That Day...And What's Coming Next

Copyright © 2025

by Ralph F. Couey

It's been a week and a day since Super Bowl LIX, and I think I'm finally in a good place to reflect on the disaster that day for the Kansas City Chiefs.

First off, All Hail the Eagles!  They played a great game and hit on all cylinders in all three areas, offense, defense, and special teams.  They did everything a champion is supposed to do, and they certainly deserve all the props that go their way.

Now.

I think many of us wearing red that day knew that the jig was up by halftime.  They were down by a bunch, and while the defense put up a courageous fight, the offense and special teams...didn't.  I have been a Chiefs fan as long as there has been a Kansas City Chiefs.  Across that span of 62 years, I've seen some spectacular games.  I've also seen a bunch of clunkers, which included most of the decade of the 1980s.  In the 6 seasons, Patrick Mahomes has been the starter, this team and this city have witnessed an unprecedented run of success.  They've been in 5 of 6 Super Bowls, winning three.  Their appearance in the AFC Championship game, most years hosting, became so frequent that people began to refer to the game as the "Arrowhead Invitational."  As fans, after years of epically bad football, we became used to winning.  Dangerous habit.

My feelings after the game were...confused.  Of course, I felt bad about them losing, especially the humiliating way it happened.  But, and it took a few days to get there, what I really felt was the strange sense of...losing.  After all that success, the air came out of the tire.

There were three important things that came to mind.  First, Andy Reid called a terrible offensive game plan.  After a perfunctory attempt at running, he went to a plan that would have worked well if Tyreek Hill was still running around downfield.  The offensive line, a band-aid project at left tackle in particular, melted before the ferocious Philly line, the biggest one in the NFL.  Now, Mahomes on the run is usually a very dangerous thing.  But this leads to number 2: Patrick Mahomes had the worst game anybody can ever remember.  He was tentative, indecisive, and showed very little judgment in how he read the field.  He missed open receivers and was blind to some choice opportunities with open guys down the field.  His best weapon, the scramble, was crushed.

The third thing is very sobering.  Except for the defense, the Chiefs were completely flat.  At one point this year, they played three games in eleven days.  I was expecting them to be flat by that third game.  Their performance in the Super Bowl reflected a team unprepared to play the game.  That charge is laid squarely in the laps and the consciences of the coaching staff.  You can have the most fabulous collection of talented players in history.  But if there aren't the coaches to teach and guide them, maintain discipline, and run the game plans, then the team is useless.  The Chiefs have had, in the recent past, some of the most effective coaches in the NFL.  I don't know what they did in the two weeks before the game, but it wasn't useful or even good. 

So.

Now I've got that off my chest, there are some hopeful things to consider.

We all worry about Travis Kelce.  We all heard his remarks on the New Heights podcast, and my heart ached for him.  Clearly a proud professional and a lock for first-round HOF.  But he looked and sounded crushed.  You could see in his eyes the daunting climb of next season already weighing on him.  Missouri is a horrible place to be outside in July and August.  The heat soars into triple digits, and the accompanying humidity has to be felt to be believed.  I stayed out of it most of the time.  When duty called (lawn mowing), I donned shorts and a t-shirt and did my task.  Afterward, I fled indoors for the AC and a cold drink.  For NFL players, those horrendous days involve strapping on pads and running full tilt around in that sauna for hours at a time.  It wasn't fun cutting the grass, and it can't be fun doing it in pads at a full sprint.  That's what Travis sees.  He also sees a regular season that is 17 games.  The Chiefs have always been in the postseason, so they are actually playing 20 games per year.  Do the math.  Over the past 6 seasons, that's an additional one and a half seasons.  That's a lot of bruises, strains, contusions, maybe cracked ribs, any one of which would put us on the couch for a couple days.  The players keep playing.  The human body, even a professional athlete can only take so much abuse.

The decision is supposed to be made by mid-March.  I know that he's considering his options, and he has many, perhaps becoming a new Avenger, among other things.  But one thing we feel, as fans, is we can't see Travis closing the door on his career after a clunker.  

If Travis decides to hang 'em up, we will miss him.  Terribly.  Patrick Mahomes will miss him even more.  But he has earned this and should take this route before suffering some serious, even debilitating, injury.  Go live your life, my man.  You deserve it.

So, now the question begs, what happens now?  The Chiefs have a good nucleus of young talent, particularly at wide receiver.  They do have some decisions to make, some of them painful, such as a now 30-year-old Chris Jones.  There will be a few opportunities in the draft.  The offensive line needs a long-term fix.  But one thing can be expected to be present in 2025.

Even through all the angst after the game, there was also resolve.  This is a proud team; those who return will be steely-eyed in their determination.  This was a stain to be cleaned.  A dishonor to be righted.  And a humiliation to be expunged.  For those reasons...heaven help the rest of the AFC.

I fully expect the Chiefs to be back and winning. They will make the playoffs and be in a position to return to the Super Bowl.  Many are ready to bury this team.  That grave, however, will be for some other team.

The Cost That Must Be Paid for Freedom

 

Copyright © 2025

by Ralph F. Couey

Freedom is not free. 

This statement has become timeworn, perhaps even trite.  But its use, perhaps overuse, hasn’t diminished the fact that it is still fundamentally true.

In what was then colonial America, a group of restless idealists decided that after decades of mistreatment by Britain, enough was enough. After countless hours of fractious, even combative debate, they published their intent to break from the Crown and form a new country. 

This was an incredibly bold and courageous move against what was then the most powerful empire on Earth.  They were, in fact, committing treason, the punishment for which was death.  Also at risk were their families, homes, and everything they had earned and built.  The risk was enormous, but they did not hesitate. 

The war resulting from that Declaration of Independence was long, brutal, and costly.  The army suffered bitter cold, hunger, and sickness.  Desertions were common.  The war was almost lost on several occasions but for the dynamic presence of a Virginia planter, George Washington.  His inestimable leadership, strength, and tactical brilliance kept the army together and allowed him to execute a series of bold, brilliant attacks that eventually drove the British out of America.  

Even after such an improbable victory, the internal struggles continued.  What kind of government would it be?  A republic with a strong central government and subordinate states?  Or a confederacy characterized by a weak central authority and autonomous states? Some of these questions were addressed in the Constitution, which required 13 more years of arguing.  Other questions would take a costly Civil War to find the answers. 

What is most wonderful about this entity we call the United States of America is that we have not yet reached our final form.  It has been a continual experiment in freedom and liberty, constrained by responsibility and accountability.  This is why the Constitution was never intended to be a final product and would be amended repeatedly.  Many ideas have been tried and accepted.  Many others have been considered and cast aside.  We have made mistakes, yes.  But we have not, nor will we ever stop trying to get it right.  Today, we are still asking tough questions and seeking difficult answers.  Debates go on with the same passion as they did in that hot, humid summer of 1776.  We are still a young country compared to the history of this world, and we will always seek a better way, a better life.  We continue to challenge expectations, even accepted assumptions.  We remain convinced that no matter how magnificent our achievements are, we can always do better. 

As a tour guide aboard the USS Missouri Memorial, I talk to people from all over the world.  They have told me that what sets Americans apart is our absolute refusal to accept average.  As a culture, as a people, we are driven by excellence, and not just the hope but the expectation that we will not only succeed but even exceed the goal.  We compete to be the best.  We hate losing.  Even coming in second causes us to grumble and grind our teeth.  It has been that unrelenting drive for excellence that has resulted in our supremacy in so many fields: science, technology, engineering, math, bioscience, medicine, and the arts.  We won the race to the moon, to Mars, and the rest of the planets.  Today, Voyager I, Voyager II, and Pioneer X, three technological ambassadors built and launched by America, have left our solar system and started their journey into the galaxy.  There, they will travel for millennia, carrying a message from humanity to intelligence far beyond that we were here and that our restless, questing intelligence led us to the stars.  

It takes courage to challenge the unknown.  But America has never lacked that courage.  Our willingness as a country to accept that challenge does not come from government mandate.  It comes from us, from how our nation was formed:  Of the people, By the people, and for the people.  President John Kennedy once said, “For in a democracy, every citizen, regardless of his interest in politics, 'holds office.'  Every one of us is in a position of responsibility.”  We who are here today and those who will follow us will be the ones who determine if we will continue to reach beyond the stars or look only downward and dig our own graves.  We are a restless people.  Let us always be restless.  Our unwillingness to accept the present as permanent will always propel us upwards.  In that soaring journey, none of us can afford to sit quietly on the sidelines. 

We had a granddaughter named Zoe, who was born with a serious birth defect, missing a part of her fifth chromosome.  Now, there are 46 chromosomes in each human cell.  Cells are microscopic.  Chromosomes even tinier.  One might think that missing such an infinitesimally small thing might not be that big of a deal.  But in fact, it left her severely disabled. We lost her at the tender age of five months. 

Each of us is only one of over 330 million people.  Like a chromosome within a cell, that may seem small and inconsequential.  But in a representative republic governed by the will of her people, there are no small parts, no insignificant people.  

Nora Jones sang a song, “American Anthem,” in which were these words: 

For those who think they have nothing to share

Who fear in their hearts there is no hero there

Know each quiet act of dignity is that which fortifies

The soul of a nation that will never die. 

There’s no magic wand, no Jedi hand wave that can make that happen.  It is too easy to look in the mirror and decide we have nothing to contribute.  However, each individual American is a collection of unique gifts, talents, and abilities that can spring to life in the fire of passion and possibility.  The individual must open the door and choose to turn those gifts loose upon the world. 

However, for this nation to live, we must decide to live together.  We have differences, yes.  However, each individual has walked a separate path, a unique journey that has shaped their life and their feelings.  We don’t have to agree on everything.  But we must respect each other’s journey.  Instead, let us look at things we have in common that can unite rather than divide us.  Remember those remarkable days after 9/11 when we as a nation stood together, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder.  And remember that an America thus united cannot be defeated.

There is no better example of this than the passengers and crew of Flight 93 on that terrible day.  If you had been in the airport that morning and encountered one of them and asked later for a description, you might have used the word “ordinary.”  As events unfolded, we know now that they were anything but ordinary.  In the face of grave danger, they decided together, stood together, and acted…together. 

John Wayne once said, “All battles are fought by scared men who’d rather be someplace else.”  The actions of those people on that day were called valorous, brave, and heroic.  Undoubtedly, they felt fear.  But that did not stop them.  The biggest difference, after all, between the courageous and the cowardly is how one reacts to that fear.  Fear can be allowed to collapse into mindless, paralyzing panic.  But at that moment, we must realize that something needs to be done; step up and act.  That defines courage, the willingness to push fear aside and do what must be done.  Once again, President Kennedy: “The cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have always paid it.” 

We live in perilous times in a dangerous world.  Once distant and indistinct, the drumbeats of war are now beating loudly.  We hear them from the West, from China and North Korea.  We hear them from the East, from Russia and Iran, and in seemingly every direction from terrorist groups all over the world.  It is a time when our greatest courage and strength is needed.  But it is also a time when we face serious divisions from within.  After 9/11, we recognized and embraced that we were Americans first, last, and foremost.  We found that unity at a moment when we truly needed it.  And we can find it again.  It was an impassioned Patrick Henry who proclaimed, “United we stand, divided we fall!  Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs."  

The future of The United States of America ultimately depends on what we choose to do today, how we choose to act, and if we choose to stand together.  This is our choice and our responsibility.  Abraham Lincoln was speaking to Congress, but his words should resonate with us during these divisive times: “Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history. The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down in honor or dishonor to the latest generation.  We, even we here, hold the power and bear the responsibility.” 

The freedoms we possess and the freedoms we desire completely depend upon our willingness to pay the price and endure the cost of those freedoms.  The world is watching us, and as long as we continue to ring that great bell of freedom, those clear, strong peals will be heard beyond our country, the sound of hope for those who have none.  A desperate world has thrust leadership upon us. Let us rise and face that challenge. Let us accept that responsibility.  And let us lead with intelligence, strength, and compassion. 

In our nearly 250 years, the United States of America has accomplished much.  But before us is a future fraught with peril, a steep, rocky, and treacherous path over which we must walk, a mountain we must climb.  

We must face that mountain in the same way we always have, with courage, strength, and unity.  This is truly what we are as a nation and who we truly are as a people.  This is America!  We are Americans!  Nobody else can do this. Nobody else will do this.  Let us rise together, work together, and succeed together.  And together, we will bring humanity into the light of freedom!

Learning the What, and the Why Behind It

 

Hubble Ultra Deep Field © NASA/Hubble

There are about 10,000 galaxies in this image.

There is still so much to learn...

Copyright © 2025

by Ralph F. Couey

Like most writers, I have a lot of curiosity.  Most of that occurs in the normal pace of life.  I'll notice something and ask myself, " Why is that there?" or "How does that work?" and especially, "How and why did that happen?"  Those questions trigger in my brain a restless little gnome that proceeds to run around wildly in its allotted space, shouting for attention.  That tiny imp won't sit down and shut up until I've at least tried to answer the questions.

In the ancient, dusty past, that meant a trip to a library, sometimes at a university, to spend hours flipping through card catalogs, followed by repeated trips into the stacks to chase down sometimes obscure tomes containing the information I would be seeking, hoping that someone hadn't checked it out.  Then I had to sit down and read the book and take notes.  This is a process that would take hours, sometimes days. Younger folks these days, spoiled by the Internet have no clue about the sheer drudgery and frustration of research. 

The problem with books is that events move so fast these days that they're instantly obsolete once published.  Today, the world is literally available in our hands or even on our wrists.  I am constantly reminded and amazed that humans landed on the moon using a computer that was many times less powerful than my smartwatch.  The problem with such an avalanche of information is successfully judging the veracity of sources.  The 'Net is full of stupid people saying idiotic things, and care must be taken to ensure factual truth and not be taken in by an attractive stream of rhetoric.  That takes time, patience, and even courage, all of which seemingly are in short supply these days.

But I am careful, and my years as an Intelligence Analyst have given me the tools I need to separate truth from fiction, facts from wishful thinking, and what is truly right from what only feels right.  One of the adages from the Intelligence Community is once you know the "What" find out the "Why." Because the "Why" will explain the "What."

When we lived in Northern Virginia, I was taken in by the vast canvas of history that spans the area.  The Colonial Era, Revolutionary War, War of 1812, Civil War, the hard struggle from 13 colonies to a United States were all played out among those beautiful rolling hills.  I stood once on a battlefield at Yorktown, realizing that this piece of real estate had been fought over in three separate wars.

Deeply concerned about the widening divisions in my country, at one point I began to focus in on the Civil War.  What were the real issues that split the country?  Slavery is the easy answer, but I've learned the grim truth that the easy answer is a myth.  Human history is a complex interweaving of events, personalities, agendas, good and evil, and always the unhealthy lust for power and glory.  These kinds of chaotic non-linear influences always muddy the waters.

Gettysburg was a short 80 miles from where we lived, so I made numerous journeys, mostly by motorcycle (I was always looking for a reason to go riding).  In those early visits, I was pretty clueless.  I hadn't looked at the battle with any depth, but clarity arrived after I began reading and studying.  I knew that it was a, perhaps the pivotal battle of the Civil War, that with the Union victory, the South was on the defensive from that point on.  Now, I understood more about the flow of the battle, the tactics that worked, and those that failed.  I was clearer on the complex relationships between the senior commanders and their foibles and blind spots on both sides and how those relationships helped shape the battle's outcome.  

One beautiful autumn day, I climbed to the top of the hill known as Little Round Top and, with my eyes, traced the events as they unfolded across that battlefield during those terrible three days.  More importantly, I now understood not only the what but the why.  Why Confederate General Ewell did not attack the nearly undefended Culp's Hill in the waning hours of that first day.  Why the Union 11th Corps turned and ran like they did at Chancellorsville, allowing the Union troops to be outflanked. How thin the margin of survival was for the 20th Maine on the left end of the Union line on Little Round Top.  And why General Lee willingly sent his troops up Cemetary Hill into a meat grinder of artillery and rifle fire, a fight that cost him 60% of some of the bravest troops ever to carry a weapon into battle.

Gettysburg was a decisive victory that left the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia in tatters.  But it still took two more bloody years before the war ended.

I discovered in this effort that there is a difference between knowing and understanding.

A few years ago, I read an article from the New Yorker magazine written by Katherine Schulz.  It was an amazing piece that brought to light some unnerving facts about what was then a generally unknown or understood tear in the Pacific Ocean floor called the Cascadia Subduction Zone.  It runs some 600 to 700 miles (depending on who you read) underwater from Cape Mendocino, California, to Northern Vancouver Island, British Columbia.  There, some 60 to 70 miles offshore, the Pacific Plate is pushing beneath or subducting under the North America Plate.  For some time, scientists thought it was sliding smoothly (aseismically), a belief based on the complete lack of earthquakes in recorded history.  Then, it was discovered that the coastal mountain ranges are rising and tilting to the east.  New shoreline is being lifted above the surface of the ocean.  These, and many other indicators, showed that the fault was not sliding smoothly but was, in fact, stuck.  As the Pacific Plate continued to try to move eastward, that force was humping and tilting the land above it.  What does that mean?

Cascadia is a type known as a thrust fault.  As the years passed and through data from monster earthquakes off Chile (9.5 in 1960), and Alaska (9.3 in 1964), scientists surmised that these thrust faults, or subduction zones, existed all across that part of the Pacific called the Ring of Fire.  This was clearly evident by the massive quakes off Tohoku, Japan (9.1 in 2011) and the  Sumatra-Andaman quake and tsunami (9.3 in 2004) that would kill close to a quarter-million human beings.  These thrust faults were responsible for not only the largest earthquakes in recorded history but also for the generation of trains of tsunami waves, which devastated huge amounts of land and would kill hundreds of thousands.  

In 1996, a group of scientists from several different disciplines announced that not only was the Cascadia fault active, but it had ruptured in January 1700 along its entire length in an estimated 9.2 magnitude quake.  Tribal lore from the native peoples who populated the northwest coast told of a massive event, in some cases described as a fight between two gods, Thunderbird and Whale, that shook the land and then sent the ocean streaming inland.  Other researchers uncovered meticulous Japanese records that told of an "orphan tsunami" (not accompanied by a local earthquake) that sent a 16-foot wall of water ashore across 650 miles of central and northern  Japan.  That, plus tree ring records, mud cores pulled from the ocean shore, and good detective work, pinned the source at Cascadia.  

I was working for the Hawai'i Emergency Management Agency then, and one of the hazards they plan for is tsunamis. Hawai'i sits in the middle of the Pacific, surrounded on three sides by subduction zones arcing from Tonga through the Marianas, up the coasts of Japan and Russia, across the Aleutian Islands chain, and down the coasts of North America, Central America, and South America. When these faults rupture, it's almost always in the range of Magnitude 8.5 to at least 9.5, unleashing a trans-Pacific train of waves that could devastate the 50th state.  We had access to a system that monitored earthquakes from all over the world.  One disquieting thing I noted was that there was constant movement in all the thrust faults across the entire arc, with earthquakes ranging from the undetectable to the barely noticeable.  But Cascadia was utterly quiet.  Not even a hint of rumble.  Knowing what's going on down below, I found the silence ominous.  I still do. 

 I began to read everything I could about thrust faults and tsunamis.  I found a website that gave me free access to academic research papers.  I dove into those (with a thesaurus close at hand) and, over time, gained a better understanding of the magnitude of the possible threat.

I also understood better that earthquake prediction is, at this time, impossible.  There are some events that follow a comprehensible sequence of events.  A causes B, which results in C.  These are termed Linear.  But what goes on deep beneath the earth's surface is not linear but chaotic.  Scientists know the plates are stuck, and pressure is building, as evidenced by the changing landscapes at the surface.  But deep down, where the sticking point, or asperity, is located, they don't really know the makeup of the two surfaces, the temperature, or the elasticity and frictional coefficient of the rocks that are jammed together.  Without that information, any kind of accurate prediction just isn't possible.  To find out, you'd have to find a way to burrow about 20 miles below the surface of sea and land.  Oh yes, and find someone willing to pay for such an expensive venture.

The point at which the fault ruptures is unknown. As one scientist said, "All I know for sure is that today we're one day closer to that happening than yesterday."  Despite the uncertainty, a lot of good work has been done in those affected areas.  Schools, hospitals, and other critical infrastructure have been moved above the anticipated inundation line.  There are good evacuation routes, and local people know that when the earth stops moving after five to six interminable minutes, they need to get to high ground within about 20 minutes.  At least one community is building what's called a vertical evacuation shelter, firmly planted in the earth, which will allow people to evacuate upwards above the height of the wave.  These and other mitigation efforts will undoubtedly save a lot of lives.  Still, a good many of those quaint shoreline villages are likely to be swept clear by the waves.  Inland, the shaking will affect major metropolitan areas like Sacramento, Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver.  There are a lot of unreinforced masonry structures in all those cities, mostly bricks that will come apart like kicked Legos.  The high rises in those cities were built before all this was known about the monster offshore, so nobody really knows if they can withstand severe shaking of that magnitude.  The quake and tsunami will happen someday, and the resulting devastation may require a recovery time measured in decades.

I've also explored other subjects, such as the chain of events leading to the Chernobyl disaster, what happens inside a hydrogen bomb when it is detonated, the structure of supercell thunderstorms and tornadoes, how a massive star can explode in a supernova, how a galaxy 34 billion light-years distant was discovered even though the visible universe should only be 13.8 billion light years across, and even how DNA and RNA do their thing deep inside our cells.  I'll never understand the nuts and bolts of these things, but I have a general understanding.  And that's good enough for now

When I look at this world and the universe, I feel awe at how big everything is, what we've discovered, and especially what we still have yet to discover.  Perhaps when I've shuffled off this mortal coil, I'll be in a place where I can know and understand it all, and my curiosity will finally be sated.

But then again...maybe not!

A Day of Infamy; A Day of Grace

 

Sunrise, Pearl Harbor

December 7th, 2024

Copyright © 2024

By Ralph F. Couey

Images and written content

The sun rose, spreading its light into the clear sky, a moment of indescribable peace and tranquility. Across the harbor, the water lay almost glassy. It was eerily similar to another morning 83 years earlier, that Day of Infamy; December 7th, 1941.

That day, however, the calm was suddenly broken by the roar of aircraft and the shocking explosions that heralded the beginning of a new war.

This day, however, the peaceful calm remained intact. On the north side of Ford Island the destroyer USS Carl Levin and the submarine USS Hawai'i moved through the water with reverent dignity. The drawbridge connecting the island to Honolulu had been pulled aside, and the two vessels made their way through, passing alongside the grave of a ship that has always been the symbol of that attack. As they came abeam of the USS Arizona Memorial, a whistle sounded across the water and the white-clad sailors manning the rails came to attention. This has always been the tradition. When any Navy ship passes the graceful white memorial, they render honors in respect partly for the old battleship, but just as much for the 1,177 men who remain entombed within the ship.  

At the appointed moment, 7:55 AM, or 07:55 in Navy speak, there was a sudden roar from the south. A formation of four F-22 Raptor fighters from the Hawai'i Air National Guard swept in low. Just as they reached the memorial, one aircraft went vertical, knifing into the brilliantly blue sky accompanied by the roar of afterburners. It was the traditional "missing man formation," the moving salute to the fallen. Across the harbor, at the Arizona Memorial Visitors Center, a 103-year-old Pearl Harbor survivor rose from his wheelchair to render a salute.

Aboard the battleship USS Missouri, just a few hundred yards from Arizona's bow, staff members stood at attention, our throats tight with emotion. We work here every day, but the sense of history and honor that fills this harbor is always present in our hearts. We all clearly understand that the freedoms we cherish are largely due to those who fought and died for them.

This ceremony occurs every year, and it never feels old or routine. It means so much to us because Arizona was where World War II began for America, and Missouri was where it ended 1,365 days later.

Around 0758, the first Japanese bomb fell on Ford Island.   A couple of minutes later, three air-launched torpedoes slammed into USS Oklahoma’s port side. She immediately flooded and began rolling over.  Abandon Ship was ordered before 08:00.  Oklahoma would be struck by two more torpedoes, sealing her fate. Hundreds of men would be trapped inside. 

USS West Virginia, moored outboard of USS Tennessee, was struck by an estimated 7 torpedoes.  She listed 28 degrees, but prompt action by damage control teams corrected the list to 16 degrees.  She settled nearly upright on the harbor bottom.

USS Arizona was hit around 08:10, an armor-piercing bomb penetrated the main deck and exploded in a space where black powder was being temporarily stored outside of the magazines.  The resulting explosion lifted the battleship out of the water and tore her apart, igniting a fire that took two days to extinguish.  Her losses were over half of those from the entire attack, 1,175 men.

USS Nevada was executing morning colors, accompanied by the ship’s band.  The National Anthem was being played when two strafing Japanese planes swept past, firing at the assembled sailors, but only succeeding in tearing the flag.  In a magnificent display of courage, nobody broke ranks, and the band finished the Anthem.  Nevada then went to work, shot down several planes, and was the only battleship that morning to slip her moorings and head for sea.  She was hit by one torpedo, but prompt counterflooding kept her upright.  The sight of this gallant ship steaming along with the tattered flag at her tail was an inspiration to all who witnessed her sortie.  But the Japanese attackers, seeing her moving, dropped a cluster of bombs on her forecastle (the area of the bow forward of the gun turrets) causing severe damage and forcing a decision to beach the ship rather than risk her sinking in the channel.

In less than 30 minutes, the Japanese accomplished their primary mission, the destruction of the Battle Line of the Pacific Fleet.  A lot of other damage was recorded, and 2,390 Americans lost their lives.  Half the combat aircraft stationed on O’ahu were destroyed as well as severe damage to airfields and related facilities.  But there was some good news.

The aircraft carriers, Enterprise, Lexington, and Saratoga were all at sea during the attack.  Their destruction would have severely crippled the United States.  For over a year, they were the sole source of offensive capability.  All the dry docks were intact, which enabled damaged ships to be quickly repaired.  The fuel tanks scattered around the harbor, containing 4.5 million barrels of oil were completely spared.  That loss would have forced all surviving ships back to the West Coast. 

Later historical analysis would show that the reaction of the American sailors, soldiers, and airmen was swift.  Men, mostly young, who had never been in battle took immediate action to get anti-aircraft guns in action, in many cases hacking open ammunition lockers.  Below decks, men struggled to control the damage.  Many formed passing lines to move ammunition from below decks up to the guns.  The stories of heroism and gallantry were numerous.  16 men would receive the Medal of Honor, 10 posthumously. 

It was, as President Roosevelt later described it, a day of infamy.

There is so much to contemplate—not just the death and destruction of that day, but everything that occurred during the war, including the horrifying atrocities committed against the innocent. Worldwide, approximately 69 million people perished, 50 million of whom were civilians. The world was torn apart in unimaginable violence as opposing forces clashed across the globe.

As painful as that was, one blessing emerged. Humanity, capable of such violence, also demonstrated the wisdom to end it. General Douglas MacArthur summed it up best:

"Today the guns are silent. A great tragedy has ended, and a great victory has been won. Death no longer rains from the skies; the seas bear only commerce. Men everywhere walk upright in the sunlight. And the entire world lies quietly at peace."

It is essential for us today to remember December 7^th, 1941.  In a space of minutes, America moved from peace to global war, fought simultaneously in the Pacific and Europe.  But most remarkably, a nation with deep political divisions, immediately linked arms, stood shoulder to shoulder with a heartfelt unity that would propel America through three-and-a half years of war.  We learned a lot that day, and in the days that followed about ourselves and our nation. 

 Hopefully, these are lessons that will never be forgotten.

Veterans Day 2024

 

At the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific

Honolulu, Hawai'i

Copyright © 2024

By Ralph F. Couey

Written content and images

The United States has engaged in many wars over the centuries.  In every case, young men, and now young women willingly left their homes, mines, shops, factories, fields, and schools to take up arms to defend the cause of freedom, and their beloved country.  They fought in many lands, on and below the oceans, and in the skies above it all.  The met dangerous, implacable foes in battle, the violence in which surpassed the ability of countless scribes to adequately express.

They don't speak much of those times.  It may be that the don't wish the hell of their very personal nightmares to be transferred to anyone else.  Or maybe speaking of them brings the horror back.  I once met an old Marine, who had fought with the legendary 1st Marine Division at Guadalcanal and Peleliu.  I have long had a deep interest in the history of the Pacific War, so I was asking him about his experiences.  He responded by saying, "Son, I can't tell you about war.  Unless you've been there, there's no way you could possibly understand.  Thank God you don't."

It takes a special kind of person to endure such an experience.  It is never the scripted false valor seen in cinema, because it's based in fear; that very primal instinct for self-preservation.  In the film "In Harm's Way," John Wayne's character said, "All battles are fought by scared men who'd rather be someplace else."  All warriors feel fear.  They wouldn't be human if they didn't.  But the difference between the courageous and the cowardly is how that fear is handled.  Fear can send some into mindless, paralyzing panic.  Others push past that moment understanding that there is a thing that needs to be done, and they can do that thing.  Perhaps that's what defines courage, the willingness to push fear aside and do what must be done.  As President Kennedy said, "The cost of freedom is high.  But Americans have always paid it."  

Aboard my first ship, the Knox Class Frigate USS Ouellet, in the engine room, it was just another slog through a seemingly endless midwatch.  At one point, a flange connecting two lengths of fuel line failed.  Instantly a high-velocity stream of fuel oil sprayed directly in to the face one of the main electrical switchboards.  Balls of green lightning began shooting throughout the engine room, while the fuel flooded the space.  It seemed certain that a disastrous fire was about to erupt.  One of the sailors on watch, a third class petty officer, all of 19 years old, waded through the flooding oil, past the balls of lightning to the panel.  Working quickly, he not only shut down the panel, but managed to reroute electrical power to another switchboard, ensuring that the rest of the ship could have power.  No hesitation, no apparent concern for his own safety.  Of course, he received a nice medal for his efforts, and I can't remember the last time he had to buy a beer for himself at our ship's reunions.  

Now, we weren't at war, nor were we in battle.  But lives were at stake, as was the survival of the ship.  In the long history of ships at sea, more have died from fire than from almost any other cause.  But think about that for a moment.  19 years old.  People his age were flipping burgers and going to school.  All he did was save a ship and 177 lives.  

Where in the world do you find someone like that?

You can find them in uniform.  Those who have served, and those who still serve, who have put love of country before all other considerations.  We have never had as many combat veterans among us since the violent days of Vietnam, Korea, and World War II.  They will never speak of valor or heroism.  They may just mumble something like, "Just doin' my job."  They will never claim that mantle because for them, the title of hero will always belong to those who once filled the now-empty spaces in the ranks.

We live in perilous times.  We live in a dangerous world.  The drumbeats of war, once distant and indistinct are beating loudly once again.  We hear them in the west from China and North Korea.  they are sounding in the east from Russia and Iran.  They are sounding in seemingly every direction from terror groups throughout the world.  War has not yet been declared, but our soldiers, sailors, marines, guardsman, and airmen are being sent places where they are being shot at.  A disturbing number of their national leaders, safely ensconced in Washington remain blissfully ignorant of what these servicemembers are enduring so far from home.  Those safely insulated politicians know that it's always easier to send someone else to die.

To this renewed danger, there are fewer to send.  All of our uniformed services are seriously short-handed, an annoyance in peacetime, but a critical weakness in battle.  For really the first time, young people are not stepping up to serve.  They have failed to learn that the freedom they enjoy comes at a cost, one usually paid in someone else's blood, and in the deeper unseen wounds inflicted on a warrior's soul.  

They are serving every day.  The proof of their accomplishments lies in the quiet uninterrupted sleep the rest of us receive, that we can awaken safe and unafraid and live our lives in peace.

The freedoms we possess, the dreams we desire have been and will always be completely dependent on the willingness of those who choose to serve, protect, and defend the United States of America.  They will always willingly and without hesitation stand that watch.

Today, we honor them all.

The Spirit of Autumn

 

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

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"Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature."

--Fredrich Nietzsche

"Everyone must  take time to sit and watch the leaves turn."

--Elizabeth Lawrence

The air is warm, but dry, a comfortable pleasant kind of day.  The sky has taken on that vivid blue that contrasts so beautifully with the changing leaves.  The breeze is soft, yet with that unmistakable nip of October.  It is a fine autumn day.

I walked across a meadow through the tawny grass and entered the treeline.  After a short distance, I stopped and inhaled deeply.  It was there; that scent that is the hallmark of fall.  Yes, I know its just dead leaves I'm smelling, but there's something else, something undefinable but still manages to trigger the emotions within me that can only be summoned this time of year.

I am standing amidst a forest of trees that have been wrapped in brilliant golds and vivid reds.  Around me is silence, broken only the sound of rustling leaves as the squirrels forage for their winter provender.  Now and then, the breeze rattles the branches and dislodges a few more leaves.  They flutter gracefully as they fall, before adding to the thickening carpet on the ground.

Slowly, aimlessly I move, my shoes kicking around the leafy ground cover.  That sound, so familiar, so evocative, so comforting awakens memories, some just a year old, others that reach all the way back to a distant childhood.  I suppose that if the ticking of my life's clock had a sound, it would have to be the swishing of leaves in the fall.

Summer has most times been a season to be endured.  Heat and humidity is the bane of my existence, its oppressiveness weighing on my like a wet wool blanket.  Energy and stamina desert me on those days.  The nights bring little relief, the velvety air jealously holding on to the moisture within.  

Then one day, about three weeks into September, the air clears and dries.  The sky shifts from the milky, hazy look of summer to a sharp, vivid blue.  I am reawakened, the old vitality returns as does my joy.

I guess for me there are two falls, the one that reliably shows up on the calendar.  Then there is the climatic one which announces its arrival with delightfully cool weather and the marvelous transition of the trees.  Suddenly, I remember how much fun it is to wear sweaters, jackets, and wool hats.

There is an urgency to this season.  Animals scurry around preparing for winter.  In the sky, migratory birds begin to gather for test flights before heading south.  Even humans feel it.  Farmer begin the harvest, racing against the first frosts.  Stores and shops fill with supplies for the back-to-school crowd.  Kids, though mourning the loss of that glorious summer indolence, feel an excited anticipation for the new school year, though they'd never admit it out loud.  

Even sports change.  Summer is baseball and golf, sports which are not governed by the clock.  But fall is football, and eventually basketball and hockey, all that live and die by the clock.  The short season makes every game serious and vital.  A 4-game losing streak in baseball is just a bad weekend in Chicago, but it can wreck a football season.  Everything is played and lived at a frenetic do-or-die pace.  And yet, with all that, there is still a joy to this time of year.  Looking ahead, we see barreling at us that time we call "The Holidays" when families gather and everyone seems happier.

While my passion for autumn seems more climate driven, it is really that overall sense of awakening joy and the sheer energy of the time of year that has always made this my favorite season.  My love of spring is similar, but it is a much more gentle time, slower-paced.  Autumn has always been energy, excitement driven by the awareness that life is also ticking away.  I am driven to go to the forest, far away from noise and clamor.  There is a peace there that exists for me nowhere else.  I am transfixed by what I see and feel there.  I do enjoy hiking, but sometimes it's enough to just sit on a stump and just...be.

I want to preserve in my memory all that my senses perceive.  The cool air, the smells, the sounds, the colors...but mostly the sense of peace and contentment which fills me to repletion.  It if were possible to arrange my last moment in this life, it would have to be such a moment.  Filled with joy and peace, I could pass willingly to the eternal rest that I know awaits me.  

Such happiness is so terribly rare and when it arrives, it must be embraced and cherished, preserved in the vault of memories within the heart.  From there it can be recalled and relived, always a balm to an aching soul.

Living in Hawai'i has created an ache for this time of year.  Here, some form of summer exists all year 'round.  The average high temperature between January and July only differs by six degrees.  You could record the weather forecast, run it all year long and still be right about 60% of the time.  I miss the change of seasons, and what has become an annual pilgrimage to the mainland always raises my anticipation, as the time there is finite and always ends too soon.  But even these short visits will always fill me to the brim with my autumn joy. 

This Time of Year, This Time of LIfe

The Autumn of Days

The Autumn of Life

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

Images and written content

We're hitting the road again, back to Virginia to spend time with our son and his family.  And of course, I get to spend time with the fall foliage and cool, perhaps cold temperatures that mark that passage into my favorite time of year.  In the mainland, anyway.  .

At this point in life, I've found more and more how important family is.  Of course time passes.  Grandchildren who were once young grow up and move on.  Our "children" now sport bits of grey hair, and begin to complain about aches and pains.  But that bond of blood, unbreakable as ever, continues to hold us together.  

I've always held a longer view of life, so I see the perspective of generations in my family.  My exploration of genealogy has taken me back to 10th century France and 17th century Ireland.  When I look through that long list of names, I often wonder how they viewed the future.  For most of them, it was the continuing birth of children that kept clans alive, flourishing, and powerful in those turbulent times.  

But these days are different.  The future, a constantly moving target, is uncertain at best.  Our grandchildren will face challenges we could never dream of, economic, social, political, perhaps environmental.  The wisdom of the aged in their lives can't provide a template, or even a vague sketch of how to navigate those expectedly stormy seas.  They will have to rely on their experience, knowledge, skills, and yes, sheer toughness all of which I dearly hope we've provided them.  This is uppermost in my mind because our oldest has gone to college in far-off New York.  We have a great deal of faith and confidence in her, but we all remember what that time of life was like, how hard it was to be away from home and family, learning for the first time who to trust and how much.  For the first time in her life, there's no safety net, no sanctuary when things truly go south.  Intellectually, I know this is a necessary experience, a required rite of passage to full adulthood.  Life is indifferent.  It is not what you allow it to do to you, but what you do to it that will forge a path of success.  Doesn't make it any easier to be so far away.

The others are also growing up.  Fast, too fast.  Our two grandkids in Colorado are blossoming into powerfully creative individuals.  They are strong, directed, and confident and there are great things ahead for them.  But at some point, they too will leave the nest and undertake their own flight.  And those of us left behind will be on pins and needles watching from afar as their stories unfold.  The younger two in Virginia also are striding forward in confident assuredness.  I still don't know what they will end up doing or being, but I'm pretty sure they'll be in charge.

The three in California are something of a collection of miracles.  The older two were born autistic, and one needed open heart surgery shortly after birth.  The oldest we thought might have to live in a group home.  But he is one his way to college, with a plan to work on, work with, and perhaps design Formula One race cars.  All three of them are blossoming out of what was a cruelly difficult childhood.  They are tough beyond words, and nothing will get in their way.

I look at all of them with pride, and gratitude.  I was not very good at being a father, being unable to draw that barrier between career and family.  But my kids survived it, and learned from those experiences.  They are successful professionally, and are deeply involved in their kids' lives.  I hate regrets, but I wish I would have been better.

I don't try to judge my life, good or bad, because it makes me sad.  And at this point in life, kinda useless.  When I pass from this life at some point in the relatively near future, there won't be any statues or buildings with my name on them.  I won't have cured cancer, the common cold, or brought world peace.  I don't command princely wealth or exercise worldly power or influence.  If that were the sole yardstick, then I've been a failure.  

But I've also learned from my offspring that there are far more important ways to measure a life.  I love, and have been loved.  I've been a friend, and received friendship.  I've given and received respect.  I've  enjoyed the exercise of gifts and talents, particularly writing and public speaking, that has given me so much joy.  And perhaps when I look at my grandkids and what they can and undoubtedly will do with their lives, the future, sometimes bleak, now has a distinctly rosy, optimistic glow.  Perhaps I can look at that and surmise that some good is here to pass along to the future.

The dreams we have as children are almost never fulfilled in life.  Because of the experience and wisdom we acquire along the way, that context alters our expectations.  What we loved to do at age 7 or 8 will be very different from what we eventually choose.  I tell people to be patient as this sorts itself out.  I did not find out what I wanted to do when I grew up until I reached the tender age of 40, and proved to be far removed from the baseball player/astronaut I wanted to be as a kid.  The only consistent thing in life is change, and everyone must be ready for whatever comes their way, and be nimble enough to keep our footing as we shift course.

There was a time when five years from now was just that:  five years.  I am 69, and am well aware that my future will be considerable shorter than my past.  Another important thing I have learned is not to just exist from day to aimless day.  But live!  And live with passion, fervor, and joy!  And so what if nobody outside my family and friends remembers me?

Because at the end, I can be assured that it has been one hell of a ride.

Gut Punch...Or Perhaps Not

 

Happy Days...

Copyright ©2024

by Ralph F. Couey

"Life belongs to the living

and he who lives

must be prepared for change."

--Johann Wolfgang von Goeth

Everyone, I think, is familiar with the feeling of shock and dismay when normality is blown up by the unexpected.  The common reaction is "No!  This isn't happening!"  We push back in that moment, trying to evade what has befallen us.  But no amount of denial changes what has happened.  It must be faced, even embraced as a new reality.

I've been dealing with some health issues, mostly those attendant with aging.  I won't burden you with the details, as there is really nothing more boring than listening to an old person complain about their aches and pains.  But in April, my doctor, out of the blue, administered a memory test to me in his office.  Mainly due to fatigue, I bombed it miserably.  That was hard enough, but what he said next was a total gut punch.  

Dementia.

I was shocked and dismayed.  And scared.  The one thing about getting old that I feared the most was mental impairment.  I could have better dealt with the loss of a limb, but not my mind.  Everything I am, that I've ever been, that I could ever be resides there in that incredible organ inside my heard.  Without that, we are all just empty husks.

Over the last year I've noticed a tendency for short term memory dropouts, silly things like looking for car keys that are already in my pocket, or getting stuck in writing, desperately searching for that perfect word or phrase.  I've forgotten appointments, or gone on the wrong days.  I'll re-ask a question posed just minutes before.  But that time was filled with a lot of stress, mostly work-related at my last job.  Once I moved on, a lot of that went away.  But I was still worried.

In the months that followed, some other things happened, that indicated to me that this wasn't the disaster I originally thought.

I had an appointment with a neurologist and after hearing about the diagnosis, he administered a memory test.  I Aced It.  After some discussion, he put my problems down to something called "cognitive impairment."  Not sure what that means, but it doesn't seem to be dementia.  I was relieved. 

 Now, in the time since, there have still been occasional dropouts, but I continue to give all my tour presentations, all told almost two-and-a-half hours of memorized material.  I am finding though that if I get distracted, I can lose my place, and picking up the loose string can take a minute.  So focus becomes absolutely essential. When I'm driving, I always know where I am and where I'm bound.  I remember my past in detail.  I've always had difficulty with remembering people's names, so that doesn't worry me all that much.  All my appointments and obligations are on my phone's calendar.  I spend time (maybe too much time) playing various word games on my phone.  I still read voraciously, and I still write, although that's limited by having only 24 hours in each day.  Walking about the ship every day, climbing up and down ladders (stairs to you landlubbers), I log about 3 miles, so I'm getting my physical exercise.  

One thing I am very focused on is the amount of sleep I get at night.  On days that I get 6 hours or less, things don't go so well.  But over 6 hours, and better still, 7 to 8 hours, things are terrific.  I'm going to bed early, usually by 8:30 pm, and am able to fall asleep quickly.  I still get up a couple of times a night (curse you, prostate!) but can go back to sleep quickly.  My son Robbie got me one of those wrist tracker things (Whoop) which tracks my sleep patterns, as well as the amount of exercise and stress during the day, so I'm always aware of how I'm doing in those departments.

The future has always been an unknown, as there is still no reliable way to predict for its inevitable twists and turns.  But in hard times, I always fall back on the best lesson from my days hiking the Appalachian Trail:  The only thing you can do when standing at the bottom of a long, steep hill is to quit complaining and just climb the doggone thing.  Even on that terrain, I eventually reached the summit.  

What Was Paid for Freedom

 

Little Round Top Battlefield, Gettysburg

Copyright © 2024

Image and Text

By Ralph F. Couey

Freedom is not free.

This statement has become timeworn, perhaps even trite.  But its use, perhaps overuse, hasn’t diminished the fact that is it still absolutely fundamentally true.

In what was then colonial America, a group of restless idealists after decades of mistreatment by Britain decided that enough was enough.  After countless hours of fractious, even combative debate, together they published their intent to break from the Crown and form a new country.

This was an incredibly bold and courageous move against what was then the most powerful empire on Earth.  They were, in fact, committing treason, the punishment for which was death.  Also at risk were their families, their homes, everything they had earned and built.  The risk was enormous, but they did not hesitate.

The war resulting from that Declaration of Independence was long, brutal, and costly.  The army suffered bitter cold, hunger, and sickness.  Desertions were common.  The war was almost lost on several occasions, but for the dynamic presence of a Virginia planter named George Washington.  His inestimable qualities of leadership, strength, and tactical brilliance not only kept the army together, but allowed him to execute a series of bold, brilliant attacks that eventually drove the British out of America. 

Even after such an improbable victory, the internal struggles continued.  What kind of government would it be?  A republic with a strong central government and subordinate states, or a confederacy characterized by a weak central authority and autonomous states? Some of these questions were addressed in the Constitution, a document that took 13 more years of arguing before its initial form was finalized in 1789.  Other questions would take a costly Civil War to find the answers.

What is most wonderful about this entity we call the United States of America is that we have not yet reached our final form.  It has been a continual experiment in freedom and liberty, constrained by responsibility and accountability.  This is why the Constitution was never a final product, and would be amended time and again.  Many ideas have been tried and accepted.  Many others have been considered and cast aside.  We have made mistakes, yes.  But we have not yet, nor will we ever stop trying to get it right.  We are still today asking tough questions and seeking difficult answers.  Debates go on with the same passion as they did in that hot, humid summer of 1776.  We are still a young country when compared to the history of this world, but we will always be seeking a better way, a better life.  We continue to challenge expectations, even accepted assumptions.  We remain convinced that no matter how magnificent our achievements, we can always do better.

In my job as a tour guide aboard the USS Missouri Memorial, I talk to people from all over the world.  They have told me that what sets Americans apart is our absolute refusal to accept average.  As a culture, as a people, we are driven by excellence, and not just the hope, but the expectation that we will not only succeed in that task, but even exceed the goal.  We compete to be the best in all fields, in all endeavors.  We hate losing.  Even coming in second causes us to grumble and grind our teeth.  It has been that unrelenting drive that has resulted in our supremacy in so many fields.  Science, technology, engineering, math, bioscience, medicine and the arts.  We won the race to the moon, to Mars and the rest of the planets.  Today, Voyager I, Voyager II, and Pioneer X, three technological ambassadors, built and launched by America, have left our solar system and started their journey into the galaxy.  There, they will travel for millennia, carrying a message from humanity to intelligences far beyond that we were here, and that our restless, questing intelligence led us to the stars. 

It takes courage to challenge the unknown.  But America has never lacked that courage.  Our willingness as a country to accept that challenge comes not from government mandate.  It comes, rather, the way our nation was formed:  Of the people, By the people, and for the people.  President John Kennedy once said, “For in a democracy, every citizen, regardless of his interest in politics, 'holds office.'  Every one of us is in a position of responsibility.”  We, even we here, and those who follow us will be the ones who determine if we will continue to reach beyond the stars, or look only downward and dig our own grave.  We are a restless people.  Let us always be restless.  It will be our unwillingness to accept the present as permanent that will propel us upwards, along with the rest of humanity.  In that soaring journey, none of us can afford to sit quietly on the sidelines.

We had a granddaughter, named Zoe  who was born with a serious birth defect, missing a part of her fifth chromosome.  Now, there are 46 chromosomes in each human cell.  Cells are microscopic.  Chromosomes even tinier.  One might think that missing such an infinitesimally small thing might not be that big of a deal.  But in fact, it left her severely disabled. We lost her at the tender age of five months.

Each of us is only one of over 330 million people.  Like a chromosome within a cell, that may seem small and inconsequential.  But in a representative republic governed by the will of her people, there are no small parts, no insignificant pieces.

Nora Jones sang a song, “American Anthem,” in which were these words:

"For those who think they have nothing to share

Who fear in their hearts there is no hero there

Know each quiet act of dignity is that which fortifies

The soul of a nation that will never die."

There’s no magic wand, no Jedi hand wave which can make that happen.  It is too easy to look in the mirror and decide that we have nothing to contribute.  But each individual American is a collection of unique gifts, talents, and abilities that can spring to life in the fire of passion and possibility.  It remains to the individual to open the door and turn those gifts loose upon the world.

However, in order for this nation to live, we must decide to live together.  We have differences, yes.  But each individual has walked a separate path, a unique journey that has shaped their life and how they feel.  We don’t have to agree on everything.  But we must respect each other’s journey.  Let us instead look to those things that we have in common, that can unite, rather than divide us.  Remember those remarkable days after 9/11 when we as a nation stood together, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder.  And remember that an America thus united cannot be defeated.

There is no better example of this than the passengers and crew of Flight 93 on that terrible day.  If you had been in the airport that morning and encountered one of them and asked later on for a description, you might have used the word “ordinary.”  As events unfolded, we know now that they were anything but ordinary.  In the face of grave danger, they decided together, stood together, and acted together.

John Wayne once said, “All battles are fought by scared men who’d rather be someplace else.”  The actions of those people on that day have been called valorous, brave, heroic.  Undoubtedly, they felt fear.  But that did not stop them.  The biggest difference, after all, between the courageous and the cowardly is how one reacts to that fear.  For some, the fear collapses into mindless, paralyzing panic.  But others embrace the realization that something needs to be done, and knowing that they can act.  I think that defines courage, the willingness to push fear aside and do what must be done.  Once again, President Kennedy: “The cost of freedom is always high, but Americans have always paid it.”

We live in perilous times in a dangerous world.  The drumbeats of war, once distant and indistinct are now beating loudly.  We hear them from the west, from China and North Korea.  We hear them from the east, from Russia and Iran, and in seemingly every direction from terrorist groups all over the world.  It is a time when our greatest courage and strength is needed.  But it is also a time when we face serious divisions from within.  After 9/11 we recognized and embraced that we were Americans first, last, and foremost.  We found that unity at a moment when we truly needed it.  And we can find it again.  It was an impassioned Patrick Henry who proclaimed, “United we stand, divided we fall!  Let us not split into factions which must destroy that union upon which our existence hangs." 

The future of The United States of America is completely dependent on what we choose to do today; how we choose to act, and if we choose to stand together.  This is our choice, and our responsibility.  Abraham Lincoln was speaking to congress, but his words should resonate within us during these divisive times: “Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history. The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down in honor or dishonor to the latest generation.  We, even we here, hold the power and bear the responsibility.”

The freedoms we possess, and the freedoms we desire are completely dependent on our willingness to pay the price and endure the cost for those freedoms.  As long as that great bell of freedom rings, those clear, strong peals will be heard beyond our country, the great sound of hope for the world.

The United States of America has accomplished much in our nearly 250 years.  But before us is a future, fraught with peril; a steep, rocky and treacherous path over which we must walk, a mountain we must climb. 

Let us vow to walk together; to climb together, and together we shall stand at the summit and welcome the beautiful light, the dawning of a new day!