Tomas Young. Please continue to remember him in prayer......

A MOTHER OF AN IRAQ VET SPEAKS OUT...Not One More Day….. Not One More Dime….. Not One More Life…... Not One More Lie! End the Occupation! Bring the Troops Home Now! And Take Care of Them When They Get Here! (martyonthehomefront@blogspot.com)


UPDATE on the courageous severely disabled Iraq War Vet Tomas Young:

IVAW member Tomas Young has moved to a rehab hospital in Chicago. He is excited to get started with rehab. Tomas is the subject of the documentary Body of War and the curator of the album Body of War Music. His contributions to IVAW are numerous. We send him and his family our best wishes in this difficult time.Tomas Young and his family welcome correspondence. You can now write them at: Rehab Institute of Chicago (or "R.I.C.)
Patient, Tomas Young, 345 E. Superior Street, Chicago, Il. 60611


For Tomas.............

Wish You Were Here By Pink Floyd (Roger Waters, 1975)

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.



Comments 8-10-08 (2)


Mary Ann http://www.844mas@gmail.com said...
Thank you, Marty, for your kindness to my fellow IVAW member. His voice is sincerely missed by those like me who continue to speak out. Every mention of his name is treasured, an essential encouragement to remind us all that we must not give up either. Mary Ann
7:34 PM

martyonthehomefront@blogspot.com said...
You are so very welcome Mary Ann.When I first started blogging it was for my own sanity. But now, my sole purpose is to share your voices with all who pass by here. Thank you for having the courage to speak out. As this war drags on your tribe will increase. Together, we will end this.
8:26 PM


When………………..?

Stories in the North Coast News........

On Wednesdays I receive my wonderful copy of the North Coast News in my mailbox. There is always interesting reading in there. I quickly turn to the "Letters to the Editor" where locals vent to the max, and to the "On the Record" section, the police logs. Our new editor is trying to get the local population to quit defaming each other in the paper, so the Letters to the Editor section will probably be bland for awhile. But the police logs always have a few hilarious snippets. Here are some from the August 6th paper:

Local Police Log:

July 24

Traffic hazard
Pt. Brown Avenue, NW
9:08 am
Someone put bubbles in the fountain
at the gates of town. Caller thinks
motorcyclists will slip on the bubbles.

July 26

Disorderly conduct
Damon Road, NW
6:10 am
Request contact with a party in the
restaurant. Male running around
stark naked.

July 27

Trespassing
North Wynoochee Drive, SW
1:07 am
Subjects are setting up camp in the
front yard of a residence, without
the owner's permission.

Information report
Pt. Brown Avenue, NE
5:12 pm
Request check on Galway Bay
Restaurant sign. It now says anus
instead of angus.

Animal problem
Beach, North of Jetty
5:05 pm
Caller reports dead body of a
goat wearing a red collar, there
on the beach.

County Sheriff's Log

July 18

Intoxicated persons
State Route 109
1:10 pm
Caller reports eight intoxicated
subjects walking down the
highway carrying a lot of beer.

My goodness, this is a terrible crime wave. What ever will we do here at the beach where it used to be so safe and quiet! Perhaps we will have to restart that neighborhood watch that used to be so active. I'll be sure to read the next issue........riveting!

Here in our little community......

I live in a very small beach community with a population of around 5,000 on a good day. Crime is pretty nonexistent here, except for the occasional domestic dispute or drunkeness that gets out of hand from time to time. So you can imagine how surprised I was to become the unwitting victim of a petty crime. As I prepared to do my usual Monday afternoon demonstration at the four-way stop, I parked my truck at the coffee shop as usual. My co-demonstrators parked beside me. We walked to the intersection, got organized and proceeded on with the demonstration. Meanwhile, back at my truck, a 13 to 15 year old boy decided to deface my tailgate with a piece of plastic or something. I actually saw the kid near my truck and didn't think anything of it at the time. The kid then showed up at our demonstration, ran wildly by waving his arms and shouting obscenities, then he joined some other youngsters on the east side of Pt. Brown Avenue. I did not know of the damage to my truck until the next morning when we left in the other vehicle to go to the beach. I saw the huge white scratches on the tailgate as we backed out of the driveway..... my heart sank. The following poem tells the story better than this post.

The Kid

Imagine this kid lounging around at the recreation center
Hoping for some attention, perhaps someone will enter
Engage him in some bantering, joking, any conversation
He’s so immature, unsure, without a shred of inspiration.

He gives up his little quest, he aimlessly departs the place
Nowhere to go in particular, he looks around for mischief
Gazing down the street he spies the traffic and the people
There on the middle island with their signs, it’s the vigil.

So nearby sits that dark blue vehicle, with bumper stickers
He grins, a thought begins, with jest he gleefully snickers
How fortunate his luck, spot the unguarded truck that way
A little piece of plastic’s all he needs, to make the lady pay.

Casually he stoops way down, out of view, surreptitiously
He scratches away frantically in a frenzied burst of energy
The deed is done, adrenaline’s humming, so powerful is he
A sneering mask of satisfaction on his rosy freckled cheek.

Just another petty crime, an angry kid with too much time
No parent supervision, an unpopular boy perhaps, alone
A fury welling up, low dog and just a pup, the angriest kid
To prey upon the population as he comes within their midst.

Wonder when he will grow up, or if he will, unsure that bet
Recklessness may lead to appalling things, unthought of yet
Change happens every day, he may overcome his cowardice
May modify his plan, yet become a man, given just a chance.

I was literally in a fog for days. I even absentmindedly drove too fast in town, something I never do, and got caught doing 50 in a 40 mph zone. Happily I was let off light by Officer Hirt who knew of the vandalism to my truck. Just settle down, Mary Ann, he said. Things will work out ok. Yeah right, when parents regain control over their kids, I thought to myself. I wished the kid had attacked me, personally. At least I could have fought back.

So I've decided to start my own blog......

Here I am starting my own blog even though I know full well I have very little to say that is original. There are so many truly amazing bloggers and websites I enjoy..... but every once in awhile I want to see my own work in print, or maybe I need to vent or rant a bit. What ever did we amateur journalists do before the Internet? So I think to start this off right I will post a poem I wrote back in June, that fits right in with life at the beach on the central coast of Washington State.

Little Sand Castles

Summer weekends at the beach
Children play along the strand
Safe and loved and full of life
They build castles in the sand

One small child begins to play
Contented there but all alone
Another joins with cries of joy
And on it goes as castles form

Moats and walls of every size
Towers soar to their design
Something magic happens here
Special castles from their mind

Children’s castles dot the shore
Each unique in their own way
Made with pleasure in the sand
Meant to linger here and stay

Parents call the children in
Abandoned castles left alone
To sink and fall within the tide
Rolling in to claim its home

Summer shores are quiet now
Castles there were never safe
Like treasure lost into the sand
Memories now beneath the waves.

Oh, and just in case anyone got the wrong impression, I am not all sweetness and light and poetry and such. On Mondays and Fridays I can be found standing with my "Fund the Wounded, Not the War" sign at a couple of well traveled locations, along with my wonderful like-minded friends and fellow activists. Hey there America, let's all pitch in to help stop the Iraq war and occupation NOW!