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CLEVELAND SKYLINE

CLEVELAND SKYLINE
BORN HERE RAISED HERE AND MOST LIKELY WILL PASS AWAY AND BE BURIED HERE AS WELL.

San Francisco Skyline

San Francisco Skyline
This is a Tip of The Hat to Sandee, my Co-Author and blog wizard.

I've been in my own boat sitting out in this water looking at this view. Awesome!-Sandee.

MY HAMMERED DULCIMER

MY HAMMERED DULCIMER
There are various Hammered Dulcimer postings from YouTube of different tunes, and NO I AM NOT PLAYING ANY OF THESE TUNES.Maybe some day when I have the equipment to do so.I have included a link to my You Tube Channel.I invite you to go and watch any of my videos on the site also check out some of the different channels I subscribe to.

ABOUT THE HAMMERED DULCIMER

The hammered dulcimer is an ancient trapezoidal musical instrument played by striking the strings with wooden hammers.

Originating in the Middle East about 2000 years ago, English soldiers brought the instrument back to England after their failed attempt to conquer Persia during the Crusades about 1000 years ago. Dulcimers have many names in many lands: santur in the Middle East, yang q'in in China, hackbrett in Austria, zither in Germany, and cymbalom in Hungary. The name "dulcimer" is derived from Latin, meaning "sweet sound". Hammered dulcimers were popular in England during the reign of James I, when the Bible was translated into English as the King James Bible. The dulcimer was mentioned in the Book of Daniel 3:5 among other instruments "..the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of music..." The dulcimer was later mechanized to become what we now know as the harpsichord which later evolved in the piano.

THE BLOG ROLLS.

IN ORDER TO MAKE THIS PAGE LOAD EASIER I MOVED THE BLOG ROLLS TO A SEPARATE BLOG, THE BLOG ROLLS CAN BE FOUND HERE AT G.C.R.S. BLOGROLLS.

A good thought

A good thought

The Officer Down Memorial

The Officer Down Memorial
Click the Badge to go to the site.

THE SERENITY PRAYER

THE SERENITY PRAYER
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him forever in the next. Amen. - Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)

WHEN I'M HAVING A BAD DAY.

WHEN I'M HAVING A BAD DAY.
WHEN EVERYTHING IS JUST TOO MUCH, I WILL BE HIDING, PLAYING MY GAMES AND STAYING IN MY OWN LITTLE WORLD.

HEY MIKEY,THIS MEANS YOU!!

IF IT IS NOT BROKEN DO NOT TRY TO FIX IT MIKEY, YOU GOOF! - SIGNED ME

Mike - Take the word DELETE out of your vocabulary. Big hug... Sandee

NATIONAL SUICIDE PROVENTION LIFELINE

With Help Comes Hope

Veterans Hotline & Online Chat
Are you a veteran in emotional distress? Please call 1-800-273-TALK and press 1 to be routed to the Veterans Suicide Prevention Hotline.
OR Veterans chat live with a counselor.


Are you in crisis? Please call 1-800-273-TALK
Are you feeling desperate, alone or hopeless? Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), a free, 24-hour hotline available to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress. Your call will be routed to the nearest crisis center to you.

I URGE ANYONE THAT NEEDS TO MAKE THIS CALL TO PLEASE DO SO.YOU ARE A PRECIOUS HUMAN BEING,YOU ARE SOMEONE'S LOVED ONE. GOD KNOWS WE ALL GO THROUGH A CRISIS AND NEED THE HELP.PLEASE CHOOSE LIFE!

I URGE ANYONE THAT NEEDS TO MAKE THIS CALL TO PLEASE DO SO.YOU ARE A PRECIOUS HUMAN BEING,YOU ARE SOMEONE'S LOVED ONE. GOD KNOWS WE ALL GO THROUGH A CRISIS AND NEED THE HELP. PLEASE CHOOSE LIFE.

THIS IS HERE TO REMIND ME AS WELL AS EVERYONE ELSE THAT LIFE IS IMPORTANT.

Blog Changes

Since I have decided to shut down Both Mike's Place and Loonytoon Central, Music Monday/Mondays Music Moves Me, Thursdays Tune, 5 On Friday, Feline Friday and the Google Doodles will now all be here.

I SEE YOU!!!

Sign by Danasoft - Get Your Sign

The Blogger's Prayer

Lord help me to learn to spell without spellcheck, manage to visit all that visit me, and post regularly - all in 5 minutes a day, so that I can clean house and take care of my family. Help me to not look at every occurrence in my life as a blog post, and to quit taking pictures of weird things to share as well. Please Lord, help me to stop talking about my blog friends as though they are next door neighbors or someone I have known all of my life. And help me dear Lord, to think of something witty and wise to post tomorrow.


IF YOU WANT TO SHARE ANY POSTINGS

ANYONE IS WELCOME TO TAKE THE STUFF POSTED HERE TO SHARE ON YOUR SITE. ALL I ASK IS A TIP OF THE HAT AND A LINK BACK. UNLESS I SAY HANDS OFF THIS POSTING!!!

Thursday, July 08, 2010

I got this Email,and just had to share it.

Cemetery Watchman .

     I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

    I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace.. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

    I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

    Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

    I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

    I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

    'Ma'am, may I assist you in any way?'

    She took long enough to answer.

    'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

    'My pleasure, ma'am.' Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.

    She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'

    '  Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

    She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'

    I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

    She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off.. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time.'

    'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'

    She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out.. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

    She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X.Davidson, USMC, 1943.

    She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone,  Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944..

    She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

    I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

    She looked confused.. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

    I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

    'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly'

    She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970 She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out.

    'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

    Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

    She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle,  Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all marines.'

    She stopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully.
    I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car.
    Get to the 'Out' gate quick.. I have something I've got to do.'

    Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

    'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it across the drive to the other post.

    When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

    I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.
    She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.

    I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.

    Instead of 'The End,' just think of 'Taps.'

    As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer: 'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.'

    Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

    'In God We Trust.'
    Sorry about your monitor; it made mine blurry too!

    If we ever forget that we're one nation under God, then we will be a nation gone under! You are required to pass this on NOW!!

I recieved that as an email and wanted to share it.if you want to share it as well just copy and paste it to your blog or send it as an email.

2 comments:

Mari said...

Thanks for sending this one Mike. It's very touching!

Mike Golch said...

Mari,Yes it is.That's a lot of generations that gave their lives for freedom.

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