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A Sarajevo rose. Someone died here when a shell exploded on innocent civilians

Part 2, Sarajevo Roses – When Neighbors Kill Neighbors

The documentary ‘Sarajevo Roses’ is important beyond its artistic value and intrinsic worth to the people of the Balkans. We need to make sure there is never a documentary made in America called ‘Sacramento, Sarasota, Syracuse, Santa Fe, You-get-the-picture Roses’. Even though such killing has happened here, we never want it back.

America witnessed wars of personal vengeance and genocidal extermination in our Indian Wars, Revolution and War Between the States. The Indian Wars were different from the Revolution and War Between the States. The Indian wars were two incompatible cultures competing to live in one place. The American Revolution (ACW I) and WBTS (ACW II) were political fights. The North and South were distinct sub-cultures, not fully separate cultures, in conflict.

Consider real culture war and Sarajevo Roses. The Indian Wars (1608-1890) consisted of many different campaigns in a long, long culture war. No cookie cutter, PC labels apply.

My Mother told me the family lore of farm families on a Sunday picnic when Greenville County, SC was frontier. The Cherokees attacked. A neighbor lady died with an arrow to the heart as she was trying to get over a split-rail fence. Had those families traded with the Cherokees who lived a few miles away?

My late wife’s Clay family was on the frontier in Virginia when the Shawnee came a killing. They killed one son on the farm. They took another son back across the Ohio River and burned him alive as a sacrifice to their pagan gods. Had those Indians and English settlers met each other before murdering? In many cases they did.

What was in the hearts of those families who survived Indian attacks and massacres? How is it different from the King David and the Hebrews with their Canaanite neighbors?

Indian Wars end with the slaughter of Indians at the Battle Wounded Knee

I argue there is a distinct difference between two kinds of murderous war. The distinction is lost on the dead children, woman, seniors and innocents of all kinds. Yet, the distinction matters as to why the neighbors kill each other.

Cultural conflict is inevitable. There is no such thing as a multi-cultural society. There are multi-ethnic, multi-religious, multi-racial, multi-lingual societies that exist under or are built upon one, single culture.   Culture commands.

Political conflict is avoidable. The Lilliputians of the world don’t have to kill each other over which end of the egg to open. They really don’t.

I suggest – the conflict in the Balkans started with political avarice for the usual reasons of all political struggles – power and money, money and power. But, people made the political contest into a contest of cultural survival – of kill or be killed. The result, like our Indian Wars, was horrific.

More than 8 thousand Muslims were murdered at Srebrenica in July 1995.

For over a decade after the dictator Tito died, politicians built their constituencies by dividing people.   Tito had crushed the differences among Catholic Croats, Orthodox Serbs and Muslim Europeans.

The politicians who preached Serb Lives Matter, Croat Lives Matter and Muslim Lives Matter practiced cancerous identity politics. They aligned with intelligentsia and religious leaders and built greater identity by group.

The Balkan equivalent, say like – a Serb Congressional Caucus – elevated permanent victim status to statehood. The elevated status of their ancestors’ martyrdom had no expiration day. Claims of moral superiority, recompensation or special privileges based on ancient wrongs were unending. It didn’t have to be that way.

When war came, all murdered each other – Serb, Croat, Muslim. There were no good guys. But, there were good people.

In our Indian Wars the humanity of the individual Indians shouldn’t be denied or exalted above all. The humanity of each of the English-speaking People shouldn’t be forgotten. Individuals wanted to live. Love. Have families. Laugh. Some wanted to make war in its season. All wanted to survive and win.

Is that different from life among Sarajevo Roses? In the Balkans innocents on all sides just wanted to live in peace. Innocents were killed in combat. Some were raped or murdered in person.

Virginia – leading America again – needs to rid itself of identity politics.

If we have a Virginia identity – we are all in this life in this place together – then we can squabble about more or less government, higher or lower taxes, etc. Politics should be about power and money – as it is – but not about a “them vs. us” with special privileges, affirmative actions, protected classes of persons, and labeling with endless “-phobes”.

Virginia must put away the poison of identity politics, sooner rather than later, so there’ll never be a ‘Staunton Roses’ documentary.

Part 3 of Sarajevo Roses will look at Americans killing Americans in the Revolution and the “Recent Unpleasantness.”

My buddy Bill Stuebner was at the exhumation of Srebrenica in an official capacity

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A documentary about the siege of Sarajevo

Last week an old Army buddy of mine, who is a friend “closer than a brother”, invited me to see the documentary ‘Sarajevo Roses’. It was an engaging, moving, provoking experience. It tied together thoughts and emotions that date from back during the Vietnam War for me forward to today’s wars and coming certain cataclysms.   It’ll take a number of written pieces to put together the puzzle the movie illustrated. Consider this an intro to “Why Neighbors Kill Neighbors.”

Neighbors have killed neighbors since brother Cain killed Abel. Yet, murdering people who are very much like you severely disturbed the West through the aftermath of World War I. The 17^th Century Treaty of Westphalia and the 19^th Century Congress of Vienna created the illusion of limited war and greater peace across the ancient killing cockpit of Europe. The mega-deaths of industrial age warfare in World War I shocked Western Civilization to its core. Then came World War II. The genocide, crowning a second world war more horrific than the mass slaughter which masqueraded as WW I, shook the foundations of the West. The West questioned its confidence in its own culture.

How could Western Civilization, with all of its success in elevating the human condition, be debased in the mud of World War I and denied in the mass murder of World War II concentration camps?   How could the West descend to barbarism? Why would civilized neighbors kill their neighbors?

Existentialism as a philosophy attempted to answer the insanity of discretionary – and completely avoidable – violence and horror, but failed. Meanwhile, wars and rumors of wars forever evolved the end of World War II into the cold-ish World War III Super Power struggle. The mystery of why neighbors murder neighbors receded in public consciousness as most people got on with living. Then, when the epic struggle of the Cold War ended in 1992 a new war erupted in Europe – and neighbors killed neighbors again. The former Yugoslavia broke up into warring Balkan factions – who murdered each other.

Almost 12 thousand people died in the 4 year siege of Sarajevo. A Norfolk photo-journalist, who experienced much of the war, made a documentary – Sarajevo Roses.

One of the three main protagonists, Asim Haracic, is a psychiatrist in NoVa. He served as a plastic surgeon and ER doctor during the war. He watched the movie with Bill and me. He answered questions afterwards from the audience. He is a dear friend of my dear friend, Bill Stuebner. Bill says he is one of the finest human beings on the planet. Asim is Bosnian Muslim. He’s an American now.

Asim is still trying to sort out why neighbors killed neighbors in his hometown.

Bill served doing humanitarian duties during the Bosnian War. He retired from the U.S. Army at the same time I did – 1992. Later he worked on building the cases for war crimes for the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia in The Hague. Earlier, from 1986 to 1992, Bill saw neighbor murder neighbor in El Salvador. He was a participant and witness for 11 years to two vicious, horrific killing fields in what should be Western Civilization.

Bill hates war.

I know why – even though I’m the unbloodied, wannabe warrior of us two. Bill saw the Heart of Darkness. Bill experienced his wars for what they are, always have been and always will be – evil. There’s no such thing as a good war. I reject Christian Jus Belli concepts – as I have since I was a teenager at West Point thinking through my role and complicity in the Vietnam War.

All wars are evil. Some wars are necessary. Many wars, once fighting begins, are worth winning. Personally, I was willing from age 17 to 60 (when I became legally unfit) to go to any war my country called me to serve.

Neighbors kill neighbors because of evil. Sin. Neighbors might murder neighbors anywhere in Western Civilization – at any time – as shocking as that seems.   When evil is unleashed with the dogs of war to run amuck, unconstrained, among the nicest of neighbors – awful, horrible things happen.

It’s coming again, sooner or later, in a very predictable cataclysm in Western Civilization. Jihad will likely spark a “Jacquerie”. That wasn’t the fight in Bosnia that created the Sarajevo ‘roses’ – which are marks of death on city streets.   Regardless, neighbor will kill neighbor in Western Civilization again.

Let’s see if we can keep it from America.

Asim Haracic and Bill Stuebner

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Graduation, United States Military Academy – West Point – June 7th, 1972

I graduated 45 years ago.  WTH?  (As the Germans say, “In former times”, I’d use other acronyms!)

Huh?  How’d that happen?

Time is baffling to my mind.  I can’t believe that number.  45.  WTH!

If I think about all of life since graduation, well then okay sure, it’s been a long time.  Lots of stuff happened.  I’m not going to get into my usual introspection (actually used that word for pieces I wrote for The Pointer when I was Managing Editor – see below!), philosophy, navel gazing and history nerdism.  This is all pure raw emotion.  WTH.

I take the officer commissioning oath to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, from my Daddy, Regular Army LTC (RET), Corps of Engineers, U.S. Army. Honored to do so. Never taken one step back since.

Graduation was the 2nd happiest day of my life.  Number one was birth of first child.   And, yes, I told my late wife and other kids this.  Many other wonderful times in life.  But, this was stellar.   I hated being at West Point as an inmate.  Loved teaching there later!   I stayed to graduate just because I knew I’d always wonder “what if”, didn’t want to quit or leave my band of brothers classmates, and knew better to go to Vietnam to fight as an infantry officer.   The later didn’t happen – war called off during Winter Ranger.

Here is what I said then. (Pic on my phone is clear.  Dunno why this copy is so bad.)

1972 Graduation issue, The Pointer Magazine.

I’d write it differently now.  Less self-conscious youthful cynicism, but have the same passion about living and doing.  Now, I’m able to speak to the humbling honor of being allowed to serve Duty, Honor, Country with a happy heart and every ounce of being.   And, personally, I’d add so much more about family and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Family there, then.  L-R. Mother Edith, Sister Susan, JAB, Uncle Stanley (34 Inf Div, WW II), Grandmother Lillian Susan, Father Albert.

So, here I am 45 years later.  WTH.  It’s just weird.  I know I am not the same physically.  Got it.  But I feel the same.  I feel as alive and even up for a good fight as I did then.  I’m excited about living life although I’m keenly aware of my mortality.  Attended 3 funerals in the past 3 months and no weddings.

Saying you graduated 45 years ago makes you older than dirt.  WTH.  But, at this short end of life’s candle, I feel just about the same as I did – not kidding –  when I was at the youthful long end – and not knowing how much candle was ahead and what would be there in the burning wick.  WTH?  I’m grateful to God that “I ain’t dead yet” for whatever I’m supposed to do.  Read and write.  Be Daddy and Papa.  Be a husband again.   Make my classmates laugh.  For however long or short I’m to do it.

Just a few days ago next to a Sequoia tree actually older than me.

I look forward to all the laughing with my buds and their wives at our 45th Class Reunion.  I just can’t believe it’s really 45.  WTH!

Proud and True, ’72

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D-Day Again

The U.S. Army leads the liberation of Western Europe

Three years ago, I was in Bedford, Virginia at the D-Day monument right after the 70th anniversary memorials.  It was perfect timing to visit an awesome place of memory – and pride.

The reflected glory of being a Virginian, American and old soldier with blood relation WW II veterans a plenty was a first blush, quiet, pleasant pride.  But, the realization of what those soldiers did was truly humbling.  The enormity of their service and sacrifice banished every selfish feeling and thought for good.  They did it, not me.  I’m grateful for what the soldiers, sailors and airmen did to liberate Europe.   General of the Armies Dwight D. Eisenhower called it “The Great Crusade”.   Yes, he used the word “Crusade” as a good thing.  A crusade is and was – a good fight.

Timing is everything: 70th Anniversary

I was pleased and proud to serve in the 82nd and four other divisions.

I try to note this day – June 6th D-Day – as well as the Army’s birthday on June 14th and the first day of the Battle of the Bulge on December 16th to educate folks about the U.S. Army.  I may make mention on Memorial Day, Independence Day and Veteran’s Day also.  I want to educate more because The Army is lousy at self-promotion and politics.

The Army created the Nation in the Revolution.

The Army wins our wars.  (Korea and Vietnam being the strategic political, not tactical military, exceptions.)

In WW II, the role of the Army is extraordinary.  The Army – especially an officer in his early 40s, Albert Wedemeyer – wrote the War Plan.  The basic plan for the Armed Forces, manpower, industry, and agriculture to win WW II was written by the Army.  The Navy had wargamed the naval campaign across the Central Pacific well.  The Army planned the War.

Also, the size of the load the Army carried can’t be overstated.  The Army and its Army Air Corps expanded over 60 fold to provide the forces needed to win.  The Army fielded 90 divisions.  The Navy stood up 6 Marine divisions.

Take a bow, U.S. Army.  Hooah.

(Although, I must fuss that the Army never should have changed the dress – office – uniform.)

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Her Celebration of Life. She’s alive now and forever – but not here.

My nieces and their husbands did great.  It was perfect for her, my sister, and their families and friends, who she loved with all of her heart.  My other sister and 1 nephew came from Boston.  2 of my 3 kids and 3 of my 5 grandchildren came with me.  It honored and celebrated Babs’  life.   It was “bien fait” and “comme il faut.”

My late sister, Elizabeth Anne Bowden Buehrer, was “Babs” to the world. She was “Bumpy” to us. She earned her name, “Bumpy”, during her terrible twos. She would be so frustrated and angry to not have her toddler way, that she bumped her head on the floor. My Daddy, with Scot-Irish green eyes ever grinning, named her and it stuck for life. Yet, if she were to carry a name based on behavior for all her life, it’d be – Sweet, Kind, Loving, Nurturing, or Gentle. If her name were based on character it’d be – Fiercely Protective, Stubborn, Deeply Devout, and again, Loving.

Bumpy loved others the way our parents loved us. Totally and completely. Unabashedly openly. Sweetly and sentimentally. And, especially so, for family, family, family.

Bumpy was born in Jackson, Mississippi during World War II. Daddy drove around town honking his horn the night she was born. Bumpy was the apple of his eye from first breath.

Momma and Bumpy were the second American dependents to come to Bamberg, Germany in 1946. She was the princess for so many officers separated from their families for so long. When they sailed back into New York harbor in 1949, Bumpy started crying in terror. The unbombed buildings meant “The War”, which clearly was the horrible thing grown-ups were always talking about, hadn’t come to America yet. She was afraid. Such a gentle soul.

We came back to Europe, just two years later, to France. We lived in parts rented out of three chateaus near Bordeaux. We moved every year when they raised the rent. Her playmates were the French children who lived there. She rode to the first grade – almost 90 minutes – in the back of an Army ambulance used for a bus.

Growing up she was a shy, quiet girl in public. She took ballet and piano while five of us lived in a one bedroom apartment in Leavenworth, Kansas and small houses, Army quarters and apartments in San Antonio, Texas and Memphis, Tennessee. Bumpy was more animated at home. In Memphis, like many firstborns she was the special pride and joy of our grandparents – Atticus and Lillian League. She named them “Namoo” and “Pop”. She helped Momma a lot when Daddy was gone for thirteen months to Vietnam. She was baptized in the church where she would one day be married.

In Arlington, Virginia she was the big High School sister who babysat us daily, so Momma could work. She fixed us tomato soup, tuna fish or grilled cheese sandwiches as we watched a full length movie on TV after school. She loved musicals. She played Broadway show tune records over and over. She was very close to her friends. She was still quite shy.

She was dragged back across the Atlantic for her senior year in High School in Orleans, France. She volunteered in the hospital. She led us to the bus stop, unafraid, past all the soldiers with sub-machine guns and after two bombings on our block during the Algerian Crisis.

Then, Bumpy went to the University of Arizona. She fell in love with Dick Buehrer.

Bumpy was 20 when she got married. She had lived in 20 houses by then. 21 if you count her college dorm. The longest we had lived in one house was 3 years. Yet, since Momma decorated with the same accessories in each living room, dining area and kitchen every place looked like our home. Home is where we 5 were. We kids always knew we were part of large extended families in South Carolina and Tennessee. We knew we had our People. But, we were the expatriate cousins. Until Babs started her family, it was us 5 against  the world. Us 5 – as family – wherever we were together. We had great security nurtured by great love in that tight family.

Babs got married and her life was fulfilled as wife, mother, grandmother, master teacher and friend. We were separated by thousands of miles and years between visits.

Babs was far less retiring as a grown woman. She was a dedicated wife and mother. She made everything work for her family from Arizona to Washington to Oregon to Bakersfield, California. She loved teaching. She adored her students and their families.

I saw her after a number of business trips in the first decade of this millennium. Each time I told her how proud and happy our parents would be to see the family she had raised. She was the happy matriarch with the brood close enough to touch in her lovingkindness. Her three daughters and six grandchildren have the imprint of her hands in their clay of their lives – from their DNA to their memories – much of Babs is in them. I hope they’ll live up to how sweet, kind, protective, nurturing, gentle, loving, devout, and — Bumpy stubborn – our Bumpy was.

My first thought when I heard of her passing was how happy our parents are to see her again. Someday, we will be too. I love you, Bumpy.

Bubba

James Atticus Bowden

The way we were at the start together.

They way we were at our last time together. Our finish as all 3.

Why we 3 lived. Our Clan, next gen, missing Nathan, Maggie and Russell. The children, grandchildren and spouses of James Albert and Edith Henderson Bowden. Thank You, Lord Jesus Christ.

 

Thank you, Bakersfield Sept of the Clan.  My parents and Babs – and my wife –  in Heaven are so proud of you.  So grateful to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Her video produced by Granddaughter Hannah – when I can figure out how to upload it…TBD

 

 

 

 

 

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Robert Holland, 2 SC Infantry – killed Battle of Seven Pines (just one of our family war dead) and his brother, my GG-Grandfather Daniel Webster Holland, 2 SC Infantry – surrendered April 1865.  I admire them greatly.  How demented to hate these men and the monuments to their courage, honor and fidelity  – and leaders.

They Hate Our Dead

Memorial Day 2017

They want to tear down every Confederate statue and memorial. They hate so much that they hate our dead.

They demand the cultural cleansing of Virginia because:

• Confederate monuments honor slavery and racism. No. The monuments honor the soldiers and leaders. You choose to see slavery when you actually look at the statue of a soldier.
• But, they fought for slavery and racism. SMH. Bless your heart.
  • Was our American Revolution about taxes or the right to tax? A key issue for some states in our War Between the States was the state right to allow or ban slavery. For other states, like Virginia, it was about Lincoln ordering Virginia to conquer South Carolina and invading armies through Virginia to do so. For, the Civilized Indian Tribes in Oklahoma it was different altogether.
  • Slavery wasn’t the central aspect in the very divisive banking, tariff, tax issues, etc.
  • My GG-Grandfather’s brother, Robert Holland, wrote, “if we give the Yankees one more ‘breshing’ out maybe they will leave us alone.” They believed slavery was a sin against God. They, like many, fought against the invading armies – period.
  • Life and war aren’t the PC cartoon history of “Presentism”.
  • Does the argument that Confederate Americans fought – de facto – for slavery apply to our Patriots in the American Revolution? Every new U.S. state had slavery in 1776. The Brits offered slaves their freedom.  America kept slavery – recognized it in the 1787 Constitution.  The Founders and Confederates, alike, were fighting for independence, not for slavery.
  • Racism was North and South. States decided on their own to end slavery one by one – slowly. 19 of 24 Northern states restricted Blacks’ right to vote. Connecticut voters denied Blacks the right to vote in 1865! Michigan and Wisconsin denied full rights to free Blacks in 1865 after the South surrendered.
• But, slavery is the worst, unpardonable sin. Really? Is an armed invasion of the neighboring people you’ve lived with in peace actually moral?
  • Are war crimes, like making my G-Grandmother deaf at the age of 8 in an act of terrorism, justified because her state allowed human bondage?
  • Does slavery stain our Revolution and all the Yankees who got rich shipping slaves and milling the cotton they picked? Grant owned a slave until 1859. His wife’s family owned slaves during the War. Take down their monuments and erase their names?
  • Since slavery is awful, why aren’t the self-righteous prigs fighting to free the slaves that Muslims still hold in Africa? Is moral outrage selective in time and place?
• But, they committed treason. No Confederate was tried for treason. They would have won in court. The Founders make the argument for our 1787 Constitution in the Federalist Papers clearly – the States are sovereign. See the 10^th Amendment. Americans first loyalty, legally, was to their state. When states leave a voluntary union, it is treason to not go with your state.
• But, it offends some people. People chose to be offended. There is no right to not be offended. Toleration should be a two way street. Live and let live.
  • It offends many people that monuments honoring their heritage are found offensive.
  • It offends many without a blood connection to the War that history haters want to erase history like other Totalitarians always do.
• But, it hurts some people. Who are these weak cowards, these snowflakes, who suffer from a silent statue?
  • The descendants of slaves should be stronger. No people on earth ever came up as far, as fast, over such obstacles, as well as Blacks in America from 1865 to 1965. They, who actually overcame, would be ashamed of these crybabies.
  • We can teach all children to take pride in progress as well as the reflected glory in great valor and courage praised by the Yankees who actually fought Confederates.
• But, it shouldn’t be in the public square. If future generations have half the courage of Confederates, then America will survive well.
  • More Virginians died defending Virginia than in all the wars put together. Such sacrifice and tragedy belongs in public.
  • Learn right lessons. We never want another civil war. But, when other war comes we want to fight with the tenacity of Virginians past.
  • Confederate veterans are American veterans by law – see U.S. Code. Confederate graves are in Arlington National Cemetery.
  • Our Virginia history belongs to all Virginians. If history is divided by identity politics then E Pluribus Unum is in danger as much as Sic Semper Tyrannis is.  We, Virginians, share a common past, present and future.

Hey, Totalitarians, “Do you really hate my ancestors?” How sick and twisted is your hatred?

Shame on you.

Confederate veterans are American veterans. Their widows created Memorial Day.

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Oklahoma Bombing. This is where the Alt.Right goes. The response is the narrative for a Christian and American identity. It’s our common ground. We’re all in this together.

An Alt. to Alt.Right

Recently, U VA grad Richard Spencer led a rally in Charlottesville against removing the Robert E. Lee statue. Apparently, Spencer is a leader in the Alt. Right movement – an alternative to conservatism. I write “apparently” because my knowledge of the Alt. Right is all secondary sources. Life is too short to read their stuff if it really is all about White Nationalism, European Tribalism, and rejects America as set of ideas. Should the criticisms of the rally capture the essence of the movement, we can take pleasure that only 150 advocates could be mustered all across the mid-Atlantic states. On the other hand, if this movement has Russian, or other, funding to feed its growth, let’s consider an alternative.

The “Deplorables” who were the margin of victory for President Donald Trump were the White, working class folks, especially those great Yankees in Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin. This Southerner is deeply grateful for them stopping HRH Hillary the First, but I digress. The Deplorables have grievances.

The Liberals Progressives Commies condescendingly disparage Deplorables as motivated by fear and ignorance. Bovine Scatology. The Deplorables are moved by their love of family and home – pride in being American and the freedom of their way of life. The Alt. Right provides a false and dangerous narrative for their legitimate issues in White Identity.   A better alternative is Christian Identity or American Identity.

Christian Identity speaks to the 25-30% (more in the South, less in blue cities, the North and far West) of America that is Evangelical and practicing Catholic Christian. These Cruz voters, who went whole hog for Trump once he got the nomination, have an identity in place that transcends color. All lives matter to Christians. The secret unknown outside the South is the success of the Civil Rights movement, Dr. King’s dream, in the transformation of the heart for the overwhelming majority of Southern Whites away from racial prejudice. Especially, the Bible-believing Evangelicals.

All-American Identity speaks to the 15-20% of America that is cautiously Conservative, but completely living in the current, post-Christian, modern, popular culture which shies from overt Christianity. These Trump voters believe in America as an ascending idea.

The problem is the Liberal Progressive Commie Democrat hierarchy of evil needed to perpetuate permanent victimhood for protected classes of persons is: Southerners, Christians, Males, Whites – in descending order. Capitalists, entrepreneurs, and business people are included in each category of the designated most hated haters. Deplorables are called every kind of hater, fill-in-blank–phobe, the Left Liberal Progressive Commies can invent. It’s getting worse. Eventually, Deplorables will start to think of themselves as White. The Civil Rights wins could be undone. Woe to America if Whites start thinking about themselves as white again – as Whites become a minority.

The alternative is to use Christian American and all-American (think every movie made during WW II) identity language to speak to the issues.

Open borders and illegal immigration, globalism moving manufacturing jobs away, racial preferences and set asides called ‘diversity’, cultural cleansing of Southern monuments and symbols and public Christianity, disparaging all that is “American”, all things PC, no dissent and no free speech indoctrination in captured institutions of education, entertainment, government, apostate churches and big corporations, voting fraud, emasculation of the military – in all meanings, both political party Elites – The Establishment – greed, Obamacare nightmare, importing non-assimilating Muslims and their Islamist cohort, Gaystopo suppression of Christian religious freedom, and the growing, open hatred from the Left Liberal Progressive Democrats Commies towards Southerners, Christians, Males and Whites because their very identity as such brands them as “haters” – are issues to be addressed.

But, don’t use the language of the Left Liberal Progressive Democrats Commies to describe the problem. Don’t use their language to discredit the Alt.Right. Use different words to destroy the Alt.Right. The Left Liberal Progressive Democrats Commies will bark their usual diatribe against such language. They’ll scream at anything Conservatives say.  They’ll be crying ‘wolf’ when Gabriel blows his horn (where does that reference come from? Hint, hint.)

The politician who masters this new narrative in an even more nuanced and deliberate fashion than President Trump can unite the Conservative Right, the Deplorables and enough of the mushy middle to defeat the Left Liberal Progressive Democrats Commies in most states in the Union.

The Republican candidates for office in Virginia could give it a try in 2017.

Police to Fireman hand off of a precious child – what could be more heroically American? This is who we are.

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Edith Henderson Bowden, Sep 15, 1918 – Oct 13, 1986. Mother of three.

Happy Mother’s Day 2017.  I’ve written about the qualities of my mother, my wife, my grandmother who was really my great-aunt but raised my Dad as her own, and my two great-grandmother matriarchs.  Their many qualities and few shortcomings gave the life lessons that shaped me as a boy and man.  The old saws about the hand that rocks the cradle and the woman behind every man ring true in my life.  Recently, I went through all of my grandparents’, parents’ and our pictures for my late sister’s (Babs) memorial vimeo.  While, the pictures fueled many memories and wide-ranging emotions, I was struck with how beautiful my mother was.

I know about inner beauty being best.  I know being born beautiful isn’t fair to most folks.  But, life isn’t fair.  My beautiful Mother taught me that.  And she said, “Pretty is as pretty does.”  She instructed us on all the truths of life and much more.  But, I want to digress from all her teaching and preaching I could share and just say, “Wow! Momma, you were a beautiful woman.”

We had “kitchen talks” when I was a teenager.  The former dishwashers, my sisters, were out of the house, and Daddy had had a severe heart attack and rested a lot.  I’d sit with her – she didn’t want me to do anything but help dry some – while she did the dishes.   She talked.  I listened.

She told me that she was shocked, truly, when she found out women didn’t like her because of her beauty.  She grew up on a farm in South Carolina and thought everyone liked her.  Not so.  She learned how to deal with people wanting to do her ill because of their jealousy or lechery.  She was as intelligent, bright and wise – three different words – as she was beautiful.

She learned how to use her beauty, like big men may use their size.   She used her power for good.  She treated everyone with kindness and dignity, while she had the self-confident pride of royalty, acknowledging no one as her “better”.  From the serving lady behind the lunch counter at work to the dry cleaner to the pharmacist, folks brightened when she walked in – and started sharing about their kids and kin, life and love. and the Lord Jesus Christ – and smiled when they waved good-bye.  But, woe to the one who showed her disrespect.  “I swain” (I swear) I’ve seen the words spoken in soft, Southern accent actually slit a throat – and, clearly, it was felt as intended.

Momma was the most amazing woman I’ve ever known – completely aside from her looks.  My relatives and family friends echo the sentiment.  But, her beauty made her all the more special.  It was part of her very being to be beautiful, but it was her choice to be beautiful to others.  She chose to let her inner beauty shine through her movie star outer beauty to be her whole womanhood.

She was sensual and refined, hard-working and lady-like, attractive and proper – all at the same time.  I’ve said many times she wasn’t a Southern steel magnolia, because steel isn’t tough enough to compare.  If I have half of her courage, I’ll be man enough in sheer bravery alone.

She wanted to be a matriarch like her Grandmother Bobby.  She left this life too soon to place her imprint upon all her grandchildren herself.  Her legacy lives through her children, but its not as she wanted to do it herself.  She wanted to live.  After she died, the doctors took the time to write a letter to us about how remarkable her courage, good humor and grace in her final weeks – when they couldn’t figure out what was killing her.

My Mother.  What a woman.

The two pics at the top and this one are 1956-57. Mother was 38 years old.

Mother is 66 – my age now. She lived another 15 months. She looks great at 66!  So full of life.

 

 

 

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Our last anniversary together, 2013.

April 26th forever for us

Today, April 26^th, would be our 42d wedding anniversary, but my wife, Nellie Katherine, died 3 and half years ago. It’s incomprehensible to me. I believe I have survivor’s confusion. Not survivor’s guilt.

I read about survivor guilt in Nellie’s counseling books on death and grieving. In fact, I thought I knew all about death and grieving. I had read her books. We’d talked about it often and in great detail after so many funerals we attended together. I listened to her expound with expertise in her chosen specialty. I’d experienced the early loss of my parents and hers, expected passing of grandparents as well as others, and the tragically unexpected deaths of friends, acquaintances and a few of their children. I knew everything until my wife died.

I re-read the books. I could say the words, “Mourning and grieving are universally, common human experiences which are uniquely, individually experienced”. Experiencing them for my wife was beyond my imagination.

Nellie and I had spent the whole of my life soon after West Point – my entry into manhood – involved in a relationship that led to marriage and evolved into a lifelong love. A love sealed by shared faith over time. A love bound by an intense desire for one another and caring for the other that stayed vigorous, grew stronger and became more tender until death did us part.

I wasn’t ready for the ‘physicality’ of grieving. My body hurt. I didn’t sleep right for nine months. My BP spiked. The first year I worked to survive. I didn’t want to bail out on our three children. I wasn’t that keen on living, but knew I needed to be a father and grandfather – do my duties. In August 2014 I was shocked to first feel my body feeling better. It felt good to feel good.

Time passed. I lived life as it came. Now, this is the fourth Spring that Nellie didn’t exult in the flesh.  How is this possible?

Four. 4. Quatre.

Nellie was two years older than me. For two years I was catching up to her life – in my mind. Since then, I get confused. How can I be here and she is not – still? It doesn’t seem fair. It doesn’t seem right that there is a granddaughter, named for her, and she didn’t share one hour of the pregnancy, birth and wonderful life of baby Katherine with my daughter and her family.

I know she is happy in Heaven. Got it. Yet, I feel her loss – what she is missing here – like a knife in the heart. I ache for what she would have loved because I can’t really comprehend her missing it – and being happier. So, I don’t get it.

I have survivor confusion.

And survivor gratitude. The gift of my home, Sanctuary, as my sanctuary makes me grateful – daily without fail. I didn’t earn or deserve it. I had given up my desire to live in a place with great esthetics. Almost 17 years after I get the message, “I’ll take care of the details”, from the Lord, I move into a gifted place of constant, exquisite beauty to grieve. To live again.

Living again means loving anew with gratefulness.

I asked my kids for their blessing to have female companionship in September 2014. I found out I wasn’t ready to date. But, over time I became able to share time and experiences with women, who weren’t my wife. That was so discordant for so long – to spend any time with a woman – it was like a loud gong in my head. I wasn’t ready for prime time for a long time.

Now, here I am courting a woman I love. We were penpals for 9 months before we ever met. We’re building a long-distance relationship shortened by Facetime and deepened by long visits.

I recall what my friend Danny Goad said to me in Roanoke – during early deep grief – about when he became a widower in his 30s with four kids. His grandfather told him that the Lord God doesn’t expand the human heart by adding to it. When we experience the birth of another child, or to love and marry again after death of a spouse, our Lord Jesus Christ multiplies the love in the human heart.

Survivor confusion is about my survival without my late wife, not about living life again. In fact, it’s truly remarkable to be at this end of life and feel so much like I did at the other, younger start. It’s wonderful, not confusing, to be old and feel young and very alive. It’s a blessing to feel your heart expand by His multiplication. It’s always a blessed anniversary, too.

The Lord multiplies the capacity of the human heart.

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Corey is the only bold, Conservative candidate for Governor

Since the Virginia Republicans increased taxes in 2004, I’ve looked for a Conservative champion for our Commonwealth. Ken Cuccinelli could have been him, but the android who ran using his name ended that quest. I’ll settle for bold. I support bold because weak never wins. Corey Stewart is bold. Fast Eddie Gillespie, despite the conservative positions he regurgitates today, is as weak as when he lost the last time. Ed was the only one to lose in a Conservative tsunami election year.

The attacks on Corey are very personal, penetrating and petty. It’s all about Corey’s flaws and failings. The attacks on Ed are about principles and policy. It’s all about his record as a money-man, professional pol and Establishment guy and his unwillingness to be brave on issues today. Those criticisms say much about the candidates.

When Ed dodges the Transgender folly or cultural-cleansing of all things Confederate – saying they are local issues, Corey speaks up.

Where Ed is running in Virginia because it’s his address outside of Washington, Corey has served in local government where he makes his home in Virginia. Neither were born here, nor was I – although I have ancestral Virginia roots – but Corey established networks of family, church and business connections in Prince William County, not on K Street.

Corey let bold become brash – and learned a life lesson getting fired from the Trump campaign. When did Ed ever stick his perfumed neck out? Ever? Name his bold stand. Was it for apple pie or the American flag?

Corey has had his picture taken with Confederate battle flags in the background. Ed would have the vapors if he got near anything Southern. The Dems, dimwits and Liberals who will use that against Corey in the general election are NEVER going to vote for Ed anyway.

The Republicans and Conservatives who accuse him of hijacking the issue – expose their own inability to understand the all of Virginia history belongs to all Virginians, new and old. If our history only fits different groups of Virginians selectively, then our folks are playing the identity politics of the Left. If Republicans reject historical correctness and pride in heritage to banish Confederate history, they are pathetic pawns of the Left preaching on the one way street of Tolerance and Inclusiveness – which excludes Southerners, Christians and, increasingly so all Whites.

Corey will be vilified in the general election. So, will Ed, again. My very conservative oldest daughter said she wouldn’t vote for Ed – last time – when she saw the attack ads on Ed’s record. What will be different this time?

Dear Conservative friends and colleagues of mine are on Ed’s team. I don’t begrudge them their doomed choice. But, I’m not buying Ed’s Conservative credibility. I was on RPV State Central when Ed was pushing HB 3202 – the worst piece of legislation since Massive Resistance and declared unconstitutional by unanimous State Supreme Court decision. Yes, he’ll be more conservative than the Dems. A rock would be too.

Corey stood up against illegal immigration. Corey will be bold.

The sainted Ronald Reagan made his signature speech about painting Conservativism with bold colors. Corey Stewart is a bold leader.

Please vote for a bold Conservative, Corey Stewart, in the Republican primary on June 13, 2017

James Atticus Bowden

 

Vote for courage.