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Archive for January 5th, 2010

Pilgrimage Statistics  

Consecutive Days Riding:  86                              Consecutive Days Blogging: 87  

Today’s Mileage: 4                                               Total Trip Mileage: 705 

 We watched at noon today as my son Max walked to a waiting van. Along with six other young men, they started a journey into manhood as warriors for our nation in a time of war.  He carries on a tradition, from father to son.  My grandfather an Army veteran of WWI sent his oldest son to the Army in WW2. He sent his youngest son, my father, into the Navy to fight in Korea. My father sent his oldest son, yours truly, into the Navy during the Vietnam War.  Now I send my son Max into the Army to likely fight in our latest war. All of the “Edwards boys” came back in one piece; I pray that Max will continue with that tradition! 

Remembering all who serve!

I searched the internet for a Soldier’s Prayer and found many.  But none that was satisfactory for the feelings of relief, excitement and pride that I feel at this moment.  They use names for God I do not use, and ask for things I would not ask.  So I send my son off with two poems.  Both were written in the past, one a product of my pride at his earlier warrior efforts.  The second written with memories of my father in mind, longing for a dialogue that could never be, a dialogue I hope to someday have with my son. 

 War Games 

Warrior on the line!

Waves of geese 

   Pass overhead 

      Squawking in support 

As the ground forces 

   Surge forward 

      Tanks on the line 

   Fleet fast infantry 

      On the corners 

   HQ in the rear 

The defense 

   Meets them head on 

      With a crash of pads  

          And helmets 

Generals  

   Shout orders  

      From the sidelines 

JV football practice 

   My eldest son 

     Mans the right side 

        Of the attacking line 

Handshake and a handoff to the Army!

What I Knew Could Never Be 

Its taken a quarter 

Of a lifetime 

For me to learn  

How to speak. 

  

I was not raised 

To have opinions, 

I was raised  

To mouth my father’s words. 

I was raised to act proper 

To be seen and not heard. 

  

Don’t follow the crowd 

Follow me was the message. 

He prefered to have me 

Be different from my peers? 

Not to challenge him 

With my questions of youth? 

  

My spirit left home 

Before my body. 

It journeyed to the sea, 

Driven away 

In search of acceptance 

And the wonders I knew to be. 

  

I saw my father 

Only a few times in adulthood. 

Superior I was, but sad I felt 

At what I knew could never be, 

A dialogue between father and son, 

Two men, two voices 

Be safe son and know that you are loved!

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