Have A Little Faith

A B-25 taking off of the U.S.S. Hornet during the raid

One of the most famous missions of the Second World War was the Doolittle Raid over Tokyo of April 18, 1942.  Due to their carrier being spotted, the bombers had to take off ten hours earlier and one hundred and seventy nautical miles earlier than planned.  When the mission was over, instead of landing in China as intended, the planes had scattered all over due to a lack of fuel.  Some even had to parachute into Japan.
Doolittle was devastated, considering the mission a failure.  He told himself he'd be fortunate to get out of this unholy mess with life in Leavenworth.  Paul Leonard, his mechanic approached him, letting him know four things:  1)  Thing weren't as bad as they seemed.  2)  Doolittle would have the Medal of Honor within a year.  3)  He would also be a brigadier general. 4)  Leonard hoped when all this happened, he could be Doolittle's crew chief..

Doolittle realized that someone had faith in him, and it bucked him up.  He told the man that as long as he flew, that man would be his crew chief.  Well, Doolittle did receive the Medal of Honor, and instead of receiving one star, got three. 

Leonard stayed on with him, and died saving Doollittle's plane, running for a shell hole when a bomb hit it.  All that was found of him was his arm and watch.  It was probably the hardest letter Doolittle ever had to write, and the most personal loss of the war. 

Even without his contribution to World War Two, Jimmy Doolittle would have gone down in history, due to his significant work in aviation.  Paul Leonard, on the other hand, has had his name forgotten by history.  You can be sure that Jimmy Doolittle never forgot him.  The man was there when Doolittle needed him the most, letting him know things were going to be okay, to just have a little faith, even the size of a mustard seed. 

After all, his mechanic did.
                                                                                               

It's Just Life

I've had people ask what I do for hobbies.  To be honest, I try not to tell them, as I know exactly the response I'm going to get.  It's not that I'm secretive, but they won't believe me.  So first off, I inform them of that - they aren't going to buy it.  They think this is great, and it piques their curiosity.  Finally, I have to tell them so they'll leave me alone.  By the time I'm done, I have to explain what the majority of my hobbies means (Memorabilia and soundtracks make perfectly good sense to me, as do lobby cards.)  Afterwards, those people ask, "But what do you do?"

I've noticed that from then on, those people have a tendency to avoid me, as either they think I have the plague or I'm the most eccentric person they're going to encounter in their lives.  I have a pretty good idea as to which it is, if you want to know.

You know, though?  I don't mind.  I am so glad we're not all alike.  Heck, if everyone had the exact same likes as me, can you imagine how much my movie memorabilia would be costing?  No, thank you!  Same with the books I'm managing to pick up for a penny.  And if everyone wrote like me, well, Jimmy Butts wouldn't be writing his wonderful westerns.  A disaster!  I would hate it if all the world was like me:  The world would be out of Mountain Dew!

Variety is wonderful.  You see different people doing various things, some of them you admit wondering 'why,' but it's great to see the variety, nonetheless.  People from all walks merging together, doing things, and that, my friends, is life.

So when you notice someone's a tad eccentric, or strange, nah.  They're merely part of life.
                                                                  

So Sue Me

This is the time of year when my friends, family, co-workers, and complete strangers all say the same thing to me:  "I hate you."  (I bet you thought it was going to be "Merry Christmas," didn't ya?")

I have to say I earn it.

No, I don't walk around like the Grinch with a piece of coal in my heart, and I don't sing 'Silent Night' off-key.  (At least, not intentionally.)

It's just that I finished my Christmas shopping.

Last month.

Generally, I'm finished around July, but this has been a rough year for me.  I've already received several e-mails from people who've received packages stating, "What do you mean, DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS?"  True, they did get them mid-November, but there is no way on God's Green Earth I'm tackling the Post Office in mid-December.  Not for anyone or anything.  (They should have been among the crowd I sent packages out to in July with that message out to on them.  Oh, the nasty messages I received!)

Now, I work in a busy store.  I see the 'fun' in Christmas shopping.  About as much 'fun' as emergency surgery.  That's why 95% of my shopping was online. Search, click, and zip.  Hide it in the closet, and hopefully remember that it's there.  (I need to follow Mom's example and start keeping items listed in a notebook.  One year my nephew Jordan really had a bonanza due to my poor memory.  Hey, he didn't mind!)

But as we all get tied up with gift-giving and what Aunt Hilda is going to want, we don't necessarily tie in our gifts to the individuals.  I have fun doing so. I buy Christmas all year round, and already have one family member covered for next year.

Contact me for lessons.

                                                                                                

A Broken Promise



Ensign John Charles England

As we've started off the holidays with Thanksgiving, December is rapidly creeping up on us.  Thoughts of Christmas enter our heads, and we wonder what to get Aunt Martha, or Cousin Harold.  We sorta wonder what our brothers and sisters are getting us, as we really don't need any more socks.

In between on December 7, we remember about halfway through the day - if we remember it at all - "Oh.  This is Pearl Harbor Day."

Well, on this upcoming December 7, remember Ensign John Charles England.  He was on board the U.S.S. Oklahoma when the attack started and had made it to topside. Remembering his friends in the radio room, he went back to save them.  Ens. England made three trips, each time guiding a man to safety.  The fourth time he went down, they had to close the hatch in order to prevent flooding.  Those on the other side of the doors heard him saying, "Don't worry.  I'll get us out of here."  Sadly, it was not to be, and Ens. England lost his life attempting to save his friends.  He was four days shy of his twenty-first birthday and had never seen his infant daughter.

His father Sam became a broken man upon hearing of his son's passing.  The Navy would honor the ensign by naming a destroyer after him.  Those on USS England DE-635 not only knew of the heritage of their name, but were proud of it, serving it well.  In two weeks' time, they sank six enemy submarines, a record that is still unsurpassed.  Admiral Halsey said, "May there always be an England.  Well done and congratulations to all hands."  Admiral King, Chief of all Naval Operations, promised, "There'll always be an England in the United State Navy." When it was decommissioned, it was replaced by the USS England DLG -22/CG-22, which was decommissioned in 1994.

Unfortunately, the Navy forgot Admiral King's promise and no England came along to replace it.  But there is a drive by those who served on those ships to have another England on the seas, serving our nation once again.  A promise was made in the name of our nation, and it should be kept.  John Charles England is honored every year by his high school, he has web sites, but let his country continue to remember him. 

So pass this along.  Print it up and send it to those in Congress, with your contact information.

Let's get another U.S.S. England in the Navy.  A promise is a promise, no matter how long ago it was.

http://www.ussengland.org/

http://cg22.ussengland.org/Operation_King/operation_king.htm