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This poem was passed on to me by one of the Samizdata ‘resting contributors’ and I felt it deserves a holiday season slot here. I have no idea if it is ‘genuine’ but I suspect it is. One way or the other, it says something worth saying and so I give you a:
Different Christmas Poem
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me,and my wife and my child.
“What are you doing?” I asked without fear,
“Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.,
To the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
Then he sighed and he said
“Its really all right, I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night.”
“It’s my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ‘Pearl on a day in December,”
Then he sighed,
“That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘Nam’,
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue… an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.”
“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
“Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,
For being away from your wife and your son.
“Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.
“PLEASE, would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let us try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.”
LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment OIC,
Logistics Cell One Al Taqqadum, Iraq
If anyone knows Jeff Giles, let him know we thought enough of his sentiments to make sure they are seen by a wide audience.
It was a sensational win by a great team
– Shane Warne, discussing the Australian cricket team’s stunning final day comeback to win the second Ashes test and take a 2-0 lead in the series. On the final day, Australia’s two old and tired bowlers, Glenn McGrath and Warne himself, took a total of 42 overs, 18 maidens, 64 runs, 6 wickets, and those numbers are (in case you are wondering what on earth they signify) extremely good .
I must say that I like the style of the Competitive Enterprise Institute. Rather than playing the game with mealy mouthed statements so typical of a lot of think-tanks, they push their ideas with a catchy boot-to-the-goolies like “Smoking is healthier than fascism”. Not surprisingly this is available on a tee-shirt from those most righteous pranksters, Bureaucrash.
I feel a purchase coming on…
Two senior American politicians, one a Republican, one a Democrat, have sent a snotty letter to ExxonMobil in order to tell that firm that it should cease funding views that challenge the Green consensus. The effrontery of these twerps really takes the breath away. It further bolsters my view that many environmentalists, at least on the edges, are hostile to free speech and liberty more generally. If were a senior manager at this oil firm, I would reply by informing these characters over exactly what they can do with such letters. There is no longer any point pretending to be nice to these people.
The Wall Street Journal has a strong editorial here on the subject. Thanks to Reason’s Hit and Run blog for the pointer.
The Waterloo and City line was closed this morning due to “excessive dust“. Moondust?
Coming in 2007: Gordon Brown best Prime Minister since sliced bread say 364 command and control specialists (the public teat profession formerly known as Economist).
After many months of work, travel and no play, I went to a cinema to see Pan’s Labyrinth. A friend of mine thought it was my kind of film and he was right – it is dark, surreal and based on a fairy tale. It is set against the backdrop of the aftermath of the Spanish civil war. The story blurs the distinction between fantasy and reality but only to those who are not familiar with the stark realism of fairy tales. I know on which side of reality I stand.
Visually, the film is reminiscent of Mirrormask, which by comparison is light-hearted and flippant. Almost everything about Pan’s Labyrinth is dreamlike – imagery, acting, music. Except the violence and pain. This is no Disney movie.
It is a stark reminder of brutality of situations in which the warped and the sadistic have the upper hand. There are no heroes or winners. Just those who manage to preserve a shred of humanity by escaping to an alternative reality and by finding courage to act against the overwhelming evil.
It is also a reminder of the deep-seated morality of fairy tales. Tasks, rules, forbidden ‘fruit’ with dire consequences that follow any mis-behaviour. Monsters can be released by seemingly trivial acts of misdemeanour and can only be bound again at enormous cost. So just like the real life.
cross-posted from Media Influencer
This cheerful seasonal scene, complete with 9-foot inflatable Santa, is brought to you from the Beckham Salon, Crawford Street, W1. This small Arab hairdresser’s shop is normally merely a shrine (verging on homoerotic, to my eye) to the most carefully coiffed man in international soccer, and hangout for young men whose hair is almost as insanely tidy as their hero’s.
But this time of year it sprouts, with utter disregard for the cultural apartheid strangers suppose to operate in Marble Arch – and danger to low-flying aircraft – the most fabulously gaudy Christmas decorations.
I count myself as a very fortunate man in many respects. I have a job I enjoy – most of the time, anyway. I am in decent health, have a lovely wife, no serious money troubles, and a supportive family. One of my greatest pieces of good fortune, I reckon, is to have been born in the county of Suffolk. Yes, it may not pulsate with the energy of London or New York, and East Anglia is a part of the world that is unlikely to become one of the great tourist sites of the world. But it has its charms: its ancient churches, pink-washed cottages, attractive seaside towns like Aldeburgh, and a heritage of art and literature that holds up well against all-comers. Gainsborough was a Suffolk man, while Charles Rennie Mackingtosh, whom one normally associates with the city of Glasgow, spent some time painting in Suffolk in the small seaside town of Southwold (which has a great little pier). I grew up in the country on a farm, and am probably the only person in my company who can claim to have driven a combine harvester, ploughed a 300-acre farm and shot game birds.
And of course Suffolk has the glory that was John Constable. There was a recent excellent exhibition of his works at the Tate. His Hay Wain (spellings of this picture seem to vary) is probably one of the most famous paintings of all time. Thousands of people have his prints on their walls and probably wonder what the scenes of Flatford Mill and the River Stour that Constable depicted look like now. The answer is that not much has changed in terms of the scenery, apart from roads and cars. The village of Dedham is pretty recognisable. One of Constable’s paintings is on the walls of the village’s main church.
It was a grand place to meet up with my parents for a pre-Christmas gathering in the area as I will be spending my Christmas in Malta. But one thing left a sour taste and that was the standard of service I received in a pub/restaurant in the area. It is fair to say that television chefs Gordon Ramsay or Nigella Lawson have no fear of competition from this part of the world. The food was indifferent, and the service and the staff so gormless that I began to wonder whether the old cruel saws about country folk being a bit simple might have some basis in fact.
U.S-based blogger Kim du Toit had a recent similar experience of British pub food and service. At a time when the pound is trading high against the U.S. dollar, it is already expensive for Americans to visit Britain on holiday so it hardly makes sense to make the situation worse by bad service. Constable Country, as the Suffolk-Essex borderland is known, is a well-trodden place for Americans, particularly older people who may have spent some time serving in the US Airforce during WW2 and the Cold War at the many bases dotted all over East Anglia. (The region was one big aircraft base, in fact. Here is a book I recommend for aircraft junkies.)
Anyway, Suffolk has that prince of beers, Adnams Ale. No further reasons to go there are needed, surely.
(Update, well, having thought this through I will name the establishment: The Marlborough, in Dedham high street. Let’s be clear, the place is fine in most respects, but the quality of service on Sunday was just not good enough.)
It is a reflexive tic among libertarian types to describe Britain’s NHS as ‘Stalinist’, in reference to its vast monolithic structure and institutional preference for central state planning. Now some indications that the parallels run a little deeper.
The Department of Health’s first reaction to the campaign for people to opt out of the “Spine” medical records database, that I mentioned a couple of days ago, is not to attack it as ‘irresponsible’ as I was expecting. It is to demand that doctors report any patients who try to the authorities. “Let us deal with them,” it appears to be saying.
The Guardian reported yesterday:
The Department of Health provoked uproar among doctors yesterday by asking GPs in England to send in correspondence from objectors who do not want their confidential medical records placed on the Spine, a national NHS database.
Sir Liam Donaldson, the chief medical officer, said letters from patients who want to keep their private medical details out of the government’s reach should be sent to Patricia Hewitt, the health secretary, for “full consideration”.
You will recall that such suggested letters were personal communications with doctors, asking them personally to do something: to code patients records so that they would not be uploaded to the Spine. That’s something that can only (as I understand it) be done locally. “Consideration” by the Secretary of State defeats it.
It also seems to me that it would be a fundamental breach of confidentiality, and if the letter were posted, possibly a criminal offence contrary to the Postal Services Act 2000, for the letter to be forwarded to the Secretary of State without patient consent.
But neither law nor morals may stand in the way of the great plan.
…
BBC Radio 4 had another example this evening. Its File on 4 programme considered endemic MRSA and other antibiotic resistant bacteria in NHS hospitals. It interviewed a couple of epidemiological specialists who said with the current control regime slow progress was to be expected and the government target of 50% reduction in MRSA infections by 2008 is unrealistic. Andy Burnham MP, usually characterised as one of the brightest and best of the Primrose Hill group of New Labour heirs presumptive, was asked to comment. He said the complacency and defeatism of the clinical scientists was unacceptable: there was a target and the Health Service would meet it.
There is quite a lot about the affair of the assassination of Alexander Litvinenko (almost certainly by the Russian secret service) in London. Much of it is quite interesting but there was a line in an article in the Sunday Times that really made my blood boil when they quoted an unnamed minister:
Amid signs that his death could cause a diplomatic row, Tony Blair concluded the cabinet meeting by saying “the most important issue” was likely to be Britain’s long-term relationship with Moscow. Another minister present said: “It caused some alarm that this case is obviously causing tension with the Russians. They are too important for us to fall out with them over this.”
I had to re-read that a couple times as I could hardly believe my eyes:
“…They are too important for us to fall out with them over this…”
So a foreign government can murder someone in Britain with a radioactive substance and some shit in the cabinet is more concerned that we retain good relations with the murdering guilty party? I would dearly love to know which minister said this. Did anyone catch a reference to this remark elsewhere which says who it was? If the Russian state murdering people in London is not just about the best and more righteous reason to ‘fall out’ with a foreign government, then what the hell is a good reason to fall out with a regime? Moreover, to make that remark where it would enter the public record more or less tells Putin he can murder anyone he likes in the UK as relations with the Kremlin are what really matter to HMG.
No doubt the mystery minister is peeved that the late Mr. Litvinenko has the temerity to get himself assassinated on British soil for daring to bad-mouth the psychopathic Vladimir Putin. Yes, the sooner this tiresome freedom-of-speech nonsense is suppressed so that intergovernmental relations can return to normal, the better.
Truly, the state is not your friend.
The trick with sport is to enjoy it when it goes well, and when it goes badly, then it is only a game.
So, let me and all English cricket fans enjoy this, while it lasts:
The big surprise there is Paul Collingwood. Collingwood (or “Coll’wood” as Ceefax calls him) is one of those cricketers who is distinguished not so much by his skill as by his determination. He is skilled, of course he is. But the mental application to make the most of his skill is what made the England selectors back him to come good as an international cricketer. Until he made that score, the more casual observer of the game just did not think him capable of such a thing. Yet Collingwood, amazingly, is now the first Englishman to have made a test match double century in Australia since Walter Hammond did it in 1936. He and Pietersen put on 310 for the fourth wicket, their previous stand having been the only England bright spot in the first game.
Suddenly, Australia’s bowlers looked tired and old. The combined bowling analysis of McGrath and Warne for the last two days, neither of whom now seem to be fully fit, reads as follow: 83 overs 14 maidens 274 runs 1 wicket. Those two have been the backbone of the Australian bowling for the last decade, and those numbers are (in case you are wondering what on earth they signify) not good.
At midnight, or whenever it is, we will all probably be coming gently but firmly down to earth, when the Aussie batters begin to grind out a similar score, on a pitch which is apparently giving little help to bowlers.
But now there is at least hope for England. After the thrashing they got in the first game, a couple of days like the last two that England have had does wonders for team morale, and must also have somewhat deflated the Aussies. What if England’s bowlers also do better than in the previous game, and the Aussie batters do worse, when play resumes in a few hours?
Maybe this Ashes series will turn out as exciting and closely fought as the previous one, and for as long as that lasts, I can enjoy it. Yes, it is all only a game. But it is better not to have to be telling oneself this all the time, as was so very necessary throughout the previous game.
“Why hate someone for the color of their skin when there are much better reasons to hate them”.
Denis Leary, comedian, actor and champion of American firefighters and emergency workers.
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Who Are We? The Samizdata people are a bunch of sinister and heavily armed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the values of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many crimes is a sense of humour and the intermittent use of British spelling.
We are also a varied group made up of social individualists, classical liberals, whigs, libertarians, extropians, futurists, ‘Porcupines’, Karl Popper fetishists, recovering neo-conservatives, crazed Ayn Rand worshipers, over-caffeinated Virginia Postrel devotees, witty Frédéric Bastiat wannabes, cypherpunks, minarchists, kritarchists and wild-eyed anarcho-capitalists from Britain, North America, Australia and Europe.
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