The Venus of Henry

She came to us on a crisp winter day with all the Pumps and Circumstances of the United State Postal Service. Riding in a Box of the finest cardboard from her exotic country, adorned with the most exquisite fine silver duct tape and the most refined clear packing tape. Inside in an elegant compartment made of the rarest recycled box of a refurbished blender, resting on a bed of the finest popcorn, she was reclining on pillows of rare air-filled bags, reading the Concrete Book of the Wisdom of the Ages. In the most gracious and elegant way she came out of the box and then sat for a while on the Grand Patio under the watchful eyes of the Great Guard. Squirrels and chipmunks, doves and finches came and marveled at the rare sight. There was a current of great pride in the whole population. Finally we would not have to feel lesser than Paris, it’s Louvre and their Venus of Milo! The Venus of Henry was here! Splendid in her entirety, more complete than the poor mutilated Venus of Milo. Our Venus was indeed complete, limbs, warts and all. Her grandiose chest was displaying the Sacred Hieroglyph that a wise and savant passing beagle deciphered to the crowd. All marveled at the bold value of the message: “I Love Chou!” Truly King Henry was a Fine Artist and his muse Julie an Amazing Inspiration as well That was one of those days that generation will remember as a glorious day in our Land and it was good. And the people were grateful!

To a Fallen Hero

This is a repost of a previous blog in Memoriam.

Rest, little brother…

Looking over the harbor, staring in disbelief at the cloud of dust and smoke rising over Lower Manhattan, the Spirit of Liberty, very sadly, hunched a little bit, slumping her great shoulders.
Slowly the Spirit freed herself from the bonds of her glorious statue. As if coming out of a giant cocoon, deliberately, she left behind the wonderful sculpture forged of copper, steel and tears. As beloved as her statue was, she knew that earthly symbols rise and topple, but she would always be. Eschewing the weight of a monument, she deployed her wings. Those are the great wings that Freedom granted her, when the best of men decided to give hope a chance and bring Liberty to another corner of this little green planet of ours, those are the wings that allow her to soar
However, on this day, this flight was to be a solemn one. Another Child of Man had paid the Price of Freedom. Liberty has to repay the debt. She started flying in direction of what had been the pride of New York. Her torch was dimming a little, her arm was not held so high but her flight of slow, long and deep strokes had the grace of an archangel
She reached the wreckage, shook her head and a tear rolled down her verdigrises cheeks. A sigh shook her chest. She gently parted some giant pieces of rubble, shifted a bit and gently, oh! so gently lifted the lifeless body of a young firefighter from within the chaos.
The brave was covered with dust, soot, and blood; the uniform in tatters but one could see the handsome face, peaceful as if only sleeping. Gently, without dropping her torch the spirit swept some of the debris off the face and body. Like a rag doll, in the full abandon of death.
The Ghost of Liberty stepped out, holding him carefully, with reverence. With majesty, she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and her torch, brighter all of a sudden, was raised up high. Then she started moving, slowly, ceremoniously but in a determined way. Deploying her great wings, she flew, rising toward the heavens. The sky parted as she made her way in what was obviously a holy mission. Giant eagles flew by and dipped their wings in sign of respect, blaring their great cry as if to warn ahead that a sacred flight was on its way
When she reached the Great Gates, there was a double line of the fallen firefighters of yesteryears. The Old Ones, from the Chicago fire, from the San Francisco Earthquake, blackened wet and sooty heroes of Pearl Harbor, sailors and marines killed fighting the fires caused by the Kamikazes aboard the Warships of the Freedom Armada, the brave, beautiful, heroic Fire Jumpers killed defending the Great Forest they loved so much, were there. They were all quiet and solemn: One of their own was coming home.
The Spirit of Liberty whispered “ He gave his life for me” then walked between the two lines of proud men and women fallen to the fires. They presented their hooks, axes and Pulaski in a silent salute as the ghostly figure passed and finally came to a stop. They all formed a large circle around a stall of the purest marble where the Ghost of Liberty gently deposited her charge.
He lay there, lifeless, covered of soot, blood and dirt that somehow looked like a badge of courage and spirit.
They were all silent. Slowly an old Fire Chief, himself covered with the burned badges of his own courage, approached the body of He who had been one of New York’s bravest. He dropped down on one knee, slowly reached out, and rearranged the position of the young hero as if trying to make him more comfortable. He took off his helmet and bowed his head for a moment. He reached out with a callous and blackened hand, moved away a lock of sweaty hair, bend down even more to deposit a gentle kiss on the forehead of the young men. As the young hero slowly opened his eyes and tried to rise, the old Chief gently restrained him and said with a chocked and gravely voice, “ You can rest now, little brother, we’ll guard you. When others cowered and feared, you gave it all and made a nation proud”
September 13, 2001

The situation in the Gulf, following the BP/Haliburton/Transocean disgrace is really embarrassing and we look to the world like a bunch of people who cannot get their you know what together! We are doing an excellent imitation of the Russian Navy not being able to rescue their own nuclear submarines! Once this mess is sorted out and hopefully resolved some drastic actions are needed to avoid a repeat of this disgrace. Yes new rules have to be put in place and a new watcher has to be charged with the enforcement! Lest it be an enforcer with sharp teeth and claws! We also need to put all the research and technology development executed by the US Navy for their Submarine rescue equipment, the CIA for the Glomar Explorer, get the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution involved for their Navy contract and Titanic program and others together and create an independent agency financed by a the industry and capable to create and operate the technology needed to insure the safety and rescue of all underwater operations. In case of accident similar to the present snafu., lets give a very short time to the operator to resolve the issue. If after that period the problem is not resolved, the property is to be immediately deemed abandoned, the new agency moves in with all their means and technology and resolve the problem. The site will then be treated according to the Rule of the Sea where an abandoned vessel becomes the property of the salvage operator. Give the option to the previous operator to buy back at cost plus. If the option is not exercised in a timely manner then the US must takes over the well and use the crude for the purpose of the National Strategic Reserve. If their is a short end to the present stick, lets turn it around!