lest we never forget….

“Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.”
Edmund Burke (or George Santayana depending on what sources you read)


(image courtesory the Buffalo News)

I’m pretty much a creature of habit—and I suppose I’ve turned my husband into one as well…
That being for either good or bad…well…the jury is still out on that.

Yet for the majority of our marriage,
we have been pretty much ritualistic in our daily routines.

When I was teaching, I almost always beat my husband home from work.
That was if I wasn’t having to taxi our son someplace following school or stay at meetings
longer than expected.

Once home, hot tea steeping, I’d usually start supper shortly upon arrival home
and we’d eat not long after my husband got home around 7PM or so…

And this was always just in time for the national news.

We’d flip on the news in the den as we’d be having supper in the kitchen—
If something big had happened in the world, we’d then usually balance plates on our laps
as we’d eat while watching the latest world crisis unfold.

I’m not a huge ‘television in every room’ sort of person but growing up,
my dad, on the other hand, was an all-out electronic junkie…
something about being an engineer I suppose.
So growing up, when smaller televisions hit the market, my dad bought one for our kitchen…
along with one in the den and one for everyone’s bedroom…he was overzealous.

So every night while I was growing up, Huntley and Brinkley joined our evening supper table.

This was during the time of the war in Vietnam, so there was always news of the war and the
ensuing protests here at home…and of course,
there were those other stories of life in Washington and news on the president…

News was always current, crucial and informative…delivered by near emotionless professional
individuals who would occasionally smoke on air, as in everyone smoked back then…
including my mom…but that’s another tale for another day.

This was how we learned all about what was going on in the world,
all from the nightly news—as there were no other news outlets other than the newspapers…
None of this current day 24/7 madness.
No breaking alerts emanating from cell phones or computers because there
weren’t any cell phones or home computers…thank the Lord.

And so I offer this little walk down memory lane because my husband and I have happily
given up watching any sort of network national news.
Something about falsehoods and bias….but I digress.

And so the other evening when my husband got in from work,
while I was still putting the finishing touches to supper,
he flipped on the television and there was some sort of war documentary currently airing…
of which was dealing with the war in the Pacific and how we obviously eventually won that fight.
I suppose this was the last channel that the television had been on the night prior.

We opted to keep it on this channel—that being AHC—American Hero Channel—which I
had assumed was just some sort of history type of channel…
that was until I looked up the full name.
Following the show about the War in the Pacific, there was a series of hour-long segments
regarding the war in Europe–with a focus on Stalin and the relationship he had with Churchill,
FDR and later Truman.

The show featured declassified information that wasn’t known, let alone made public,
until after the fall of Communism.
And might I just say, as I’ve said it before, it’s a wonder any of us are even here…
let alone speaking either German or even Russian.

I spent three hours after having finished the dishes watching 3 back to back segments.
Because I was hooked as it was an excellent and thorough history lesson.

I learned more than what I had already known…and I do consider myself well read
when it comes to World War II.

I say all of this because I am once again keenly reminded of the history of what once
was in this fractious world of ours, and where we, as a global community, were back then
once upon a time, and as to where we currently are now and just how hard it was for us
to actually get from there to here…
and I just don’t think this current world of ours, this postmodern, post-Christian
world…gets it.

History, especially that of our Western Civilization history,
is a subject most students will roll their eyes over.
It is also a history that is frighteningly being altered and neutered due to
the current society’s obsession with triggers, homosexual and transgender frenzies,
a fanatically growing feminism, and its distaste for a Nation’s past growing pains
along with the struggles the Nation faces while attempting to find pride in the knowledge
of who that Nation once was.

I worry that our youth will soon forget or cease caring about what was, concentrating instead
on what is or what will be as they have deemed what was as  simply being bad…

And so in reading the story of Edith Fox, I am reminded that I am not alone in wanting
the story of what was, to never be forgotten.

Yet Edith’s story is a horrific story…a story one might imagine anyone who experienced it
would want to forget…
Yet Edith knows that as horrible as her story was, remaining silent and forgetting it would be
even worse…

Edith’s tattooed number on her now 90-year-old arm has long faded, but the memory of her life
spent in Auschwitz is still as startlingly clear as it was when she was taken prisoner
as a young teen.

Please click on the link for her story, as she does not want either you or me to ever forget.

http://buffalonews.com/2018/01/27/holocaust-survivor-breaks-decades-long-silence-to-share-her-horrific-story/

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction,
that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

Romans 15:4

morning wake up

“There are two ways of waking up in the morning.
One is to say, ‘Good morning, God,’
and the other is to say,
‘Good God, morning’!”

― Fulton J. Sheen

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(a deer who uses my flowerbed as a mattress / Julie Cook / 2016)

I don’t know who was more surprised…
me or the deer.

Come each morning, as I roll out of bed,
I immediately head to the laundry room in order to grab the cats their food.
It never fails, as soon as my feet hit the floor, the cats make certain that I don’t do a single thing other than feed them.
It is as if they will immediately perish if I fail to fill their food bowls the nanosecond I’m up.

As I make my way to get the cat food, bypassing my sacred cup of coffee, the ritualistic trip to the loo,
I instinctively open the shutters, casting the welcomed morning light into what was my nightly shuttered world of darkness.

On this particular morning, as I routinely pull open the shutters…
imagine my surprise… when, what do I spy sitting directly outside the window… in my flower bed,
a deer who had obviously decided to bed down…on top of my daylilies no less!

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The signs have been there for weeks.

Bushes and plants nipped down to the nubs.
Most of which have had to have been dug up and now replaced with “deer” resistant plants…..
while allowing other plants and bushes to simply fend for themselves…

I knew that the deer had been enjoying themselves in the middle of the night…
using my yard as a giant salad bowl…
but here before my bleary eyes was one of the nonplused culprits.
One who took her own sweet time readying herself for the day.

Eventually she and her baby fawn roused themselves from bed, as they made their way to the edge of the woods where they would no doubt spend the heat of the day, simply waiting to come back to feast at night in my yard….

As I’m off to Atlanta to take Dad for his pre-op before Friday’s surgery…

A happy Monday to deer and all…..

“Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name;
make known among the nations what he has done,
and proclaim that his name is exalted.
Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things;
let this be known to all the world.
Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion,
for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.”

Isaiah 12:4-6

Falling comfortably back into place

“This is the place of places and and it is here.”
Gertrude Stein

“Therefore, the places in which we have experienced daydreaming reconstitute themselves in a new daydream, and it is because our memories of former dwelling-places are relived as day-dreams that these dwelling-places of the past remain in us for all time.”
― Gaston Bachelard

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(the first “hummer” of the season is back home / Julie Cook / 2015)

When life has been demanding and there seems to be no time to self. . .
No time for. . .
noticing,
reflecting,
observing,
savoring. . .
No moments of a luxuriously exhaled Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. . .

It is at just that precise moment. . .that single moment between breaking apart and holding on. . .
when eyes have glazed over,
nerves are at their rawest
and stress is out the roof. .
At that very and utter almost unbearable, catastrophic, breaking moment,
it is then. . .that it happens. . .
The familiar, the comforting, the nostalgic slips gently back into place. . .

An old familiar friend returns.
You find that long forgotten item of fuzzy feelings and internal warmth.
Happy loving memories come flooding to the forefront of the heart.
It is at that single miraculously wonderful moment that suddenly. . .all is once again,
right with the world. . .and you find that you can hang on one more day. . .

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(foraging cardinal / Julie Cook / 2015)

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(a tufted titmouse enrobed within the new spring foliage / Julie Cook /2105)