May 25: Bob Hicok, "The semantics of flowers on Memorial Day," Taking a Knee

The semantics of flowers on Memorial Day

by:  Bob Hicok

Historians will tell you my uncle

wouldn't have called it World War II

or the Great War plus One or Tombstone

over My Head. All of this language

came later. He and his buddies

knew it as get my ass outta here

or fucking trench foot and of course

sex please now. Petunias are an apology

for ignorance, my confidence

that saying high-density bombing

or chunks of brain in cold coffee

even suggests the athleticism

of his flinch or how casually

he picked the pieces out.

Geraniums symbolize the secrets

life kept from him, the wonder

of variable-speed drill and how

the sky would have changed had he lived

to shout it’s a girl. My hands

enter dirt easily, a premonition.

I sit back on my uncle’s stomach

exactly like I never did, he was

a picture to me, was my father

looking across a field at wheat

laying down to wind. For a while,

Tyrants’ War and War of World Freedom

and Anti-Nazi War skirmished

for linguistic domination. If

my uncle called it anything

but too many holes in too many bodies

no flower can say. I plant marigolds

because they came cheap and who knows

what the earth’s in the mood to eat.

_________________________

A lot is being said about patriotism today, since the owners in the NFL decided to force their players to stand for the national anthem or else be fined.  This decision, and the reaction from the people in Washington, D. C., make me a little sick.

People just don't get it.  Taking a knee during the national anthem is not disrespecting the brave men and women who have fought and died for the United States.  What it is about is calling attention to the inherent racism that still exists in this country.  (If you don't believe there is racism in the United States, try Googling ALL the verses of "The Star Spangled Banner."  You may be a little surprised.)  This protest is about trying to make America a better place for EVERYONE who lives here.

Don't worry.  If I'm sitting next to you at an event this weekend, I will stand up and put my hand over my heart when the band plays the national anthem.  That is my choice, not my duty.

The soldiers who fought and died did so in defense of the values of the United States.  One of the greatest values of this country is freedom of expression.  It is one of the core principles of a free society.  Unfortunately, people seem to be forgetting that principle a lot these days.

Players in the NFL have the right to kneel during the playing of the national anthem.  Just like Donald Trump had the right to avoid being drafted--FIVE TIMES--and he's President of the United States.  I would argue that the players who take a knee are being more patriotic than Donald Trump has ever been.  They really are trying to make America great.

Saint Marty is thankful tonight for the First Amendment.  Read it while you still can.

September 11: Once a Year, September 11 Anniversary, Judith Minty, "Hawk," Adventures of Stickman

And once a year, in the winter, a day or two after Christmas, he and Annie would visit their son's grave.  Standing in the cemetery before his son's marker out in Long Island, as the years went by, Ives did not for a moment envision a seventeen-year-old in eternal repose, but a man the age his son would have been.  And there were occasions when he viewed the grave as some kind of "stopover" his son had made on his way to another, more beautiful place.  Sometimes Ives felt that a kind of trick had been played on him.  Why else would he walk into a church and have the sensation that his son was that priest up by the altar, raising the Host and saying Mass?  Why did he often think that he would see Robert again, his face serene and secure in his intimate knowledge of the Lord, that way Ives once used to see it?

The annual pilgrimages that Ives makes to his son's grave are not passive moments of reflection and sadness.  Even years after Robert's murder, Ives continues to imagine that his son grew up, entered the seminary, and became a priest.  Robert is not frozen in Ives' mind.  Instead, Robert grows older, grayer, wiser.  Basically, he is everything that Ives dreamed he would be.

Today was the fourteenth anniversary of the 9-11 attacks.  There were concerts performed, poems recited, and songs sung.  This evening, I attended a football game at my daughter's school.  Before the game began, the announcer asked everyone in the stadium seats to stand and observe a moment of silence.  And then, as the flag was raised to half-staff, the pep band played the national anthem.

I found the moment incredibly moving.  For those few moments, it felt like everyone was united in remembrance.  A collective grief and pride.  I could hear a few people in the stands singing The Star Spangled Banner quietly. 

I often wonder why it takes tragedy to bring human beings together.  For my sister's funeral, my brother from Pennsylvania came.  It was the first time I'd seen him in several years.  In the days following the 9-11 attacks,. I felt incredibly close to everyone--family, friends, complete strangers.  Everyone comes together in moments of despair.

I do not have any pithy words of wisdom this evening.  In honor of the thousands of people who lost their lives on this day fourteen years ago, I offer two things:  1) a prayer of healing for anyone who is grieving a loss; and 2) a poem.

Saint Marty has no fairy tale this evening.  There is no happily ever after on this day for many people.

Hawk

by:  Judith Minty

Dead hawk outside my bedroom window,
even the cats won't touch it.
I laid low for three days,
didn't leave the house,
and wrote my Cherokee friend.
He hasn't answered, the hawk's
been waiting.  Today I took

the tail feathers and geet.
I feel worst about the feet,
hanging from the backporch beam--
fists clenched, claws like my own hand
holding the knife.  I knew
when the other one flew over, keening,
he wouldn't recognize her like that.

               --Jacoby Creek, California

Adventures of STICKMAN