A Fitting Poem…

Read this and remember Benghazi.

THEY shall not return to us, the resolute, the young,
The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave:
But the men who left them thriftily to die in their own dung,
Shall they come with years and honour to the grave?
They shall not return to us; the strong men coldly slain
In sight of help denied from day to day:
But the men who edged their agonies and chid them in their pain,
Are they too strong and wise to put away?
Our dead shall not return to us while Day and Night divide–
Never while the bars of sunset hold.
But the idle-minded overlings who quibbled while they died,
Shall they thrust for high employments as of old?
Shall we only threaten and be angry for an hour:
When the storm is ended shall we find
How softly but how swiftly they have sidled back to power
By the favour and contrivance of their kind?
Even while they soothe us, while they promise large amends,
Even while they make a show of fear,
Do they call upon their debtors, and take counsel with their friends,
To conform and re-establish each career?
Their lives cannot repay us–their death could not undo–
The shame that they have laid upon our race.
But the slothfulness that wasted and the arrogance that slew,
Shell we leave it unabated in its place?

-Rudyard Kipling, Mesopotamia 1917

I seriously want to cry.  It is however a solid reminder, that history can and does repeat itself and it seems so much like nothing ever changes.

Barron is the owner, editor, and principal author at The Minuteman, a competitive shooter, and staff member for Boomershoot. Even in his free time he’s merging his love and knowledge of computers and technology with his love of firearms.

He has a BS in electrical engineering from Washington State University. Immediately after college he went into work on embedded software and hardware for use in critical infrastructure. This included cryptographic communications equipment as well as command and control devices that were using that communications equipment. Since then he’s worked on just about everything ranging from toys, phones, other critical infrastructure, and even desktop applications. Doing everything from hardware system design, to software architecture, to actually writing software that makes your athletic band do its thing.

Moka

Moka was a beautiful chocolate lab who has been part of the family since I was 13. Yesterday she was put down. She was 13 and she was suffering from arthritis, amongst other things, and could barely walk let alone stand. Below is a poem I wrote.

She started her life as a happy, bounding ball of mischief.
Her energy knew no bounds.
As time went on, she became more than a pet;
she was a loyal member of the family.
She hunted and chased anything and everything,
just for the sake of protecting her domain.
Nothing entered her territory without permission first.
Protective, loving and carefree,
she lived her life to the fullest.
She was a rare one indeed; as she was able to catch a squirrel,
a feat not easily achieved.
Friendly, proud and beautiful,
she could really bring out the smiles.
She never turned down attention
or an opportunity to curl up by a warm fire.
Scratches behind the ear were pure pleasure for her.
She did get into trouble from time to time,
but who doesn’t?
No matter what, she knew she was loved.
Thirteen wonderful years she lived,
happy and loyal to the end.
She is now at peace.

Rest in Peace Sweet Girl
April 1, 1997 to May 21, 2010