DelMarVa's Premier Source for News, Opinion, Analysis, and Human Interest Contact Publisher Joe Albero at alberobutzo@wmconnect.com or 410-430-5349
Monday, May 27, 2013
TAPS
Many of you may never have heard taps played in its entirety, for all the men & women that have died for you to have the freedom. This is an opportunity you won't want to miss and I guarantee you'll never forget.
Amazingly beautiful .. Melissa Venema, age 13, is the trumpet soloist.
Here is Taps played in its entirety. The original version of Taps was
called Last Post, and was written by Daniel Butterfield in 1801.
It was rather lengthy and formal, as you will hear in this clip, so in 1862 it was shortened to 24 notes and re-named Taps. Melissa Venema is playing it on a trumpet whereby the original was played on a bugle.View HERE
Amazingly beautiful .. Melissa Venema, age 13, is the trumpet soloist.
Here is Taps played in its entirety. The original version of Taps was
called Last Post, and was written by Daniel Butterfield in 1801.
It was rather lengthy and formal, as you will hear in this clip, so in 1862 it was shortened to 24 notes and re-named Taps. Melissa Venema is playing it on a trumpet whereby the original was played on a bugle.View HERE
107-YEAR-OLD HERO: America's Oldest Veteran Plans Quiet Memorial Day
For his 107th Memorial Day, Richard Arvine Overton, who saw many of his fellow soldiers fall in the line of duty in World War II and even more die over the following decades, is planning a quiet day at the Texas home he built after returning home from World War II.
He wouldn’t want it any other way.
Overton, who is believed to be the nation's oldest veteran, told FoxNews.com he’ll likely spend the day on the porch of his East Austin home with a cigar nestled in his right hand, perhaps with a cup of whiskey-stiffened coffee nearby.
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He wouldn’t want it any other way.
Overton, who is believed to be the nation's oldest veteran, told FoxNews.com he’ll likely spend the day on the porch of his East Austin home with a cigar nestled in his right hand, perhaps with a cup of whiskey-stiffened coffee nearby.
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Pre-Release Inmates Denied Access To School Grounds
CENTREVILLE -- County schools let out a month early this school year. Not for students though, but for pre-release inmates from the Eastern Pre-Release Unit in Church Hill.
Since May 8, pre-release inmates are no longer allowed to help the county's Department of Parks and Recreation maintain school grounds.
According to Director of Public Works Todd Mohn, the department has used the members of the EPRU as inexpensive labor for the past dozen years.
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MEMORIAL DAY
It is the
VETERAN,
not the preacher,
who has given us freedom of religion.
It is
the VETERAN,
not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.
It is
the VETERAN,
not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.
It is
the VETERAN,
not the campus organizer,
who has given us freedom to assemble.
It is
the VETERAN,
not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is
the VETERAN,
not the politician,
Who has given us the right to vote.
Rolling Through D.C. To Remember The Fallen, Missing
The motorcycles paraded through the city, but the mission of Rolling Thunder is to "never forget" prisoners of war and those missing in action, mostly but not exclusively from Vietnam - and to make sure the rest of the nation doesn't, either. Many participants wore military patches from their youthful service.
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This Memorial Day 2013
As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car, with the door open. The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car, and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away.
I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him.
I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something.
The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand
new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I
heard him yell at the old gentleman saying:'You shouldn't even
be allowed to drive a car at your age.' And then with a wave of his
hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.
I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow
as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine. He then
went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would
be okay. I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw
me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, 'Looks
like you're having a problem.'
He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head. I looked under
the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was
beyond me. Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and
I told the old man that I would be right back. I drove to the station
and went inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him. The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help. As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), I spoke with the old gentleman.
When I shook hands with him earlier, he had noticed my Marine
Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been
a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, 'What outfit
did you serve with?'
He said that he served with the first Marine Division at Guadalcanal ,
Pelieliu, and Okinawa . He had hit three of the worst ones, and retired from the Corps after the war was over. As we talked we heard the car engine come on and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card.
He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed
had his name and address on it, and I stuck it in my pocket. We all
shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbye's to his wife.
I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted
their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I
wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me. One of
them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card
the old man had given to me. Both of the men told me then that they
were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off.
For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: 'Congressional Medal of Honor Society.'
I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence.
Remember, as we approach another Memorial Day, OLD men like
him gave you, and all of us, FREEDOM for America ..
Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who
supported them, and who continue to support them.
America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the
Mall.
I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too, and took a few steps towards him.
I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something.
The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand
new Cadillac Escalade. He then turned back to the old man. I
heard him yell at the old gentleman saying:'You shouldn't even
be allowed to drive a car at your age.' And then with a wave of his
hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.
I saw the old gentleman pull out his handkerchief, and mop his brow
as he went back to his car and again looked at the engine. He then
went to his wife and spoke with her; he appeared to tell her it would
be okay. I had seen enough, and I approached the old man. He saw
me coming and stood straight, and as I got near him I said, 'Looks
like you're having a problem.'
He smiled sheepishly, and quietly nodded his head. I looked under
the hood myself, and knew that whatever the problem was, it was
beyond me. Looking around, I saw a gas station up the road, and
I told the old man that I would be right back. I drove to the station
and went inside. I saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them, and related the problem the old man had with his car. I offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him. The old man had pushed the heavy car under the shade of a tree and appeared to be comforting his wife. When he saw us he straightened up and thanked me for my help. As the mechanics diagnosed the problem (overheated engine), I spoke with the old gentleman.
When I shook hands with him earlier, he had noticed my Marine
Corps ring and had commented about it, telling me that he had been
a Marine too. I nodded and asked the usual question, 'What outfit
did you serve with?'
He said that he served with the first Marine Division at Guadalcanal ,
Pelieliu, and Okinawa . He had hit three of the worst ones, and retired from the Corps after the war was over. As we talked we heard the car engine come on and saw the mechanics lower the hood. They came over to us as the old man reached for his wallet, but was stopped by me. I told him I would just put the bill on my AAA card.
He still reached for the wallet and handed me a card that I assumed
had his name and address on it, and I stuck it in my pocket. We all
shook hands all around again, and I said my goodbye's to his wife.
I then told the two mechanics that I would follow them back up to the station. Once at the station, I told them that they had interrupted
their own jobs to come along with me and help the old man. I said I
wanted to pay for the help, but they refused to charge me. One of
them pulled out a card from his pocket, looking exactly like the card
the old man had given to me. Both of the men told me then that they
were Marine Corps Reserves. Once again we shook hands all around and as I was leaving, one of them told me I should look at the card the old man had given to me. I said I would and drove off.
For some reason I had gone about two blocks, when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name was written: 'Congressional Medal of Honor Society.'
I sat there motionless, looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage, and an honor to have been in his presence.
Remember, as we approach another Memorial Day, OLD men like
him gave you, and all of us, FREEDOM for America ..
Thanks to those who served and still serve, and to all of those who
supported them, and who continue to support them.
America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the
Mall.
A Dream Foreclosed
How different are the big Wall Street banks circa 2008 from the loan sharks of the 1970s?
Not very.
Laura Gottesdiener has written a remarkable book that hits hard against the big Wall Street banks.
It’s called – A Dream Foreclosed: Black America and the Fight for a Place to Call Home (Zuccotti Park Press, August 2013).
At base, it’s a book about corporate crime.
Remember redlining?
Thirty years ago, banks were drawing imaginary red lines around inner city neighborhoods.
The banks refused to give mortgages to people living in those neighborhoods.
“For decades, the federal government and banks refused to lend in these communities,” Gottesdiener told Corporate Crime Reporter in an interview last week. “Finally, when these communities were completely starved for mortgages, they broke it open and pushed the most ridiculous and predatory mortgages they could come up with. And of course, people bought them because it was the first time that mortgages were ever being guaranteed by the government and by big mainstream banks in those communities.”
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Not very.
Laura Gottesdiener has written a remarkable book that hits hard against the big Wall Street banks.
It’s called – A Dream Foreclosed: Black America and the Fight for a Place to Call Home (Zuccotti Park Press, August 2013).
At base, it’s a book about corporate crime.
Remember redlining?
Thirty years ago, banks were drawing imaginary red lines around inner city neighborhoods.
The banks refused to give mortgages to people living in those neighborhoods.
“For decades, the federal government and banks refused to lend in these communities,” Gottesdiener told Corporate Crime Reporter in an interview last week. “Finally, when these communities were completely starved for mortgages, they broke it open and pushed the most ridiculous and predatory mortgages they could come up with. And of course, people bought them because it was the first time that mortgages were ever being guaranteed by the government and by big mainstream banks in those communities.”
More
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