Memorial Day

                                         

Drew, an aviation electrician on the F/A 18F Super Hornet

Drew, an aviation electrician on the F/A 18F Super Hornet

 Today is a special and unique holiday. It is a day of giving thanks, not for all blessings, but for one. It is a day not of fireworks and revelry, but of quiet celebration. It is a day not focused on an event, but on the people who have made the events of our lives, and the freedom in which we -- and others elsewhere -- live them, possible.

It is not a day for politics, causes, or debates and any who would make it so do nothing but show ignorance and contempt for those Men, male and female, who are the focus of this day. Such creatures who would hijack and defile this day with such crass self-interest and -absorption are but soulless shells bereft of dignity, integrity, courage, and honor. They are unworthy of any strong emotion, even contempt; are worth contemplation this day merely for comparison to and with those we honor; and, deserve only pity, for they too could have been Men.

For today, we honor those who have stood in defense of our freedom; and, most of all, we honor those that fell so doing. Most have indeed been male; but, more than many realize have been female. From Molly Pitcher to the women who masqueraded as males to fight in that war between the states; from those that disguised themselves to sail on ships of wood and sail to those that fight this day we have always been blessed with women of courage, integrity, and bravery. Gender matters not; nor does it matter if one stepped forward or was summoned, for all answered the call. They joined that thin coloured line, and stood fast.

What cowards would abandon, and tyrants destroy, they saved. Their shoulders have truly held our skies suspended, and their blood has paid the price of freedom for us and for others.

The ideals, the slogans, and ultimately even home and hearth were not why they stood. When the bugles call, the bullets fly, and the bombs burst such things become of minor import. What matters then is love and duty. Not a duty to some higher power or state; rather, the duty one has to one's brother in arms. What shell they inhabit means naught at such a time, and what they were before means less than nothing at all. The only thing that matters then is that they are with you and you with them, and the love and duty that exists between at that moment is all. They will not be failed. So Tommy steps forward unto the breech, Molly takes over the cannon and fires, and unsung heroes step forward into the fire.

Some walk among us now. Others lie with Brothers amidst peaceful grass. Still more rest where they fell, unmarked on land or sea.

Today is not a day for torrents of praise or empty posturing. It is a day for but two words and two actions.

Those two words are "Thank You"; and, the two actions are to say them to those who have stood and stand among us, and to remember those who stand in memories forever green. They saved things not for the sum of pay, but for each of us and all who come after. They saved them for the higher things, and for that Band of Brothers to which they for eternity belong.

Take the time today. Quietly say the words to those who serve, be they old or be they young. Take time throughout the day and remember their sacrifice, and most especially remember those who have paid the ultimate price for freedom and are not here in flesh to hear your words.

  ℰℒℬ                                                                      
  2011

Perfect Lemonade

Perfect Lemonade

                                                      
Everybody knows how to make lemonade, right? Squeeze some lemons, add sugar and water. But how to make lemonade so that it tastes right everytime? Here's a surefire method.

Remember the starting proportions - 1 cup of sugar, 1 cup of water, 1 cup of lemon juice.

(This ratio makes a pretty sweet lemonade. Reduce the amount of sugar if you want your lemonade less sweet or if you are using Meyer lemons which are naturally sweeter than standard lemons.)

The secret to perfect lemonade is to start by making sugar syrup, also known as "simple syrup". Dissolving the sugar in hot water effectively disperses the sugar in the lemonade, instead of having the sugar sink to the bottom.

Perfect Lemonade Recipe

• Prep time: 10 minutes

INGREDIENTS

• 1 cup sugar (can reduce to 3/4 cup)
• 1 cup water (for the simple syrup)
• 1 cup lemon juice
• 3 to 4 cups cold water (to dilute)

METHOD

1 Make simple syrup by heating the sugar and water in a small saucepan until the sugar is dissolved completely.

2 While the sugar is dissolving, use a juicer to extract the juice from 4 to 6 lemons, enough for one cup of juice.

3 Add the juice and the sugar water to a pitcher. Add 3 to 4 cups of cold water, more or less to the desired strength. Refrigerate 30 to 40 minutes. If the lemonade is a little sweet for your taste, add a little more straight lemon juice to it.

Serve with ice, sliced lemons.

Yield: Serves 6. 

Or double the recipe for 12 servings.

 Milk Punch

"As served on rolling days at sea and a rainy day in Colon, Panama." Somebody here at Esquire hung that tag on the Milk Punch in our 1949 Handbook for Hosts. We've got no earthly idea what he was on about. But the guys who used to drink for us, they were always, well, um...okay, they were writers. The kind who churned out things like plays, short stories, novels, memoirs. You tell these guys to do something simple and you get, well, writing. Frank Shay, Lawton Mackall, Frederic Birmingham -- men who wouldn't bat an eyelash at deploying a word like "interjubilation" or suggesting that you shake a drink "as though seven demons were goading you to it" (not the much-dreaded personal kind, we hope). Which is to say -- Colon, Panama? We'd be drinking something involving the commingling of rum, lime juice, and ice, rain or no. But if those rileys felt like Milk Punch, we're sure they knew what they were doing.

Milk Punch is one of the more ancient medications in the pharmacopoeia. They drank it in colonial times, they drank it in Boston, they drank it on the Mississippi riverboats, they drank it just about everywhere, right on through the Second World War. After that, America seems to have lost the taste. One of our younger correspondents can still recall his naive revulsion upon witnessing Barnaby Jones order a Scotch and Milk (an elemental milk punch also favored by Walt "Pogo" Kelly and Dizzy "Dizzy" Gillespie). We've since brought him to know his error, although like us he still prefers his punch with rum or brandy, or both. (This latter iteration, one of the most voluptuous and comforting of all drinks, has been known to travel under the distasteful moniker of "Bull's Milk.") And no, you can't use skim milk or soy milk.

Ingredients

• 2 ounces dark rum
• 1 teaspoon superfine sugar
• 6 to 8 ounces milk

Glass Type: Collins glass

Instructions

Stir well with cracked ice in a chilled cocktail shaker, then strain into large goblet or Collins glass. Sprinkle with nutmeg, if you like nutmeg. You don't have to make this with rum, of course: Any of the dark liquors (whiskey, brandy) will work just fine (just don't try it with tequila -- or do; what's it to us?). For Bull's Milk, use 1 1/2 ounces brandy flavored with 1/2 ounce dark rum and try not to think about stock breeding.

The Seasons

The Seasons

                                                                                                           

I was thinking back, almost four years ago, when I met the majority of you. I went to several of your pages looking at photographs from those days, or all I could find, and it made me a little melancholy.

I have not fallen out of favor with anyone, well...except one, but he wrote me one day to ask how I was, which was so good of him. I saw in that moment; it was he who was the bigger person. I cannot help but to wonder, had he not wrote me, would I have written him? It made me take a long look at myself, and realize, harboring any ill feelings towards another hurts us more than the person we are angry at. 

Many have separated and never reconnected again. And some for good reason. One cannot intrude into the life of another and reap the rewards, without giving something back in it's place. One must replenish the void they leave behind, for without refilling the kindnesses, the friendship will soon be an empty relationship between the two individuals. 

People are often forced upon one another, in regard to friends of friends. Sometimes, good things occur and healthy relationships are formed. But then, some are look upon as being formidable. Could the fear of losing a friend to another friend be seen as a threat to a friendship that has been engaged for years? I think so. Could it happen? I believe so. 

I believe so, so much, because I have seen it happen. Sometimes, the fear is not within ourselves, but for our friend. When one sees the drastic changes and the influences of another being so profound, it is like watching someone you love in the middle of a lake drowning and you, yourself, not being able to swim to save him. We can only stand at the water's edge and watch him sink. 

But then, I have seen the strong and brave, jump in and swim against the current to pull his friend to safety. They are determined to keep vigil over their friend and to take on the forces at hand. They want to spare them of any harm to their reputation. These are the friends that remain, those willing to pick up the pieces once the drama has settled. These are the characteristics of a true friend. Those who are there through the best and the worst of times. Somehow, knowing the worst will not last and there are still good times to be had. These are 'friends of faithfulness' and a rare commodity they are.

I may not always be available to hang out, to drop by or show up, but I do think of you often, and smile at the things we shared.  Many of you are like me; working, going to college, graduating from college or well into your careers. Some have married or are planning to marry. Some have even started a family, be it married or single parenting. Being a parent is the hardest job in the world - if it is done right.

Some have yet to take on responsibilities. And for you, I pray you will, and stop blaming others for your failures. Your life is not a mishap - if anything it should be happening. Make it happen and never underestimate yourself. 

Some friends come and go like a season. Others are arranged in our lives for good reason.

I know you for a reason or I know you not at all.

  ℰℒℬ                                                                      
  2011