UPDATE ON MAY 15TH.

See, I missed the 14th; was it because of the 13th? I don’t know, but look down at what I wrote on the 13th. Yep, I typed except instead of accept. Of course, it could be argued that miss a lot of typos because I loathe proofreading. However, let us not let that fact get in the way what you can see with your own eyes: I typed the wrong word on Friday the 13th.

I did not realize it was one of those days until I looked at news headlines and saw something about Friday the 14th not needing to be bad. Great. Well, I’ll tell you, my Thursday the 12th was a bummer and I wasn’t paying attention to the date. Was all the dastardly happenings of life having a little foreplay with me?

Is this all superstition? Is this a psychological trick that leads people to do something careless because their minds are on the date and bad luck? Or is this one of those things we don’t understand – such as time bending. You know, even if I don’t understand it, I think I could except time bending in a U-turn and going back to being a whole lot younger. Why look a Timex horse in the mouth? Of course, a Rolex might be even better. Ah, see, there is is: greed.

Friday the 13thc- probably a day on which I shouldn’t think.

We have been having problems with out modem: it works, it doesn’t work. That about sums it up.

The post just below was supposed to have been published on the 10th, but apparently, it did not make it through the pathways of the Internet. So the yesterday it refers to is not the real yesterday, but then, I’m not certain the real yesterday was kosher.

However, assuming it did occur, I mowed the lawn and sweat a lot; then I came in and did not realize I was soaked and I cooled off and started to chill. I was like a horse rode hard and put away wet. So I got all dry and pulled a blankie around me and then . . . yes, then, someone thought a shirt was missing from the laundry and there was a scene. I don’t know, the horse metaphor could have come in handy then – just shoot me.

An electrician is coming Monday or Tuesday and it could be interesting. We have a short somewhere or wires crossed and I don’t think this is something with which AmeliaJake should experiment.

One thing I must remember today: GET GAS. We did manage to get the trash out. Oh, the little victories – how comforting they can be.

Yesterday was not particularly confusing; I just had to pay attention and keep alert. No sitting with a book, hearing something going on and come to awareness of real life with a “What? What? What?” Actually, it was a follow the bouncing ball day.

First off, my grandson got up early for work, then dozed off and at the last minute we got the show on the road – sans his coffee, which is not a wise thing. Then talking with a group home facilitator – hey, it was the first word that came to mind and stomping trash and gathering up more trash because someone camped out in front of the TV with a 24 pack of soda and there was no Ranger sign that said, Please put all trash in receptacle painting on a can with a swinging lid. How could I have forgotten to do that? Sigh.

It was a short day for my grandson at work and I was there to pick him up, but, at another last minute, no one else showed up, so he had to stay an extra two hours. This turned out to be not bad because he was scheduled for his lunch break and asked me to come in and join him.

I went on home then, only to discover my older son backing out of the garage with his son and a dog in tow because they had to visit the group home. I had to step up and say, “I’ll babysit the dog.” I finally convinced the little furry one to come back into the house and I was thinking maybe I could sort of pass of the job to my granddaughter. However, she’s busy and the dog’s behaving himself so we go about our business . . . until my cell phone rings and my grandson wants to know if his sister can come into work two hours early because even more people have not shown up.

I would not call her a happy camper, but she got on the bus and we headed off, the dog in the backseat. Now, I drop her off and realize it is only 30 minutes until I have to be back to get her brother. After thinking of the time it would take to get the dog back into the house and then almost immediately back into the car, I elect to wait in the parking lot. I think the dog is used to waiting and he sat in the bask seat watching people come and go.

When Cameron came out, he remarked that he had not expected to see a dog and I went with the “It’s a long story” line. Cameron announced that he thought the dog’s name should be changed to Charley. I have no idea why, but he may have a point. The dog seemed to think so.

Cameron had intended to take his brother to a movie that evening, but when the latter got home, he said he was worn out from his trip. Ok, change of plans again. Laundry, vacuuming, getting granddaughter at nine pm.

And today? Well, one to school just now, one to take to Fort Wayne to appointment and, drat, how did all that stuff get on the floor again?

You know, it’s been some time since I’ve been in a restaurant, other than a food court. I’ve always liked the atmosphere at roadhouse type places – no surprise there. Here in Kendallville, the only chain restaurant is Applebee’s, but I haven’t been there in a long time. I remember some twenty years ago when there was one in West Chester and I liked it, but as other business adopted the look, it seemed that Appplebee’s didn’t keep up – at least for the last couple of times I went there.

Of course, that’s been some time since I’ve been there, so maybe I should go and see if it was a downturn that has been rectified. It’s a cloudy day and maybe I’ll spend some time surfing the Internet looking at menus and pictures of eateries. Gee, all these folks are looking at me with eyes that say, “AmeliaJake, peanut butter isn’t good enough for you?”

Now that I’ve thought it through, I think I stick with the cafe and the Foo Bar.

I did a lot of heavy housework yesterday and barely made a dent-because, yes, I announce the truth: WE ARE SLOBS. I believe this was kept disguised until the closets got full and pushed the doors open and spewed. I believe that means I have been dealing with spew; it doesn’t sound too good put that way.

Back to the leaning. I am tired; last night I hobbled to the car on stiff little old lady legs. I remember when I could sit Indian fashion on the floor and stand right up and take off. I have a long memory. I am about ready to ask someone to tip me, tip this cow right over onto a soft surface and put her Kindle in her hand, or a remote.

Of course, maybe instead of a remote, I need a taser in hand.

I used to hear lots of songbirds even through the glass. Not so much anymore and I think I have discovered why.

THE MOVING VIETNAM WALL

On and on they go, not just the names, but the stories of people who have come to find a special name on a special wall in Washington D.C. Conceived in one veteran’s mind after seeing a movie – The Deer Hunter – and birthed in the controversy over its design – a black hole in the ground – the Vietnam Memorial has become one of the sacred spots in the nation’s, and its individual citizen’s, mind and heart. It is the most visited memorial in Washington D. C.

No disrespect is intended by the phrase, “black hole in the ground;” ironically, just as the Vietnam War was the focus of intense controversy, the architectural competition to determine what the monument would look like aroused strong feelings.

The winning design was that of Maya Ying Lin, a Yale architectural student at the time. She is has been cited as saying she intended it to be ”a quiet place, meant for personal reflection and reckoning.”

It became that, in the end, but the acrimony surrounding the design choice was so intense, that James Watt, Secretary of the Interior at the time, refused to issue a building permit for the memorial.

This wall in Washington D.C. started as a grass roots movement, initiated by  Jan C. Scruggs, the man who was reminded of the turmoil of the war by a movie – The Deerhunter. He was joined in his idea by Robert Doubek  and John Wheeler. He held at a press conference to kick off fund raising on May 28, 1979. It made the New York Times: “Vietnam Veterans to Seek $1 Million for a Monument.”

The next month, June, some poignant letters had come in with small donations, but “Roger Mudd reports wryly on the CBS Evening News that only $144.50 has been collected.”

They garnered the support of Sen. Charles Mathias jr. of Maryland and then Sen. John Warner of Virginia – who at the time was married to Elizabeth Taylor –  came on board. In July, 1981, one year after the announcement of the $144.50 collected, President Jimmy Carter signed legislation to provide a site for the memorial.

It was finally  dedicated on November 13, 1982 and one opponent to its design, Milt Copulos, later admittedc that although “the wall of the memorial could have been a wall between us, it instead “became a bridge.”

Maya Ying Lin’s design was built in black granite deliberately chosen because of its reflective quality. All cutting and fabrication was done in Barre, Vermont – the Granite State. Lin’s concept is “that while a visitor looks upon the wall, their reflection can be seen simultaneously with the engraved names, thereby bringing the past and present together.”

Now the right-angled black wall of gleaming granite stretching 493.5 feet and  etched with names – 58,249  of them – has been embraced by the country to the point that a half-size replica travels around the U.S., painstakingly erected and disassembled for each move by local groups, most often consisting of members of veteran’s organizations.

The idea for this wall that would travel around the country came from three veterans in California: John Devitt, Garry Haver and Norris Shears. It was another grassroots evolution and the three started out by pooling personal funds totaling a bit over $2,500.

Devitt, a helicopter crew chief in the First Cavalry Division (Airmobile) called the project the Vietnam Veterans Memorial (Mobile). But in 1985 a visitor drew on the two meanings of “moving” and dubbed it “The Moving Wall.”

The Moving Wall consists of 74 aluminum panels, treated with a highly-reflective gloss black polyurethane. And the names? The names are silk-screened on using the negatives of the original stencils made for the actual wall in Washington.

Completed on October 11, 1984, the Moving Wall was first erected on October 15, 1984 in Tyler, Texas and soon the request for visits necessitated the production of a second wall in 1987 and a third in 1989. The original wall has now been retired in 2001.

Information provided by the wall’s website says, “By 2006, there had been more than 1,000 hometown visits of The Moving Wall. The count of people who visited The Moving Wall at each display ranges from 5,000 to more than 50,000; the total estimate of visitors is in the tens of millions.”

The Wall in the Capitol and The Moving Wall were both paid for by donations from the public.

And the grassroots beginnings of both Walls is repeated with each visit to each town: money is raised and volunteers contribute work. This year for Chautauqua Days in Rome City, the Sylvan Lake Association is donating the money and Rome City American Legion Post 381 is putting it up.

Hours of work will have to be put in and the people who manage The Moving Wall know that it will take muscle and  preparation. They advice, in  terms that seem to reach beyond instruction to inspiration for a sacred task:
“After building the platform, have a few of your strongest people attempt to pull the platform from the ground. Let them pull hard, just as when a strong wind will put tremendous force on the platform.”

And they look out for the workers like soldiers watch our for each other:
“Driving the wooden stakes into the ground can be extremely hard work. Try to get a few young people to swing a 16 lb. sledge hammer. If the weather is hot, be sure to have plenty of cool water for the workers.”

And then there is the other side of volunteering. Jim Schueckler wrote of what the did when The Moving Wall came to  . . ..“My job as a volunteer “visitor guide” was to help people find names on the Moving Wall Vietnam Veterans Memorial. More importantly, I gave visitors a chance to talk. While searching the directory or leading a visitor to the name they sought, I would quietly ask “Was he a friend or a relative?” Over the six days, I began conversations that way with several hundred people. Only a handful gave me a short answer; almost everyone wanted to talk. Each had their own story to tell. For some, the words poured out as if the floodgates of a dam that had been closed for thirty years had just burst open. For others, the words came out slowly and deliberately between long pauses. Sometimes, they choked on the words and they cried. I also cried as I listened, asked more questions, and silently prayed that my words would help to heal, not to hurt.”

Local names could have been used in this story –  members of the American Legion, Sylvan Lake Association members, Chautauqaua Days planners, but the emphasis here is on the names on the monument. Those names, in their turn, blend together – no one more important than another.

Jan Scruggs, who began the journal for a Vietnam Veterans Memorial identified them further on Veteran’s Day, 1979, “I recently came across some lines from a poem by Archibald MacLeish, “The Young Dead Soldiers,” which may give that sacrifice some meaning: “They say: We were young. We have died. Remember us. ”
Jan C. Scruggs
November 11, 1979

My husband’s first cousin was killed in Vietnam; his name is on The Wall.
www.themovingwall.org/

UPDATE: I voted.

From Late Shows when I was young to all these years later, I have been familiar with the MGM lion. I not once gave any thought to the actually filming of him. And as we entered the computerized, digitized age, I gave it less thought than none.

BUT, out of the blue, I came across this:

PICTURE

As the election year goes by, one calendar page at a time, I find myself being enlightened, and not really by politics. True, I think there’s been a heck of a muddle with entire last two years of political jockeying, but it seems like child’s play as I realize how sheltered I have been. But, the hell with that; it’s time to get a grip and stop being shocked.

What then do I write about? Everybody and his brother is writing about politics and it’s hard to trump that. Of course, that was an awful, embarrassing pun, but, I have a reputation to keep up here. I can’t suddenly just start ignoring bad puns or suddenly begin to spit out sublime ones. It would be too shocking.

I did read a free book on Kindle and half-way through declared that it was just trash without being trashy. There was no Red Light District stuff in it; it was just 2nd grade level passing itself off as an adult novel. It was like a four piece jigsaw puzzle, to be generous in my review. I think I’m being generous in not identifying it. This all begs the question of why did I keep reading it; well, I did not. I have learned how go to the last few electronic pages of a Kindle with the same flourish of disgust and rolling of eyes that I used with a book with paper pages. I did decide not to hurl the Kindle across the room, however.

If I knowingly want to use reading as an escape, I would prefer it be a well-written character study or a mystery with an ingenious plot. I do not want a DUD. I can’t stand duds. You can find duds everywhere, and I imagine in some categories, I am a DUD, but we should have a protective cloak we can grab.

I have almost decided on days I wake up with the duds, to put a sign around my neck telling people to beware or the DUD ZONE.

I have mentioned before that I have been at one event where one of the major players was so much of a DUD, it was all I could do to keep from standing up and screaming DUD. I did, afterwards, talk with people using the word DUD 50% of the time.

Maybe tomorrow, I will walk into the voting booth and write in DUD. Too bad I didn’t get this idea earlier; I could have started a grassroots movement and DUD would get our votes at the convention.

If I could carry a tune, I would write a song in which all the lyrics were DUD   DUD  DUD    DUD   DUD  DUD     DUD   DUD  DUD      DUD   DUD  DUD.

Drat, I’ve had it.

Oh, I see I did not get on an uplifting topic. Well, once more for old time’s sake: DUD.

I can do better than that:

DUD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!