The Conservative Son

This is another one of those stories that I don’t share with just anybody. If you care to go with me on this, another emotionally fraught journey, you are welcome to tag along.




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One regret I have from my trip to D.C. is, although I spent better than two days in Arlington Cemetery, I never once saw a funeral. I know that they were taking place. There are upwards of sixty a day, to my understanding. Although I saw the Lee mansion flag at half-mast repeatedly, I never actually observed a funeral procession. The closest I came was what took place while I was looking for the grave of Lance Corporal Patrick Nixon, USMC.



LCP Nixon was the first Tennessean to die under fire in the war on terror. He was killed in action at a bridge on the outskirts of An Nasiriyah in Iraq. He gained a certain amount of fame when Trace Atkins released the video version of his hit song "Arlington." In the video, you not only see the gravestone for Corporal Nixon, but the image of his face billowing in the background.



I visited many graves while in Arlington: Halsey, Marshall, the Unknowns, Audie Murphy, "Black Jack” Pershing, "Pappy" Boyington, Jimmy Dolittle, Todd Lincoln and others. Each was a thrill. Each was humbling. Yet, Corporal Nixon’s was the hardest to locate.



My information on his internment was scanty, at best. Still, I searched arduously with my family over several acres of markers in the vicinity where I thought he was buried. Yet, to no avail. I seriously considered giving up the search, but realized that I would regret it if I didn't persevere.



I pondered leaving my family there while I rushed back to the reception center. I had taken note of a computer in the museum designed specifically for doing grave searches. It was a blistering hot day and my family didn't really seem too keen on the suggestion of being marooned in the hot sun while I hurried off for who knows how long. I can't say that I blame them for that. So, I decided to take them back to where they could wait in an air-conditioned building and then I could continue my quest. There I searched the listings, quickly discovering the coordinates for LCP Nixon’s place of burial. I assured my wife and child that I would hurry every chance I got and rushed at near double-time in pursuit of my objective.



I finally arrived in the correct section and began to count off rows of stones. Presently, I found LCP Nixon. I had hopes of conferring some small amount of honor that a feeble man such as myself could. I stood there, looking down at this young man’s final resting place, thinking about his sacrifice, that of so many others in our nation's past, those of today and those who will suffer loss in the future.



Though I had been concentrating intensely on my search, I noticed some very clean-cut young men, grouped together not many rows over. They seemed to be, like myself, searching for someone among the markers. I didn't want to be nosey or disturb them, but I found myself drawn to them and persistently kept turning my eyes in their direction. I must say, when it dawned on me that they were nothing less than military men dressed in civvies, I was taken aback. I didn't want to bother them, so I only observed from a distance while they talked among themselves and walked among the stones.



After a short while, they departed the premises. As I recall, cars were waiting for them, which they gathered into, disappearing down the avenue.



Curiosity got the better of me, so, I meandered over to the place where the servicemen had been wandering. Here I discovered several unfinished graves. Lose dirt covered many of them and it was obvious that the grounds crew had some work yet to do. One was even covered by a slab in preparation, I suppose, for an ensuing graveside ceremony.



To say the least, I was enthralled and mesmerized by what I chanced upon there. Yet, my astonishment was to grow in a way I could not have anticipated.



I walked along, reading the names and dates on several gravestones, when I raised my eyes and was dumbfounded to see line after line of graves of so many who were killed in action in the war on terror. I found myself surrounded by the dead of battle in Iraq and Afghanistan. I myself was buried, so to speak, deep among the honored dead.



I stood with my mouth open reading the names of soldiers, sailors and marines surrounding me who had given the "last full measure of devotion." Name after name, after name, after name, after name, after name, after name! I was astonished, perplexed, mortified and broken. It appeared to me as a sea of stones rolling in like a tide.



Then, for some reason, it occurred to me that I should call my wife and let her know that I had made it safely to my destination. Perhaps, I wished to share with her and my child what I was seeing there. I heard her answer her cell phone, but suddenly found myself barely able to speak. I stood there among those brave souls, completely overwhelmed with the gravity and emotion of it all. I began to choke up and tried to spit out a few words in my weak attempt to tell her what I was witnessing. I think the only halfway coherent sentence that came out of me was, "There are just so many!" Then, of course, I broke down and boo-hood. Yes, I found myself crying a lot in D.C.



I made my way slowly through their ranks, taking time to have one last long look across this army of fallen heroes. My desire to tarry among these brave immortals there was not one that swiftly passed.



I soon returned to my family where they, of course, greeted this weepy old man with hugs and kisses and “I love you”s. The awe I felt at the gravesite was fresh in my mind and heart. Curious thing about it, years later, that sentiment is with me still.

Labels: Arlington National Cemetery, funerals, Marines, Patrick Nixon, Tennessee

This is a letter I wrote to the local newspaper a couple of years ago concerning out state lottery. I was recently perusing it and decided I'd like to add it here.

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So, you think you’ve heard the last word on the lottery. I only wish it were so. I hear it every time I listen to radio or pick up the newspaper.

I’ll not hide my disgust over Tennessee finally succumbing to the “quick buck” crowd and amending our Constitution, allowing the lottery camel to not only get his nose in the tent, but to bring in his whole big, fat hump! (I’m sure you’ve heard the analogy.) I believe that gambling is a sin and I’ll be happy to tell anyone who asks me, I think exactly that. I’ve fussed and fumed and campaigned against allowing the beast in, but I, along with the apparent minority of Tennesseans who saw the monster for what it is, lost our battle to follow the wisdom and morality our legislature has shown for more than a century.

As for those who said, “It’s for the children,” the only thing that’s
holding them down, considering how full of hot air they are, must be their big feet. If they are so concerned about “the children,” then why haven’t they been donating that $20, $50 or more a month that they will spend on the lottery, to the schools for all these years to pay for books, computers, improved infrastructure or even raises for teachers. If they would be truthful about it, they are less concerned about “the children,” than the prospect, albeit a slim one, of becoming an instant millionaire. The intellectual dishonesty of our state legislators and community and educational leaders is, at best, nauseating and, at worst, sinful. One might argue whether or not gambling is a sin, but I guarantee you it’s a sin to give more money to politicians .

Still, there is more to this little varmint than most will admit. The truth is, it’s really all about an income tax.

You say, “How in the world do you figure that?” Well, lets put on our
little thinking caps for a minute and imagine this scenario: The first lottery winner receives, let’s say, ten million dollars. Assuming he takes it in a lump sum, he’ll pay a couple million social security taxes, about the same federal taxes and that would leave him a cool six million. Not a bad little sum. The only taxes he has left to pay are sales taxes on that new Hummer he’s finally got the bucks for.

Think a little further: what if he decides to do all of his spending in a
state, like Georgia, where the sales tax is half ours? Or even worse, he
pulls up stakes and moves there. What if he’s not a Tennessee resident in the first place, and takes all of his left-overs to California, New York or wherever he lives, and there pays another two million or so in state income tax. (That’s part of the twisted irony of this whole lottery business. Some hot shot wins a hundred million dollars, but, by the time the feds and the state gets through taxing him, he takes home half or less. Granted, fifty million is still a lot of cash, but it would really frost me to know the government got fifty million of my hard “won” cash!) Now, when this high-roller leaves our state without us getting a nickel back, as all other lottery states do, can’t you just hear our legislators and governor whining that it’s not right for other states to get the money that Tennessee would’ve gotten if only we had an income tax? (If I’ve thought of it, you know they have.)

Can’t you just hear them now: “It would only be a small tax on the
lottery winners. All we need is a constitutional amendment allowing us, your trusted Representatives and your honest governor, to pass this teeny-weeny income tax...for the children.” Then let the games begin! It’s bad enough that we are taxed on everything we spend or eat or drive, walk on, in or around, but when they get there mitts on our paychecks where they can take it before we even see it...sheesh! (Remember, Dr. Frankenstein thought his creation beautiful until he gave it life and it killed everyone he loved.)

You can say I’m going off the deep end, but history will bear me out. Our original U.S. Constitution forbade an income tax, but fast-talking politicians, complaining about rich robber barons, convinced our
slow-thinking citizenry to accept the sixteenth amendment allowing a, reportedly, small income tax on only the richest of Americans. They argued that these evil rich could afford it and it was time to spread the wealth around. I’m sure they must have told their constituents, “It’s for the children.” The rest is history.

If you’re in doubt, just take another look at your paycheck and take a
serious listen to these politicians who can always give themselves raises and yet, can’t balance the state check book. These are the same guys who tell you the lottery is “for the children.” Well, it may be for their children, but not for mine.

Labels: children, gambling, government, lottery, sin, taxes, Tennessee

The president's administration and their relationship with the voter seems to be very similar to the Vols new head football coach and his relationship with the fans.

Obama condemned the previous administration and promised us the moon and the stars. Now, he is asking for patience and saying things will only get worse before they get better. He says things are worse than he knew.

The Tennessee athletic program ran off the best active coach in college football and hired some unknown, no record, what's-his-name. Now, they tell us to be patient and give him a chance.

So, the new president wants now to lower our expectations and so does Tennessee's new coach. I say, the heck with that! It's time to put up or shut up.

Yes, the witless, self-absorbed, ingrate, "I could do a better job" fans said, "Off with his head!" They wanted Fulmer out of there!

So many, though not as many as the drive-by media claimed, said, "Impeach Bush! He's a terrible president."

As for me, I will settle for nothing less from our new coach than a National Championship this year! They got rid of a great coach for some reason and it must be for a championship.

As for me, I will settle for nothing less from our new president than full employment, zero inflation and world peace. They hired this new president with the promise of immediate and complete fulfilment and I'll settle for nothing less.

Labels: Barack Obama, patience, Tennessee, Volunteer Football