Three Important Quotes

Three quotes upon which anyone could build the best kind of life.

The life that conquers is the life that moves
with a steady resolution and persistence

toward a predetermined goal.

Those who succeed are those who have thoroughly learned

the immense importance of plan in life, and the tragic brevity of time.

- W.J. Davison

So, then, to every man his chance --
to every man, regardless of his birth,

his shining golden opportunity
-- to every man his right to live, to work, to be himself,

to become whatever his manhood
and his vision can combine to make him

-- this is the promise of America.

- Thomas Wolfe

When one door of happiness closes, another opens;

but often we look so long at the closed door

that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.

- Helen Keller

The Civil War: March 1861

A new government takes shape in the south.  In Washington, a new President assumes office over a decidedly less-than-United States of America

On March 1, 1861 P. G. T. Beauregard appointed Brigadier General in the Confederate States Army and was sent immediately to Charleston, SC.  General Beauregard would eventually carry the attack on Ft. Sumter in April, starting the Civil War.

On that same day, 1861 Texas was accepted as a state by the provisional government of the Confederate States of America.  The next day, the Texas Secessionist Convention reconvened, where on March 5^th, the Convention accepted Confederate Statehood.  Also on March 1st, the U.S. Congress would reject the proposals put forth by the Washington Peace Convention.

The next day, March 2, the U. S. Congress passes a proposed 13th Amendment stating that the Congress will not abolish or interfere with slavery where it exists. The amendment would never be ratified. 

General P. G. T. Beauregard arrives at Charleston on March 3rd and assumed command of Confederate troops South Carolina

On March 4, 1861 Confederate Convention in Montgomery adopted the "Stars and Bars" as the new nation's flag. The flag was introduced to the public the next day. 

Under heavy security on March 4, 1861 Abraham Lincoln is inaugurated President of the United States, already smaller by seven seceded states.  In his inaugural address, he says…

The Bell That Tolls for Us*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
March 6, 2011
as "Disaster at our doorstep"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

(Except the Dunne quotes)

“No man is an island, entire of itself;

every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less.

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind,

and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls;

it tolls for thee.”

--John Dunne, from “Contemplation XVII”

We live in a world filled with troubles, great and small. It is a measure of this world’s difficulties that even the great tragedies, ones that use to be insulated from us by distance or borders, now reach out to each and every one of us. 

Economic and business news, what once seemed so incredibly boring, now has a primacy that captures our attention and drives our worries as much as if it was a storm and we were in a small boat far out to sea. The vagaries of politics and the complexities of policy debate we now follow with rapt attention. 

Perhaps this is the most telling influence of the information age. No longer will there be a comfortable delay between event and effect. As things happen in countries far away, we will feel the results locally with a rapidity that will take our breath away. Unfortunately, this is not a passing phenomenon, but a new template, one that will define our future as individuals, and as the human species. 

In recent weeks, a number of countries in the Middle East have been experiencing unrest that in some cases may be the onset of revolution. In the not-too-distant past, that would have been interesting news, but not something that would have caused most of us any worry. We actually might have privately cheered for people who were attempting to throw off the yoke of tyranny.  

How things have changed. 

Speech: "Today, We Remember"

Copyright © 2009 by Ralph Couey

“Today, We Remember”

Ten years ago today, the world was changed; our nation was changed; we were changed.  We were ripped from a world of the safe and familiar and plunged into another; a world of dark uncertainty; a world of shock, pain, horror…and fear.  

But out of the darkness of that tragic day, a great light emerged, illuminating this nation from border to border and sea to sea.  We, the people of the United States found our unity.  We stood together; shoulder to shoulder; arm in arm.  We spoke with one voice. 

We felt with one heart. 

And the world stood back in awe.

Today, we remember. 

We remember the shock, the sorrow, and yes, the anger we felt that morning.

But we also remember how we reached out to each other and found comfort, discovering that in the face of shared tragedy, there is no such word as “stranger.”  On 9/11, we Americans proved that we were still “family.”

Today we gather upon this field of honor. 

Red-Light Purgatory**

*Chicago Tribune
March 4, 2011
as "Purgatory and the dead red light"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
March 5, 2011
as "Purgatory and the dead red light"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

When one reads about “Dead Red” laws, the image conjured up is of some draconian McCarthy-esque measure from the 1950’s. Actually, it has nothing to do with politics.

Every motorcyclist and bicyclist is familiar with the frustration of pulling up to and intersection and watching the lights go through 2 or 3 cycles without getting the green. This problem has been the subject of increasingly vociferous lobbying from riders.

Some intersections don’t have automatically sequenced lights. They’re triggered by sensors buried in the roadway. These sensors don’t rely on weight, but mass. As a large metal object, like a car or truck, rolls up, the steel creates a “bubble” in the ambient magnetic field. This bubble is detected by the sensors which then trigger the lights. The Navy uses this method, called "Magnetic Anomaly Detection," to locate submerged submarines. These devices have to be calibrated, but the vehicle used is usually the 10-ton truck the road crews work out of. In terms of magnetic mass, that’s a far cry from even the largest motorcycle. Consequently, the rider sits at the intersection…and sits…and sits…and sits…well, you get the idea.

Some states have laws that permit the rider to run the red light after a reasonable amount of time, provided the traffic is clear. I know that Missouri has such a law, and the Kansas House has passed and sent to the Senate a similar bill. The Georgia legislature is about to consider such a law.  Pennsylvania, however, does not.

Last fall, I came afoul of that lack in Somerset.

Bless Them All

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Flags lined the streets, some posted on flagpoles, others held by people.  After the flag-draped casket left the church, it passed between double lines of what seemed to be most of the population of Ebensburg, Pennsylvania.  Two ranks of men from the Veterans of Foreign Wars escorted the hearse through the streets.  County officials, police officers, volunteers from the Patriot Guard, and a U.S. Congressman watched as a patriot came home for the last time.

Derek Kozorosky died in uniform at the tender age of 22, a Senior Airman in the U.S. Air Force.  No, he hadn’t lost his life in Afghanistan or Iraq, but he had made the choice to serve his country and the cause of freedom.  And in my book, that’s still a hero.

The Thaw Ride**

*Chicago Tribune
March 18, 2011
as "Start out slow this spring"

*Somerset Daily American
March 19, 2011
as "Start out slow this spring"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

As February turns into March, warmer weather will begin to spread northward.  Eventually even in the arctic-like north and northeast, the snow will melt, the roads will clear, and motorcyclists will take to the road in glee to start another riding season.

But in some parts of the nation, winter still grimly hangs on.  In those areas, however, riders will be teased by the appearance of a day or two of relatively warm weather and sun.  On those days, it is hard to resist the temptation to take the bike out for a spin. 

But there are still dangers out there.

Roads are still covered with salt, sand, and whatever else the DOT uses when the snow falls.  For a motorcycle, a road surface like that can be similar to riding on a bed of ball bearings.  Traction and control is decidedly iffy, not helped by the water left by melting snow.  Also, there are still shaded places where patches of ice remain.

A February Gift

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Winter is the longest season. At least it feels that way. The cold temperatures drive us indoors. The long hours of darkness saps our energy. The deep snow turns a simple trip to the grocery store into a major undertaking. Towards mid-February, we are worn down, and frustrated.
But once in awhile, nature seems to sense our dark mood and sends us a gift. The winds shift to the south, the clouds break, and the thermometer rises to its highest point in months. It’s not a surprise; after all, Jim, Tim, and Tony have been talking about it for at least a week. But after endless cold and incessant snow, cynicism dies hard.

We wake up, instantly aware that the house seems warmer. As we eat breakfast, the sky is lighter. Actually, the days have been getting longer since December 21st, but somehow it’s evaded our notice.

The first moment of hope arrives when we step outside. The air, while still cold lacks its usual bite. Maybe we even go back inside and swap out the arctic gear for something lighter.

At work, everyone’s mood seems unaccountably brighter. Smiles bloom unbidden. The brittle acrimony seems to have been shelved, at least for now. Even customers seem to bring a little sunshine in with them.

All morning long, the sunlight beckons through the windows, teasing and seducing. When lunch time comes, we grab our brown bag and head for the park. Stepping outside, we feel it immediately. The air is soft, and for the first time in months, we feel on our shoulders the healing warmth of the sun.

That Bull Moose in the White House

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Theodore Roosevelt was born in 1858, a sickly child, suffering from asthma and other ailments.  But rather than give in to his condition, he embarked on a life of vigorous robustness.

At Harvard, he was active in rowing and boxing. Upon graduating, he was given a physical exam, revealing a serious heart condition.  The doctor recommended he find a desk job.  Instead, he entered Columbia Law School.  A year later, he dropped out to run for New York Assemblyman.  His first book, a study of the Naval war of 1812, was published soon after his graduation and became a standard text throughout the Navy.

By 1884, he was already a major player in New York Republican circles.  But disillusioned by the exigencies of politics, he “retired” to a ranch he had built in Dakota Territory.  He hunted and raised cattle, writing about his activities for eastern newspapers.  As the deputy sheriff, he once escorted a group of thieves through the wilderness, going without sleep for almost two days.  Returning to New York after losing his cattle in the harsh winter of 1886-87, he ran for mayor of New York City, coming in third.  Roosevelt was appointed to the U.S. Civil Service Commission where he successfully fought the entrenched spoils system, forcing compliance with the Civil Service laws. 

In 1895, he took on another tough task.  As New York City’s Police Commissioner, he cleaned up the NYPD, reputed to be the most corrupt in America.  He was appointed Assistant Secretary of the Navy in the McKinley administration, taking de facto control due to the inactivity of the Secretary.  He was instrumental in preparing the Navy for the Spanish-American War and also laid the groundwork for the globe-circling “Great White Fleet” of his own administration.

Natalie Munroe and the Larger Question

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Three days ago, nobody knew Natalie Munroe.  Now to many, she’s famous – or infamous.  For those who may have been living beneath the sea, Natalie is a teacher.  At one point in her life, she, like so many of us, felt the urge to write and authored a blog. 

Now, a blog can be many things, depending on one’s interests.  For many, it’s a living bulletin board.  Others, the chaotic canvas of random thoughts.  Some people blog about their interests, be it music, books, geology, or whatever they find interesting.  A lot of people, like me, blog about life and the musings thereof.

A blog is a contradiction.  It’s a private space for private thoughts that is also exposed to the universe. While we value our privacy, we love to see that visit counter go up. 

Natalie, responding to some of the utter ridiculousness of the education bureaucracy, wrote a post about grade cards.  In it, she complained about the “canned comments” that the administration urged teachers to use in describing the characteristics of a particular student.  These comments are familiar to anyone who has survived public school, things like “participates in class,” and “needs to work towards potential,” and other statements that achieve the lofty goal of saying absolutely nothing of value.

My Lap Band Life - One Month In

Copyright © 2011 words only by Ralph Couey

A month ago today, I was wheeled into an operating room at Windber Medical Center in Pennsylvania.  About 40 minutes later, I came out, my life changed forever. 

I have always struggled with my weight, essentially since the age of 8.  This is something that seems to run in the family, since I’ve seen pictures of my ancestors from the depression, a solid working class clan, who wore bellies even in the midst of the worst economic disaster in our history. 

Over the years, I began to suffer from the inevitable physical consequences of obesity, including diabetes, bad joints, and heart problems.  I didn’t take retirement seriously because, frankly, I didn’t think I’d live that long.  Finally, after two heart incidents within 10 months, my wife and I decided it was time for some drastic alternatives.

In January 2010, after experiencing chest pain on the way to work, I was taken to the hospital where I received my third cardiac stent (the first two in 2003).  In March, my wife, a Registered Nurse with 30 years surgical experience, brought home some literature on a procedure called a lap band.  I was skeptical, but the stent thing had scared me pretty badly and I was ready to listen.  We went to a seminar for prospective patients put on by Dr. Kim Marley. 

The information provided was a revelation.  In 2002, I almost had a full gastric bypass done.  The operation was derailed when the insurance company pulled the authorization literally as we were on our way to the hospital.  But this was different.  A gastric bypass is a permanent thing, routing the intestine from the bottom of the stomach to a new pouch created at the bottom of the esophagus.  The lap band, conversely, is an adjustable and reversible  device, the size of which is controlled by injecting or withdrawing saline through a port attached to the inside of the patient’s skin.  Being far less complex, recovery time was relatively fast.

The program is structured such that a period of 6 months passes between the time you agree to the procedure and when it is actually done.  This is to allow time for testing and evaluation, dietetic, physical, as well as psychological counseling, giving the patient plenty of time to think.

I was still on the fence, but a second heart incident in October suddenly made the decision a no-brainer.

"Riders in the Storm"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Motorcyclists of all stripes look forward with great anticipation to the end of winter and the return of sunshine, warm weather, and clear roads.  Spring can be a glorious time to ride, but changing weather patterns can develop dangerous conditions.

Spring in the Midwest and high plains is a time when war breaks out between warm, moist air surging up from the Gulf of Mexico and cold, dry air making its stubborn retreat into Canada. The resulting battleground can generate strong to severe thunderstorms, some of which may spawn tornadoes.

There are different types of thunderstorms, and it’s important to know the difference.  There are isolated storms, the ones meteorologists like to call “garden variety” or “pop-up” that develop, rain themselves out and dissipate over a couple of hours or less.  The hazards of these storms are torrential rainfall, extremely limited visibility, strong wind gusts, and lightning. Most riders are familiar with these, a regular encounter on afternoon rides.  Probably the biggest danger is the heavy rain, which can induce hydroplaning, a wave of water that builds up at the front of your tires that can actually lift the bike off the road’s surface, sending the machine skidding across the asphalt.  Don’t think for one moment that rubber tires protect you from lightning strikes.  It has happened, last year in Kentucky for example.  Also, the heavy raid restricts visibility for drivers as well.  We know how hard it is for them to see us on a good day.  In a downpour, trying to peer through a windshield and wipers, it’s even more difficult.  Since these storms are isolated, i.e. fairly small in footprint, the best thing is simply to pull off and wait for them to pass, or change your route to go around them. 

A severe thunderstorm is characterized by the National Weather Service as one with 58-mph wind gusts and at least 3/4-inch hail.  I’ve been caught in two hailstorms in my riding career, and I wore those bruises for a long time.  But hail in these storms can range up to the size of golf balls or larger.  These are life-threatening, and no place for a motorcycle. 

Civil War Events: February 1861, the CSA becomes a reality

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

By February 1861, although no shots had yet been fired, both sides were marching inexorably towards war. The most important events revolved around the formal organization of the Confederate States of America and the approaching inauguration of Abraham Lincoln. For the first time in history, two separate sovereign nations occupied America.

On February 1, the secessionist convention in Texas voted 166 to 7 to secede, calling for a ratification election by the people of Texas. The next day, Texas adopted a Declaration of Causes, a document that specified the reasons that Texas would secede.

On February 4, representatives of 22 states gathered in Washington in a last ditch effort to halt the division. The effort failed. On that same day, the Convention of Seceded States met in Montgomery, Alabama. Four days later, the convention adopted a provisional constitution which officially formed the Confederate States of America. This new constitution gave the individual states more autonomy. On the 9th, Jefferson Davis was elected as the President of the CSA.

On February 5, responding to a demand from South Carolina that Fort Sumter be surrendered, the Buchanan administration announced that the fort would remain in Federal hands.

On February 9, Tennessee voters rejected secession by some 9,000 votes.

On February 11, President-elect Abraham Lincoln boarded a train in Springfield, Illinois on his journey to Washington for his inauguration. In the capitol city, the federal army manned the streets to maintain order as the Electoral College met and confirmed Lincoln’s election victory. On that same day, Jefferson Davis boarded another train in Vicksburg, Mississippi bound for Montgomery, Alabama, the first CSA capitol, for his inauguration.

Columnists: Reaching Out

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

As a columnist, I identify with that larger community identified by National Society of Newspaper Columnists President Ben Pollock as, “…feature and metro, humor and kitchen-table writers.” I have to admit that for me, it's a comfortable zone.

My degree is in Political Science, although I’m far more fascinated by political processes than political issues. When I first started my columnistic gigs 6 years ago, I began by writing some pretty pointed pieces. While they were "satisfyin’ writin’" in a visceral sort of way, the reactions were disturbing. It must be a fundamental law of the universe that people who agree with you will never write, while those who disagree will do nothing but. I never received a death threat, but the tone and tenor of those responses nevertheless left me reluctant to walk the streets at night.

I fully understand that there are those who thrive on controversy. They seek to provoke and rile. As one fellow said to me, “Of course I get them angry. Anger is readership.” This kind of issue baiting and audience manipulation I found disturbing, though not as disturbing as watching otherwise intelligent readers who didn't know they were being led around by their spleens.

The sad thing is, that’s what the climate has wrought. There are folks out there on both sides who are making large sums of money by getting and keeping people angry. Call me wimpy, if you must. But I figure that it is better to write of those things that unite us, rather than those which divide us.

Love: The Power and the Joy**

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

*Chicago Tribune
February 11, 2011
as "Love: the power and the joy"

*Somerset Daily American
February 12, 2011
as "Love: the power and the joy"

Of all the memories that crowd our minds, there’s not one clearer or more arresting than that moment that we saw The One; that single human out of six billion that would turn us on our emotional ears, and change our lives forever.

It might have been in the house next door, in a park, on a bus, or across a crowded room.  Maybe our ears heard an endearing laugh; that one voice out of many, a sound that went straight to our heart.  For me, it was the distant sight of a dark-haired goddess across 32 lanes of a bowling alley. 

But wherever and whenever that moment occurred, we remember how it rocked us to our very soul.  It is a memory we will take to our graves.

Love is a hard thing to figure.  It strikes, often without warning, lancing through our emotional defenses to that secret place within that we share with no one else.  We know how it feels, but to try to pin down an actual definition is a goal that has eluded the passionate efforts of the best writers, poets, and minstrels.

Love inspires tremendous outbursts of written eloquence; words of power and knee-weakening emotion.  Yet in its presence we are rendered helpless, tongue-tied, brain-frozen and left feeling supremely foolish. Our thoughts are forever altered.  We cannot concentrate; sometimes finding that our gaze has fixed on some unseen point of focus while wearing a gentle smile of sweet remembrance.

Becoming a Great Teacher*

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
February 13, 2011
as "Reaching for greatness"

Our middle daughter, Crystal,  is approaching a milestone.  In May, she’ll graduate from the University of Colorado-Denver with her teaching degree. 

She has always had a strong interest in math.  She was once an Electrical Engineering major until she hit a brick wall called “differential equations.”  It’s always bothered her that females are vastly underrepresented, not just in the professional field of mathematics, but through their participation in this subject in middle, junior, and senior high school classrooms.  Her mission is to make math cool for girls, convincing them that there’s no such thing as a “non-traditional field.”

A month or so ago, she sent out an email to a lot of people.  In it, she asked what they thought the characteristics were of a great teacher.  Note that she didn’t ask about an “average” teacher; or even a “good” teacher.  She wants to be a “great” teacher.  Mediocrity has, in many ways, become the standard, and not just in education.  Do just enough to blend in; don't stick your neck out.  For a teacher, especially, to adopt excellence as their standard is the kind of thing that changes lives in the classroom.

She got a lot of good answers back.  Several advised her to get to know her students as individuals, identifying their individual learning styles and tailoring her delivery thus.  She was advised to be humble, personable, even-tempered, and communicative; to not be afraid to show humor and have fun. 

Optimism and Lighting the Corner of the World**

*Chicago Tribune
February 25, 2011
as "Make a difference"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
February 26, 2011
as "Make a difference"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Bookstores a full of them; infomercials fill the airwaves hawking them. All around us we hear the shouted mantra “Improve Your Life! We become so obsessed with fixing our flaws, we forget that even we can do good things.

It seems the only things we can think about are what we’ve done wrong. People are far from perfect. We are all human, and mistakes seem to be what we do best. But focusing solely on that aspect seems to me to be a little too cynical.

We seem to swim in a sea of sadness. The news that is reported to us is nearly all bad. Newscasters and pundits talk in terms apocalyptic; every cause will result in complete destruction. All around are wars and rumors of wars. Economies are struggling to survive, even in countries that were seen as invincible. I’m not saying we shouldn’t pay attention. This is, after all, a world rife with violence, injustice, pain and misery. But it is also a place where millions of acts of kindness occur each day, and rarely make the news.

Whether we want to admit it or not, all of us do a tremendous amount of good each year. We all have friends that like us, family that loves us. There are people who have come to depend on us, because when the chips were down for them, we stepped up to help. Perhaps we’re too afraid to think about it out of the fear of being too proud. Humility is a fine thing, yes. But when a person does a good thing, that’s something that needs to be celebrated.

Tech and the Effect on the Human Experience**

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Facts and research © 2009 by Karl Fisch and Dr. Scott McCleod

*Chicago Tribune
February 4, 2011
as "Tech and the human experience"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
February 5, 2010
as "Tech and the human experience"

That the world is accelerating is knowledge that surprises almost no one.  Yet, when one considers the facts in detail, the results are astonishing.

In 2006, two educators, Karl Fisch and Dr. Scott McCleod produced a video entitled, “Did You Know?”  The video, backed  by a driving, booming soundtrack reels off a number of factoids about the exponential increase in the power of technology and the effects on the human race.  They have since produced four updates, all available on YouTube. 

Reading these facts, I was stunned.  A long-time devotee of Alvin Toffler’s “Future Shock,” I’ve always known that humans were racing forward, but I was not prepared for how far or how fast.

Consider this:   China will soon become the world’s number one English-speaking country.

Another shocker: The 25% of India’s population with the highest I.Q.’s is larger than the entire population of the United States. 

Business is also changing rapidly.  The top ten jobs in demand in 2010 didn’t exist in 2004.  For the students training for those jobs, information is changing so rapidly that Fisch and McCleod estimate that what university students learn during their freshman year will be outmoded by the time they’re juniors. 

Kindling the Future*

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
February 6, 2010
as "Taking digital for a test-read"

In recent years, we’ve seen the beginnings of the next big tech turning point. Digital readers have passed the novelty stage and have gone fully mainstream. Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iPad, the Nook from Barnes & Noble, and the Sony Reader are the big players that have hit the marketplace. And the shift from analog to digital marches on.

Star Trek fans recognize the genesis of these devices. In the 1980s “Next Generation” series, the Enterprise crew carried around a small flat device called a PADD (Personal Access Display Device). This gadget not only carried documents, but had fulltime wireless access to the ship’s computer. Nowadays, you don’t have to join Starfleet to own a similar device. The nearest Wal-Mart will suffice.

I bought my wife a Kindle for Christmas, and have watched as she has begun to download and read ebooks. For once in our lives, she has taken a tech step ahead of me. While I readily see the advantage of ebook readers, I’m still bound to tradition as far as books are concerned. I love the smell of the paper, glue, and ink; the feel of the binding and the cover. And that moment when I open a new book for the first time, then settling back in the cushions for an afternoon spent in another world.

In some respects, I’m kind of old-fashioned.  However, I don’t think of myself as a curmudgeon. I do like the idea of being able to pack around a number of books in a nearly weightless (by comparison) container. Having struggled through airports with a shoulder bag packed with 10 pounds of reading material, I understand the convenience. I also know that as more and more people make the switch, the demand for paper products, and therefore trees, will decline.

Snow Day*

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
January 30, 2011
as "Warm memories awakened on a midwinter's day"

Copyright © 2007, 2011 by Ralph Couey

Outside the window, the Lake Effect Snow Machine was raging, piling up on the ground. The wind gusted, rattling the shutters and temporarily changing the trajectory of the snow from vertical to horizontal. I turned away from the window and put another log on the fire, trying to ignore the ache of restlessness. 

Looking into the flames, my thoughts began to wander.  I could see a blurred white line on a ribbon of sun-splashed asphalt.  Suddenly, perhaps rashly, I headed for the back door, pausing to don some warm clothes. I mumbled to my wife that I was going to the garage.  She looked at me and smiled slightly. No one knows my moods like this remarkable woman. 

The garage was utterly quiet, and in the silence I could almost hear the raspy whisper of the snowfall through the roof and walls. With a sharp click, the hum of fluorescent lights replaced the silence and bright light filled the space.  And there, standing patiently and faithfully was my motorcycle. 

Ostensibly, my purpose was to crank the engine over and charge the battery, those necessary things for an otherwise moribund piece of machinery. But on this day, when the mid-winter blues were deepened by the grim weather, I felt a deeper need. 

I opened both doors for ventilation and swung my leg over the seat, a movement made awkward by the heavy clothes and boots. I inserted and turned the key.  My thumb came forward on the starter. It took a couple of tries, but the engine finally roared to life. 

I closed my eyes, and the memories came flooding back.  Rides under a hot sun, through the cool mountains; on Kansas highways flanked by never-ending fields of wheat.  Twisting through the Colorado Rockies and the Arkansas Ozarks.   I thought of springtime rides, reveling in the return of warm sunshine; how marvelous the scent of new flowers and the rich aroma of freshly turned earth; to see the trees budding and the grass turning green.

Remembering and Learning From History*

Image from StephenGregory.blogspot.com

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
April 10, 2011
as "War offers important history lesson"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey
Words only

150 years ago this month, the first shots were fired in what would become America’s bloodiest conflict, and the most critical point in our nation’s history.

In January, 1861, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas joined South Carolina in seceding from the union.  These states, later joined by Virginia, Arkansas, Tennessee, and North Carolina formed the Confederate States of America.  And in April, when the South bombarded Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, the Civil War began.

From April 1861 to April 1865 in a conflict characterized by outmoded tactics against modern weapons, some 625,000 men died on both sides.  To put that in perspective, the combined American deaths for World War I, World War II, Korea, and Vietnam total some 629,000.  Some researchers, citing the combat deaths of civilians caught in the crossfire, peg that number closer to 700,000, more than all the dead in all the rest of America’s wars.

Honor and Remembrance**

USS San Antonio (LPD-17 class)

Official U.S. Navy photograph

*Chicago Tribune
January 28, 2011
as "Honor, she will serve"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
January 29, 2011
as "Honor, she will serve"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

The sea is seductive. It holds an indescribable power over the soul of a human.  It is a place of awesome beauty and fearsome power.  Yet, at dusk when the sun’s dying rays appear to sink into its depths, it also inspires quiet reflection and deep emotions.  As author Kate Chopin put it,

The voice of the sea speaks to the soul.

The touch of the sea is sensuous,

enfolding thebody in its soft, close embrace.

Standing on the deck of a ship, you look around you and behold a perfect world of water, unbroken from horizon to horizon.  Beneath you lies a tower of water many hundreds, or even thousands of feet deep.  At night, far from any polluting light source, the sky is crowded with stars.  As the bow cleaves the water, tiny creatures are stirred up in the wake, giving the foam a glowing phosphorescence as it trails out astern.  During the day, you are struck by the sheer size of the planet you inhabit; at night, the majestic infinity of the universe awes you.  Either way, you feel very, very small.

But under your feet is a steel deck.  The engines are turning and the Captain is on the Bridge.  In the middle of incomprehensible vastness, you find comfort in the solidity of your ship. 

A mass of haze gray steel floating on the water.  That’s what most people see in a Navy ship.  But to a sailor, it is a vision that ignites strong emotions. 

To outsiders, the love affair between ships and sailors is a mystery.  You have to understand that a ship is not an office building.  It is a workplace, to be sure.  But it is also the vessel that carries sailors across the trackless seas to places of wonder and duty.  They work there, sleep there, eat there, and if necessary, fight there.  Some die there.

Hopes and Dreams*

Diana discovers the world of the Big Sister

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat

January 23, 2011

as "The Beauty of Hope"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

It was an eventful week.  On Monday, January 10^th, after some 9 months of thoughtful consideration and introspection, I had lap band surgery.  This procedure places an adjustable band around the upper part of the stomach, reducing its useable size to about three-quarters of a cup. 

I went home on Tuesday, and during the overnight hours, our son and daughter-in-law gave birth to a son, who they named Ian Robert. 

As disparate as these two occasions may seem, they are both linked by a strong hope for the future.

On Wednesday, my wife poured me into our vehicle and we headed for Baltimore.  Arriving at the hospital, we found our new grandson wrapped in blankets and sleeping peacefully.  Picking up that tiny bundle of soft flannel and fragile human, I once again experienced the awe and wonder, and the joy, of a new life.

It was an emotional moment.  A little over a year ago in California, I had held another new life.  Our granddaughter Zoe, however, beset with multiple medical problems, passed away only five-and-a-half months later.  Our oldest daughter and her husband were devastated, and we have all tried hard to understand the meaning and purpose behind that loss.  But on this night, we once again celebrated the miracle.

Slanguage**

*Chicago Tribune
January 21, 2011
as "Cooking with slanguage"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
January 22, 2011
as "Cooking with Slanguage"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

My grandmother was a marvelous cook, the kind who had an instinctive, almost spiritual connection with her recipes. Her daughters almost never saw her use measuring devices. She used her hands, palms, fingers, and even the crook of her elbow to measure the ingredients and for the outcome, relied on her eyes, sense of taste, and experience. She turned out incredible meals.

There aren’t many cooks like that anymore. Because of the busy nature of our lives, most of us rely on prepackaged, or at least preassembled meals that require a minimum of prep and cooking time. On those rare occasions when I try to cook, I stick as close as possible to the stated measurements, carefully using the measuring cups and spoons to get things right. Unfortunately, it still turns out to be a catastrophe casserole.

I asked my mom once how grandma cooked. She replied, “Oh, she uses a pinch of this, a dab of that, a dash of something else.” But over the years, the exact amount of those measurements seem to have escaped quantification.

We use terms like that outside of the kitchen as well. Iota, for example. We know it’s a small amount, but exactly how small? When I used to work cattle in New Mexico, I remember the other cowboys using the term “skosh.” “Jest back that thar trailer up a skosh.”

Freedom and "The Dream"*



The Power and the Passion

(and I still haven't found the original attribution for this photo)

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
January 16, 2010
as "Decades later, King's words still echo"

Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

“I have a dream.”

Four simple words that when put together define the hope of every human.  But those words also define the life of a man; a leader; an American hero.

August 28, 1963 was a hot day in Washington, DC.  Some 200,000 people had gathered, surrounding the big reflecting pool at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial.  They had come to listen to a southern minister whose lyrical voice and powerful words had galvanized the civil rights movement.  There had been other leaders, but in his presence and passion shone a vision of what was possible; perhaps even inevitable. 

Dr. Martin Luther King led from the front.  On countless marches, he had boldly led African-Americans and supportive whites down streets in some of the most racially divided cities in America.  He had been arrested, even spent time in jail.  But southern whites were rapidly finding out that while you can imprison a man, you cannot imprison an idea.

In the torpid air of that humid summer day, he rose and began to speak.

Parenting Out On a Limb*

*Somerset, PA Daily American
January 8, 2011
as "Your actions will change the world"


Copyright © 2011 by Ralph Couey

Human children are unique, in that they are born completely helpless. But the capacity to grow and develop into a member of the dominant life form on the planet is an amazing thing.  A monkey is born with far more strength, agility, and independence, but at the end of his life the only thing he’s accomplished is to swing from trees and eat bananas. And although I’ve had days where I wished all I had to do was swing from trees and eat bananas, I know that we humans alone of all the teeming life on Earth have the intelligence, capacity and the ability to change our world.

Once, when I was very young, I was playing in some woods near my home. I found one of those “helicopter” maple seeds. On a whim, I broke open the seed cover, poked a hole in the ground with a stick, and put the seed in the hole.  Years later, I went back to the spot and was astonished to find that my seed had grown into a beautiful 15-foot-tall tree. In a moment of whimsy so long ago, I had started a process of growth and change.  That tree had defied the heat and wild storms of summer and the fierce cold of winter, all without any help from me.  In a very small way, I had changed the world.

As a father, I am familiar with the sensations of holding a new baby, that moment where we look at this tiny little human and ask, “Where will you go? What will you do?”  

The Creative Power of Optimism*

Popular Mechanics, February 1951

from  http://www.coverbrowser.com/covers/popular-mechanics/14

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat
January 9, 2011
as "Optimism out of style, still a priceless tool"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

A few years ago, I came across a stack of old Popular Science and Popular Mechanics magazines from the 1950s and 1960s. The mere sight of those covers took me back to the days of my youth when both magazines would arrive in the mail every month.

Carefully, I opened the cover and flipped through the pages. The insides were literally stuffed with advertising, mainly work-at-home plans. The articles, once you found them, spoke in wondrous terms of advances in science, technology, and manufacturing.

There were also interesting little snippets of information, like “married men driving with their wives break fewer traffic laws than single men.”

Really?

Peace On Earth: A Personal Challenge*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat

January 2, 2011

as "A Plea For Peace"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

It’s become a running joke. A beauty pageant contestant in a beautiful, if somewhat generic gown stands before a row of penguin-like judges. In a voice ringing with conviction, she declares that, if selected, she would work tirelessly for world peace.

Peace.

The human race has accomplished much in its relatively short 200,000 years. But despite the highest ideals and sacrifice, nothing has proven more elusive.

As far back as human history has been recorded, there has never been a time when all people lived in perfect harmony. Even when nations weren’t fighting amongst themselves, inside those borders conflicts raged, ranging from all out revolution and insurrection to struggles political and racial. As of this writing, the United Nations says there are 42 major and minor conflicts on planet earth right now. According to the website Global Security, 75% of those killed or wounded in those struggles are non-combatants.

As a young Navy sailor, I once asked a grizzled old Chief Petty Officer if he thought the world might ever find peace. He leaned back in his chair, looking at me with narrowed eyes through a blue cloud of cigar smoke. After a judicious pause, he said, “Nope. ‘Cause there’ll always be at least two guys who wanna fight.”

Decades later, with a degree in Political Science, I recognize the sad truth in the old Chief’s summary judgment.

In 1989, the Berlin Wall fell and the late and unlamented Soviet Union folded its cards and retired from the geopolitical table. For a few brief moments, there was hope. Then the deep-seated conflicts in the Balkans and the border states, long kept bottled up by the KGB and the Red Army, exploded into violence.

It is abundantly clear that the control and consistent avoidance of transnational conflict lies beyond the abilities of the human race, especially individuals like you and me.

**The Healthy Pragmatism of Resolutionary Procrastination

The Treadmill: The Rubber-Belted Purgatory

*Chicago Tribune, December 29. 2011
as "Don't dwell on defeats"

*Somerset, PA Daily American
December 30, 2010
as "Don't Dwell On Defeats"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

If we had no winter,
Spring would not be so pleasant.
If we did not sometimes taste of adversity,
Prosperity would not be so welcome.
--Anne Bradstreet

The arrival of the New Year has become a time of reflection and hope for many. It is a moment when people make the effort to put the past behind and dwell on the unspoiled hope of the future.

The turning of the calendar has always been seen as a time of renewal and rebirth; a convenient chronological waypoint where we can rid ourselves of the accumulated baggage of old attitudes and bad habits.

The practice of crafting New Year’s Resolutions is a common, if somewhat cynical event framing the all-too-human practice of dwelling on the negative; namely, our mistakes and errors in judgment. Most resolutions revolve around attempt to fix perceived flaws through such activities as weight loss, or exercise programs. Also, making the effort to reduce or eliminate vices such as smoking, drinking, gambling, and other unhealthy habits.

The unfortunate reality is for us to make these solemn January promises to ourselves, only to see those oaths run out of steam during the February blizzards.

Gym Rats are familiar with the January surge of “Resolutionists” who show up with new memberships, anxious to begin the work of sculpting the “new them.” The club denizens are also familiar with the inevitable ebb of that crowd around mid-February. I’ve gone that route before, unsuccessfully, a casualty of my attitude.

I don’t think there’s anything more boringly soul-crushing than those endless hours on a treadmill. I’m a practical person. If I’m going to walk three miles, I want to see the world go by. Plus, walking outside means I don’t have to wait for someone else to get off the country road before I can start.

Studies indicate that about 50% of us make resolutions, but only 12% succeed. I think part of that has to do with the time of year.

Winter lies too long in country towns;
It hangs on until it is stale and shabby,
Old and sullen.
--Willa Cather

January, February, and at least part of March (months I call “the Long, Dark Tunnel”) are when I am the least motivated to much more than catch up on reading, writing, and contemplation. I do get exercise; you can’t live in an area that gets over 8 feet of snow every year and avoid it. The old instincts for hibernation, buried deep in my DNA, take over, demanding early to bed, fighting early to rise, and attempting to seduce me with afternoon naps.

Perhaps I am a bear, or some hibernating animal underneath
for the instinct to be half asleep all winter is so strong in me.
--Anne Morrow Lindbergh

I learned a long time ago that, for me, the best time to make resolutions is in the spring. For me, the return of pleasant weather, green grass, and warm sunshine imparts a surge of energy accompanied by the strong desire to flee the now-claustrophobic house.

"Spring won't let me stay in this house any longer!
I must get out and breathe the air deeply again. "
-- Gustav Mahler

Spring is the time when I’m forced into activity. The grass must be fertilized and mowed. The extensive garden we have requires soil preparation and the planting of annuals. The windows must be washed and flung open to lure the fresh breezes inside, the house must be cleaned and repaired, the boiler put to sleep for the year, and the accumulated layer of winter gunk washed out of the garage.

Then there are the more pleasant aspects, such as getting the motorcycle out of storage and getting it ready for another glorious riding season. We get out the baseball gloves, and carefully loosen up our stiff arms with a soul-satisfying game of catch.

It is a time when many people feel they are coming back to life, and therefore, the logical time to start building the new you. It’s harder to lose momentum in the light of the warm sun, especially where exercise is concerned.

If you feel defeated in February for not carrying out a New Year’s Resolution, don’t beat yourself up. Mentally and spiritually, it’s tough to do anything productive in the middle of winter. Hold off on your personal makeover until the glorious life-giving days of spring. Your success will be far easier to attain.

It is far better to savor victories, than dwell over defeats.

The Myth of the Perfect Gift*

*Somerset, PA Daily American

December 18, 2010
as "The Search for the Perfect Gift"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

Well, here it is.  Late December and I still haven't bought my wife's Christmas present. And yes, I'm in deep trouble.

Buying for a female is quite possible the severest challenge that faces a man.  Anything you do for her involves a dangerous trek through an emotional minefield where the slightest misstep results in complete disaster.

With any gift, one has to strike a balance between “not enough,” “too much,” and “just plain wrong.”  Also, the selection of a particular item sends a message, whether intended or not.  A diamond necklace and a mushy card to one’s wife?  Right message.  The same gift to a casual relation-female co-worker?  WRONG message.  A gift card from Victoria’s Secret to your girlfriend?  GOOD message.  The same to your female boss?  Run and hide. 

The goal of every husband’s gift is, of course, to make her cry.  With joy, that is.  I know we already make them cry, but usually for all the wrong reasons.

The Perfect Husband

Several men are in the locker room of a golf club. A cell phone on a bench rings and one man turns, reaches down and engages the speakerpnone. Everyone else in the room listens in.

MAN: "Hello"

WOMAN'S VOICE: "Honey, it's me. Are you at the club?"

MAN: "Yes"

WOMAN'S VOICE: "I'm at the mall and found this beautiful leather coat. It's only $1,000.  Is it OK if I buy it?"

MAN: "Sure."

WOMAN'S VOICE: "I also stopped by the Mercedes dealership and saw the one I really liked."

MAN: "How much?"

WOMAN'S VOICE: "$160,000"

MAN: "OK, but get all the options."

WOMAN'S VOICE:  "Great! Oh, and one more thing.  The house we wanted last year is back on the market.  They're asking $990,000."

MAN: "Offer $900,000."

WOMAN'S VOICE:  Have you decided what we're doing for our anniversary?

MAN:  "Tahiti, First Class.  Order the tickets."

WOMAN'S VOICE: "Oh Honey, you're the perfect husband!  I love you!  Bye!"

MAN: "Bye."

The man hangs up, then notices that the other men are looking at Him in blank astonishment.  Glancing around, he asks:

"Anyone know whose phone this is?"

Christmas Eve Service

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

Christmas Eve Celebration

Introit        “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming"                   Choir

Welcome and Setting

Greetings!

Today is Christmas Eve.
Tomorrow, we, along with the rest of the Christian world,
will celebrate the commemoration
of the birth of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

It is a celebration that touches every aspect
of our religious and secular lives.
It is a time traditionally when families come together,
especially for those families
whose members have scattered across the nation,
or the world.

Protecting Our Right to Ride*

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat
February 27, 2011
as "Motorcycle helmet law rages anew"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

All it took was three days of delightful weather, and the motorcycle part of my brain went from dormancy to full throttle.

Without a doubt the most controversial topic in the motorcycle community is the eternal debate over helmet laws. The two schools of thought are sharply divided. On one side is what I call the Freebirds.

Freebirds prize personal freedom above all, reasoning that if the individual is willing to undertake the risk and accept the responsibilities for that decision, then they should be allowed to go bare-headed.

On the other side are the Pragmatists. While this bunch embraces the freedom of the ride, they respect mortality. They understand that the road is not within their control, so they choose to wear the “Brain Bucket.”

Freebirds say that helmets restrict peripheral vision and add dangerous weight to the head, increasing the danger of cervical spinal injury.  (Actually, a study published last week now demonstrates that modern helmets actually help prevent cervical spinal injury.)

Pragmatists say that even a slow fall to the asphalt can bounce the head hard enough to do serious damage, and that road debris thrown up by cars and trucks towards the rider’s head is a real danger.
For the record, I’m a Pragmatist.

But for the motorcycle community as a whole, part of the frustration rises out of vacuous opinions put forward by talking heads who otherwise wouldn’t know a swing arm from a steering head bearing. They, and those who listen to them, remain convinced that all bikers are outlaws who traffic drugs, cause riots, and (gasp!) go weeks without bathing.

Over the last decade, many states relaxed helmet laws. In that time, there has been an increase in motorcycle fatalities with head injuries being the most common cause of death.
But the number of riders has also jumped. Some say that the large increase of rookie riders on bikes too big or fast for their skill level contributes to those numbers, as does the increase in the median age of riders. Older people have weaker eyesight and slower reaction times.

And, rightly or wrongly, others point to the increase in fatalities as a natural consequence of statistical density; more riders on the road equal more accidents.
Whatever the reason, the numbers have grown enough to grab the attention of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.
NHTSA, for all its altruism, in the minds of many motorcyclists has apparently dedicated itself to running motorcycles off the road altogether.

NHTSA’s motivation comes from statistics.

In the years from 1994 through 2009, of all vehicle categories, motorcycles were the only group to show an increase in fatalities, even with an almost 18 percent drop from 2008 to 2009.

NHTSA held a news conference on Nov. 19, calling for all states to pass laws requiring the use of helmets.

Vice Chairman Christopher Hart declared, “People have to get outraged about this safety issue that is causing so many deaths needlessly.”

Well, gee.

Where has NHTSA been lo, these many years while riders were dying by the scores, victims of motorists who failed to yield the right of way?
Where was their advocacy when these careless drivers were taken to court and charged with simple moving violations instead of vehicular manslaughter? How can someone take a human life out of carelessness and walk away with a $100 fine?
(Taking a breath here.)
In my view, the Feds are taking the path of least resistance. They can’t find a way to force drivers to look more carefully before pulling out, turning left, or changing lanes, so they’re going after the easier target.
And by shifting the responsibility to riders, they’re contributing even more to the “us vs. them” mentality of the road.
However, to be fair and honest, there are riders in the community who aren’t aiding our public reputation. Speeding and weaving, pulling stunts in traffic, and riding impaired increases the risk to you and the danger to the rest of us. Riding safely and intelligently protects our lives on the road, and in court gives us a better chance for a fair shake from a jury.

The Constitution protects our right to the pursuit of happiness. But our riding community needs to be more proactive and responsible through our riding habits and attitudes to protect our right to ride from the bureaucrats.
Otherwise, the only pursuit will be them pulling us over, and eventually, off the road completely.

Christmas From Within*

Linus -- Frame grab from "A Charlie Brown Christmas"

*Johnstown Tribune-Democrat, December 8, 2009
as "A Charlie Brown Christmas is Still Touching Hearts"

Copyright © 2008 by Ralph Couey

Christmas time is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of the year

--Vince Guaraldi, from "A Charlie Brown Christmas"

In 1965, an animated program debuted on CBS. It was a Christmas-themed show starring the characters of Charles Shulz’s wildly popular and generationally-defining comic strip “Peanuts.” The story was, on the surface, a familiar allegory about how the true spirit of Christmas had been hijacked by greed and materialism. The animation, while colorful, was relatively primitive, the soundtrack lacks the depth provided by modern technology.  And yet, 43 years later, the show continues to touch hearts and enlighten spirits. The obvious reason for its effect is the incipient air of greed that has inculcated itself in the season, an observation usually voiced while standing in line at Best Buy at Oh-Dark-Thirty on Black Friday.

“A Charlie Brown Christmas” is much more than a holiday cartoon.  It is a call to the conscience; a reminder that we must at some point in the head-long rush between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve stop, take a breath, and seriously consider the true motivation for the celebration: the birth of Jesus Christ.

We have somehow forgotten that the season is not about material gain. It is rather about hope, salvation, redemption, forgiveness, generosity, and love; the ideas that reflect not only Christmas, but the deepest needs inside us all, especially the search for meaning. The philosophy taught by Jesus gave us that sense of meaning; that regardless of our station or circumstances in life, we are valued – and loved.

"When I was Your Age..."*

*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat

December 12, 2010
as "Appreciation for Progress"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

I like to read other columnists.   I do this for two reasons.  (1) It makes me a better writer, and (2) they’re fun to read.

One of my favorites is 83-years-young Bernice Couey Bishop, who writes for the Rome, Georgia News-Tribune.  I have to admit it was the name thing that initially got my attention, but it is the quality of her work that keeps me coming back.

In her latest effort, she wrote about the one thing for which she was most grateful:

Indoor plumbing.

A Few Words of Peace

For those of you who are weak and heavily laden;
For those of you who consumed with worry, anger, and sadness;
For those of you who look to the world with dispair;
Know that you are never alone.


Isaiah 40: 28-31
The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;

But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;
They will run and not grow weary,
They will walk and not be faint.

Gettysburg, the Address, and the Why*

Re-enactors at Gettysburg, 2009

*Somerset, PA Daily American

December 11, 2010

(12/11/10)
as "Gettysburg, the Address, and the Why"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

November 19th is just a date to most. I’m sure that somewhere a birthday or anniversary was being celebrated. But for the rest of us, it was just another Friday, five days until Thanksgiving.

But on one November 19th, an event occurred that truly defined this nation.

July 1, 1863 was an uncommonly hot and humid summer day. In another time, it might have been a day to spend in the shade with a glass of lemonade. But on that morning, two great armies met at a crossroads village named Gettysburg.

Strategists call it “a meeting engagement,” a battle where the location itself wasn’t the thing contested.

It was a key battle, one that in large part determined the outcome of the Civil War.  Although the war would last two more tragic years, Gettysburg set both sides irrevocably on the road that ended at Appomattox Court House.

The Friends of Flight 93**

"That's What Friends are For"
(Written for the Johnstown Tribune-Democrat)
Published December 4, 2010*
as "Help Preserve the Legacy of Flight 93"

Copyright © 2010 by Ralph Couey

The most elaborate memorial ever constructed

can only be an empty vessel

unless it is filled with meaning,

by those with aching hearts;

Those who will Never Forget.

For the most important message to the ages

Is not how a memorial was built, or where, or when;

But why.

Friendship is vital to life.  It provides meaning and purpose, and most importantly, support.  It is just as important to a cause as it is to people.

Near Shanksville, a dream is rapidly becoming a reality.  What was the subject of plans and paintings is now taking shape upon the land.  This long and sometimes rocky journey walked by people of vision and dedication will end on September 11, 2011.  On that day, the Flight 93 Memorial will come alive.

9/11 shook the world and rocked America to its very soul.  Almost 3,000 people fell that day, victims to an inconceivable act of violence and hatred.  But in the skies over the Laurel Highlands, a light broke the darkness.  Aboard United Airlines Flight 93, a group of people, strangers all, made a decision.  They stood together and fought back.  Their courageous actions saved perhaps hundreds of lives, and spared us from the visage of our nation’s capitol building, the symbol of our government, reduced to rubble.

In the nine and a half years since, the memory of that event has manifested itself in the structure rising out of a reclaimed strip mine.  When the first phase of that memorial is dedicated on the tenth anniversary of the attacks, many will feel that a finish line of sorts will have been crossed.

But for the Friends of Flight 93, the work is just beginning.