22, hit just 12 homeruns in 484 A+ Lakewood at bats and put up a .291/.389/.434 line with four steals in nine attempts. He doesn't project to have the power to be a viable corned infielder, but the Padres are cool with that – San Diego has not had a third baseman hit more than 15 home runs since Phil Nevin hit 41 at Qualcomm in 2001.
3. Cesar Carrillo, RHP: Drafted in the first round in 2005 out of Miami, Carrillo, 22, undoubtedly has frontline starter potential, but he's also building up a bit of an injury history. The 6-foot-3, 177-pound righty had his stock drop out of high school due to bicep tendonitis. After throwing just 53.1 innings in the minors in 2006 (nine starts in AA Mobile and one in AAA Portland), Carrillo was shut down with a strained right forearm flexor. He could easily jump back up to the top of our list in 2007 – he still has thrown a total of just 109.2 innings between A+ and AAA – but Carrillo certainly has something to prove before he gets to hang out in the Gas Lamp District.
San Francisco Giants
1. Tim Lincecum, RHP: On the day the Giants signed Lincecum, Jason Schmidt tied Christy Mathewson's 1906 franchise record of 16 strikeouts in one game. The tiny (5-foot-8, 160-pounds) flamethrower who has a fastball that touches 98 miles per hour could be the next San Francisco pitcher to challenge that record. Lincecum struck out more than 11 batters per nine every year he pitched at the University of Washington – 14.29 in 2006. And he has continued to show that his feats were no fluke, sending 15.60 batters per nine to grab some pine in his 27.2 innings in A+ San Jose, holding his opposition to a .135 batting average while walking 12. Giants fans will soon realize – if they haven't already – that the team isn't going to have to do too much rebuilding with Matt Cain, Lincecum, and Noah Lowry already in hand.
2. Jonathan Sanchez, RHP: While the Giants haven't made much of a mark with hitting prospects during the Brian Sabean era – we're anxious to research the kind of resources they've poured into hitting vs. pitching – they have been exceptional when it comes to pitching prospects. Sanchez, 23, is a great example. Drafted in the 27th round in 2004 out of Ohio Dominican, Sanchez has the ability to throw in the mid-90s and he sports a plus curveball. Don't let this scare you, Baseball America compared him to Oliver Perez entering the 2006 season; both are wiry lefties who throw hard. Sanchez was mishandled when the Giants brought him up from AA Connecticut to the majors in late May in order to use him as a reliever. He was later send down to AAA Fresno where he didn't disappoint- 10.63 K/9 in 23.2 innings and a .163 BAA. Control problems (27 walks in his 49.0 innings between AAA and the majors) are the only thing holding Sanchez back from becoming a mainstay in the Giants rotation.
3. Nate Schierholtz, OF: Rivaled by Kevin Frandsen now and perhaps Angel Villalona in the near future, Schierholtz, 23, looks like the Giants best bat despite his .270/.325/.443 line because he played a majority of his games in the pitcher-friendly Dodd Stadium (AA Connecticut). Schierholtz turned a rough start around to finish the season with 14 home runs (8 in August), 25 doubles, 7 triples, and 8 stolen bases in 11 attempts. He doesn't project as more than a No. 3 quality outfielder right now, but the San Ramon Valley High (California) Wolf – also where Randy Winn attended high school – and Chabot College Gladiator could be in the big leagues before long if he performs well next season with AAA Fresno in the hitter-friendly PCL.
Adam Foster is a college sports writer who has teamed up with his friend Patrick Hennessey to launch a site called Project Prospect. You can view more of their articles at www.projectprospect.com. Also, remember to check back soon for part II of this six part series.
Questions or comments for Adam? Post them in the Cafe Forums! Want to write for the Cafe? Check out the Cafe's Pencil & Paper section! |


text:
Gary Hallberg
Friday's Sports Briefs
season. Scott Dunlap was a stroke back at TPC San Antonio, and Jay Haas was at 67 along with Guy Boros, Bart Bryant, Gary Hallberg , Tom Lehman, Peter Senior, Wes Short Jr., and Kirk Triplett. TENNIS SINGAPORE (AP) - Serena Williams reached
Golf Capsules
eight times on the PGA Tour, including the 1986 PGA Championship. He had an eagle, seven birdies and two bogeys. Gary Hallberg , Mark McNulty and David Frost were 9 under. Hallberg shot 65, McNulty 66, and Frost 68. Bernhard Langer, the
Kenny Perry leads 3M Championship
delay, he made the 8-foot eagle putt. First-round leader Marco Dawson was second after a 66. Bernhard Langer, Gary Hallberg , Jeff Maggert and Gene Sauers were 13 under. Langer, coming off a record-breaking victory in the Senior British
Langer takes 3-shot lead in Insperity Invitational
Tour title. Colin Montgomerie was second after a 66, the best round of the day. Defending champion Esteban Toledo, Gary Hallberg and Bart Bryant were four strokes back. Hallberg had a 67, Toledo shot 71, and Bryant - tied for the first-round


text:
UrBan Nerd
- "Nothing" - UrBan Nerd Beats
- "Platnium Dog Shit"- UrBan Nerd Beats
- "POP DA X" - UrBan Nerd Beats
- FELLATIO- UrBan Nerd Beats
- "Its A Murdah"- UrBan Nerd Beats
- "Huey's Reality" - UrBan Nerd Beats
- 01First Song
- 02Track Number Two
- 03Third Song
- 04Composition #Four
- 055th
- 06Song
Dallas Cooper aka "Urban Nerd" is a Metro Atlanta native but was born and raised in East Flatbush in Brooklyn. Urban Nerd was inspired by East Coast and Dirty South Styles. Urban Nerd started to make beats at age 14. Since then, he has had a huge Youtube following and major recognition. Is known for sampling ambient sounds and using synths to make great chilling and hype music. He is currently unsigned but still produce for some Independent rappers and singers.


text:
A Longitudinal Examination of the Transition into Senior High School for Adolescents from Urban, Low-Income Status, and Predominantly Minority Backgrounds
- Olga Reyes,
- Karen L. Gillock,
- Kimberly Kobus,
- Bernadette Sanchez
- … show all 4 hide
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The current 6-year study investigates the impact of the elementary (K–8)-to-high school (9–12) transition on the school completion outcomes of 107 adolescents from urban, minority, low-income status backgrounds. Descriptive findings provide a longitudinal profile of students' enrollment status throughout high school. Students who had graduated or were Active in the school system at the end of the study evidenced more marked change in perceptions of social support following the transition to the ninth grade compared to Inactive students, dropouts, who evidenced little change. With respect to academic performance, while both groups evidenced declines following the transition and failed to recover sustained losses, Inactive students declined more sharply in grades and attendance. Findings are discussed in terms of the mixed support for the transitional life events perspective. In addition, study limitations and directions for future research are discussed, including variables that should be considered in research with the targeted group.
- Allen, B. A., & Boykin, A. W. (1992). African-American children and the educational process: Alleviating cultural discontinuity through prescriptive pedagogy. School Psychology Review, 21, 586–596.
- Allison, P. D. (1990). Change scores as dependent variables in regression analysis. Sociological Methodology, 20, 93–114.
- Bloom, B. L. (1978). Marital disruption as a stressor. In D. G. Forgays (Ed.), Primary prevention of psychopathology, Vol. 2. Environmental influences (pp. 81–101). Hanover, NH: University Press of New England.
- Blyth, D. A., Simmons, R. G., & Carlton-Ford, S. (1983). The adjustment of early adolescents to school transitions. Journal of Early Adolescence, 3, 105–120.
- Brofenbrenner, U. (1979). The ecology of human development. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
- Burton, L. M., Allison, K., & Obeidallah, D. ( 1995). Social context and adolescence: Perspectives on development among inner-city African-American teens. In L. Crockett & A. C. Crouter (Eds.), Pathways through adolescence: Individual development in relation to social context. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
- Cauce, A. M. (1989). Social Support Rating Scale Revised, Unpublished manuscript.
- Cauce, A. M., Felner, R. D., & Primavera, J. (1982). Social support in high-risk adolescents: Structural components and adaptive impact. American Journal of Community Psychology, 10, 417–428.
- Cauce, A. M., Ryan-Finn, K., & Grove, K. (2000). Children and adolescents of color where are you? Participant selection, recruitment, and retention in developmental research (submitted for publication).
- Causey, D. L., & Dubow, E. (1993). Negotiating the transition to junior high school: The contributions of coping strategies and perceptions of the school environment. Prevention in Human Services, 10, 59–81.
- Chavez, E. L., Oetting, E. R., & Swaim, R. C. (1994) Dropout and delinquency: Mexican-American and Caucasian non-Hispanic youth. Journal of Clinical Child Psychology, 23(1), 47–55.
- Chicago Police Department (1998). Monthly crime statistics by district (on-line). Available: http://www.ci.chi.il.us/CommunityPolicing/Statistics/CrimeStats.
- Crockett, L. J., Petersen, A. G., Graber, J. A., Schulenberg, J. E., & Ebata, A. (1989). School transitions and adjustment during early adolescence. Journal of Early Adolescence, 9, 181–210.
- Dieskova, V. (1984). Reflectivity-impulsivity and social orientation in six-year-olds. Psychologia a Patopsychologia Dietata, 19, 387–396.
- Eccles, J. S., & Midgley, C. (1988). Stage/environment fit: Developmentally appropriate classrooms for young adolescents. In R. E. Ames & C. Ames (Eds.), Research on motivation in education. New York: Academic Press.
- Eccles, J. S., & Midgley, C. (1990). Changes in academic motivation and self-perception during early adolescence. In R. Montemayor, G. R. Adams, & T. P. Gullotta (Eds.), From children to adolescence: a transition period? Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
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- Title
- A Longitudinal Examination of the Transition into Senior High School for Adolescents from Urban, Low-Income Status, and Predominantly Minority Backgrounds
- Journal
American Journal of Community Psychology
Volume 28, Issue 4 , pp 519-544
- Cover Date
- 2000-08-01
- Print ISSN
- 0091-0562
- Online ISSN
- 1573-2770
- Publisher
- Kluwer Academic Publishers-Plenum Publishers
- Additional Links
- Topics
- Keywords
- urban adolescents
- school transition
- school dropout
- Industry Sectors
- Authors
- Olga Reyes (1)
- Karen L. Gillock (1)
- Kimberly Kobus (1)
- Bernadette Sanchez (1)
- Author Affiliations
- 1. University of Illinois, Chicago


text:
April 10th, 2006, 10:50 PM
How many of you hunt out of ground blinds for whitetails, just wondering what model you use and how you set them up - on trails, feeding areas, and all that good stuff. Do you usaully brush the blinds?
View Full Version : Ground Blinds


text:
Ipswich Eagle Tavern
closed 1977
67 Wherstead Rd
grid reference TM 164 434
View in Google Earth
last updated 30/01/2015
Also listed at 44-47 Wherstead Rd. (1871) and at Bath St. Back in Victorian times Bath St. used to join Wherstead Rd. rather than stopping at Hawes St. as it does now.
Originally only licensed as a beerhouse, according to the Ipswich licensing records, the pub got its full license on March 28th 1960.
Today the building is used as a coffee shop.
(Most pub, location & historic details collated by Nigel, Tony or Keith - original sources are credited)
(information from Dudley Diaper)
(** historic newspaper information from Stuart Ansell)


text:
These Life Soldier poems are examples of Life poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Life Soldier poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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She once walked with him and stopped with him when they heard that familiar refrain. She'd stand beside him while he'd salute her pride for her Soldier was plain, and every night, while he'd hold her tight contented and happy, she'd sigh. They would drift off to sleep listening to the beat of the Soldiers Lullaby. They play the National Anthem to fill us with fire and pride and the last one they play every evening is the Soldiers Lullaby. Twice a day at nine eleven when her Soldier was in Iraq she'd bow her head in silence to remember that September attack, and when she'd get home in the evening tired and lonely, she'd cry. She'd pray that somewhere he was listening to the Soldiers Lullaby. Now she stands at the gate in the airport heart pounding as Soldiers stream by, so excited she can barely contain it overwhelmed she's starting to cry, and the crowd is beginning to thin now the tears and the laughter all die, heart broken and lonely, she stands there when she hears his voice simply say "hi"... It's been years since she's thought of that moment, they've been busy with life passing by. Two girls and two boys now fill their lives with joy and time really does seem to fly, but at night when she's tucked in her family she still bows her head with a sigh and she never forgets to remember The Soldiers Lullaby. ~For Jenn with love
Holding back his tears In front of him, a soldier kneels As the mourners look on saddened Inside the little boy feels To grow up without his father As he grows up without his friend To play ball with him in the park When he needs him, so much to depend To be there through out his school life To make him oh so proud But not to be there when he graduates Clapping and shouting out loud To be there when he gets married Be a grandfather to his kids At his fathers funeral he attends His life in battle rid In front the soldier kneels Holding the Stars and Stripes Presenting it to the little boy Holding back his tears, from his eyes http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-2.php
Thoust message rings, But it is a wretched beauty. Sew up thine tongue; It forks in many directions, Ensnaring, passing through the centers, Weaving a thread gleaming, deceivingly white, Yet drenched in the black goo, The sticky gobs of our source, our blood. Cast aside thine needle, Let time make it blunt. Wallow in thine sorrow, But only for a moment. Up, up with you! The sticky gobs cannot protect thee. See me, Hear me. For I see thee... Thou hast split thine tongue To hide, to forget. Thine forked words, black to all, clear to me. Go on, go ahead, Walk through its enveloping black. And when you cannot run, Crawl. And when you can't do that anymore, Find someone to carry you. Thou art strong! Let thine center give you new feet! Yet, If even thine center falls weary, I shalt be thine legs. I shalt carry you, my friend.
He fell, fell to the ground At the gunshot that created such a sound Nobody took notice of the injured soldier He was left there lying as the war grew thicker. He screamed from the pain growing in his shoulder Nobody realized the pain he would suffer Trampling feet and screams grew monotonous The injured soldier tried to ignore the pain that was so venomous. He made a decision for himself If he was to survive he'd have to help himself Nobody was going to come to his aid Not when each one was looking out for their own head. He winced in pain as he got to his feet He wouldn't give up now, not when he still had an army to beat His shoulder cried out to him in vain He had already chose to ignore the pain. He took his rifle up He adjusted his helmet and refused to give up He kept fighting till the war was over Each soldier fighting for their country, their home and their lover. When the war was done and the battle was won Every single soldier put down their gun the injured soldier's shoulder still bleeding now blinded him with pain and made him lose all feeling. This time they gave him attention This time he was treated to friendly affection He wondered what would have happened if had given up that night Would they have still won after all that fight? But he was glad he hadn't for he would have been seen As a pitiful injured soldier who wasn't keen. It's the choices we make And the chances we take That set us apart Only when, of course, the decision is made from the heart.
The walking man walks with no place to go, Head tucked down with his eyes lookin' low. We gotta reach out We gotta hold his hand We gotta reach out To the walking man He's seen it all, lived the wars out there. Now he's blowing around like a leaf in the air. We gotta reach out We gotta hold his hand We gotta reach out To the walking man Walking man don't mean no harm he don't mean to lie. He's just one careless face from a way to die, a way to fly, to say goodbye….. So it's you and me and the walking man makes three; Such a better number to be. He's tired and warn like a piece of coal, But he could light the city with the light in his soul. We gotta reach out We gotta hold his hand We gotta reach out To the walking man Walking man don't mean no harm he don't mean to lie. He's just one careless face from a way to die, a way to fly, to say goodbye….. Because it's you an me and the walking man makes three; Such a better number to be ©2013C.LBaker
An old man looking out his door, gaze fixed on a distant shore, reminiscing to a time, not of happiness, or, the prospect of a bright future, to when he was sick to his very core, to when as a youth, he went to war A time before infallibility had meaning, patriotism and bravado the craze, the future was still unknown, vigor for life at its all time high, a time for romance, partying, buying, no thought of pain, deformity, dying Too young to understand or question, ship to foreign shore, medals abound, will impress the girls next time in town, sacrifice not temporary, forever more, a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember, flesh shredded, burned, torn, families mourn A time, when he willingly went to war, will happen no more, all lost in youth, now unrelenting, no blind obedience, minimal risk, long life, his number one ambition As he turns back from the door, he thinks of the youth, here now, soon no more, lessons never learned, the call to war, to common the roar, complacency the mood, another generation removed The old man agonizes over what was originally not known, war is preventable, life too precious to waste, the solution simple, his vision, maybe too late Send old men to the front to fight, arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight, let the youth enjoy their life, his near over, its only right Send old men, to the front, to fight ask them to give up their life, patriotism and bravado, still alive, will and desire would not last the night, old men do not rush to death in their twilight, failure inevitable, the old man smiles, knows he's right Wars not possible, if old men, are sent to fight
One of the happiest days, Is bringing our soldiers home alive, To where they can be seen, By their families once again, To show them we love them, And care about them, In the ways we should, Cause they gave up their time, And their lives for this country, For our freedoms we often take for granted, To protect us from the domestic evils of today, Whether we see them or not, We should praise them all, For all that they have done, Including those who have fallen, And can Not walk back through the gates of home, For they have fallen and given more for this country, And sacrificed more than we pay attention too, To save us all for our freedoms, Which our country will often forget, With time the fallen one's, Because we often pay attention to those, Who are here in front of us and can fight, One day at a time, Which is the wrong way to be, Cause all soldiers are made the same, And should never be forgotten in anyway, Day after day cause we have what we have, To remind us all of all who have sacrificed their lives, For the freedoms we have to keep us safe, Each and everyday!
Slowly breathing with a steady beat Boots are crunching you feel the heat You inch on closer, looking around Watching your friends make not a sound You have been told to kill this man A threat he is to freedoms plan Hold up your rifle, take careful aim Let go of the guilt your not to blame Orders you follow a good soldier you are Try not to think the size of the scar That this order will bring deep in your soul We raise the flag on top of this soldier's hole I will give support, I will lend my hand So you can brother, continue to stand To fight for the freedoms of people everywhere Down your rifle I, with you, shall stare
Alas there is no more confusion, finally found my last conclusion. Expect me as if Jesus will return, from a ghost to a realm of concern. Your dreams are portals like doors, welcoming spirits into hasten wars. Leaving the thoughts without trust, keeping your fears in much disgust. And though you sought no consequence, deeds that confirm a wicked malevolence. Awaiting in your nightmare of screams, enjoy what is left amongst your dreams.
as the hypocrite talking head seeking re-election in 2012 tells us all that this empire (which continues to wield its sledge hammer upon the world) this "land of the free" (who demands that all others follow in its dirty & bloody footsteps), is one which "unlike the old empires," does not force its will upon the people of this planet "for territory or resources," a soldier watching shoves their finger down their throat forcing themselves to vomit up the utterly visceral disgust which accompanies the knowledge that s/he has taken part in making Iraq american. the soldier is coming home to a country whose chose the spending of money on bashing Afghanistan & Iraq to be more important than providing employment, universal healthcare, affordable housing or a decent education system to its own citizens--- instead we have taken pleasure in killing those abroad so that they will be forced to be like us--- so that one day they can have skyrocketing unemployment, no health care, no affordable housing or a decent education system either (that is, if they don't already reside in such a state as a product of our entrance & extraction of all their resources for use within our borders).
Too young to die They take a boy, too young to shave Who has never lived his life While his mates are chasing girls They fill his life with strife They send him off to a brand new war Over some damned fools Ideal I don't understand their wars And I guess I never will The folk who like to run the show Or most of them at least Have never even been to war They've never felt the beast As he rips right into one' intestines That hollow hole of fear! Each leader should be sent to war Then the picture might grow clear Then when they send young boys to war They'll see the whole damned show The weight of endless terror And then maybe they'll know What it's like as a fine young man To be sent out there to die He might then know, how a mother feels When she's lost her little guy. 1 August 2013 @ 1443hrs.
An amulet of peace hung 'round my neck, An AR16 rifle in my hands…. Seemed like such a paradox, In the paddies and jungles of Vietnam. An amulet of peace hung 'round my neck, A man's life was in my hands…. That life was not only mine, While trying to survive in Vietnam. An amulet of peace hung 'round my neck, Hoping for guidance by God's hand…. Ignore our sin, keep us alive and safe, While fighting in Vietnam. An amulet of peace hung 'round my neck, My duffel bag in my hand…. After 13 months, I was going home, No more to fight in Vietnam. An amulet of peace hung 'round my neck, An Honorable Discharge in my hand…. Only to be spat upon, called 'baby killer', By 'peaceniks' against the war in Vietnam. An amulet of peace no longer hung 'round my neck, The challenge of a new life was at hand…. Found love, happiness and some success, And tried not to think of Vietnam. Again, that same amulet of peace hangs 'round my neck; And I hope my friends all understand…. I want our courageous young men and women Out of Iraq and Afghanistan.
VIETNAM VET SOLDIER'S NIGHTMARE Another dream – I could not wake – Escape from what would follow-- Grasping for a secret word, the letters stark and hollow-- I was trapped entangled there, Just beyond the reach Of men that could release me Or a hill that could be breached Gunfire was a backdrop Soft and pungent was its sound Fell on me like raindrops--strangely harmless on the ground Smoky gray encased me like a piece of sleeping net Tunnel faces hidden —easy killing, no regret-- Felt terror and the aching for the friends around me cold Standup guys with stalwart hearts--just did what they were told Then my cell phone beeped a beep--- A message had come in .... Now awake I saw your name--- My new day would begin. Victoria Anderson-Throop November 25, 2012 waking from a nightmare contest
People were Many things. Strange or not People were Different and Odd and fun. People were Monsters but… That's not all People were And still are Strange and odd. People are People. For life is life. Yet not. Not is lies. Truth seeps from Every mouth Lies, lies, lies Move, move, move But somehow Lies prevail. Lies are life. Lies are death. Lies are homes. Lies are pain. Lies are truth. Yet somehow. Truth prevails. Truth is life. Truth is death. Truth is home. Truth is pain. Truth is lie. Truth is that. Lies will die. Lies will cease. Nevermore. Truth will live. Truth will be. Forever.
A soldier's cry of the kings Bleeding still from his heart Opened by what he brings During the war impart Straightened by the narrow Encased by fear's early plunge The soldier fight's with arrows Daring any man to lunge Secretly over his eyes Both corroded by life's gross All around him the despised Another sight given close A king he will become After they see his true self Never will he be lonesome An image onto oneself Power of this immense mind Common thoughts brought on through He aligned, surely resigned Meandering softly into The offer of knighthood Has been left cast aside So he would be what he should King of the land from inside Russell Sivey
A moment of rest, Refreshing the eyes and brain From life commercials
He laid there, warm and happy. Defeated as one, but successful as two. A bullet hole straight through his chest. Another dark green uniform stained, By the dark red liquid seeping through the torn fabric. One hundred and one desperate young soldiers, laid to rest by the tip of his pistol. A rifle jammed and abandoned just a mile away. The last puff of smoked tobacco, freely evaporates into the broken spans of oxygen. Fought for his family, his country, his land and our land. Breached toward liberty, and founded it. At the tip of another's Beretta M9… This is America, America is you. America is he, she, and me. I am "The America". Open and free, to you, including me. I've held my guard, stood stiff and tall. Fought hard, till this day, to wave "hello", to the one race "individuals" every single day. Wave back, or don't wave at all, I'll respect you as an American and not a flaw. United or divided; we are one nation, that stands under religion, we are one nation. Black, white, tall, or small, whatever it is, WE respect all. Our flag does and will, stand to protect us all. WE ARE ONE NATION, FOREVER YOU AND I.
Our government says were incompetent – our weapons they must take. The 2nd Amendment no longer applies, life, liberty and the pursuit happiness is now at stake. Our forefathers were merely mistaken – this Constitution they've drafted in vain. So they tear it apart piece by piece, as We The People watch with disdain. Your opinion doesn't matter here – Freedom of Speech belongs to them, to a perverse, corrupted society, too ignorant to see their condemned. The Bill of Rights once ever so protected – the Ten Commandments in every courtroom, both now are strictly an abomination, to this Godless Country in doom. Take heed to their acts of subtle changes – to their intensive need to change our creed, People! It's not about protecting us! It's about control, domination and greed!
Might this be a wonder, Might this be a sunder, Might this be the blocker, Might this be the warder, Might there be a plunder, Might it pass the border, Might there be a dweller, Might they be lodgers, Should they be squatters, Should they be trespassers... Might they squander, Might it scatter, Might this be a sputter, Might there be a clutter, Moght there be to many clusters, Might this be the controller Mightit get power...? Might these be handlers, Might these be forcers, Might these be the squashers, Might these be the breakers, Breaking some of the order... Might this be a night, Going to a wretched midnight, Coming from a raging twilight, Until these be ended, throughout nighttime, Later waking from our bedtime, Maybe dying to see the morning light, Might this be happening tonight...? Might there be a knight, Might there be a fight, Waiting for a shining might, Coming from some rainbow's light, coming slight from the nighttime, With some waiting for their fly... Might these fight the ghouls, Might they get to their goal, Might this vanish some ghosts, Whom want all of our souls... Might this be other things, Might these be the lives of life, With some asking, might these be I...?
Brave hearts beat Hidden in silent men Boots hide exhausted feet Yet no complaints tumble with their tears Brave hearts beat Chasing death on foreign soil Targets placed on dusty streets Hollow death parched days on end Brave hearts beat Dodging dead eyed schoolboys' guns Nightmares of red defeat Yet waking to go back again. V Anderson Throop Nov 2014 ©
Please don't They are angry At us for deceiving Wounded We're left in this cold alley Thrown like dog's Im waiting for the right time But my pulse is not going so fast as when they were here Because of a religion im a target Because i want to be myself They want me And my beloved Please tell me your ok Tell me is over now All she asked me My self with frozen tears falling down Answered A little bit longer and we are gonna be in heaven She said i am lying I said Sometimes truth is hidden between lies She want's me to hold her tight But we must play dead until every one else die I asked her back Do you remember? When We met each other Playing dead with the dogs She said back I do And look at us now Playing dead again with death by the side I told her there how much i loved her She stood quiet After long seconds she said with her trembling voice Me too Snow is cold Heart is not strong I told her to focus It was gonna be over soon Then she said repeated i love you Then i stood quiet I was gonna say love you too When a soldier jumped at us and started shooting at the dead bodies I looked at her pretty eyes Her frozen lips i say the move and i spelled "I Love You" Right there bullets got her Her blood was every were The soldier wasted all his bullets Then he left My cried there But the cold didn't my tears fall Frozen Two nights later The invasion was over I was able to stop playing dead I ran to her body And hug it tight Saying sorry and repeating i love you hundreds of times For that time the sun shined bright on that solo tunnel I looked at the sun with fear And asked why did she left... She promise me before they came here she wasn't gonna die Not with my son inside Then tears broke from my eyes like a river Two lives in one How can that embrace my life Then i stood up and walked away Leaving behind The note i never lend to her... Note: My love, much time have passed since last time, i am most certain i haven't called either send a picture of me, but everything is fine, hope you are too, by the way i wanted to remind you how much and how strong i love you, i promise one thing, I will not die, you will see me one more time, a time that will cut forever, hope the sun is burning bright there, i heard snow is bad, i will come back home in 6 days, ti'll then put your love on the pocket, i'll be back home darling... Much Love, your Husband Wes Ortiz
Untitled 5 (My Uncle: Good Morning, Apocalypse Now) My uncle doesn't speak much about Vietnam or the stuff he witnessed when he was just a boy. See, he likes to drive the back roads fast and honk at random cars that pass. His friendly gestures always lead to how he grew up compared to kids now. Jumping and racing trains on the tracks became dodging bullets and carrying his buddy on his back. The marshes and dirt valleys here became the forests and trenches of the military frontier. Last year, my sister donned his jacket a fatigued fatigue that hung in his closet. In color and memory darkened, kept out of sight for fear it would harken the PTSD he's stuggled to avoid. He saw his brothers, young like him to Vietnam succumb while on American soil and he promised he would never speak, for fear his stomach would coil, when remembering rice - a dish he no longer enjoys. And there's no orange on his clothes to remind him of the agent that destroyed. When he speaks a calm "Good morning", I wonder if he's thinking of Vietnam or if he knows that I admire his strength and bravery and how he continually fights against the "Apocalypse Now".
We are all the colors a Patriot depicts, the red's the blues and whites a mix. We honor the soldier's creed till death, protecting our nation with every breath. Quitting is not an option you'll see, for a soldier's pride and honor succeeds. A soldier's mission will always come first, hungering for freedom with a thriving thirst. The American Soldier, our warrior of choice, will serve their people will a victorious voice. They are comrades in arms, till the very end, no one left behind, fellow man they'll tend. The American Soldier doesn't accept defeat, heroically they'll fight, in the cold and the heat. They are the guardians of freedom we forget, the American Soldier does not identify regret. Our way of life is because of their strength, for decades they've served at every length. The American Solder conveys honor and pride; for fallen soldiers, many tears they have cried. Honor our troops, for freedom is not free – it's the American Soldier whose provided liberty. Take a moment to praise the dedication and pride, of the American Soldier that never dies…….
In a war torn land Out in the desert sand Lies a soldier in wait Not knowing his fate He thinks about his home About this desert land he'd roam About his life and the freedom he's had This war and the fighting which makes him sad It was a job he chose you see A soldier is what he wanted to be Until he got to this desert land Now waiting for the enemy, the other man Destruction and chaos all around Gunshot and explosions do resound He wondered what he got himself in His nerves seem to be shedding thin But who would fight if he did not Who would be posted in this hot spot His only dream is to survive Until another brigade arrives Out in this barren land Lying in the desert sand Whether this war is right or wrong Lying here, this soldier must stay strong
" Loving A Soldier " Loving A Soldier is hard to do so many folks will say losing them in a battle is a price that you could pay its being so young and happy while also feeling old Loving A special Soldier takes a heart of gold. He will softly whisper all his love for you as you gently say to him that you love him too you give him a kiss and a promise that you'll wait knowing it could be a while before another date. Its such a painful experience as you have to watch him leave hoping you are not the one thats left alone to grieve you wave good-bye to him with eyes that are full of tears left standing all alone with his dreams, his hopes and his fears. Always together with hearts as one while he is so far away his growing love is stronger with the passing of each day Loving A Soldier is hard on you and its not much fun but in the end its all worthwhile when his service is done. Remember how he is hurting by having to be away he is thinking of only you every minute of every day you truly love your soldier and you always tell him so its the most important thing that he needs to know. There is nothing in this living life more important to him than you defending the freedom for us all is what he has to do Loving A Soldier is hard to do as many folks will say he will come back with open arms to me on christmas day... Penned By MPK Quote: Life Is Poetry In Motion, Great Poets Reflect Emotion. Quote: The Best And Most Beautiful Thing In The World Can't Be Seen Or Touched. It Must Be Felt With Your Heart...
RESTLESS SLEEP nguish On downy pillow his head lies He'll toss a bit and then relax And when he wakes he'll fight surprise-- nightmare dreams don't alter facts She's awake --her passion heats On downy pillow his head lies She reaches out and meets defeat-- These sleepless nights her sacrifice In his dread dreams tormented cries Fallen friends haunt every turn On downy pillow his head lies-- Some secrets she will never learn He is her darling, life's glor'us glow -- For work he dons a smile's disguise Tonight she'll kiss him head to toe-- On downy pillow his head lies Victoria Anderson-Throop
SAPPHO'S SISTERS Song of Ulysess is this Sappho to whom i speak the bride of lesbos with the low forbidden voice who climbs the rocky mountains' dangerous peak? call in the blue daughters of twilight to rejoice in the bursting spring. war weary are my men--- far from familiar arms of home. she , obliging, twirls her tantalizing songs and lyre-- lights my camping soldiers with the fire of her bold call-- vibrates them with darkness of unknown desires but she, unknown to me, orchestrates a horrid tune of tragedy unforeseen. sirens of her sisters , assisting, yearn-- ablaze in fragrant beauty unmanly to resist-- the lyre of Sappho spins the tune that turns the doom of noble heads the most valiant heroes desert their posts-- slaves to lush open arms that hold them 'til they burn. Victoria Anderson Throop © (rewrite from 2012)
It hurts so deep, And you make me cry, That maybe back at the station, That, that was our last goodbye. We both know that you're strong, But we both know the chances, That things go wrong. I wait for you, Wait for your call, And never get a notice, That battle, Was your downfall. Come back safely, My Soldier Love, My Captain, Come home to safety. March on home my Captain, March on my solider love, Keep you head up high, And look to him above.
The soldier, the war, and I Today I am home and thinking to my self.. What would I be doing if I had a soldier coming home to me and my family? What would I be doing if I was the soldier looking to going home to my family? And then, I look back at all the years passed since this last war.. Many children have grown to become men, Others have grown to become soldiers Where would I be if I had gone to the war and fought for my country? Where would I be if I had gone and came back safely? Where would I be if I had not gone at all because I was not qualified to go? Would I be with my family or in a hospital injured? Would I be standing proud, and laughing with my friends and family? Or would I be dead, as I never got to come back? Today I am home and thinking to myself.. Thinking of all of those brave soldiers, children still Who are out there, suffering.. And some ill Today I am home and thinking to myself.. How many woman are crying because of their gone loved ones How many men are crying for their loved and missed ones How many children are fatherless or motherless, or both! And at the end I stop. I think no more.. I am grateful for the things I have, I am grateful for the people who surround me... And I am sure grateful to never have gone to a war; yet, I sure appreciate the thoughts, courage, life, and suffering Of all of those who have been touched by it.
together with our broken hearts a little life within our hands and heavy burdens on our backs you and i, we used to laugh together, when the rain would fall and when it seemed and felt like all and everything was going wrong you and i, we used to cry together, we used to play and pull the strings of life away and then back to us again you and i, we were one little soldier on the guard let me stand by you hold on tightly to my hand you know my love is true i will walk you home tonight dont cry, everything's alright but life's a cruel and painful game and things are so quick to change and it feels so hard and strange to go on without you i feel so lone and lost inside long nights i have cried and cried please tell me how can i go on without you its so hard to believe you're no longer here by me and i have tried everything but i cant go on without you and yet these days carry on and before long a year has gone ill wake up to another dawn my friend, without you little soldier on the guard let me stand by you hold on tightly to my hand you know my love is true and if somehow we come to part you'll always be within my heart little soldier, my dear friend 11 years since you've been dead i watch these seasons come and go in my memories you live on
I get this wondrous chill as night falls in mountains or desert sand and I find myself dreaming about home, my fondest memory from this far away land. I miss the special lady who stole my heart, my thoughts and all there is of me; and I deeply cherish our final moments together. I think about the children I left behind, how I miss them and pray they're fine - and it's hard Lord, it's so very hard. It's times like this that I wonder why I volunteered and I get this knot in my stomach - then I cringe and find myself trying to hold back tears. Soon the battle will begin when I'll hear my own heartbeat through the creepy sounds amidst treacherous mountain sides or drifting sands and whirling winds. It's time spent in worry, fear, and some regret as I encounter my fate in the war so near and I must admit, I'm scared. This stench of war, the sight of it all, it's that awful image of how I imagined hell after Lucifer's fall. I wonder to myself, "Does it have to be that generations of people can't seem to agree to the simple concept of peace?" Soldiers don't start wars but they surely fight them, making all manner of sacrifice and I doubt that even once did a soldier ever like them." Then I think of "Old Glory" and I'm filled with pride. It's a warm patriotic feeling which overcomes me from deep down inside. I'm confused, scared and battle weary. I worry about those I love as I cling to my faith and pray to God above. I'm a distant warrior, an American fighting man; not an aspiring hero, but just a simple soldier trying to do the best that I can.
Alone and frightened on the street Shunned by everyone he meets Hungry stomach-- Dirty clothes A life of sorrow---painful woes No one stops to chat and see All about his misery Never knowing this young hero Was risking his life at ground zero Saving babies, kids and strangers Never thinking of the dangers Doing his job as a soldier Victims flung over his shoulder Through the panic and the terror Not on moment did he ever Lose sight of what's he's there to do Training for this all day through But now he's left to wonder here Coming home---nobody there To hug him tight and give him kisses This soldiers hurting and he misses The loving touch of his young wife Leaving him because his life Turned around the day he lost His legs-- he didn't count the cost No welcome home this hero found When he became wheel chair bound He put his life on the line Someone please just take the time To be a friend and say hello He'll tell a story that will flow Touching your heart--you realize This young man before your eyes Is not the "bum" he seems to be But a hero to you and me That deserves love and respect Not the pain from the neglect Every passer by has shown Since the day that he came home
my little soldier stand tall be proud of who you are and the things you acheive never let them put you down you are my little king now put on your crown my little soldier be brave appreciate the things you have and the things you do be careful throughout your life look after your children take care of your wife my little soldier show love care for your family and the friends you have follow your dreams keep people close to your heart things are never as difficult as they seem Listen little soldier make me proud
Drained to my very heart by our slow-paced arrival, I wander through tasteless decor to the metal arches Beyond which a future is unfurled. My bag's innards are spilled like blood in the Bible Before the cold gaze of the armed man who marches; He holds the key to this new world. The mechanistic arch stands and takes quasi-sentience Beside passport control, piercing my finely popped Eardrums with sonic solemnity. I am refused by technology but stagger forward hence Into baggage claim where a suitcase pile is propped Up like a holiday Tetris calamity. My suitcase is soul black and with difficulty is found, In its lucid eagerness to fasten itself a faux family; Airports are filled with pretences. Now we are away again, small trolley safe and sound, On the road from snow, heat is where I plan to be. Our intrepid journey commences...
When you truly know that life is worth living When you truly feel that love is for giving To die is a beautiful thing. When you truly feel that hate is forbidden When you truly know that death is worth heeding To try is a beautiful thing. Fate then becomes no more than a brief sweet moment, Hanging upon anyone's stiffened husky throat, Waiting for our merciful God's healing, To release it in: One Last Breath.
woeful dreams of shattered hearts bode cries of weary souls adrift in sorrow's impossible embrace its deathless spirit forever longing unknown questions overwrought in darken corners without sound till quiet whisper's passing hope their bosom bursting with secrets in vain consciously disappeared a shadowy mystery's forgotten nightmare knowingly awakened in blindness' forbidden retreat a senseless loss yet unexplained engulfed by continuous despair in a maelstrom's hidden depths its tipping point deeply mired by nonstop waves of lost tears in a tempest of howling winds of returned dust e'er scattered from east to west and beyond in the cycle of life now undone when enough is NOT enough and Hade's thirst is quenched in limbo men's souls remain © Eugene Harvey
In his heart he holds courage, In his hands he holds our lives. A Brave Soldier he may be, but only at the the front lines. He is weaken by all the death, He is haunted by there souls. For he knows in this battle, hatred rules one's goal. He does not fight for hatred, He fights for there lives instead. Cause he knows hatred has no value, when so many are dead. As he lays in death, knowing it will come, He glances at the sky and makes peace with all he's done. For on the battlefield, life is as precious as gold. And one must always choose should it be friend or foe? He closes his eyes and hopes in his death no more victims will fall. But, in his heart he knows his country one day will call. For A Brave Soldier to take the front line and give there his life as he, He just hopes all are content knowing A Brave Soldier he will always be.
the soldier knows many of the 4,500 who died in bashing Iraq, the soldier may be one of the 32,000 who have been wounded, or s/he may know any number of these individuals who for 9 years spent their time killing the 104,000 (estimated by Iraqis) or perhaps 600,000 (Lancet estimate) or perhaps even more civilians than that, as estimates of over a million come to light through further studies, not to mention the deaths caused by the strangling sanctions which the empire administered upon the country between 1991 & 2003. the soldier knows that the american embassy in Iraq will NEVER EVER be gone & that it is the largest in the world--- the soldier knows that the oil companies have been feeding on the land since the first green light like vultures tearing apart a carcass--- the soldier also knows that the contractors who have been getting paid more than him/her since the get-go are flooding into Iraq like it was going out of style as s/he goes home for a short time before they are called up again to go to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran or even Australia to bash bash bash the world into a bloody pulp even further. and over the "holidays" the same soldier can discuss with their veteran relatives from the Vietnam police action just how great the empire is that they live in, knowing first hand better than anyone just how far its greedy bloody talons can stretch--- then in tandem they can all shove their fingers down their throats to vomit up all that disgust again because it never goes away.
My baseball cap is my helmet and my Nike's are my boots, My country is my hood and my colors on my flag are niether red white or blue, My weapon of choice is my two hands, sometimes it can be whatever when I am threatened with a great fall from my stand, I have no general or soldiers but I have family and above all I got heart. My battlegrounds remain in my own home and sometimes even in the local Wal-Mart. Every inch of my hood is up for friendly fire, Violence remains apart of life around here searching for peace is far from desire, Everyday remains but another day someone will die, but more importantly is that another mother, brother, sister or father will cry. But I am a street soldier so I am prepared for anothers or worse yet my own demise, And as a street soldier I must keep the battle in check, no not with what I see with my two eyes, but what war is really going on inside the mind, My battles dont come from without but from within......I am a street soldier fighting through time.....
A red sword cut him down on the rocks where he stood-- Nearby his kin lay moaning in graves laced with mud. Betrayed by their own the brave Scots held their ground--- Dashed were their hopes burned with hearths and dear homes. The scree of pipes flared high through the ranks Called the last surge of courage to guard their flanks. He lost his bonnet somewhere in the fray-- But all was lost in this frigid foray. A grim calling grabbed a chance feather by air-- Nipped from a bonnet–like a trick at the fair. Bedazzled he gazed to the left,then the right-- But the feather escaped into the night. Blade deep was the ghastly odd sadness he felt-- As the British death blow to Scotland was dealt. But her ghillies danced sweet amidst clouds in the sky. Like her kiss was the tempo --but twas his day to die. Tragic the cries of the battle she heard Death whispered on wings from a flock of blackbirds. She screamed his name to the tragedy breeze--til Keening she fell to the rocks on her knees. V Anderson Throop Nov 2014 ©
To a soldier here in Iraq, it's not the war, I dread or fear, nor how soon, I may face the enemy. It's the waiting, and the silence, for the mail I don't recieve, from my loved ones, that help keep my mind at ease. I think of home, and family there, and wonder, what they'd do, if someone bombed the country, that we all love, dear and true. I don't like the job I have, but I give thanks, to God in heaven, that I'm not fighting, on American soil. I wonder, if they have forgotten me, now that I am gone, and wonder, when I'll next receive, a letter sent from home. You wonder, how I know so much, of what they think, and do, well I'm still sitting here, in Iraq, and I am that soldier to.
A soldier dies for the sake of his country He lived in a land where we're all meant to be free Bleeding from his wounds he speaks before his life is done "Not every soldier goes to heaven and I fear that I am one" "I fought to save the innocent from suffering" "I fought so hard but I couldn't save them from dying" He gasps as he chokes on his tears His mind is but a fleeting memory thinking of long forgotten years "My parents said to grow up and live strong" "If they could see me now, would they hold me before I'm gone?" "Or have I crossed the line between man and beast?" "Oh Lord I beg of you, let this pain cease" "Or has God forsaken man?" "Does it matter? I've already fought and died for this land" Hovering between life and death He speaks with his last breath "Is God watching now, have I done well?" "If not heaven, where else can I go? For I've already seen hell"
I'm a "soldiers" girl, Not the "soldier" you probably think My "soldier" is a street soldier so to speak This life does not allow us to be weak A soldier of his kind takes a strong soul and mind A color and a group of guys is what completes this bind Whether he is fighting for everyone or just his own life Its still a battle….a war with pain and strife In the streets only certain deeds will earn your stripes But everyone only hears the good parts, all the hype To look at him, you see someone mean and uncaring To know him, you know every part of his life is daring He can never just relax, have a good time and unwind His "soldier life" never stops with all things happening unkind You hear about the parties and the unbreakable bonds of their brothers But there is only room for them, no family and no others He can never truly "get out" and leave that life behind It takes a strong girl to be with him, a special kind We deal with "the life" and the things that come with them Every thing they go through, we also go through with them Everyone judges my soldier for his wrong doings and life style Maybe he had no choice to be like this all the while Not born with a "silver spoon" in his mouth or a loving family Maybe just maybe……a soldier he was always meant to be I know that side of him no one else cares to or does The love he shows me….couldn't come from anywhere but above To pass up a love as pure, intense and kind as his Im unable to do So yes, I'm a soldiers girl......or as you would call it "his boo"
Preach to the full moon soldier It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder Mother has child that father denies Leaves when his baby lets out those first cries Excuses flying, lies sailing; words without care Feelings are complicated so share you don't dare Lips that smile hold some bruises and a cut Hands that have done the damage slam the door shut You watch him out the window glass Retreating figure gone at last Preach to the full moon soldier It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder Things get harder, mothers fired Baby is toddler and much too tired Money is in short supply If only father would just comply To help raise his growing kid Instead he ran and lost his bid A single tear stains the cheek Of a mother's soul who's much too weak Preach to the full moon soldier It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder Mothers dead, everything's blown Toddler is small child left alone Father drunk, stumbling back Custody left to this piece of slack Days are long and too far gone Nights are worse, he's never done Talking his beer scented words speaking He says to his child be kind, PREACHING Preach to the full moon soldier It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder Small child has developed Distinguished individual moving up Swearing to the sky blue They will be nothing like you Father in jail thief from the night Cell lit dimly with pal moonlight A smile to the grown child A tear from the man of the wild Preach to the full moon soldier It's all you've got left as the nights grow colder
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE Love Lies bleeding On the snow Message from a guy You know You played with His heart and head It's all your fault the life you've led i loved him too but he chose you i hate you for what he went through Wounded soldier back from war As he entered his own door Heard sex crooning ---grunts of man Turned his back—away he ran Put a bullet in his head Now you cry that he is dead stop your tears -- can't be undone hope your peace -- forever gone what made you treat A good man so Love lies Bleeding on the Snow Victoria Anderson-Throop 12/01/2012
heaven patiently watches the American soldier from beyond this life as his wife cries and his brave son waves goodbye father holds his mother as she prays ( god keep my son safe) the American soldier so far from home you will never march alone so brave trying not to be afraid as he fights for all the world's rights the American soldier the American soldier may angels surround you ever second of day and night as we pray heaven watches and the American soldier stands high in God;s grace we ask God please protect our American soldier and keep in safety,s sight, shield our american soldier within god;s greatest light shield our american soldier with god;s greatest light shield our american soldier in god;s greatest light shield our american soldier with god;s greatest light shield our american soldier with god;s greatest light
The Cry Of The Soliers The cry of the soldiers I hear so loud and so clear, praying that the day light would soon appear. I say to my self how lucky I am to have these men and women risking their life so I can keep mine. As they do battle from far and wide I pray to god to keep them alive I wonder to my self how I would feel if I were in their shoes not knowing if I was going to becoming home or stay there until things were through We take so much for granted the freedom we have, that we forget the men and women out their, So as I lay down at night and it peaceful and calm, then I hear that cry of that soldier in my mind, I place my hand over my heart and pray to god to wipe the tears from their eyes. So to this day ill never forget the cry of the soldier that led me to this, I take off my hat and salute you my friends for standing tall and not giving in, The cry of the soldiers ill never forget.,
what its like to be that soldier? risking your life and sacrificing alot but not every one can call themselves that think of what you do during the day while they dont sleep that chance to not come back home, their families that weap scary?? hearing and seeing bullets fly rounds striking skin battle buddies that die feeling of mortar rounds striking the ground beneath your feet IED's exploding under one of your battles HUMMWV the sound of a 50 cal going off nite and day bodies falling around them now what do you have to say? you think your story is hard try being a soldier for once and you tell me try living their life and seeing what they see days in and days out with no relief and you say you think your scared?? im scared for their families grief being a soldier is not what you think, its what you are being strung up in a gang killing dont make you that star that real soldier is defending this country and whats right firing rounds down range not giving up with out a fight seeing your buddies shot and die with their blood on your hands are you really that soldier or do you stand back in the stands? waking up and breathing each day hoping its not the last you make the fear is what keeps them alive but thats a give or take soldiers losing everything that they once adored spouses leaving them cuz they cant wait or get bored its not easy being that soldier even from the good you do its not a get up one day, kill and walk away thinking you're through when you're a soldier thats what you are each morning you wake you live it and you breathe it in with out a rest or break by Taneia J. Nelson
I saw a burning soldier in the sand I couldn't tell if he was friend or foe I just stood and watched him burn my heart and mind accustomed though to what would make the state side stomach churn Mothers holding children charred black or sometimes white faces frozen forever pain and fright I curse the day my heart grew hard I still and will obey I took the oath I raised my hand I saw a burning soldier in the sand I hoped he had found peace and turned to walk away
A soldier in a world of hate,anger,lies and madness. That is what makes a world of sadness. I'm a soldier fighting a battle to win a war. In this battle if death comes in the air I'll soar. When I'm awake I'm filled with fear. Cause I feel death is very near. Our Lord only gives us what we can bare. Please help us and try to be fair. I'm a soldier with a life to live. I'm a soldier with a life to give. Teresa Skyles
He chose to take this profession because it was in his heart. He knew the day would come when all he loved, he would soon part. As he trains for his great mission, he still hears the chants ringing in his head Remembering the protesters and their right to say what they said. He smiles for a brief second, 'cause thats really all he's got "Do they actually know how blessed they are?" he shurgs, "probably not." They have the wrong impression, for it's them he is training for. Along with our country, oh, but there is so much more... There are others who long to be in this place we so causually call home. They swim shark infested oceans or die of thirst in the desert alone. There are children who will never know what clean water is to drink. Yet, we swim in water cleaner and don't even stop to think. Women who are tortured because they dare to show their face. And we go without makeup and think we're a disgrace. As a kid we would hate to get up so early to go to school. Never thinking about children half a world away, where learning is forbidden by their rule. The Father who cries silent tears for he feels as a man his honor is gone. Praying for someone to help his people take back what was once their home. Across the world is a soldier, who somehow feels his prayers. He vows silently to come and help them get back what is rightfully theirs. He knows the people are scared, their will has been surpressed. But, the soldier and his allies are training and their determination will not rest. Yet, still somewhere out there the chants still go. They rant and rave over something they don't even know. For it is not them who felt the prayers of a man half a world away. Nor is it them who insures they have the freedom to chant another day. It is the Soldier and the others who will go and make the wrongs right. For his country, the world and humanity in our honor he will fight!
There will come a time Maybe today, or tomorrow Where a soldier of fortune Will gloat in his sorrow For his trackers and he On a mission to tame Will hunt him down And leave him in maim Through the wires of code In binary bite This soldier of fortune Will, with all his might Where will he start It's for his prey to guess When he knocks on his door Instant distress Before he is taken A justice is served For some times in this world Some things are deserved He is handed over to their FBI In the land of the free, their justice he's tried For if he was left, with the soldier of fortune He would remember that day His day of misfortune http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-4.php
the "rogue" soldier one US soldier gets blamed for killing 16 civilians in Afghanistan, and the whole world is chattering like they did when the qu'rans were burned--- this time, after the 16 were shot dead, they were rounded up & set ablaze--- this time, humans were burned. so as the media affixes Staff Sgt. Robert Bales' head atop a sharp stake has this put anything in perspective? for the idiots out there who still give a ***** about the burning of a "holy book" that has been responsible for torment & deaths throughout history, this should be a wake up call--- this "rogue" soldier is only one, he is a pubic hair in comparison to the vast US military that continues to stomp & kill, stomp & kill, all over the world--- yes, he was being deployed for the 4th time & yes, that is a bunch of bullshit, if in fact the military said that they wouldn't do it again, but, correct me if i'm wrong, but didn't he sign the dotted line? didn't he agree in the very beginning to become a hired killer? was he able to write all his own personal exceptions to the rules in the margins of the contract, in hopes that when pressed to the wall, someone would read them & care? the way that his "massacre" is being pursued shows how full of ***** the whole world is, when they disregard all of the killings that have taken place in much worse situations, like a Vietnamese baby getting taped to the top of a broken down jeep, surrounded by c4 & then subsequently blown to pieces by US soldiers back in Nam, in order to pass the time--- the examples of the US military destroying civilians across the world are endless & there are no "rules of war," despite the overwhelmingly naïve belief to the contrary--- this one hired killer who killed like he was hired to (kill kill kill & kill some more), is being held up as an example, to pretend as if the US military has standards, to give another shallow "i'm sorry" to the people that we have been pummeling for 10 years, while working to cause new friction with the Taliban so that peace will never be attained, so that the war in Afghanistan will continue & Lockheed Martin, Boeing & Northrop Grumman amidst others, will continue to fuel the military-industrial complex & when mr. hope & change condemns the soldier's actions publicly, he'll get some election campaign bonus points from those who still go into the voting booth, thinking that it matters.
torrent of tear's fall , as a springtime rain the earth quakes , rumbles , from all the pain my chest heaves from the anguish i see fallen leaves from the Soldier Tree the hurt inside is'nt easy to hide blood stained sleeves is all i find as one leaf fall's amongst from thee all the rest will follow thee one loss is everybody's loss why do these war's have to be fought ? when did it all begin , when will it all end ? not every good soldier get's to come home your courage will be forever known you are not just anybody's son or daughter you are everybody's brave sent to slaughter i will alway's remember the pain i see as i watch the leaves fall........ from the Soldier Tree .
Baby blue sets in. A little baby boy. Soldiers in the cradle make little soldier noise. A single drop sets in. A monkey on her back is patiently awaiting for a quick monkey attack. Now I can't help but think that there's something to it all. Though there's a pudred smelling fungus in the corner down the hall. Where sweaty men play with a brown leather ball. Now I can't help but think that there's something to it all. Something in the sunshine. Something in the wind. Something in it's whisper to make me feel alive again. Something in its madness, like slushy winter snow. Where drunken men find lonliness,and laughing children go. And I can't help but stumble, and I can't help but fall. And I can't help but think that there's something to it all. And I can't help but get up, and i can't help but fall. And I can't help but think that there's something to it all. Baby blue sets in. A little baby girl. Solders in the cradle form little soldier curls. A single drop sets in a monkey on her back. Is patiently awaiting for a quick monkey attack. Now I can't help but think that there's something to it all. And I can't help but stumble, and I can't help but fall. And I can't help but get up, and I can't help but fall. And I can't help but think that there's something to it.
It's said she's an angel in disguise. She grew up in a small French town, Playing on her Re' island's shores. She's a mother now, and all that implies, Routinely going about her nightly chores, After working in the neighboring town. Like many other soldiers' wives, Moving yet to another Army town, She got used to packing and unpacking drawers She followed me across the skies, Without complaining or keeping scores. Without ever seeming to get rundown; Now that I'm retired, there's no more goodbyes. She doesn't have to run the house alone. Painting the bedrooms, fixing faucets and doors, And finding other problems—SURPRISE! Tearing carpeting off a real wood floor. We now have a real house of our own.
A long time ago A way of life used to grow First born meant first to die To protect The cycle of life But then the chain was broke When a soul separated at birth Became the fist GUARDIAN OF ANGELS An army began Heaven sent as fast as they can The smallest strength to survive Became the strongest fate For keeping others alive One rulers slave Becomes anothers soldier brave When sent to the grave A long time ago A way of life used to grow First born meant first to die To protect the cycle of life But then the chain was broke When a soul separated at birth Became the first GUARDIAN OF ANGELS!! An army began Heaven sent as fast as they can The strongest strength to survive Becam the strongest fate For keeping others alive One rulers slave Is anothers soldier brave When sent to the grave
i'm a soldier in my own heart and mind no matter how much these fools think they have taken from me they are dead wrong what they have taken from me isn't enough to bring me down im' a soldier,not afraid of them but rather of what they would do to me but i wonder now what do they hate is it what i do or the soldier that i am
It is easy to spot a soldier. Easy to choose one out of a large crowd. Some are obvious. The boots, fatigues, or hat worn eagerly by a veteran. The regulation hair cut also called a high and tight. The unbreakable glasses also know as birth control glasses or BCG's. Other signs are more subtle. The way a soldier carrys himself is very definitive. The air of confidence he exudes is palbable. The respect given to elders and superiors is a learned trait all soldier have. The soldier has a specific walk, one that ticks to a rhythm, a rhythm developed by miles of marching. A soldier acquires many determining habits. All are developed rapidly in his training. All make the person a better soldier. All make the soldier a better person.
I, a small feeble man boasted with joy over the deceased body of the enemy, a young boy. Days had passed since the soldier had see his own men, his thick beard slightly decayed to grey, shadowing his entire face from the outside world. He again peered over the sprawled out figure in the dirt. This time with more disgrace then before. His face stood hidden beneath a thin stream of blood, from the mellowed out hole to the left of his ear. Darken blood ran, darker then the shadow of a fallin pier. Enlightment bestowed itself in an ackward place, victory meant freedom, but not for the soldier in this case. This lifeless figure lying in the dust, held for a moment, grasp upon my very own life, first I took his out of lust. Had his prayers been answered, I'd be in his place, his boot would have elasped the impressed mold of mine. This man I do not know, this man could have taken the life of mine.