Neddy's Palaver

On the grounds of the Custis-Lee Mansion circa 1864, the former home of American’s greatest general, is where Arlington National Cemetery now stands. When Union soldiers occupied the land belonging to the wife of General Robert E. Lee, in an act of retribution, they began burying their war dead there picture from 1865. Today, the cemetery is almost full of American patriots who risked their lives for their fellow man. Arlington House The Custis-Lee Mansion sits high above the Virginia side of the Potomac River, across from the imposing memorial to the Commander-in-Chief of the army that won against Lee’s army, President Abraham Lincoln.

Lieutenant Colonel Charles G. Clinger, United States Army, like General Lee, fought for his country in a war that was lost; in Colonel Clinger’s case it was Vietnam. Clinger’s memorial stone is in Section 8 of the former Custis-Lee plantation. Inscribed on his gravestone are the dates of his earthly sojourn: “June 6, 1944 - April 11, 1993“; and the words “It is better to have lived one day as a lion than one thousand days as a sheep“.

First of all you need to have a webcam. It would be a worthwhile investment, especially if you live in an old house. Blogger Coast to Coast used his new webcam as a geek security system, setting it to snap a picture each time it detects motion and automatically e-mailing him a copy. He explains that it won’t stop anyone from burgling his house while he is at work, but he will get a nice picture of them as they steal his stuff. Anyway, was he ever in for a surprise when he discovered that the webcam had captured a ghost in his circa 1900 house. If you are fearless, give it a try.

Have you heard the one about Mother Goose beating up an accident victim with a Holy Bible? Who does this Mother Goose think she is that she can go around using the Bible as a weapon? People get killed for this kind of offense in Muslim lands. Not with the Bible, of course, but with the Holy Koran. Holy Cow! What IF Mother Goose had used a Koran? Where would she be now?

The report of “Mother Goose Gone Wild” first appeared in a story by Dan Reed entitled ‘She’s hittin’ him with her Bible!‘ published in the Mercury News. The mp3 audio is available from Scott Rope’s “Jack in the Box Voicemail.” Mike Childs was a construction manager for Jack in the Box restaurant and he was leaving a voice mail for his boss when he happened to witness a traffic accident in the street. Not just an ordinary fender bender, but a real mishap with some poor guy running into an Impala filled with “little old ladies,” according to Childs, including one who apparently was Mother Goose.

You can hear the literal blow-by-blow account, involving, among other weapons, an umbrella, pepper spray and an NIV Bible. The narrator’s infectious laugh makes it hysterical, so give it a listen.

UPDATE: This was previously posted at my old blog “Blatherings”. As some of the important links went dead, I have reposted it here with fresh links, “for now.” It has been posted at Free Republic where there is a long list of comments about it. They write:

ESPN should hire this guy, if they need someone to do play-by-play on car wrecks. Six years ago, or so the story goes, Mike Childs left a hilarious commentary on a co-worker’s voice mail about witnessing four little old ladies beat the tar out of a guy who hit their car and then tried to blame it on them. But only within the past few weeks has the magic of the Internet, where the recording is now posted, clued in tens of thousands to Childs’ infectious laugh and his wonderful eye for detail, all told with his Louisiana drawl. His phone is now ringing as if there’s a four-alarm fire. People from around the world have heard his take on the crash.

The Jack in the Box corporation claims that the voicemail message clip is genuine, and describes a traffic accident about six years ago in Athens, Texas. Michael Childs talked about the experience with several radio shows. (Childs Interview) There is more about this story that tickled everyone’s funny bone at Snopes.com.

Hurricanes are said to be the most destructive force of nature. We in the eastern United States know that power well. Now we are fortunate to have warnings before fury strikes. When Galveston was hit in the early 1900s and Long Island in the 1940s, with so many lives lost, people were going about their everyday affairs when devastration came. It has been almost two years since northern Virginia was visited by the fury and destruction of Hurricane Isabel, 19 September 2003. Our neighborhood weathered the storm quite well. However, my son’s neighborhood, which is nearer to the Potomac and Washington City was without power for more than a week. For a few days it was not even safe to drink tap water.

A heartwarming story to remember from the frightening day of Isabel’s visit is that the soldier sentries guarding the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery remained at their posts. A contingency plan had been made if the hurricane’s winds reached 120 mph. In that case the guards could retreat to take up positions in the trophy room, above tomb plaza, which has a clear view of the sepulcher. This plan was not put into effect. The sentries never left their posts during the howling winds and downpours.

God bless them and their comrades in arms for unfailing dedication to the tomb of an unknown serviceman, a man who represents all American soldiers. By honoring the courage, valor, and sacrifice of the unknown soldier, they honor also all of those in military service, because when called upon, they will do no less than did the unknown. By honoring these dead, we stand in awe of the deeds of the living.

There are three sets of remains in the tomb; from World War I, World War II and the Korean War. There was a fourth soldier’s remains from the Vietnam War which were disinterred and identified to be buried in his hometown.

Story of Hurricane Isabel and Arlington Cemetery

Arlington Cemetery

Historic Photographs of Arlington Cemetery

Arlington Tomb of the Unknowns

Gravesite Photographs from Arlington

“one is a red skin as plain as paint and nature can make him” ~~James Fenimore Cooper

In a previous post, “Redskins and Warpaint”, I had traced the first use of the term “Redskin” for American Indian back to 1699.

There seems to be no etymological evidence that the word “redskin” originally meant anything other than “an aborigine with red skin”. According to Take Our Word For It, the earliest recorded use of the word was found in a quotation from 1699: “Ye firste Meetinge House was solid mayde to withstande ye wicked onsaults of ye Red Skins.”

I have just come upon a new reference from Father Andrew White’s travel log of 1634, which recorded his first impressions upon seeing the natives along the Chesapeake Bay. Aboard an English ship bound to settle the Maryland colony, he first noticed that their bodies were painted with earthen or plant-based red colors. It thus seems that they were named “Redskins” not only because of warpaint, but probably because all of the natives were accustomed to slathering their skins with their primitive yet effective version of insect repellant.

The natives are of tall and comely stature, of a skin by nature somewhat tawny, which they make more hideous by daubing, for the most part, with red paint mixed with oil, to keep away the mosquitoes; in this, intent more on their comfort than their beauty. They smear their faces also with other colors ; from the nose upwards, seagreen, downwards, reddish, or the contrary, in a manner truly disgusting and terrific. And since they are without beard almost to the end of life, they make the representation of beard with paint, a line of various colors being drawn from the tip of the lips to the ears.

Of course, mosquitoes were the curse of the early settlers and this method of the natives to ward them away seems practical, even if not beautiful to Father White’s tastes. The term “Redskin” was part if the language in 1823, when James Fenimore Cooper began writing his novels, using the term “red-skin natur” and “redskin“ generously throughout.

… Mabel, “for there are two Indians and only one white man.” “Pale face,” said the Tuscarora, holding up two fingers; “red man” holding up one. “Well,” rejoined Cap, “it is hard … of life and respectability about him; one is a red skin as plain as paint and nature can make him; but the third chap is half-rigged; being neither brig, nor schooner. … (The Pathfinder by James Fenimore Cooper, page 18).

Tracked at Don Surber and Room Q.

SIMON POKAGON (1830-1899) was the Chief of the Potawatomis of southwestern Michigan. He was also a literary genius and the most highly educated full-blooded Indian in North America during the nineteenth century. Chief Pokagon was nicknamed “the Redskin Bard” and “the Longfellow of his Race.”

It has afforded me much pleasure in life to know that the rivers, lakes and nearly all the waterways of America retain the names our fathers gave, and that those of our race who have long since gone to the spirit land have been honored by having a majority of the States of this mighty Union given Indian names pure and simple. (SIMON POKAGON, 1887).

Chief Simon Pokagon, (picture), was born near what is now Niles, Michigan. His father was Chief Leopold Pokagon, a man of sterling character who had converted to Christianity. Until he was twelve years of age Simon knew only Indian ways and spoke only the Algonquin language. Because of his great inquisitiveness, Catholic priests sent him for higher education and he became fluent in English, Latin and Greek.

In 1893, Simon Pokagon attended the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, an Algonquin named city built upon land that had belonged to his father. He was disturbed to find little native American influence to display to dignitaries coming from all over the world. Chief Pokagon took it as a challenge and immediately wrote a most eloquent defense of the American Indian, “The Red Man’s Greeting”. His booklet became a sensation in Chicago, nationally, in England and in Europe. Pokagon became a world celebrity.

Pokagon was a philosopher and advised his people: “Let us not crucify ourselves by going over the bloody trails we have trod on other days, but rather let us look up and rejoice in thankfulness in the present.”

Recently, I was reminded of something I had read about copperhead snakes, when I was told about the grandchild of a church member at a county park near my home, in a summer camp studying lizards. The pre-schooler lifted a rock and was bitten by a copperhead snake. The snake was captured and killed and the little boy carried by ambulance to the hospital. The child was fine, as the snake did not deliver much venom, probably because it was a juvenile copperhead. However, throughout the history of Virginia and the South, poisonous snake bites more often than not have a sadder outcome. Therefore, we know our snakes and we are ever vigilant.

In 2003, I had read an editorial by Senator Zell Miller about his family life in Georgia and snakes and I wrote - “Exactly! That is what this War on Terrorism is about- Copperheads!” I was troubled by hearing so many of our government officials who did not understand this war. Even worse, it continues to be maddening when many Americans seem to hope for the war to go badly, so that President Bush will be disgraced. This kind of talk gives comfort to our enemies and spurs them on. It hurts our cause; it frightens our allies who want to be with us. And worst of all, it puts our battlefield troops in even more danger. Zell Miller’s comments about the war and about copperheads is well worth the reading. This was written before “Give ‘em Hell” Zell had challenged Chris Matthews to a duel on TV. I wonder if Zell’s choice of weapon for the duel would have been a garden hoe?

“we were doing some work on my back porch back home, tearing out a section of old stacked rocks, when all of a sudden I uncovered a nest of copperhead snakes. I know the difference between those snakes that are harmless and those that will kill you. A copperhead will kill you. It could kill one of my dogs. It could kill one of my grandchildren. It could kill any one of my four great-grandchildren.

“And you know, when I discovered these copperheads, I didn’t call my wife Shirley for advice, like I do on most things. I didn’t go before the city council. I didn’t yell for help from my neighbors. I just took a hoe and knocked them in the head and killed them dead as a doorknob.

“I guess you could call it a unilateral action,” I said. “Or pre-emptive. Perhaps if you had been watching me, you could have even called it bellicose and reactive. I took their poisonous heads off because they were a threat to me. And they were a threat to my home and my family. They were a threat to all I hold dear. And isn’t that what this is all about?”

~~ from “In pursuit of an American Churchill” by Zell Miller, published in The Washington Times.

It is interesting to compare the current president, George W. Bush, with a president of two hundred years ago. Both came to the same decisions about fighting terror. Here is the book’s editorial from Amazon:

Two centuries ago, the ostensibly pacifist president Thomas Jefferson launched America’s first war on foreign soil—a war against terror. The enemy was Muslim; the war was waged unconventionally, with commandos, native troops, encrypted intelligence, and foreign bases under short-term alliances. For nearly two hundred years, Barbary pirates had haunted the Mediterranean, enslaving infidels and extorting millions of dollars from European countries in a holy war against Christendom. Newly independent, American ships became a target of piracy. Instead of paying tribute, after his inauguration Jefferson chose to fight. … Jefferson ordered the new U.S. Navy to Tripoli in 1801, starting the Barbary War that ended in 1805. … William Eaton’s bold frontal assault on Derna with a fractious army of Arabs, disaffected Tripolitans, European mercenaries, and eight U.S. Marines punctuated the American victory as the marines ran up the Stars and Stripes over the city—the first flag-raising on hostile shores by U.S. troops.

The Canadian government has a web page which is entitled “Aboriginal place names contribute to a rich tapestry“. It gives some of the place names of Canada which came from the language of the aboriginal people who lived there. The name “Canada” itself, comes from the Huron language word for settlement or village, “Kanata“.

Place names are never just meaningless sounds. Rather, they embody stories about the places to which they are attached. They give us valuable insights into history and provide clues about the country’s cultural and social development. A study of place names will always reveal the astounding diversity and depth of Aboriginal peoples’ contributions to contemporary Canada.

When I was growing up we had a children’s song to teach us to count -”Little Indian Boys“. I suppose that is no longer sung, as political correctness has probably banished it from the land.

No Little Indian Boys - anymore, and it is a cultural loss.

YES, I too grieve with each and every report of blood shed by our brave soldiers in Iraq. We have seen some bloody days there and I suspect there are bloodier days to come. We are in a long, long struggle. Our finest young people are in Iraq to bring hope and freedom to the Iraqi people. But most importantly, our soldiers are fighting for us! They are sacrificing their lives and limbs to protect us here at home; to protect our freedom, our culture and our lives. So we will fight on. We will never give up!

WE can be inspired by the 137th Psalm from our Holy Bible. In 1815, Lord Byron wrote his own translation of it. He named it
By the Rivers of Babylon We Sat Down and Wept.

1
We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day
When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem’s high places his prey;
And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
Were scattered all weeping away.

2
While sadly we gazed on the river
Which rolled on in freedom below,
They demanded the song; but, oh never
That triumph the stranger shall know!
May this right hand be withered for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!

3
On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
And the hour when thy glories were ended
But left me that token of thee:
And ne’er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the spoiler by me!