Category Archives: history

Operation Market Garden

I am a history buff. When I was dreaming of becoming a teacher, I dreamed of teaching American history and sharing my love of the subject. Instead, I’ve taught other subjects as my primary assignment – ELA (or English), Geography, and Science. In my twenty-seven years of teaching, I’ve been able to teach American history as my primary subject for one year. It was glorious.

It was during that year that I first heard of PFC James E. Wickline. It was the 2015-16 school year, and it seems very long ago.

I can only remember a few of the names of kids in my classes from that year. When I pass the framed class photos lining the main hallway, I sometimes stop at the 2016 class photo and read the names, the photos jog the memory, but sadly I recognize only a few of the hundred and twenty or so from the class I had in my classroom that year.

Interestingly, one of the people I volunteer at Loaves and Fishes is the mother of one of the boys from that class. He’s grown, graduated from college, and is working in Atlanta as an actuary. I sometimes wonder what happened to the rest of them. They were the class whose high school senior year was derailed by the COVID lockdown and many of their freshman years at college were spent isolated in remote learning.

When my wife and I were planning this past summer’s European trip she asked what wanted to do and see. My list was short, but it included visiting PFC James E. Wickline’s grave in the Netherlands American Cemetery near Margraten, Netherlands.

it was 2016, when I learned about Maarten Vossen, a Dutch man, who had adopted Wickline’s grave in the Netherlands American Cemetery when he was thirteen years old in 2002. The people in towns surrounding the Netherlands American Cemetery adopt the graves of fallen American servicemen and there is a waiting list.

Since 1945, the Netherlands American Cemetery is the only cemetery where the locals have adopted every single one of the fallen U.S. Soldiers—all 8,288 headstones as well as the 1,722 names on the Tablets of the Missing in the cemetery’s Court of Honor. In fact, he explained, the waitlist to adopt is so long that people are waiting more than 10 years, and the organization heading up the project is no longer taking new sign-ups. Read more at Honoring our legacy: Locals adopt graves of U.S. Soldiers.

As I learned more about the story, the more I wanted to learn, and the more I wanted to share.

Marten Vossen turned adopting Wickline’s grave into a mission to learn more about the soldier. Eventually, he traveled to Wickline’s home in West Virginia in 2012, and again in 2014, when a few in the community learned of his mission and began to help Vossen realize his dream to honor the fallen soldier. In July 2015 a bridge was dedicated in his honor as the PFC James E. Wickline Bridge near his home in Osage, West Virginia. (video at the end of the post)

In 2016, Marijn Poels, a Dutch independent filmmaker, released the documentary Ageless Friends about Vossen and his dream to honor Wickline. It’s an inspiring story.

In 2017, when we arrived at that point in American history I shared the story with my history classes and we watched the video and completed an assignment. I refined the assignment – making changes and adding and removing parts which didn’t work in 2018, 2019, and to finish the COVID year in 2020. I think the story impacted a more than a few of students and for a moment they were able to think beyond their 8th grade selves.

I went back to look at their reactions to the story, here are a few….I didn’t edit any of the remarks except the perfect generation comment….

Why do you think Maarten Vossen was drawn to adopt James Wickline’s grave marker in the Netherlands American Cemetery?

    • Because he was a solider and american solders are the reason he has freedom.
    • He was probably drawn to adopt a grave because he wanted to pay his respects to the people who served in the war. He wanted to be a part in what happened and help the people who were in the war. He probably was also intrigued to what happened to the men who fought. He wanted to help the people who helped his country.
    • I think he wanted to adopt a grave to show his appreciation for the American soldiers that liberated the Netherlands. He also wanted to help care for the grave and be helpful to the family that can’t put flowers on his grave because they are to far away. Lastly, he was interested in learning about the grave he adopted and wanted to know the backstory of how he passed.

What surprised you about the story of Maarten Vossen and James Wickline?

    • I wasn’t expecting them to be so close to each other. The lengths Maarten took to learn more about the man, whose grave is the one under his care.
    • That Maarten did not stop when he found out that James hardly saw war. What surprised me about James is he had so many people that remebered him and told so many stroies to help out Maarten get more information on James.
    • Maarten did not even know James and he did all of this for him

I feel the same way, that is why I wanted to visit his grave and pay my respects to PFC Wickline and the Netherlands American Cemetery.

So, we did. Saturday, July 19th we left Paris by train and traveled across Belgium arriving at the Schiphol train station to rent a car for the day.

The journey took longer than I anticipated with a few wrong turns adding to our travel.

I may have found a bench for a future post….

We arrived after a little after four and with a closing time of five o’clock my visit was hurried. After a brisk walk and nervous few moments when I realized I had incorrectly interpreted the cemetery’s grid system for locating a burial plot; I found Wickline’s final resting place.

I took a few pictures and spent a moment of prayer and reflection.

I had so many questions, with no one to answer them. Like my students from 2019 I was filled with humbleness and awe.

As I write and reflect, I know that this story could fill a book. Maybe one day this might happen, but there is more I need to learn, more I need to see and in the words of eighth graders from 2019…

What’s one important thing you learned in class today?

    • I learned that there are good people in the world that will do the utmost to make sure someone is given recognition
    • i learned that it is very important to remember our fallen soldiers and the “perfect (I think he meant ‘greatest’) generation”. I also learned that if you put your mind to it you can do anything.
    • I learned that you don’t have to contribute something big to be a hero. Heroes come from many things.

I don’t think I could have said it better.

I’ve been working on this post for a long while and I am setting it to go live midday on September 17, 1944. The day PFC Wickline jumped from a c-47 in Operation Market Garden 81 years ago today and his parachute didn’t open.

“May we never forget the sacrifice of those who gave their lives for our freedom.”

Making the days Count, one day at a time, telling the story of someone’s life to inspire others.

For more of the story, I have added videos about the cemetery and dedication ceremony for the PFC James E. Wickline Memorial Bridge in Osage, West Virginia.

W^2 – selfie

W^2 or W squared for Wordless Wednesday, July 23, 2025

This is going to be the last post from Europe. It has been fun and we’ve seen and visited some amazing places in London, Swansea, Paris, and Amsterdam and places in between.

Me in a selfie with Van Gogh’s ‘Almond Blossoms’ in the background

We visited five art museums while we were exploring Europe. I saw lots of paintings, drawings, and I saw several of the thirty-five known Vincent Van Gogh self portraits. Neither of us created the selfie, it was around long before either of us. We just did it. Many years ago my friends ribbed me for the one-eyed selfie I would use with my social media posts.

One of the things I learned while wandering the museums and looking at paintings is that often the artist wasn’t painting a painting, they were practicing their craft. Yesterday, we arrived at the Vincent Van Gogh Museum to see the collection. I learned even more about Van Gogh while we toured the collection, then I found this – Vincent Van Gogh and the self portrait.

Sunday, while touring the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, I was feeling a little silly and thought I’d capture me with Vincent Van Gogh so I took a selfie, with a selfie. I did it again yesterday.

It’s the one-eyed selfie! Actually, the photos are edited to show more of Van Gogh’s work than the original photo.

“The only time I feel alive is when I’m painting.”
Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890)

I read the quote in the Van Gogh Museum and it made me think. Really think. It was sad really, he was brilliant, creative, and deeply troubled. There are so many of us who look like we’ve got it together. I think sometimes making the days count helps me focus on the times when my days were a minus, not a plus.

These past couple of weeks have been awesome. Today we fly home, tomorrow morning I will awake bright-eyed and bushy tailed at three or four in the morning and spend a couple of days getting over the jet lag of a seven hour time change.

Today is going to be an amazing day, so I’d better jump up, jump in and seize the day. I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, unpacking, and putting away my suitcase. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, reflecting on being better every day, even a little bit.

What’s going to make your day?

Paris – day one and a trip to the country

It’s Monday and I am in Amsterdam. We were in France a week ago celebrating the 14th of July Fete National with a flyover in the morning and fireworks in the late evening.

The flyover screams past us marking the first of 39 planes

After the flyover, we  rented a car and drove to the countryside.

Reminiscent of Monet’s haystacks…the countryside was beautiful

When my wife visited my parents in France in ‘97, my father and Juliana rented a car and took us to country. We visited Normandy our first weekend and then they took us to the Champagne region just northeast of Paris. It’s was a short drive of about an hour and half, just past the recently opened EuroDisney.  My dad took us to the Aisle-Marne American Cemetery near Chateau-Thierry.

Fifteen years ago we took dad back. Day 19: Father’s Day comes Early.

Juliana and dad were very much in love. It’s easy to see, looking back as I grieve. She took dad’s death hard and I am not sure she ever got over it. When we released dad’s cremains in 2010, she saved some and kept it close. We discovered it when we packed up their home and sold their house in Oxford, Mississippi a few years ago.

We saved it for the time we would disperse Juliana’s ashes. Last Saturday, we reunited Juliana and dad when we dispersed her cremains according to her wishes in the Mumbles in Wales and we reserved a small portion of Juliana’s cremains to take to where dad was in France.

So Monday morning my wife and I took off. It was a relaxing drive after we escaped the Parisian traffic and my wife remarked that we chose a good day as many people were off the streets because of the holiday.

We exited the highway where Maps told us to and switched to two lane roads through farms and small towns which were the battlefield in World War I. The battle line was very close to the French capital and the French army gave up a stiff fight to stop the advancing German army after the Germans invaded France to begin WWI. The battle lines remained for most of the war from September 1914 until the spring of 1918. The Americans joined the war the year before, but were not prepared to join the fight until 1918.

The first major battles for the American forces were in the region. In the late spring of ‘18 the Germans mounted an offensive which came close to breaking the lines had it not been for the marines and American forces fighting back. It is in this battle that the Germans nicknamed the marines “Devil Dogs” for their ferocity and steadfastness in holding the line and it stuck.

My dad served in the Marine Corps for three years – 1953-56. He was fortunate to never see combat and served the entire time stateside.  I believe that is why he wished to have his cremains spread here.

My wife and I walked around and I showed her where I remembered where dad was and then I walked out into the woods and re-united the two. I dropped a pin with my iPhone and shared it with my brothers in hopes that one day one of us or all of us will get back here.

We got in the car and drove to the the cemetery, but our afternoon took a turn when my wife suggested we take a right at the church and we drove down a narrow lane to discover a small American Museum and the Devil Dogs Fountain. Click the link to learn more – Why United States Marines Drink from a Fountain in France.

It was a wonderful side trip.

On the train ride from Paris to Amsterdam I worked on the video below, I think it tells the story well. Please take a moment to watch. Thank you.

I signed the guest register and walked among the headstones. I took four photos of fallen Americans. There are 2,294 more, 250 of them still unknown.

It was peaceful in the country. I believe my dad and Juliana are at peace. I know I am.

My wife and I drove to Chateau-Thierry hoping to find a cafe or restaurant to find a bite to eat but were disappointed to find the town closed for business due to the holiday.

It was a wonderful day and it certainly counted. Today is going to be an amazing day, too. But I have to jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, remembering my parents and all they taught me. 

 What is one thing your parents taught you?

 

Sign of the Week – Cyrmu

This week’s sign comes from the Swansea train station. It’s where our train ride from London terminated for us. I noticed the signage everywhere was in two languages – Welsh on top and English below – when stopped in Cardiff, the Welsh capital. We asked our seatmate, who joined us in Reading and was on here way home in Swansea for a long weekend if she spoke Welsh. She replied,

“No, I don’t. Only a few words I learned in school.”

Later, I asked our Uber driver if he spoke and the answer was also, no.

It made me think of Juliana, she was Scottish and born in Aruba, her older brother was born in Mexico.  Her father was much like her husband and  my father, a petroleum engineer working for oil companies. She had strong family roots in Wales.

One of the lessons I want my kids to have learned from me is to ask more questions before it is too late. I guess we always think we have more time, but we never know. This morning, I was sad to read a person I know through my son, passed away. He was 66, far too young.

Juliana would have been 91 this past Sunday. We held her celebration Saturday and we were able to gather, though not as many as I had hoped. It was a wonderful gathering and I learned why she wanted her ashes dispersed where she did.

Once we arrived, we made introductions and sat sharing our stories of Juliana. Lachlan, her nephew, suggested a spot over looking the Bristol Channel on the Mumbles and we walked along the path overlooking the Bristol Channel.

It was solemn reunion of our only gathering some fifty years before.

As we walked along the path, we discovered ‘cat prints’ in the cement path. it was our sign, this was her place. Juliana adored her cats. In the time I knew her she had several cats, Lilac, Sambo, Porgy and Bess, and her last cat, Zorro a black Manx cat who kept her company.

Every one of us took a turn with words of love and celebration of all she had taught us and dispersed her ashes. It was a beautiful day. Afterwards we gathered for dinner before departing.

The sign in the train station reminded me of a time many years ago. It was after Juliana had moved to an assisted living facility. It was late February 2020, a few weeks or so before the COVID lockdown which would further rob her of her mobility and keep her from returning to her home in Oxford.

I was visiting her to check with her and her doctors to hear her about her progress. It was after dinner and she wanted to watch television, but there was nothing on. I suggested we watch ‘The Crown.’ She had heard of it but had never seen it, so we watched the first two episodes. In between episode, she opened up and shared she enjoyed the show and commented how it was quite accurate. She talked about the queen, being her ‘Queen.’

The next evening I came by with dinner and afterwards she asked if we could watch another episode, so we watched two more before bot of us were nodding off.

Last summer, I had a flashback when I was re-watching the series.  I remembered our conversation from that night as she recalled her youth – Juliana was 18 when Queen Elizabeth II was crowned and remembered the events of the time including the content of the last we episode we watched. It was about the killer fog of December 1952.

A few years later, I watched the episode entitled ’Aberfan’ and during our next phone call, I made a point to bring it up. She shared so much and I had so many questions. She asked if there was a way she could watch the episode or the series and I told her the next time I Was down, I’d try to help her see it. Sadly, the technology was too difficult for her to grasp and we never were able to enable her to stream on her own.

Cyrmu is Welsh for Wales. It’s also part of the title of another episode in ‘The Crown,’  the episode is titled ‘Tywysog Cyrmu’ which means Prince of Wales.

I miss her stories and talking with her. She was with us this past Saturday and her memory will always be with us.

It’s Friday and our last full day in Paris. Tomorrow, it’s off to Amsterdam by train and a drive to the countryside and back before three full days in Amsterdam then flying home Wednesday and back to responsibility. It’s been a busy week and I’ve  been micro-blogging at Instagram @makingthedayscount check it out for short busts of our trip.

Today is going to be an amazing day, full of new discoveries and experiences. So I’d better jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, looking for signs to make think.

Is there a sign that made you think, or took you back to another time? 

W^2 – Pont Neuf

W^2 or W squared for Wordless Wednesday, July 16, 2025

I can’t believe it’s Wednesday,  again. A week ago I was stumbling around on a couple of hours of jet lagged sleep through London. Since then we’ve been around London, traveled by train and car to Swansea and back, taken the second to last train to Paris, and tromped around the French countryside and several iconic places around Paris.

A lamppost on the Pont Neuf, Il de la Cite, Paris, France, July 15, 2025 9:21 PM

We are having fun and getting a lot of walking in. The weather has been beautiful.

I am usually the early riser in the family, but this morning I awoke to an empty apartment. My wife had gotten the jump on me and gotten out while I slept late, much later than I usually do.

fifteen minutes later, Il de la Cite, Paris, France, July 15, 2025 9:36 PM

When the body speaks, I should listen.

Last night after a full day of touring, we rode the Metro back to where we are staying.  We stopped to sit on one of the benches along the Pont Neuf. It was peaceful even with the traffic below on the river, the busy road connecting the Rive Droite with Rive Gauch, and the pedestrians going home, going out, or simply enjoying a moment outside as the day came to a finish.

It had been a full day.

We’ve done so much since my last post Sunday night. Monday we traveled to the countryside and explored then Tuesday we explored the city. I have so much to share, but I need time to process everything – moments and images.

Today is going to be another full day, I know it and I can feel it. Today could be a million and six times better than yesterday, but I have to jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Making the days COUNT, one day at a time, especially when I am on vacation.

How do you ‘vacation?’ Full throttle, slow and easy, or as it goes?

Tuesday’s Tune – Heat Wave

We’ve been through a heatwave. It began this past Friday and fortunately, it appears to have broken. The last few mornings the thermometer read temps in the upper seventies where a normal early summer reading might be in the low sixties, and possibly the mid-fifties. But while weather comes and goes, it’s the climate that is changing and I must find a way to adapt and change.

I woke early this morning, a bit before six am, made coffee and noticed this morning’s temperature was 74, five degrees lower Monday, an improvement and good signs. I decided to enjoy the ‘summer office’, to listen to the birds and begin the morning routine. Often, I skim though e-mails and read a blog or two and leave comments or lazily, press like. This morning beth from I Didn’t Have My Glasses On and Neil from Yeah, Another Blogger got me thinking. Before moving on my devotional and reflection, then Wordle.

photos I packed and sent to England, from the upper left clockwise are my dad and Juliana in early 2000s, Juliana’s baby photo, a photo of her mum (guessing), and Juliana in the 60s before she met my dad

But Neil’s story of music and his dad connected with me in an odd way. I had decided to write a Tuesday’s Tune post using the song ‘Heat Wave.’ The song was written in the early sixties and recorded by Matha and the Vandellas in 1963, it was a hit. I remember it being recorded by Linda Ronstadt and I found the video below. It is from the mid-seventies, and it was a late Friday night tv show, The Midnight Special. It aired at midnight, which was long past my bedtime, but sometimes I’d sneak out to watch it. I have no memory of watching this episode, but I do remember watching late night television when I was in high school with friends. When I located the YouTube video, I realized it was from an episode of the Midnight Special which aired two days after my dad had married my stepmother.

It was there wedding day – February 19, 1975. My brothers and I from left to right – David, Warren, and me. My other is on the right between Warren and I. Juliana is in the center. The pastor is in the back and I do not know who the couple on the left are.

All three of us had attended and I remember the after-wedding celebration of running the halls of the reception hall with another group of kids while our parents celebrated the newlyweds upstairs.
Continue reading Tuesday’s Tune – Heat Wave

Three things for a Father’s Day morning

It’s Father’s Day and I have already gotten my gifts. We are at the lake, my daughter is upstairs sleeping after, our son is home with his family after travelling home yesterday, and the dogs are curled up sleeping. It is a quiet Sunday morning, and the lake is still, cool, and overcast.

It’s been almost sixteen years since my father died. For me Father’s Day is a quiet day best spent with family. This year, it’s special as it is my son’s first Father’s Day.

Family at the lake
This past week my son and his family visited us at the lake. It was exciting, fun, and a whirlwind having twin grandies and their parents join us at the lake for several days. It was fun hearing them babble, cry, crawl, eat, and grow.

I remember his first visit as an infant and our daughter’s a few years later. We enjoyed their visit and celebrated several firsts – especially our first three generations photo!

Father’s Day
My daughter gave me my Father’s Day gift a few weeks ago. It is a hummingbird feeder with a camera. I opened the box this past week, installed it, and have been enjoying the feeder and its images since.

I am thankful to my blogging friend Margaret for encouraging me to be a birder with her book’s post from April 2018. I did read the book Where the Poppies Blow, and I am excited to return to Europe this summer and travel through the battlefields of northern France and the Netherlands. Also, I am thankful to the COVID lockdown for accelerating my curiosity and wonder for birds.

Sometimes we simply need a gentle push and I’ve been enjoying since. Continue reading Three things for a Father’s Day morning

W^2 – history

WARNING: it’s Wednesday so I titled the post W^2, but it’s hardly wordless.

It’s spring break and we’ve escaped then blustery chill of a midwestern early spring for the Florida Keys and sun, wind, and sand. Mostly sun.

I remember my first visit to the Keys with my in-laws in 2002. Our son had recently turned four and my wife was pregnant with our daughter. We arrived in Miami and were picked up by my in-laws at the airport.

Until then, my only experience with Florida had been passing through the airport on the way to somewhere else: Venezuela or England to spend the summer or Christmas with my dad and stepmother.

With my father-in-law at the wheel we wove our way through Miami traffic to Homestead and US1. US1 is the only road from the Florida mainland at the tip of the Florida peninsula to the Keys where it terminates at Key West.

US1 travels along the path of the defunct Miami to Key West extension of the Florida East Coast Railway. Construction of the railroad began in 1903 and was completed in 1913. The railway operated until 1935 when the Labor Day hurricane washed out the rail bed in Islamorada and the railroad abandoned the railroad. Two years later the Florida Highway Commission purchased the right of way and began construction of a highway to Key West. They used the old railroad bridges constructing roadbeds atop the concrete viaducts and bridges built by the railroad. Over the years, the highway has replaced the original railway bridges with wider end more modern concrete bridges.

The view from the bridge to the Atlantic Ocean

The first several miles of the two lane road travel along the path of the old railway. First through the thick mangrove swamps and across Lake Surprise before reaching Key Largo where the highway opens up to the Atlantic Ocean on the left and Florida Bay to the right.

As the highway bridges were replaced, the original railroad bridges were left in place. Most have been repurposed as fishing platforms or observation decks and others have been left to decay and breakdown in the elements. The Seven Mile Bridge has a two mile extension from Knight’s Key Key to Pigeon Key open to walkers and bicycles with breathtaking sunset views.

Anyway, Tuesday afternoon my buddy and I (we are here with another couple) took off on an adventure stopping at the western approach to the Bahia Honda Bridge.

The original railroad bridge on the left and the new highway bridge on the right. Looking west from Bahia Honda State Park – photo from 3/28/2017

The old bridge has been abandoned since the present bridge was completed in 1977. The original railroad bridge is an iron trestle bridge which was only wide enough for a single railroad track and the passage of a single train. The highway engineers decided to construct a two lane road atop the railroad trestle to connect the two keys, or islands.

Continue reading W^2 – history

Say their names….

It’s Monday, Nine-eleven.

Every year, I go back to my seventh-grade geography class when I first learned of the horror of that morning. It was son’s first day of school of school and his excitement was dashed when he saw his mother, my wife, standing television set crying as she watched the news unfold that Tuesday morning twenty-two years ago. She comforted him when he asked,

“Why are you crying momma” he asked.

She collected herself and replied,

“It’s just bad news.” She replied.

It was bad news and we have come together and moved forward since that awful day.

a replica of the fifteen star, fifteen stripe flag which flew over Fort McHenry on September 13, 1814.

I am reminded of the names on this day, some two thousand nine hundred seventy-five men, women, and children who perished that morning.

This summer I stumbled across the 9/11 Memorial of Maryland in downtown Baltimore. Earlier in the day I had visited Fort McHenry and seen a replica of the flag which had flown the night the British bombarded the fort. It had fifteen stripes and fifteen stars. The memorial moved me to create a movie of me reading each the victim’s names.

Todd Beamer, LeRoy Homer, Wanda Anita Greene, and Honor Elizabeth Wayne

I am inspired by the events of that morning and fellow bloggers Beth at I Didn’t have My Glasses and Mary at Wilderness of Words who encouraged me to say their names.

It is Monday, the first day of a new week. It’s raining for the first time in weeks, and it is going to be an amazing day. I know it and I. can feel it, so I’d better jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, saying their names, so we never forget.

Is there a name you remember from that day?  

W^2 – anthem (renamed)

W^2 or W squared for Wordless Wednesday, August 9, 2023

It is Wednesday, and I am in Baltimore for another baseball trip. This city and ballpark make 25 of 30. I have one last trip before school starts in less than two weeks.

These baseball trips have been more than baseball. Each stop has been an adventure full of curiosity, history, learning and growth, and excitement. Sometimes it is planned, but most times it simply happens.

the Star-Spangled Banner, Fort McHenry Baltimore, Maryland August 8, 2023 2:14 PM

Yesterday, I arrived my flight from Chicago arrived late morning. I had planned to visit Fort McHenry National Monument and Historic Shrine before checking in to my hotel. Fort McHenry guards, or guarded, Baltimore Harbor in 1814 during the War of 1812. The British had planned to invade and take over Baltimore in September 1814. The War of 1812 was started by the fledgling United States who was losing the war to the might British Empire. Only weeks before, in August, the British had routed the Americans in Washington, D. C. and burned the White House.

But the British attack on Baltimore is the unravelling of the British advantage and the strengthening of American resolve. In battle it isn’t always might and strength which decides the outcome of a conflict. Sometimes it’s an idea.

During the British bombardment of Fort McHenry an American, Francis Scott Key, watched the battle from a ship in Baltimore harbor. When morning came, he looked across the harbor to see the fort and he saw the American flag flying through the ‘dawns early light.’ He retreated to his sea cabin and penned a poem which spread like wildfire across the young American nation.

In 1931, the United States adopted this poem as its national anthem. We know the poem as “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming?

The poem was four stanzas, and we sing only the first. Last night before the baseball game the crowd rose and sang the song proudly.

Today is going to be an amazing day, it just might be a million and six times better than yesterday although Tuesday night’s ballgame was the best baseball game, I’ve seen this season. Who knows? So, I’d better jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Making the days Count, one day at a time, exploring, learning, and being curious.

What adventure are you off to today?

POST PUBLICATION NOTE: I decided to change the post’s name, from O’ say can you see to anthem.