May 27: "Card Sharp," Remembrance, "Memorial Day Cemetery"

Billy Collins meets a , , ,

Card Sharp

by: Billy Collins

He said

he was born, 

raised,

and re-raised

somewhere in Nevada.

Collins can make me laugh.  His short poems, in particular, fill me with admiration for his wit and wordplay.  He's refreshingly honest in going for the punchline.  He just doesn't give a shit about not being taken seriously.  

Tonight, I'm not going to try to be witty or funny in what I write.  Perhaps I'm going to sound sentimental or maudlin, and I, like Collins, just don't give a shit.

It is Memorial Day in the United States--a day set aside to honor our fallen soldiers.  A lot of U. S. citizens treat this day as simply a reason to head out to camp and have a barbecue.  I don't do that.  My father, who was a Private Second Class during the Korean War, taught me to honor and respect the true meaning of this holiday.  

I taught my kids the same, taking them both to Memorial Day services at our local cemetery since before they really comprehended what it was all about.  Now, they stand at parades when the flag goes by.  When taps is played, they remove hats, put their hands over their hearts.

All the freedoms I take for granted every day were paid for in blood by courageous individuals who sacrificed everything to make the world a better place.  I never forget that.

Saint Marty will always be eternally grateful.

Memorial Day Cemetery

by: Martin Achatz

The small flags

on the graves

snap with wind,

sound like distant

gunfire of battles

fought over 80 years ago.

December 2: Never Forgot Charlotte, Remembrance, Prayer for Ray's Family

Wilbur never forgot Charlotte.  Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart.  She was in a class by herself.  It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.  Charlotte was both.

I start this post with the final paragraph of Charlotte's Web.  It is, basically, E. B. White's eulogy for his main character.  It's simple, beautiful, and heartbreaking.  It captures all those complex emotions children feel when dealing with any kind of loss.  It teaches the young reader that memory is a strong and concrete thing.  It preserves all the good things of life and allows you to release the bad.  Grief.  Sadness.  Absence.


I am sitting in my office in the English Department at the university.  It is late in the evening.  Most of the offices are empty.  I just walked down the hallway to my friend Ray's office.  People have created a make-shift memorial wall for him.  On the frosted glass wall, messages are being written.  Dedications.  Jokes.  Quotes.  Things that give Ray's friends and family comfort.  In some ways, it's like looking at Charlotte's web.  The words and memories are still there, even if the web is empty.

It is a week of mourning here.  The sadness is truly palpable.  On Saturday, we will celebrate Ray's life in church and then gather for a little while at the university to laugh, hug, and heal.  The annual English Department Christmas party has been canceled.  A scholarship is being established in Ray's name.  Other tributes will follow, I'm sure.

Tonight, I ask you to pray for Ray's family.  He left behind two daughters.  Much of the English Department faculty are still in shock.  One friend told me on Sunday that he's "simply heartbroken."  I'm sure his daughters are unmoored.  So please pray for these two young women this week.  And, every once in a while over the holidays, pray for them again.  Joy is going to be a precious commodity for them this Christmas.

Saint Marty is going to walk down the hall now and add something to Ray's memorial wall.  Something that would have made Ray laugh.  Because that's what Ray loved to do the most.