Speaking of turkeys

My father was a hunter.  When I was very young, I thought it was because he was in the army. But once I reached school age, I realized he’d been hunting all his life.  If we were stationed anywhere within a reasonable distance, we spent most Thanksgivings on the family farm while I was in school. Friday morning the men would go out hunting rabbits and birds.  Frankly, I didn't have much interest in killing small animals but I wore the coat and carried the gun to look the part.

In my father’s later years, after hunting just about everything but what Africans call big game, he had one item on this bucket list. He wanted, as he put it, to “harvest” a turkey. After retiring from military/government service in Washington, DC, he returned with my mom to Indiana, where they both had siblings still living. 

The McConnell family farm had been sold but my mother's clan still owned acreage and livestock in the western part of the state. The woods on their farm became my dad's sanctuary. He tried bow hunting for deer, with no luck. He built a blind in a tree to watch for game but he fell asleep there one day and fell out of the tree.  He dragged himself to his truck and drove to the hospital.  After that, he stopped sitting in trees with a gun across his lap and bought a cell phone.

It was on the farm that he first caught sight of the turkey.  The bird walked proudly across the open field and seemed to know exactly where he was going. He was quite a specimen.  Dad said you could judge a turkey by his beard and this one had a very long black beard, a sign of maturity and stature in the bird world...so I'm told.

Dad watched the turkey for months and finally named him Clarence.  Why Clarence? I guess I'll never know. Dad just said Clarence this and Clarence that and we accepted it. The bird had his route and each day he would come and go the same way with Dad studying every move and nuance.

We never knew exactly when Dad shot Clarence.  He took the bird directly to the taxidermist. I prefer to think that we didn't eat him for Thanksgiving dinner when the bird showed up at Christmas time as proud as ever, showing off that big long beard, sitting right next to the fireplace, nice and warm.

The battle of man versus beast can be an honorable undertaking. I support the native Americans view of the hunt and the respect they have for their conquests. That drew me to the Na'vi in the movie Avatar, as well. My dad and Clarence had an understanding.  There was a meeting of the minds.  My father was an honorable man and I choose to believe that his "harvest" was at least in part a spiritual one. Clarence looked at peace with the world. And so did my father.

It was 50 years ago today...

 

How many times have you heard that phrase in the past couple of years? I’ve heard it a lot and that got me thinking.  The “Turbulent Sixties” weren’t all that turbulent. Not the first half of the decade, anyway. In fact, from President Kennedy’s election in 1960 through LBJ signing the Civil Rights Act of 1964, it was one of the all-time great periods in our country’s history…even better than Twitter.

Most of what has happened to us in the past half century was greatly influenced by the early 1960's. We entered the Space Age then and Star Trek first appeared on our television screens. President Kennedy kicked off the Space Race and, not long after, John Glenn circled the earth three times and we were off to the moon.

It was exciting to be an American. We made an American car that was the envy of the world, the Ford Mustang.  We introduced the touchtone telephone and the microwave oven at the Seattle World's Fair and communication and frozen food have been improving ever since. Speaking of the World's Fair, it propelled Seattle into the global spotlight and made many people outside this country very envious of our little Northwest corner of the world.

For me and the millions of other "Boomers", that period of time set the stage for how our lives would play out...the influences, concerns and opportunities were all fresh and new. The "Caution.." statement went on every pack of cigarettes. For the first time, the condition of our environment became a focus for us. Bob Dylan debuted in Greenwich Village and then there was the Beatles. Our early musical influences were taking form.

It was amazing when Willie Mays signed the largest baseball contract in history for $100,000...imagine that, $100,000 (baseball players were the highest paid professional athletes in our country at that time). And my hero, Mickey Mantle, and Roger Maris battled each other to break Babe Ruth's "unbreakable" record of 60 homeruns...and Maris hit 61, legitimately, no extra games, no steroids, he just did it.

MLK won the Nobel Peace Prize. The Peace Corps started then, giving school kids like me a fresh look at the world beyond our shores. Add Johnny Carson taking over the Tonight Show and Dr. No showing up with Sean Connery and Ursula Andress in the first James Bond movie and you're starting to get the idea of what kind of an impression this period made on us.

In some ways, this second decade of the new millennium has certain elements of those glory days 50 years ago. My friend and fellow "Boomer" Sally Jewell, now Madam Secretary of the Interior, often says that one of the main societal influences we are coping with is the transfer of power from the Boomers to the Millennials. With us in the Boomer Boat are Bill and Hillary Clinton, President Obama, Bono, Michael Jordan, Princess Diana, George Clooney, Bill Gates,  J.K. Rowling, Stephen Colbert and Wynton Marsalis. Pretty good company.

The past half century has changed the world and changed us. The early 60's gave us hope and now we seem to have lost it.  The spirit that came from the youth back then propelled us into frontiers of the unknown.  This new generation has got to lead on something besides technology. When all is done you end up with the people. 50 years ago today, the people had the fire. We've got to stick together and make things work.

The Poppies Grow...

A guy in a VFW hat was selling poppies at the Fred Meyer store on Sunday. He seemed a little like the lone Girl Scout on the last day of the cookie sale because I used to see groups from the Veterans of Foreign Wars selling them on every street corner downtown around Veterans Day. And vets were proud to wear them. This holiday has a different name in other countries…Remembrance Day in the British Commonwealth and Europe.  But everywhere, it’s a day to honor and remember those who have served their country in times of war. It’s a day for the living.

Our country has been fighting in the Middle East since 1990. Almost 25 years have gone by with little progress being made on the political front. One tiny bright spot shines through those two and a half decades and that is the gain in our respect for those who have been in the service during wartime. Tens of thousands have been deployed and returned. An entire generation of young people, men and women, over 2.5 million, have served in the Middle East conflicts. To me that’s a staggering number.

Everyone who serves is not a hero.  That word is a bit over-used these days. But everyone who serves is worthy of our allegiance for their commitment. My grandfather volunteered during World War I but was turned down for flat-feet. He always regretted it. My father volunteered for WWII and served in the European Theater, including the D-Day invasion on June 6. He made a life-long career of it.

When I had the McConnell Company, we always took November 11 off…because I am a veteran and I got to decide. Many companies don’t recognize it as a holiday today. That bothers me. It’s a day of remembrance that most of our world shares. Its origin is from the signing of the armistice that ended World War I, the war to end all wars. It was the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month.

The poppies have become a symbol of that day almost 100 years ago when the world was at peace. “In Flanders Fields the poppies grow…” a poem written by a Canadian soldier, sparked the movement to recognize that day and those who have served. I’ve been to Flanders Fields and plan to go again soon, mostly to honor my father and his service. This year marks the anniversary of the day he walked under the Arc de Triomphe with hundreds of other Allied troops after they liberated Paris from Nazi tyranny. A time for celebration.

I am always moved to write on Veterans Day. Growing up in a military family instills a certain spirit in many children, as it did in me. My father was a role model in many ways but he and I had very different views about a lot of things…just not about serving your country. This place we call home is not perfect but it’s worth fighting for, if it comes to that. Keep your eyes out for those poppies, young and old. Wish the wearers a good day and tell them you’re proud of their service.  They deserve it.