Thank you, Mr. Hanks
For the record, let me plainly state that I believe Tom Hanks to be one of, if not the finest actor of his and many other generations. He has been honored by a myriad of institutions for his work as an actor (two Academy Awards) as well as a producer – most recently of the exceptional docudrama chronicling the life of America’s second President, John Adams.
For the record, I think Saving Private Ryan was robbed of its true status as Best Picture. But I digress.
So, when I heard that Mr. Hanks had called me, and all the other member of the religion I follow “un-American” for having supported California’s Proposition 8, I was taken aback.
Today, I am heartened by Mr. Hanks’ apology. It takes a big man to admit having crossed a line in acceptable public discourse. Its good to know there are still some people who can do that.
Tom Hanks and I don’t see eye to eye on the issue of same sex “marriage”. Somehow we can both be civil about this difference of opinion. I just wish the rest of the anti-Prop 8 crowd would get that memo.
Here endeth the lesson.
Proof that the Almighty works miracles on the gridiron
November 19, 1863 – Lincoln at Gettysburg
Today’s media world is one defined by six-second sound bytes. Political orators great, and not so great, give speeches by the dozen on any number of subjects to cheering crowds of the assembled masses. What they say is boiled down to what fits in the news segment between the train wreck and the office shootout as reported by the 24-hour cable channel.
The world notes little and remembers less of what is said by national leaders.
On this day, 145 years ago, two speeches were given at the dedicatory ceremony of Gettysburg National Cemetery. One was given by a man widely renowned as the greatest orator of the time. He was none other than Edward Everett, a former Secretary of State, U.S. Senator, U.S. Representative, Governor of Massachusetts, president of Harvard University, and Vice Presidential candidate. Almost as an afterthought, the President of the United States was also invited to give “dedicatory remarks.”
On the dedicatory day, November 19, Everett’s speech contained 13,607 words and lasted over two hours. After Everett’s oration, and a hymn, Abraham Lincoln rose and gave the following speech:
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.
It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Some times less really is more. This speech was given long before the era of paid speechwriters and TelePrompTers. Lincoln wrote it believing (most likely) that it would be forgotten among all the other speeches he gave. Its doubtful he had much time to give serious thought to his “dedicatory remarks”. His nation was at war with herself. The Gettysburg Address was Lincoln at his oratory best – because what he said was what he truly believed. No coaching. No polling. No focus groups.
It is one speech that I wish was available on video. The closest I can get you is Walt Disney’s “Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln”. Enjoy. (The actual address comes at about 37 seconds into the video.
Here endeth the lesson.
Godspeed, Dean Barnett
It is with a deep sadness that I link to the news of Dean Barnett’s passing this afternoon after a long and valiant struggle with Cystic Fibrosis. He was 41 years old.
Dean was one of the early rising stars amongst the conservative side of the blogosphere. His writing was crisp, intelligent, irreverent, and most of all insightful. If there was an important topic about which he found himself uninformed, he went to great lengths to educate himself from the best sources available and pass that knowledge on to his readers in a way which made us all a bit smarter than we would have otherwise been.
I will miss his wit, his wisdom, and yes even his self-described “haddock cutting” Boston accent. The world in general, and the blogosphere specifically, will be a smaller place without him in it.
Breathe easy now, Dean. Godspeed.
Yet another reason why guy’s shouldn’t be at baby showers
102 Minutes
I’ve spent the past few days trying to put together a fitting tribute on this anniversary of September 11th. After much thought I came to the conclusion that I could only write something from my perspective on that day as mine is the only perspective of which I have first hand knowledge. You’ll find this post below the fold.
In the mean time, if you do nothing else today, take a look at this video…and remember.
It was a normal Tuesday morning on September 11, 2001. For me the day began much like most days did – finding me waging the battle of the bulge on a Nordic Track in the garage of my Los Angeles home. At 0530, I began my workout on that dreaded torture device with Blogfather Hugh’s morning radio show murmurings in the background.
Shortly after 0546 I heard Blogfather Hugh deviate from his normal morning routine as he began to make mention of a “tragedy in New York City”. He mentioned something about the World Trade Center having been evidently struck by a plane. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t pay much attention – it was after all well before sunrise and I wasn’t really awake yet. I finished my workout and wandered into the living room and turned on MSNBC a few minutes before 0600.
My verbal reaction to the image on the screen (something having to do with sanctified natural fertilizer) woke the Ravishing Mrs. Cordeiro who then came in to find out what the ruckus was about.
She rounded the hallway corner into the living room just seconds after 0603 – the moment in which United Flight 175, piloted by Marwan al-Shehhi, tilted its wings and impacted between floors 77 and 85 of the World Trade Center’s South Tower.
We sat there and watched in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity. 34 minutes later, as NBC’s Jim Miklashevski reported live at the Pentagon, his entire desk shook as the building absorbed American Airlines Flight 77 as it the westernmost wall.
In the midst of all this I managed to ready myself to head for my office near LAX. As I was heading for the door at just before 0700, the unthinkable happened. There was a loud rumble, audible even to the cameras in the distance, and the South Tower collapsed upon itself like a folding telescope. Lower Manhattan disappeared in a huge cloud of smoke, dust, and pulverized debris.
America was in a state of shock. New York City was in a state of panic. Unbeknownst to all but a few, two minutes earlier the passengers aboard United Flight 93 had decided to take action. Their own plane had been hijacked by the same band of Islamofacist Murdering Thugs responsible for the other hijacked airplanes.
Thirty-seven passengers and five crew members were herded into the aft section of the Boeing 757-200. The intentions of their hijackers soon became clear. Some passengers had made phone calls to friends and loved ones who informed them about the attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon. They looked at each other. They took a vote. They decided to rush the cockpit and attempt to reclaim the aircraft.
It is said that America’s strength is neither in her military nor in her treasure. America’s strength is in her citizens. Forty-two Americans, most of whom had not known each other prior to that morning, banded together and started to push the drink cart down the aisle to do battle with their captors. The final words anyone heard from these brave souls were those of Todd Beamer:
Are you guys ready? Okay. Let’s roll!
Six minutes later, United Flight 93 crashed nose first at 563 miles per hour into a reclaimed coal mine in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. Thus began America’s counterattack in the War on Terror.
Having stopped for breakfast on my way to the office, I saw the North WTC Tower collapse upon itself at 0728. Though nobody knew it, at that moment the attack was over. When all the dust had settled and the smoke had cleared, some 2,996 men, women, and children perished on that Tuesday morning in September.
From the time the American Airlines Flight 11 impacted the North Tower to the time that same tower collapsed down upon itself, a total of 102 minutes elapsed. Those 102 minutes would forever change America. For weeks after that day, Los Angeles radio station KFI ran a haunting one sentence reminder at various intervals during the day. On either side of the voiceover was about five seconds of dead air – just enough to get your attention. Then a voice stated:
It could have just as easily happened here.
Los Angeles is a geographical continent and cultural world away from New York and DC. Distance and culture notwithstanding, LA ground to a halt just like most metro areas. Businesses and schools shut down and parents like me were left wondering just exactly how to explain the events of that morning to our children.
My son Corderinho, then a three-year-old bundle of curiosity, was very concerned. You see at that time I traveled often for business and he would accompany the Ravishing Mrs. Cordeiro when she either dropped me off or picked me up at LAX. When I told Corderinho that some “bad men” had crashed the planes into those big building, he looked at me with the quivering lip unique to three-year-olds and asked:
Daddy, are there bad men on your planes?
No three-year-old should have to ask that question.
A few years ago while visiting New York City, I made a pilgrimage to Ground Zero. As I stood looking out over the 20 acre hole in the ground, I was approached by a Boston PBS station reporter who put a microphone in my face and asked me how I “felt”. My answer surprised the reporter:
I am still angry.
There were no follow up questions and I’m sure the interview got tossed in the corner of the cutting room floor.
I leave you today with a performance by Billy Joel at the Concert for New York City – an event held a few weeks after September 11. He wrote this song some thirty years ago as a science fiction song, but the lyrics are very prescient. The video is interspersed with footage from 9/11 – some of which is difficult to watch.
Count me among the handful.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
I’ve spent four of the past six weeks traveling around the country for business and vacation purposes. During that time I made a point of throwing Obama’s domestic consumption decree to the proverbial wind.
In short, I ate as much as I wanted. I drove a range of vehicles (SUVs, sports cars, and yes the family minivan) as much – actually more – than I wanted. I kept my hotel room – whether it was in the Mile High City, the arid plains of Oklahoma City, or the humid confines of Orlando – at 72 degrees or cooler for the duration of my stay. I figure its only a matter of time before Algore comes to my door and accuses me of being the driving cause behind Hurricane Gustav.
July 4, 1776
232 years ago this morning, fifty-six delegates from the thirteen British colonies met at what would come to be known as Independence Hall in downtown Philadelphia. Most of them had spent the better part of the previous several months debating and arguing about the best course of action in regards to the ongoing conflict between the colonies and the crown.
The first months of 1776 had been anything but peaceful. Skirmishes, shootouts, and outright battles were raging from the Carolinas to Boston. Then General Washington’s Continental Army – though victorious in some instants – was dreadfully undermanned, badly supplied, and under-trained in the face of what was the most powerful army on the planet at the time.
Thomas Jefferson recorded that July 4, 1776 was an “unseasonably cool” day for Philadelphia. The aforementioned men gathered in the large room on the ground floor where they had spent so many days and nights to put their signatures to a document which could have very well become their own personal death warrants. They were, for all intents and purposes, committing high treason against the British Crown. King George would not look kindly upon their actions and would not have hesitated to execute the delegates had a few battles gone the other way.
Who were these men who had the audacity to put their names to a document so full of risk? Glad you asked.
Of the 56:
- 9 were immigrants
- 2 were brothers
- One was an orphan
- The average age of those in attendance was 45 – the oldest being Benjamin Franklin (70) and the youngest being Thomas Lynch, Jr. (27)
- 18 were businessmen or merchants
- 4 were doctors
- 14 were farmers
- 42 had previously served in their colonial legislatures
- 22 were lawyers
- 2 were clergymen
- Most were Protestant Christians – only one was a Roman Catholic
- 17 served in uniform during the Revolutionary War
- 5 were captured by the British during the war
- 11 had their homes and property destroyed during the war
It is the Declaration of Independence, authored by Thomas Jefferson, which put on paper the longing of the human soul for freedom and the power to control one’s own destiny. The signers boldly declared that:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. [Emphasis Added]
It should be noted that, at the time these 56 men signed their names to this bold Declaration, the outcome of the Revolutionary War was anything but certain. The war would grind on for over seven more years before Treaty of Paris was signed. I highly recommend David McCullough’s 1776 to help illustrate just how tenuous America’s beginnings truly were. Had Washington failed to rout the Hessians at Trenton – or had any one of a host of other narrow victories become a defeat – there’s a good chance the Union Jack would still be flying over this nation and we’d still stop the world to have tea on time.
The men gathered in that stuffy room at Independence Hall pledged to each other their “lives, fortunes and sacred honor”. Some gave their lives, many gave all or most of their fortunes, but all kept their honor.
So, before you go and fire up the barbeque, watch the fireworks, and do the other fitting and proper things Americans do on this the nation’s birthday, take some time and read or listen to the words behind the Patriot’s dream that truly saw beyond the years.
Here you will find the single best Super Bowl commercial ever produced. If you can somehow watch Pat Tillman’s widow read part of the Declaration of Independence without getting just a little choked up, You. Are. Not Human.
Have a fantastic Fourth!
Thoughts On Memorial Day
The origins of Memorial Day can be traced back to the 1860s when it was designated as Decoration Day – a day to decorate the graves of fallen Civil War soldiers both Union and Confederate. About a century later it was changed from May 30th to the last Monday in May and renamed “Memorial Day”.
Since that time it has marked both a day of remembrance and the opening of the Summer season. On this day much merriment will be made, sales will be made, and barbeques will be lit. In addition – and no doubt more importantly – honor will be rendered to those who have given the last full measure of devotion to their country. It is, to paraphrase Abraham Lincoln, all together fitting and proper that we should do this.
I spent the first twenty years of my life in and around the United States Army. Father Cordeiro was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant shortly after I was born. Because of the nomadic existence inherent in the life of a soldier’s family, for all intents and purposes I have no hometown. When people ask me where I’m from, I simply reply, “I’m from the United States Army.” Thus, though I have not worn my country’s uniform, those who do and have are and always shall be – to me anyway – family.
On the National Mall in Washington DC there is a beautiful monument dedicated to those of the Greatest Generation who fought in the last truly Global War. The World War II Memorial is truly a stunning piece of architecture and symbolism. The centerpiece of the monument is a field of 4,000 stars upon which is inscribed this simple phrase:
Here We Mark The Price Of Freedom
Each of the 4,000 stars represents 100 soldiers, sailors, airmen, or marines who died in World War II. To save you the math, it equates to roughly 400,000 lives. That was the price paid for freedom some six decades ago. About two years ago I took my family to that memorial. As I watched my then three-year old daughter Corderinha toddle across the ground in front of the star field it made me realize just how big a price freedom really is.
This Memorial Day finds the nation again at war. Soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines have been and will be deployed to fight that war. I’ve sometimes found myself unsure exactly how to thank these countrymen of mine for the service they so gallantly render. Yes, there are military charities like Soldier’s Angels and the Semper Fi Fund that do God’s work for the servicemen and women wounded in the line of duty and their families. I highly recommend both of them to you.
On a more personal level, some time ago as I passed through the cavernous labyrinth that is Chicago’s O’Hare Airport I stopped for an overpriced and under-flavored meal. As I finished my meal and prepared to jog down the terminal hall to board my flight, a soldier sat down in the booth across from me. It was obvious to me he was returning from a deployment, possibly on leave but I didn’t have time to ask. The most I could do at that particular point in time was to buy him another round of Miller Lite – which I did. It wasn’t much, but I hope on that day and in that situation it was enough.
I pray that our heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. Yours very sincerely and respectfully, Abraham Lincoln.
Here endeth the lesson.
One Less Cinderella
On my iPod is found a wide variety of music from AC/DC to Yo Yo Ma. Someplace in between is a song by award winning gospel music artist Steven Curtis Chapman called Cinderella. It is a song about precious moments shared between daddies and daughters. Let’s face it – daughters can get anything they want from their fathers just by calling them “daddy”.
But I digress.
Chapman wrote this song about his two young daughters which he and his wife adopted from China. You might wonder why I’m taking time to write about this today. Well, yesterday, Chapman’s five year old daughter Maria was killed in a tragic car accident at the family residence in Nashville.
I am the proud daddy to my spitfire of a daughter known here as Corderinha. She is five. Chapman’s Cinderella song could have just as easily been written about her. My heart goes out to this daddy whom I do not know, but whose grief I understand. There’s one less Cinderella in this world today.
Godspeed, Maria.
Here endeth the lesson.
