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15 September 2021

Shine On Harvest Moon


Today, I experienced what can only be summed up as fear and frustration — over the past decade or so that I lived, believing things that were not fully so.


There are many here in this nation who feel the same way, although they tend to vent viciously and spew nastiness.


How can I — and so many other parents — know what the reality is behind promises that appeal to our apprehensions about this country. All I knew, a decade ago, was that the minimal jobs and opportunities that I had — in the lousy 1970s — weren’t even there for my children.

I know things even out, and I know that every thing happens for the best. But on days like today, all I can feel is disgust over trust given that was used against me, and other loving, caring parents. I didn’t get so alienated that I dropped out of voting and society because that void allowed the corruption that is rampant all around this country, and the world.


I remember my mid-May 2013 essay, The Summer of 2008. And my Dear Friend asking me if I felt badly, during that summer, at the mess that my children had to go out into — in this world of chaos, disaster, and uncertainty.


I quickly replied:


“I didn’t make this mess. I haven’t even been a part of it. As a matter of fact, I’ve done my best to get away from it.”


“But our children still have to deal with it.”

And I firmly pronounced then, as I even more firmly pronounce now:


“It is far better for our children to deal with this misfortune now than later, when they are forty or fifty or even sixty, and have built lives, only to see them swept away. They will learn; they will build backbone.”


Now here we are, 13 years later, and the messes are here all over again, with a newer generation of Americans to experience the distrust and suspicion of the government of their own nation. We’ve identified a newer set of criminals, to join the old set of criminals, behind the treason and the fraud and the desecration — of all we hold dear.


There have been newer lambs to the slaughter. For the Americans, the toll on August 26 in Kabul was 13 service members, killed by terrorists. Given the choice of “Kill or be killed,” the pompous idiots installed in the White House opted for the massacres of Americans who were born as the War On Terror began its battles, toward this final ignominious fiasco.

Those 13 stars are shining down upon us, the patriots who must not forget them. Through honoring their memories, their sacrifices, their young lives and their noble deaths, we also honor the heroic sacrifices of so many others who went before them. We shall thereby find means, and motives, and opportunities — to shine on like that harvest moon.


I’d just like this country to get to the point where the people causing these fiascos are the ones who pay the harshest price for them. Maybe, in the end, that’s how it will be. Right now, all I can think of is the heroes who died, and the traitors among us.


That outrage leads me directly to the firm resolve, a sense of duty to make sure that no American gets left behind — in memory. Freedom comes at a cost, but currently the innocents are the ones paying that price.


On les aura: We’ll get them. The Lord Almighty will be the judge, the jury, and the executioner to avenge the noble Americans who did nothing wrong, or illegal, or even immoral, except love their country.