Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | June 6, 2017

D-Day Again

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.)

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | June 5, 2017

A Celebration of Life for Elizabeth Anne Bowden Buehrer

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.


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






Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | May 28, 2017

They Hate Our Dead

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 10th 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.

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | May 24, 2017

An Alt. to Alt.Right

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.

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | May 14, 2017

My Beautiful Mother

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.




Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | April 26, 2017

Our last anniversary together, 2013.

April 26th forever for us

Today, April 26th, 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.

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | April 21, 2017

Corey Stewart: When Bold Is Best

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.

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | March 18, 2017

Timing Is Everything

Many times the Bible talks about His timing and its perfection.

Timing Is Everything

Timing is everything – when it really matters – in love, war, comedy, crops, music, sports, politics, and you name it. “Timing is Everything” is one of my pat phrases. Ask my kids. It’s included with “This/Such is Life”, “Life is Short”, “Ça ne fait rien”, and “People are People” in my top ten clichés and French phrases that meme significant truths. I stumbled on God’s truths when I prepared my 30 year old vision piece.

I found a promise from 1997 was fulfilled in 2014. I had totally forgotten about it. The promise was in my prayer journal. The Lord told me, “I’ll take care of the details.”

Since I was 6 years old I wanted to live in The Valley (a.k.a. Shenandoah Valley) or the eastern slope of Virginia’s Blue Ridge where the Piedmont tumbles out before your eyes in broad vistas. After we moved to Tidewater Virginia, when I was 39, I fell in love with The Bay (a.k.a. Chesapeake Bay). My many business trips to NoVA and Maryland allowed me to check out every waterfront on the Virginia peninsulas that jut into The Bay.

My prayer journal started in 1994. I write very little in it. A few words may pass for a year and be written over a year after the event. Yet, it matters to me. It captures key stepping stones on the path of my walk with the Lord Jesus Christ.

So, in June 1997 I wrote, “Wanting and working for the house on the water.” Then, the response I got from the Lord was, “I’ll take care of the details.” It was a clear thought in my head. A year later I got to build the house my wife always wanted. Not on the water. I wrote, “No to house on water.”

In 2007 my wife refused to sign a contract for a house wrecked by Hurricane Isabelle on gorgeous water – and a setting in my novel, Rosetta 6.2 She wouldn’t say why. Who knew her “No” would serve His “wait for something better”?

In 2009 I went to a Christian men’s retreat. I gave up every desire of my heart. Really. I surrendered the expectation to see prayers answered in my lifetime to the most honest, best of my ability. Seriously – to the core of my being. Most of my prayers were for family member issues. I gave up seeing them resolved in my lifetime. I gave up seeing any of my aspirations and desires fulfilled. Living with great esthetics in the beauty of nature – on the water – was one of those desires. I asked the Lord God what He wanted me to do with my time here. “Please show me simply and clearly.”

In 2014 after my wife died, I found waterfront close to home had a huge drop in price. I bought it with the blessing of my adult children. It’s three doors down from the place we could have bought in 2007. It’s less than half the cost.

I named my home “Sanctuary” because it is.

Almost twenty years after I got the message, “I’ll take care of the details,” He did. Wow. His timing was to give it to me at the precise moment of overwhelming grief and sadness. Many hours on the dock, deck and looking out the windows have been a healing balm. Sanctuary is saturated in peace and joy.  It held my tears in confidence.  Sanctuary echoes the squeals of joy from my grandchildren. It makes visitors gasp. I live in a place of incredible, awesome, ever-changing, overwhelming beauty. Even the storms are beautiful in their power.

I say out loud every morning when I rise, “Thank You, Lord.” I confess how much I don’t deserve it and how sweet He is to a sinner like me to give me such a gift.

I’m still spinning from stumbling upon my prayer journal entry. I had forgotten. However faithful I’ve been about reading and writing for 30 years, the Lord Jesus Christ is more than faithful. Every promise in the Bible and every prayer is fulfilled. His word never returns empty.

Rainbows follow the storms.

Morning has broken -July 21, 2016. God makes all things new.

Amazing beauty

Let it rain. Rainbow follows.

Every day has its on constantly changing tapestry

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | March 17, 2017

Obligatory St. Patrick’s Day Ode

What I wear on St Patrick’s day beneath my orange Univ of VA “Virginia” sweatshirt.

Happy St Patrick’s Day, 2017!

My great-grandmother Maley and others in our bloodline gave us our unique Irish heritage by stirring it well with others (Scottish, English, Welsh, and French Huguenot) as Southerners. We have no connections to the past that haven’t been strained through many generations of the American Experience.  We have no kin in the auld sod.

Still, fun stuff to know what happened in history and see how “Culture Commands”. The Scot-Irish sense of family, faith, freedom is alive today – and vibrant.

Fun fact: At the time of the Revolution the 13 colonies were 98-99% Protestant. The diversity of the day was the sects who warred so bitterly in the English Civil War united as Americans. And, American Catholics and Jews, as well, paid the blood tax. Scot-Irish were 15% of the population and 40% of the Army.

America is “My Country” to all Americans.  The intensity we many deplorables of Scot-Irish heritage apply to the words “My Country” has a history back to America’s foundation.  Ancestors not present at the creation doesn’t make anyone who believes in America less American.  Ancestors present at the creation doesn’t prevent way too many from betraying their American trust and heritage – as well as walking away from the one, only, true, living, triune God.  Just know how passionately loyal many of us Scot-Irish Americans remain about the ascending idea of “America.”

Born fighting for family, faith, freedom.

I’m more Scot by blood than Scot-Irish, but more Scot-Irish by culture (which commands!) than anything.  So, the “born fighting” moniker from James Webb should be – actually – family, family, family, faith, freedom!

Born Fighting for family, faith, freedom

Posted by: James Atticus Bowden | March 15, 2017

My 30 Year Old Vision

My vision was personal, yet Aslan’s breath brings life to all kinds of visions

My 30 Year Old Vision

I’ve had one mystical, religious vision in my life. It happened 30 years ago, March 15th, 1987 on Range 214 at Grafenwoehr, Germany. Frequently, I believe the Creator of the entire Universe gives me messages in how I feel after I read, think, hear, see, or sense different things. That’s not a vanity, but shared reality for believing Christians. Occasionally, I have very specific words, appear as thoughts which seem to come from outside my mind to me. I had two dreams unlike all other dreams after my Father died and before my Mother died. But, I’ve only had one vision.

I’ve written the narrative of my vision many times – even put it in the foreword to Rosetta 6.2 – and told a number of people.

The short version begins when I saw my Father in a dream unlike any dream the night he died. He told me, without speaking, “I’m okay, I’m all right,” and shared his compassion for me. After that I prayed daily for 7 years for a clear sign of how we actually go to one space and time – Heaven – in this vast cosmos.

Then, in the space of a few seconds or minutes, not sure which, as I walked behind the range to the Quonset huts at sunset, the sky lit up – all pink – and a warm air blew through my ribs and filled me like a balloon. It was the best feeling of joy and peace I’ve ever had in my life. Ever. The thought “There is a warmth and a light on the other side,” reassured me in many ways beyond the simple words that our identities with memories go to another place. Then, I was shocked with the thought, “You will not command in peace or war. You will read and write.”

Commanding in the Army was the focus of my life. A few months later my beloved Army career was crushed like a bug. (Color commentary is best added in person.)

It’s 30 years later.

I was in recovery – that’s what my wife and I called it – working hard in a different unit for 2 years. Then, spent another frenetic year as an Army speech writer. I started writing after work in 1990 – novel published in 2007. Started op eds in 2001. Blog in 2005. Did a lot of reading. Still, I beat myself up for not pushing harder to read and write more. I’m keenly aware my time is running out.

The Ides of March is a demarcation line in my life. My one vision changed my life.

I never thought about death the same. I got a context for my most humiliating personal defeat. “His will, not mine” has an expressed purpose in my life. Later, it was easy to see why His wisdom prevailed over my ardent will. And, I feel like I got the tiniest taste of what it’s like to be near the Lord in Heaven. The good feeling of the warm wind was beyond my description.

A lot of living and some dying filled the 30 years. My task to read and write remains. It was woven in the fabric of my day job, my passions and purposeful works. His assurance about Heaven has helped me face my wife and sister’s passing as well as my recent ER visits with accepting peace. I’ll obey the compelling urgency to read and write.

If you have a question, ask the Lord. I got an answer that changed my life – in 7 years. Since every person has gifts – with absolutely no one beneath or incapable of serving, do you know your mission? Ask.

Graf. Old soldiers know it well.

Range 214 was Bradley range on far left of map.

In the 80s weapons were fired 364 days a year.

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