ninpoikkan
Moderator
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>The act makes me sick.. but the story brought a tear to my eye.
------------------------------------
I read a story in the New York Journal News, Monday, November 8, 1999, on
page 3A, entitled "Vet's memorial fire believed intentional," by an unknown
staff writer. This is my reaction to that event. I am responsible for its
content. I hereby give my permission to print or post it anywhere you wish.
Veteran's Memorial Torched (and what it means to us)
In the early morning hours of Monday, November 8th, 1999, some of our
nation's children let us know what they think of our nation, this cradle of
liberty, this land of truth and justice. They stealthily surrounded a small
military memorial in a small town near Rochester, New York, they poured
flammable liquids on it, and they burned it to the ground. Let me repeat
that: they burned it to the ground.
In this nation, where we protect to the highest degree the right of all
citizens to make their feelings known, these children spoke. They spoke
with fire, and condemned their birthrights. This exercise of their freedom
of speech was crystal clear and should be understood by all. They
demonstrated their hatred of our nation, their nation, our heritage, our way
of life.
This morning, residents of the small hamlet of Richmond, NY came to the
charred remains in the center of their town to view with horrified eyes this
dishonor done to the memory of their fallen warriors, American fighting men
whose names and lives and deaths spanned the decades from the Civil War to
the Vietnam War. They were mostly silent, but the tears flowed from their
eyes as they viewed the carnage. Some brought flowers to place on the
smoldering ashes of what should have been an eternal tribute.
Two thousand, two hundred names were engraved in gold and ensconced in a
wooden gazebo, surrounded by flags. Twenty-two hundred men from this tiny
town who never came home to their wives, their children, their parents,
their families. Twenty-two hundred men who paid, in blood, the price of our
freedom. Twenty-two hundred heroes.
Those men did not ask to die, and most likely did not want to die, far from
home, in pain and suffering and calling for their mothers. They did not ask
to be the ones chosen to pay the ultimate price so that we would remain a
nation, free and strong. They did not ask to be heroes, or to have their
names remembered and their sacrifices honored.
Yet, in this nation, we honor those who have fallen so that we might breathe
the air of freedom, so that we might speak our minds, even so that we might
condemn the gifts given us. In this ultimate irony, their sacrifice has
provided the security and the liberty and even the network of laws that
protect those who put the torch to their memorial.
Thursday, November 11th, 1999, is Veteran's Day in the USA (Remembrance Day
in Canada). Some see it as a day off of work. Some look forward to an
extended weekend. In many cities and towns across America, there will be
parades, speeches, and they will be sparsely attended by those who remember.
Some snicker and make rude comments as Old Glory flutters by, carried by old
men in old and badly fitting uniforms.
There are some of us who do not see creaky old veterans in moth-ball
smelling uniforms. We see something else. We see fellow warriors who did
what was asked of them by their nation, whether in peacetime or in war. We
see the pride with which our National Ensign is held aloft, the precision of
the step, the solid thump of the boots on pavement of these military men.
We can still hear 'Reveille' first thing in the morning if we listen hard
enough. We can smell gunpowder in the air, and hear the sharp bark of
commands. We remember "Eyes Right!" as we Pass In Review. We know what it
feels like to stand at the position of attention and salute as the flag is
lowered gently and reverently at dusk. We are still proud to be called
patriots, and we don't think of it as a dirty word.
So, now we are under attack, but this time the attack comes from within.
This is not the anti-war sentiment of the 60's; at least the hippies
believed in something. This is something new, something truly ugly. This
is a war over nothing. Belief in nothing, trust in nothing, desire for
nothing. This is our children demonstrating their boredom, disgust, and
ennui, with us, with each other, with life in general.
We see it in the schools - Arkansas, Colorado, and so on. We see it in the
black trenchcoats, the painted faces, the carefully-cultivated disgust with
life and love of destruction. We blame the movies, guns, the government,
cults, and anything else we can think of except ourselves. We don't
understand our children, and they don't understand us. They don't like our
culture, they don't like our values, and they don't even like each other.
How could we have raised a generation of children so damaged? I don't
pretend to have the answer, but I must pose the question: how do we reclaim
our children?
This burning of a small veteran's memorial in a small town in New York is
not the end of the world. It can be rebuilt. The men who died and are
remembered can continue to be honored, their names freshly engraved in brass
and gold. We can hold a ceremony, and pray that it does not happen again.
We can catch the vandals responsible and punish them, or try to teach them
why what they did was so wrong.
But this is a symbol, in my mind, of what is wrong, powerfully wrong, with
our nation. When will we turn to our children and take them and love them
and show them that there is something worth believing in, that the strength
of a free nation is based on the faith its citizens have in it? When will
we stop pretending that we have no Creator, that we are not charged with the
responsibility of passing faith in that Creator on to our progeny? When
will we be willing to sacrifice that SUV in the driveway or that 401(k) in
the stock market for our family's sake?
So today, a small veteran's memorial was burned to the ground. Twenty-two
hundred names lie in the ashes, they have fallen again. But as they once
paid with their blood for the future of our nation, let them be called forth
to serve us once more. Sound the bugles! Let the desecration of their
memorial be the reminder that we all need to hear, the wake-up call for
America and our posterity. Let them lie in the ashes and make us horrified
and ashamed that we have let things get this far. And then let us restore
their names, restore their honor, and honor them a second time by reclaiming
our families, as we know we must. If you believe that they did not die in
vain in wars dimly remembered, then don't let their memories die in vain
now.
And if you want to do something about this particular memorial, then here is
the information you need. You know what to do.
Town of Richmond
20 East Main Street
PO Box 145
Honeoye, NY 14471
716-229-5757
FAX-229-5114[/quote]
I just called the number. As of yet, they are not accepting any donations for the replacement of the monument. That is pending the finalization of the investigation. I left my work number with the town clerk, and they will notify me when/if they decide to accept donations. Once I hear from them, I will post the information here so that any who wish to do so may contribute.
Scott
Sua Sponte
Join C.A.N.
------------------------------------
I read a story in the New York Journal News, Monday, November 8, 1999, on
page 3A, entitled "Vet's memorial fire believed intentional," by an unknown
staff writer. This is my reaction to that event. I am responsible for its
content. I hereby give my permission to print or post it anywhere you wish.
Veteran's Memorial Torched (and what it means to us)
In the early morning hours of Monday, November 8th, 1999, some of our
nation's children let us know what they think of our nation, this cradle of
liberty, this land of truth and justice. They stealthily surrounded a small
military memorial in a small town near Rochester, New York, they poured
flammable liquids on it, and they burned it to the ground. Let me repeat
that: they burned it to the ground.
In this nation, where we protect to the highest degree the right of all
citizens to make their feelings known, these children spoke. They spoke
with fire, and condemned their birthrights. This exercise of their freedom
of speech was crystal clear and should be understood by all. They
demonstrated their hatred of our nation, their nation, our heritage, our way
of life.
This morning, residents of the small hamlet of Richmond, NY came to the
charred remains in the center of their town to view with horrified eyes this
dishonor done to the memory of their fallen warriors, American fighting men
whose names and lives and deaths spanned the decades from the Civil War to
the Vietnam War. They were mostly silent, but the tears flowed from their
eyes as they viewed the carnage. Some brought flowers to place on the
smoldering ashes of what should have been an eternal tribute.
Two thousand, two hundred names were engraved in gold and ensconced in a
wooden gazebo, surrounded by flags. Twenty-two hundred men from this tiny
town who never came home to their wives, their children, their parents,
their families. Twenty-two hundred men who paid, in blood, the price of our
freedom. Twenty-two hundred heroes.
Those men did not ask to die, and most likely did not want to die, far from
home, in pain and suffering and calling for their mothers. They did not ask
to be the ones chosen to pay the ultimate price so that we would remain a
nation, free and strong. They did not ask to be heroes, or to have their
names remembered and their sacrifices honored.
Yet, in this nation, we honor those who have fallen so that we might breathe
the air of freedom, so that we might speak our minds, even so that we might
condemn the gifts given us. In this ultimate irony, their sacrifice has
provided the security and the liberty and even the network of laws that
protect those who put the torch to their memorial.
Thursday, November 11th, 1999, is Veteran's Day in the USA (Remembrance Day
in Canada). Some see it as a day off of work. Some look forward to an
extended weekend. In many cities and towns across America, there will be
parades, speeches, and they will be sparsely attended by those who remember.
Some snicker and make rude comments as Old Glory flutters by, carried by old
men in old and badly fitting uniforms.
There are some of us who do not see creaky old veterans in moth-ball
smelling uniforms. We see something else. We see fellow warriors who did
what was asked of them by their nation, whether in peacetime or in war. We
see the pride with which our National Ensign is held aloft, the precision of
the step, the solid thump of the boots on pavement of these military men.
We can still hear 'Reveille' first thing in the morning if we listen hard
enough. We can smell gunpowder in the air, and hear the sharp bark of
commands. We remember "Eyes Right!" as we Pass In Review. We know what it
feels like to stand at the position of attention and salute as the flag is
lowered gently and reverently at dusk. We are still proud to be called
patriots, and we don't think of it as a dirty word.
So, now we are under attack, but this time the attack comes from within.
This is not the anti-war sentiment of the 60's; at least the hippies
believed in something. This is something new, something truly ugly. This
is a war over nothing. Belief in nothing, trust in nothing, desire for
nothing. This is our children demonstrating their boredom, disgust, and
ennui, with us, with each other, with life in general.
We see it in the schools - Arkansas, Colorado, and so on. We see it in the
black trenchcoats, the painted faces, the carefully-cultivated disgust with
life and love of destruction. We blame the movies, guns, the government,
cults, and anything else we can think of except ourselves. We don't
understand our children, and they don't understand us. They don't like our
culture, they don't like our values, and they don't even like each other.
How could we have raised a generation of children so damaged? I don't
pretend to have the answer, but I must pose the question: how do we reclaim
our children?
This burning of a small veteran's memorial in a small town in New York is
not the end of the world. It can be rebuilt. The men who died and are
remembered can continue to be honored, their names freshly engraved in brass
and gold. We can hold a ceremony, and pray that it does not happen again.
We can catch the vandals responsible and punish them, or try to teach them
why what they did was so wrong.
But this is a symbol, in my mind, of what is wrong, powerfully wrong, with
our nation. When will we turn to our children and take them and love them
and show them that there is something worth believing in, that the strength
of a free nation is based on the faith its citizens have in it? When will
we stop pretending that we have no Creator, that we are not charged with the
responsibility of passing faith in that Creator on to our progeny? When
will we be willing to sacrifice that SUV in the driveway or that 401(k) in
the stock market for our family's sake?
So today, a small veteran's memorial was burned to the ground. Twenty-two
hundred names lie in the ashes, they have fallen again. But as they once
paid with their blood for the future of our nation, let them be called forth
to serve us once more. Sound the bugles! Let the desecration of their
memorial be the reminder that we all need to hear, the wake-up call for
America and our posterity. Let them lie in the ashes and make us horrified
and ashamed that we have let things get this far. And then let us restore
their names, restore their honor, and honor them a second time by reclaiming
our families, as we know we must. If you believe that they did not die in
vain in wars dimly remembered, then don't let their memories die in vain
now.
And if you want to do something about this particular memorial, then here is
the information you need. You know what to do.
Town of Richmond
20 East Main Street
PO Box 145
Honeoye, NY 14471
716-229-5757
FAX-229-5114[/quote]
I just called the number. As of yet, they are not accepting any donations for the replacement of the monument. That is pending the finalization of the investigation. I left my work number with the town clerk, and they will notify me when/if they decide to accept donations. Once I hear from them, I will post the information here so that any who wish to do so may contribute.
Scott
Sua Sponte
Join C.A.N.
