Welcome

Welcome to my blog http://www.skegley.blogspot.com/ . CAVEAT LECTOR- Let the reader beware. This is a Christian Conservative blog. It is not meant to offend anyone. Please feel free to ignore this blog, but also feel free to browse and comment on my posts! You may also scroll down to respond to any post.

For Christian American readers of this blog:


I wish to incite all Christians to rise up and take back the United States of America with all of God's manifold blessings. We want the free allowance of the Bible and prayers allowed again in schools, halls of justice, and all governing bodies. We don't seek a theocracy until Jesus returns to earth because all men are weak and power corrupts the very best of them.
We want to be a kinder and gentler people without slavery or condescension to any.

The world seems to be in a time of discontent among the populace. Christians should not fear. God is Love, shown best through Jesus Christ. God is still in control. All Glory to our Creator and to our God!


A favorite quote from my good friend, Jack Plymale, which I appreciate:

"Wars are planned by old men,in council rooms apart. They plan for greater armament, they map the battle chart, but: where sightless eyes stare out, beyond life's vanished joys, I've noticed,somehow, all the dead and mamed are hardly more than boys(Grantland Rice per our mutual friend, Sarah Rapp)."

Thanks Jack!

I must admit that I do not check authenticity of my posts. If anyone can tell me of a non-biased arbitrator, I will attempt to do so more regularly. I know of no such arbitrator for the internet.











Monday, June 14, 2010

New Bill Maudlin stamp 2010- another Jack Plymale and 'the Bookers' pearl

Thanks again, Jack!












http://www.cnn.com/2010/OPINION/03/07/greene.mauldin.stamp/index.html






My younger son, Jeff, a Grandview Heights teacher and a Dublin Jerome football assistant coach, coaches those dumb old linemen which you once were, has taken an interest in WWII and the people who served us. Gib always touted the linemen as the ones to make the team go even though the backs got all the press. I have Bill Maudlin's "Up Front" which I am giving him to read along with a couple of Ernie Pyle books.





Don't we know who America's heroes truly are! I was not up front with them, but for the will of God and Army orders, I might have been. I was in the battles of Tokyo during and after the Korean "police action' from 1953 trhrough 1954.



Sam



----- Original Message -----









From: "Jack H Plymale" jackh.plymale@gmail.com



















To: ">" <@smtp109.sbc.mail.mud.yahoo.com>


























Bill Mauldin stamp honors grunts' hero.









The post office gets a lot of criticism. Always has, always will.









And with the renewed push to get rid of Saturday mail delivery,









expect complaints to intensify.









But the United States Postal Service deserves a standing ovation









for something that happened last month: Bill Mauldin got his own









postage stamp.









Mauldin died at age 81 in the early days of 2003. The end of his









life had been rugged. He had been scalded in a bathtub, which led to









terrible injuries and infections; Alzheimer's disease was inflicting









its cruelties. Unable to care for himself after the scalding, he









became a resident of aCalifornia nursing home, his health and spirits









in rapid decline.



















He was not forgotten, though. Mauldin, and his work, meant so









much to the millions of Americans who fought in World War II, and to









those who had waited for them to come home. He was a kid cartoonist









for Stars and Stripes, the military newspaper; Mauldin's drawings of









his muddy, exhausted, whisker-stubbled infantrymen Willie and Joe









were the voice of truth about what it was like on the front lines.



















Mauldin was an enlisted man just like the soldiers he drew for;









his gripes were their gripes, his laughs were their laughs, his









heartaches were their heartaches. He was one of them. They loved him.



















He never held back. Sometimes, when his cartoons cut too close









for comfort, his superior officers tried to tone him down. In one









memorable incident, he enraged Gen. George S. Patton, and Patton









informed Mauldin he wanted the pointed cartoons -- celebrating the









fighting men, lampooning the high-ranking officers -- to stop. Now.



















"I'm beginning to feel like a fugative from th' law of averages."









The news passed from soldier to soldier. How was Sgt. Bill









Mauldin going to stand up to Gen. Patton? It seemed impossible.



















Not quite. Mauldin, it turned out, had an ardent fan: Five-star









Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, supreme commander of the Allied forces in









Europe . Ike put out the word: Mauldin draws what Mauldin wants.









Mauldin won. Patton lost.



















If, in your line of work, you've ever considered yourself a young









hotshot, or if you've ever known anyone who has felt that way about









himself or herself, the story of Mauldin's young manhood will humble









you. Here is what, by the time he was 23 years old, Mauldin had









accomplished:



















"By the way, wot wuz them changes you wuz gonna make









when you took over last month, sir?"









He won the Pulitzer Prize. He was featured on the cover of Time









magazine. His book "Up Front" was the No. 1 best-seller in the United









States .



















All of that at 23. Yet when he returned to civilian life and he









grew older, he never lost that boyish Mauldin grin, he never outgrew









his excitement about doing his job, he never big-shotted or









high-hatted the people with whom he worked every day.



















I was lucky enough to be one of them; Mauldin roamed the hallways









of theChicago Sun-Times in the late 1960s and early 1970s with no









more officiousness or air of haughtiness than if he was a copyboy.









That impish look on his face remained.



















He had achieved so much. He had won a second Pulitzer Prize, and









he should have won a third, for what may be the single greatest









editorial cartoon in the history of the craft: his deadline rendering,









on the day President John F. Ken nedy was assassinated, of the statue









at the Lincoln Memorial slumped in grief, its head cradled in its









hands. But he never acted as if he was better than the people he met.









He was still Mauldin the enlisted man.



















During the late summer of 2002, as Mauldin lay in that California









nursing home, some of the old World War II infantry guys caught wind









of it. They didn't want Mauldin to go out that way. They thought he









should know that he was still their hero.



















"This is th' town my pappy told me about."









Gordon Dillow, a columnist for the Orange County Register, put









out the call in Southern California for people in the area to send









their best wishes to Mauldin; I joined Dillow in the effort, helping









to spread the appeal nationally so that Bill would not feel so alone.









Soon more than 10,000 letters and cards had arrived at Mauldin's









bedside.









Even better than that, the old soldiers began to show up just to









sit with Mauldin, to let him know that they were there for him, as









he, long ago, had been there for them. So many volunteered to visit









Bill that there was a waiting list. Here is how Todd DePastino, in









the first paragraph of his wonderful biography of Mauldin, described









it:









"Almost every day in the summer and fall of 2002 they came to









Park Superior nursing home in Newport Beach , California , to honor









Army Sergeant, Technician Third Grade, Bill Mauldin. They came bearing









relics of their youth: medals, insignia, photographs, and carefully









folded newspaper clippings. Some wore old garrison caps. Others









arrived resplendent in uniforms over a half century old. Almost all









of them wept as they filed down the corridor like pilgrims fulfilling









some long-neglected obligation."



















One of the veterans explained to me why it was so important:









"You would have to be part of a combat infantry unit to









appreciate what moments of relief Bill gave us. You had to be reading









a soaking wet Stars and Stripes in a water-filled foxhole and then









see one of his cartoons."



















"Th' hell this ain't th' most important hole in the world. I'm in it."









Mauldin is buried in Arlington National Cemetery . Last month,









the kid cartoonist made it onto a first-class postage stamp. It's an









honor that most generals and admirals never receive.



















What Mauldin would have loved most, I believe, is the sight of









the two guys who are keeping him company on that stamp.









Take a look at it.









There's Willie. There's Joe.



















And there, to the side, drawing them and smiling that shy,









quietly observant smile, is Mauldin himself. With his buddies, right









where he belongs. Forever.





























--









Jack P.



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