Category Archives: Terrorism

Asking for Prayers

I am sending prayers and hopefully a unit of O neg Boston’s way.

At Least 2 Dead, Dozens Injured After Two Bombs Explode at Boston Marathon

More news here. Reportedly two more explosive devices were found near the bombing site.

It takes a special grade of coward to do something like this. We all know that, no matter what nationality, creed, gender the terrorist may be.

But my question is, after all the ammo purchases, all the armoured vehicles, all of the claims that they are there to protect you from the ever-vague them… where were the DHS Schutzstaffel??

This enquiring mind wants to know.

Crossposted at H&B, with NSFW wording.

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Nothing to Say

Except to ask for your prayers.

cross

I can not imagine such a vile and evil act, inflicting a carnage upon children.

Dear Heavenly father, please lift them up in Your loving arms. Give those who lost loved ones today the strength and comfort to help them.

In Your name,

Amen.


We Remember

And we shall never forget.

We woke up that day. Let us remember the sacrifices, and never forget the reason. And above all, let us remain vigilant.

Always.


At Dawn We Slept

Seventy years ago today, what was then the Empire of Japan attacked our Naval base at Pearl Harbor, waking us up to the reality that isolationism was no longer an option. In all, 2,402 Americans were killed and 1,282 wounded. The largest casualties were borne by the U.S.S. Arizona, which lost 1,177 Americans.

With confidence in our armed forces – with the unbounded determination of our people – we will gain the inevitable triumph – so help us God. — President Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Oil still weeps like tears on the water, and I am reminded to keep an eternal vigilance against all enemies, those that shout, and those who keep their silence as they plot to strike against us.


Remembering

My family says I have the best memory. I remember the most obscure, most trivial things. Like the time my sister tricked me into eating mudpies because they were full of minerals and iron. To this day she doesn’t remember that. But my tummy and I sure do.

Tomorrow marks the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I know most people remember what they were doing on that calm Tuesday morning. I remember what I wore (denim shorts and a yellow T-shirt, my hair up in a clip), what I fixed for breakfast (scrambled eggs and toast, and oatmeal for Little One and Hubby), the pot Little One was using for a drum (Calphalon anodized 1 qt.), getting Eldest ready for her second week of first grade, putting her hair in braids and packing her lunch (ham sandwich, carrots, fruit cup, and a juice box), watching Son build his daily Lego masterpiece (Duplo tower). And I remember Hubby calling me from Ft. Bragg to tell me to put the TV on the news.

I remember sitting there, watching the smoldering coming from the World Trade Center, saddened by the thought that some poor guy underestimated his little plane and thinking there would be casualties from this accident. But then the smoke and fire was just too much, and it just didn’t look right. I remember calling my dad at his office in El Paso, and telling him what was going on, and as I watched, I saw a huge airliner hit the other tower, and sadness turned to horror, my voice reflecting it as I relayed the happenings to my dad. My dad, the calmest person I know, instructed me to hang up the phone, and to call Hubby immediately. I was crying, trying to keep it together because two little souls were worried about their momma. And my dad barked at me again, repeating his orders until I could function. I called Hubby and what I heard chilled me.

“We are under attack.”

It wasn’t the words, it was the tone of his voice. I was speaking to a soldier now, not a husband. One who had prepared for war at a very young age, thanks to his father. And one that was ready and willing to go, if and when the time came. He calmly told me to keep the kids occupied, and away from the TV until we knew the extent of the attack. And then he told me he wouldn’t be home for dinner.

Fast forward to yesterday. I overheard a woman speaking to her friend how she just didn’t understand why we don’t move on and not think about 9/11/01 any more. To her, it was just so long ago, and we should just put it behind us. I admit, I was very angry. Forgetting is the first step in repeating, after all. But 9/11 was not “long ago”. Not when you have a gaping hole still seeping in the middle of New York City, one that wounds the Nation’s soul. A gaping hole that keeps being salted by the likes of political correctness.

Remembering gives us hope. Remembering gives us a goal. Remembering honors those who were killed, and those who died to protect us.

Forgetting lets the terrorists win.


The Stuff of Nightmares

I don’t have nightmares very often. Once or twice I have woken up in tears, and those were bad. I can even remember them vividly. But usually the so-called “nightmares” I have don’t involve death, dismemberment, blood, guts, gore (Al Gore, yes, but that’s a subject for another post), or maiming.

I know…I’m doing it wrong.

No, what I classify as a “nightmare” usually leaves me feeling anxious and overwhelmed, like I’m drowning and can’t get to the surface. This time was no different. I had a bad dream where I was travelling with my family to another country, and was at the airport going through screening, and the TSA agent asks for our ID, which were our Social Security cards, and my son forgot his at home, so Hubby had to go to the Justice of the Peace (I don’t get that either), and get a facsimile for the agent, while the line got longer and longer, and when he returned, the agent used it for HIM, not for son, and I told her she made a mistake, and she yelled, “WE NEVER MAKE MISTAKES!!!”, and a guard came over and took me to a holding cell, and Hubby said he would take the kids on the vacation, and would pick me up afterwards, and the agents then proceeded to tell me why they don’t make mistakes, and all the time they were cutting Eldest’s birthday cake and eating it!!!!

Like this, only with TSA gloves.

I woke up anxious and scared, and the first thing to go through my mind was, “I better not have to go through TSA screening when I go pick up the cake.”

Which on the surface is ridiculous, but scaringly possible. About the TSA checking other places, not about them eating the cake.

Yet.