Sign of a Nation
Equal justice, right and law
Hats Off! Flag passing!

Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A dash of color beneath the sky:
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!

Blue and crimson and white it shines,
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.
Hats off!
The colors before us fly;
But more than the flag is passing by.

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and to save the State:
Weary marches and sinking ships;
Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land’s swift increase;
Equal justice, right and law,
Stately honor and reverend awe;

Sign of a nation, great and strong
To ward her people from foreign wrong:
Pride and glory and honor,–all
Live in the colors to stand or fall.

Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!
Henry Holcomb Bennett

Henry Holcomb Bennett (December 5, 1863 – April 30, 1924) was an American author, journalist, and poet.

Bennett was born in Chillicothe, Ohio on December 5, 1863. He attended Kenyon College and graduated in 1886. He moved to Kansas for a time before returning to his home town as a journalist. He also began submitting creative writing to various newspapers and magazines.

Bennett was the author of poems such as “A Desert Love Song” (Munsey’s Aug. 1902) and “Gangway! Gangway”, (National Magazine Mar. 1901) and the short stories “The Face of Ompah” (National Magazine June 1900) and “A Glorious Privilege”, (National Magazine Nov. 1900) but remains best known as the author of the popular patriotic poem, “Hats Off – The Flag Goes By”.

It was first published in The Youth’s Companion on January 13, 1898. It was collected in An American Anthology in 1900, edited by Edmund Clarence Stedman (1833-1908). The poem was also published in The Young and Field Reader, Book Five, Boston, Ginn and Company, c. 1915, submitted by Ross I. Morrison, Sr and Woman’s World in July 1919. It was soon published and sung widely—especially on the 4th of July. Years later, poet E. E. Cummings recited the poem at his class’s commencement.

Bennett is buried in Grandview Cemetery, Chillicothe, Ross County, Ohio, USA. (wikipedia)

Technology so great …
Can go to outer space, but
can’t get glasses clean

I think it really got bad for me with the plastic or polycarbonate lenses and for the life of me I cannot get them clean.

I cannot get that greasy film off.

I have tried everything from space age wipes to extra extra special cleaning clothes.

I have spent 10 minutes polishing my glasses only to put them on and and seemingly instantly, a fingerprint shows up.

So I live with it but geeeee whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

My grand daughter recently saw a photo of me when I was kid, before glasses.

She said, “It’s Poppa when he could see!”

mighty endeavor
conquer greed, race arrogance
road will be long, hard

Adapted from the text of Radio Address & Prayer on D-Day, June 6, 1944, by President Franklin D. Roosevelt.

“My fellow Americans: Last night, when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far.

And so, in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer:

Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our Nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.

Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.

They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. For the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces. Success may not come with rushing speed, but we shall return again and again; and we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph.

They will be sore tried, by night and by day, without rest-until the victory is won. The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men’s souls will be shaken with the violences of war.

For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and good will among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home.

Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy kingdom.

And for us at home — fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas — whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them–help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice.

Many people have urged that I call the Nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long and the desire is great, I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.

Give us strength, too — strength in our daily tasks, to redouble the contributions we make in the physical and the material support of our armed forces.

And let our hearts be stout, to wait out the long travail, to bear sorrows that may come, to impart our courage unto our sons wheresoever they may be.

And, O Lord, give us Faith. Give us Faith in Thee; Faith in our sons; Faith in each other; Faith in our united crusade. Let not the keenness of our spirit ever be dulled. Let not the impacts of temporary events, of temporal matters of but fleeting moment let not these deter us in our unconquerable purpose.

With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogancies. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister Nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.

Thy will be done, Almighty God.

strange business comes out
grappling barehanded with fate
so inexplicable

Today’s haiku was adapted from a passage from a lecture by Bruce Catton at a meeting of the Chicago Civil War Round Table on April 12, 1957.

Catton said: I do not think that all of us together, vast as our knowledge is, would pretend that we know everything there is to know about the American Civil War. We are much to modest for that: and as the lady in the movie said, we have much to be modest about. Nevertheless, I do think that all of us realize this: that as our knowledge of the Civil War broadens, the area within which we are willing to make hard-and-fast statements of face steadily diminishes. It winds up a mystery: a flaming, heaven-sent mystery, a strange business which comes out of men grappling bare-handed with fate, a complex and inexplicable affair in which ordinary human beings do, finally, confront destiny coming down the road with a shattering question to which no one quite has the answer. The Civil War begins in a mystery and ends in one; all we can be sure of is that along the way we ordinary human beings, rendered extraordinary by their confrontation with fate, coming to grips with something that goes beyond their own horizon.

A recurring theme in these daily haiku’s is that, everyday, people grapple bare-handed with fate, with the cards in their hand.

Everyday there are ordinary human beings, rendered extraordinary by their confrontation with fate.

About Bruce Catton, he may be the first person in my life that I recognized as one of those people who were called ‘authors’ because they wrote books. Catton was also from Michigan and grew up in Benzonia. His book about growing up in Michigan, Waiting for the Morning Train, is a great read and a delight to own.

The first books I was given as gifts were by Bruce Catton.

One summer when I was around 10, my Grand Father rescued a copy of Mr. Lincoln’s Army that was being discarded by the Garfield Park Reformed Church Library and gave to me with the words, “I told them my Grand Son will want this.”

(As an odd note, I have a copy of Waiting for the Morning Train that my Mom planned as a Christmas Gift for my Grand Father in 1972. Sad to say, my Grand Father died that year on December 16th. The book was in my Mom’s room for a long time until she asked if I would want to have it.)

That summer, from that volume of Mr. Lincoln’s Army, my brother Jack read chapters to me at bedtime.

Even today, if I reread the chapter, Crackers and Bullets, I hear it in my head in Jack’s voice, pace and phrasing.

Catton wrote about the Civil War in a way that allowed you to see those men grappling with fate.

Everyday, there are ordinary human beings, rendered extraordinary by their confrontation with fate.