One of the task of commenters here is to tell Bob when he makes an ass of himself.
Which is a lot of work because it happens a lot.
One of the routine things that happens to an old man is that he tried so hard to attack the people who were a pain in the ass when he was young that he becomes a pain in the ass himself.
When I was coming up the bane of my life was the World War II Generation. You know, the crowd that has abandoned all pretences and now just calls itself The Greatest Generation.
They were really really sickening and frustrating to a young Bob Whitaker. Every time I would say we should fight integration, they would demand cowardice in the name of True Courage.
They said they couldn’t be moral cowards, you see, because they had been in World War II, so they were Heroes.
Whikle attacking them, I wanted to make it clear that I had been in a little danger myself during the Cold War.
And, as an old man will, I beat it into the ground. So Peter makes fun of my pewter medals in exactly the same way as I got sick of the Greatest Generation talking about theirs.
No war hero ever made the slightest difference in real history. Moral courage is ALL that counts.
Well, I have made my point and I have made an ass of myself.
That’s the story of my life.
#1 by Peter on 11/07/2005 - 4:43 pm
NO, Bob, I don’t think you’ve made an ass out of yourself.
MY apologies to YOU for not making it clear that my clumsy reference to pewter was an attempt to get you to talk more. But you are clearly a man who wears his honor on the inside. Tell us some stories, and we will give you a little glory, too.
I like hearing war stories; I LOVE history. Just a short while ago, I rode down to the last operating water-powered grist mill in SC to buy grits. I stayed an extra couple of hours to listen to the men take their place in the succession of history as “old timers.” These men are old enough to start losing their beards and eye-brows — passed ninety. I listened to all kinds of crazy stories, stories that have been whittled down to nice little works of art. It never occurred to me while they were talking that these were the generation that got us into this mess. It was an honor just to hear them, even if only to hear men talk so slowly. Cool, huh?
I guess some people find stories embarrassing. I don’t. You had to make a choice when you went secret either to get the glory in the Marines or to keep quiet and be content with the pewter that you never would wear, except on the inside where it counts. I believe that those who go secret are the elite of elite and they who saw the most real fighting.
And Communism fell.
So, please tell us your stories, Bob, and pass a lemonade. Yours is the best!
By the way, you have a generation or two left before you’re an Old Timer, but I think you may have a little glory this soon, anyway.
Maybe you’re too young to be Uncle Bob, so maybe we should call you Big Brother? (ha ha)
#2 by Mark on 11/07/2005 - 5:14 pm
Bob, Peter’s just miffed no one ever gave him any medals, pewter or otherwise. Of course now since I’ve said that I’m sure he’ll make up one of his stories about “how he won the war” or “advised the king of Moronica on something or other” and we will all be running for the outhouse in a few seconds.
Hey, if we ever march together and dodge a few punches with the enemy, be sure to wear your pewter medals. I’ll make sure no one pockets them during the brawl. Provided I can see straight afterwards.
#3 by Peter on 11/08/2005 - 6:16 pm
“Pewter medals” are a rather cool metaphor for doing good, heroic deeds because they are good and heroic. They are a metaphor for doing what’s right because it’s right.
You don’t wear them. That’s why they’re pewter and not something shiny. They represent honor, not glory.
There are official organizations in this country which send men out on missions which are secret. When fighting Communism, those men sent out were the idealists of the idealists. They were willing to die for a cause knowing full well they would never get any recognition for their deeds glorious. Indeed, it is generally assumed that the very real combat they often faced was often harsher than what most Marines face, and they wouldn’t even get a military funeral. They knew that if they were helping their country and helping Communism to fall, it was a job well done.
And Communism did fall.
The story I’m told is that as a concession in at least one organization, the brass decided to issue pewter medals, which as I said, make an apt metaphor for honor, not recognition. But not only do they not wear them (you don’t put medals on cammies or civies), they cannot talk about them! Imagine the infuriation to know what you went through but know you can’t even talk about where you were or what you did to get them — these pewter medals.
By bringing up again pewter medals, I am openly baiting Bob to tell us his deeds of glory (without of course dispelling any info that would get him into hot water).
So let me define some things here. Bright shiny medals = physical courage. Pewter medals = moral courage (physical courage is also implied).
I am trying to make my bait look more juicy by being less oblique. (Mark: oblique means “round about.”)
Bob helped win the war against the disease that kills quickly. He won.
Bob is now fighting the war against the disease that kills slowly (and completely).
I want to hear any stories he has to tell when he was in RFA as an aviation negotiator, etc.
And he is entitled to all the pewter medals he can frame on his wall.
Bob, tell us another war story.
And pass the ammu… uh, I mean lemonade.
#4 by joe rorke on 11/09/2005 - 2:06 pm
I had a spiritual teacher who is gone now. He told me that the awards of this world are trash. Have nothing to do with them. As soon as he told me this I understood it. I understand it even more today. For those of you who are Christians there is a Scripture which goes something like this: “love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life is not of the Father but is of the world.” That’s from my memory. I didn’t just read it out of the Book. It’s in there somewhere. Awards of any kind are of this world. No man can serve two masters.