WWII in HD

Last night, I stayed up till two in the morning watching most of the WWII in HD marathon on the History Channel. I had seen most of these episodes the first time they ran, but this time I got to watch them all back-to-back. I couldn't turn it off.

My first thought after watching the series was that most people under the age of 30 probably don't have a living family member who fought in WWII. For these young people, the war is just another chapter in their history books at school. That is why this program should be required viewing in every high school history class. It makes the abstract concepts of world-wide warfare, genocide, and self-sacrifice very real.

I feel so indebted to my grandfathers and great uncles who fought in World War Two. Aldace Naughton, Jr served in the Pacific Theater while James Everett Naughton, his cousin, fought in the Battle of the Bulge against the Nazis. My mom's father, Robert Keller served in the Pacific, too, though I am not as familiar with his history. Part of me wants to know more about their experiences, but another part of me is afraid to know what these men saw during their tours of duty. I owe my life and my freedom to these great men. We all do.

I hope free people everywhere are aware that were it not for the incredible sacrifices of "The Greatest Generation" our world would be a very different place today. Can you fathom what life would be like on our planet if the Allies had lost the war? An estimated 70 million people died during the six years of WWII, half of them civilians. Imagine how many more would have perished had the Nazis and Japanese won. When we play with our i-phones and nintendos, listen to gangster rap and heavy metal, and tolerate baseball and football players going on strike because their $100 million contracts are never enough, shouldn't we stop for a moment to reflect upon what our grandfathers who froze to death in foxholes in France or were burned alive on Tarawa would think of our shallow, self-indulgences?

The next time you start to complain about the way the boy at the store bagged your groceries or the apparent shortage of foam in your Starbucks latte, think about the millions of men who were conscripted into the military, taken from their families, and thrown in front of a Japanese or German pillbox full of machine guns. Whenever you start to whine about how unfair it is that someone at work gets a better office or parking space than you, think about the men who were assigned to storm the beaches of Normandy or Okinawa, who knew that they may never see their wives or children again. When you get impatient waiting in the emergency room to see a doctor about your sprained ankle, think about the field nurses who held the hands of thousands of young men as they bled to death after being blown to pieces by exploding mortars.

The men and women who served in WWII are true heroes. Tiger Woods was never a hero. It amuses me how many people tuned in to watch his mea culpa press conference. I don't care how many strippers he was with. I don't care how far he can hit a golf ball. There are men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan getting killed or maimed everyday who don't even get a mention in the news for the sacrifices they've made. I wonder how our WWII vets, the few that are still with us, can tolerate living in a society that is so shallow and so oblivious to what really matters in the world. Freedom. Family. Love. Those things matter.

Next time you see an 85 year old, thank him or her for saving the world. Thank them for what you have and the life you live. We owe them everything. Absolutely everything.

Ice, Ice Baby

Photos of the boys enjoying a frozen waterfall in our woods.

Revisionist History

"Naked Snow Angels" is one step closer to completion. I just finished the first revision of my manuscript and will be heading to Kinko's to print a couple copies off. I will send these to a couple of people whom I trust to edit and critique my book. This makes me more anxious than writing the 25 chapter, 262 page manuscript in the first place.

This book is more than the story of my life--writing it has become my life's work. I have realized after years of bouncing around from one job to another and never feeling satisfied with any particular occupation, that I just hadn't stumbled upon what I was really cut out to be--a writer. It isn't that I'm allergic to good old fashioned hard work or that I'm just extremely lazy. It turns out that some people are butchers, some are salesmen, some are groundskeepers, and some are writers.

I think the book I have created is actually pretty damn good. The process has been very interesting as the manuscript has evolved from a novel, to a collection of random essays, and finally into cohesive memoir that while not written in a strictly chronological order, flows naturally from start to finish. There are stories from my childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, and my life as a husband and father. I've included a good balance of humorous, cringe worthy, poignant, and enlightening material that I think will leave the reader looking forward to my next book.

And I have several more books in me. At first, I wasn't sure that I had enough material to write one full-length book, but now I know that the wealth of experiences that I have to draw story ideas from is virtually limitless. The question now becomes, will anyone in the publishing world take a chance and buy my book? After making my final revisions, hopefully in the next few weeks, I will start sending out queries to literary agents and editors in the hope that someone in New York City will give an old country boy a shot.

Thanks for your support and stay tuned for further updates.

Good Lookin'

I realize that I haven't posted new photos of the boys lately, so here you go. They're almost as good looking as their old man, don't you think?