Trick or Treat

 Trick or Treat, or Halloween, as the calendar so names it, arrives.  As a kid, I remember this night well.  Adorned in clever costumes, hand-stitched and/or constructed by my parents, school fun, and safe neighborhood walk-abouts, I looked forward to this night. The candy stayed in a bowl on top of the fridge and only with permission could my sister and I dip into it after dinner.  I always loved the Hershey Bars—the big ones, the best. 

As a Girl Scout Leader, my mother planned a spectacular party in our garage for our troop one year.  Hay bales lined the floor, spooky music played on a portable record player while dry ice fogged up the gathering.  My mother read a scary story as we passed around props under a blanket on our laps.  Giggly 11 -year old girls touching and passing “peeled grape eye-balls” and “cold sticky spaghetti brains” of a mad scientist’s experiment gone bad creeps back into my memory. 

Movies like “Psycho” and “Wait Until Dark” with Audrey Hepburn, bring back  more memories of a time in celluloid when your imagination scared you more than the images you did not see on the screen.  Jumping high and screaming loud left you cracking up in embarrassment but wondering if your heartbeat would ever be normal again. 

In high school, I belonged to a well-known Christian organization called Youth for Christ/Campus Life.  ”The Haunted House” secured funds to run clubs on many high school campuses and support staff for many months. We located an actual abandoned building or house and with city permission, transformed it into a maze of rooms of gore with strobe lights and monsters of the night scaring the “you know what” out of every brave soul who dared to wander down the dark halls anticipating what each new room might reveal, if they could even see around any corner.  Joining the staff myself in college, this event gained me the notoriety as “Monster of the Year,” at our staff after party.  Playing a witch in a graveyard, I welcomed you to my “garden” of  past visitors who somehow didn't quiet make it home.st visitors who somehow didn’t quite make it home. 

Eventually, the Haunted House became controversial among some supporters of YFC and alternative methods of fundraising became apparent. I can tell you that those days remain as great memories of hard-working young people “performing” on a 6-night a week, three week project, impacting many surrounding cities and its youth.  A very rewarding time in my life, the Haunted House brought many people to the Campus Life clubs where they heard about a God who is personal and wanted to come into their hearts to calm their fears and give them eternal life. 

As a parent, again, Halloween became an opportunity for creativity and family-fun. Active in my children’s classrooms, I took treats, sharing with other mothers and visited the neighbor’s homes for compliments and pictures of the kids in their costumes while candy plopped in their open bags. Quickly, we hopped in the car to trek over to the small campus of our little church, Chino Valley Community and “Harvest Night.”  Oh what fun pitching the baseball to “dunk” our youth pastor while eating chili dogs and popcorn as the children and adults in costumes as well, played the “carnival games” over and over for the handful of candy. 

This month, we begin a Season of Celebration among friends. Do we include a holiday that promotes blood and guts, screaming and terror, sugar surges and smashed pumpkins?  What can we celebrate?  Let’s not focus on the negative stuff, but let’s celebrate a candle inside a pumpkin as the light of Jesus inside our hearts. Let’s celebrate His sweet loved wrapped just for us in a candy kiss.  The Lord helps us to remove our “masks” of pride and secrecy, becoming transparent as a ghost.  He heals our scars by his precious blood and gives us a firm foundation that our bones can stand strong on.  Take the opportunity to get to know your neighbors by sharing some apple cider or homemade caramel corn, (three colors in one –bite!). God gives us reason to celebrate everyday as we put forth the empty pillowcases of our lives and he fills it with His goodness, even a day the devil wants to claim as his. As Christ followers, let your light shine in the darkness of hearts. Oh what a day to meet the Savior ringing the doorbell of your heart! 

Revelation 3:20 (NIV)

²⁰ Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.

"Man the Victory Fleet" A Response of a WWII Merchant Marine Hero.

I received an interesting reply from my previous posting, "A Day in the Life of a Merchant Marine."  Apparently, my tag sent a flag to Google Alerts and  another fellow Merchant Marine who also served in the precarious seas during WWII, opened up my blog and took the time to send me a nice comment. With his permission, I am re-posting his letter to me here:  

Since I was a Merchant Mariner during WW2, I subscribe to Google 
Alerts-US Merchant Marine. Today it referenced your story about your 
father"s experience during the sinking of his ship.
I also served as a fireman-water-tender on the SS Pan Georgia during 
WW2. It is unfortunate that so many veterans did not discuss their 
experiences during WW2. The fireman-water-tender position was the most 
demanding in the engine room. The crew. on a merchant ship engine room 
four hour watch, consisted only of an engineer, a fireman-water-tender 
and an oiler. The fireman was responsible for the operation of two 
boilers. He worked in an environment that was at least 100F, on 
slippery oily deck plates and air polluted with low grade fuel oil 
fumes. As required by the speed of the ship, he adjusted the fuel-oil 
flow rate, controlled the water level in the boiler and air flow-rate 
to the boiler furnace box. He also cleaned the burner nozzles at least 
once a watch. The job was especially difficult when the ship was 
maneuvering and steam demands to the turbine varied rapidly
Your description of his escape from the engine-room was good but not 
accurate. There were no stairs. There was a relatively steep ladder 
which was difficult to climb under the best conditions. With the ship 
listing and others trying to escape it could be a very hazardous climb.
It is a shame that your father didn't give you first hand information 
on the escape and experience on the life boat.
Hope I was helpful,
Walter Schwartz

Use to the same followers who comment regularly either here or on Facebook, my excitement level ramped up when this came across my inbox. As a blogger, its good to know my attempt at writing into cyberspace really works! Then it dawned on me...how old is this gentleman and how "techy" is he to be using the internet and following blogs?  Wow...so cool!  

My sister (the genealogy expert) researched my father's time in the service several years ago. I quickly called her, sharing my response and asked her to pull her research, as wanting to respond with more info to Mr. Schwartz.  Finding  almost all of our father's service record and ships, there remains  a significant gap in time,which puzzles us. It's right smack-dab in the middle of the war. We're speculating this might just be the time my dad's ship sank and his rescue and recovery took place.  That actual event was verified by my dad's sister and brother, who also never discussed it in front of my mother or any family gathering.  My uncle told my Sis that among other "cargo" transported on his ship, gold from Saudi Arabia, possibly to protect it from enemy hands or who knows, found its way on one of his ships. (Where were they taking it?)  We know my dad spent a lot of time in Middle East ports as well as the South Pacific Theater.  Occasionally, while watching travel or National Geographic shows with my dad, (which we did a lot),  he would mention strange lands he had been to, like New Guinea and Ceylon.   (I wonder now what memories, what adventures, took place there?). 

My dad is the hunky guy on the right in the white T-shirt. 

After e-mailing Mr.Schwartz back, he kindly reciprocated again and shared with me a detailed diary of his service record.  Here is a portion detailing his job and one particular rough voyage. 

October 2, Boston to LeHavre to New York on the Liberty Ship SS Kemp P.Battle. The return from Lehavre to New York on the SS Kemp Battle was probably weather wise the worst experience of my short career. five hundred of General Patton's troops were brought aboard for return to the States. Although we were scheduled to sail the next morning, all ships were suddenly ordered out of LeHavre. My rating suddenly changed from maintenance engineer to oiler. The storm was so intense that we were driven fifty miles northwest of the English Channel. A number of ships ran aground. Since we were not carrying cargo or ballast, the ship rode high, was unstable and difficult to maneuver. To provide ballast, the two aft cargo holds were partially filled with sea water as a ballast to improve the maneuverability. Since the sloshing of the water in the holds caused an unusual and unstable rocking sensation, the holds were pumped dry. Because the large reciprocating engines of the liberty ships were manually oiled, the oiler's job was especially demanding under normal conditions. The oiling can would have to be raised and lowered in synchronization with the movement of the cranks or the can would be locked out of the oiler's hand. With the ship gyrating so wildly, oiling was especially demanding. 

Under the storm condition, when the ship went into a trough, the propeller would be uncovered. With no water resistance, the engine would accelerate rapidly. Between oiling, the oiler would alternate with the engineer on watch to operate a large butterfly valve to reduce steam to the engine when the prop came out of the water. A normal ten-day trip across the Atlantic took us thirty hectic days.

For more info check out these sites: http://www.dvrbs.com/monuments/camden/Camden%2cNJ-WW2-merchant-marine-memorial.htm

http://www.usmm.org/engine.html

Very much of interest to me, I now imagined more what my dad's actual job entailed, for he worked as an oiler and a fireman as well,  in the "engine room" of his Merchant Marine vessels. 

So, I asked Mr. Schwartz for his picture.  He told me I could get it from his Facebook page! I just have to share this with you all. Love this!  Looks great for 89, wouldn't you say? 

Work and Education




College








NYU

Civil Engineering · New York, New York



















Philosophy




Favorite Quotation
You are never too old!


















Basic Information




About Walter
I'm 89 year young and I feel like I am 39 at the very oldest. My body has been telling me different, so we are arguing with each other. I'll let you know who wins the argument.

So, thank you Mr.Walter Schwartz, for your candid biography and information sharing across the WWW!  More importantly, I thank you for your service to our country and keeping your memories alive by documenting and sharing.  Have a great 4th of July and God Bless you, 

Coleene VanTilburg 

A Day in a Life of a Merchant Marine- A Father's Day Tribute

My father, Lynwood "Lindy" M. Markham served as a Merchant Marine during WWII. On one tour, his ship was torpedoed and sunk in the Indian Ocean and my dad survived 5 days in a lifeboat  before being rescued.  My mother and sister and I only found this out from a fellow serviceman who attended my father's memorial service years later, telling us the story. Never ever sharing this tragedy with us, he kept this secret from even those he held dear.

 I wrote this story a few years back while thinking of my dad.  Though fictional, it's based on what happened to many merchant marines serving in the dangerous waters during WWII.  Merchant Marine ships took a very heavy toll, and recognition as true military finally came to light by  President Clinton in 1998. For further info please check out these sites. 
http://www.usmm.org/recognitionsought.html

                                           http://www.usmm.org/ww2.html

Letter of recognition signed by Pres.Bill Clinton  

Medals of service

THROUGH THE VALLEY

The pencil stub marks an x across yesterday in my Seaman log calendar page. Six weeks now I've kept these engines fired up.  Into this night by 5 hours now.  It is a brutal job, but I am hoping to see the world, even if it is during wartime.  The engine room is nothing but noise and even with my earplugs; I can barely hear the thoughts in my own head.

 

Lord, keep those German U-boats at a distance. Haven't seen any escort ships out there lately,  but stuck down here, I don't see much. Our mission is to get these supplies over to China via the "Burma Road", aiding our troops and allies as the fight for freedom, for human dignity battles on.  

I know I am not an "official" soldier, as a  Merchant Marine, but that is OK, I still feel like one and I know I am helping to do my part.  Next week, July 11th, 1944, will be my 24th birthday. We'll be sailing into port by then, and I can get a message home. 

Suddenly, above the noise of the ship's engine, a powerful explosion and vibration knocks me at least ten feet on my backside against the steam pipes. My skin sizzles and melts as the pipe burns through my uniform and skin. Losing control, I feel the ship and my body listing to the port side. I feel blood coming from my ear but I hear nothing else but very faint screams and alarms

 I gather myself up off the floor (or is it the floor?) and make my way up some stairs against gravity, climbing on my belly and pulling myself up the handrails with what upper body strength I can muster. The terror and fear sets in; an enemy torpedo probably hit my ship. Seawater is now dripping around me and the salt stings every inch of my burned and bruised skin. The feeling is gone now from the backside of me, but I can smell my burnt flesh. The crisp uniform I dressed in this morning is all but disintegrated. Can I make it to topside? Will there be anybody to help me? Will we sink before I....  My head feels like a pressure gauge ready to explode. 

Then, once again, that vibration and sound shocks and reverberates through my body; another hit.

“God, I must be brave.  Help us Lord!  Be with us God!"

Dawn lies in wait maybe an hour or so, but there are fires that light the deck.  Massive caves puncture the once smooth surface of the deck. I crawl on my belly towards some shipmates and squint into the shadows of fire, trying to maintain consciousness. Someone is lifting a  lifeboat and I am seeing him move his mouth, but my only sense that remains half functioning is the smell of death and fire. I look to the sea that calls me to surrender but I fight to stay here. 

Some lifeboats bob with the rush of waves in the ocean, but danger awaits them as well, sucked back into the gaping hole on the side of the ship. Toxic gases fill my lungs and the burning is now internal. An arm reaches and pulls me into the lifeboat as consciousness leaves me. 

Water at my lips and brow bring me back to a reality-- a reality I am not sure I want to know.  Along with five other crewmembers, we bob up and down on an oil-slicked surface, surviving the initial sinking and we wait here in the Indian Ocean. I'm still alive but for how much longer?  

The Nazi sub, a stealth-like demon destroyed everything but our souls.  Those belong to our Country and Our God. I can barely make out the face in front of me.  I can see his mouth move, but I hear no sound.  My head is peaceful; no engine noise, no sound of sirens, explosions or screams.

I can only hear my Momma's voice saying, "Memorize this verse, son.  Keep it close to you..."

 The Holy Spirit whispers those precious words of scripture to me.

Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.  He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows.  Surely, goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Note:  the United States Merchant Marines have served in all wars since the American Revolution.  In WWII, these sailors rendered the largest but uncelebrated function between our soldiers at stateside and the actual fighting troops.  These were the sailors of the Liberty Ships, the Victory ships, and the Tankers.  They supplied our troops and braved danger from every form of war weaponry.  It is estimated that during WWII, we lost over 8600 merchant marines at sea.  It has not been until just recently that these brave men were recognized officially by Congress to receive all the accolades and benefits as true members of our military. 

Ship unloading onto barge at Anzio, Italy, War Shipping Administration photo

[Midshipman Edwin J. O'Hara, loading the last shell on the SS Stephen Hopkins.
Painting by W.M. Wilson, reproduced by permission of the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy]

 

The U.S. Merchant Marine falls under the U.S. Transportation Command, and specifically the Military Sealift Command, which is a component of the U.S. Navy. It is not one of the U.S. uniformed services. However, according to the Merchant Marine Act of 1936: "It is necessary for the national defense and development of its foreign and domestic commerce that the United States shall have a merchant marine ... capable of serving as a naval and military auxiliary in time of war or national emergency."

Indeed, some Merchant Marines who were active during WWII did receive U.S. veteran status. According to a section on the Coast Guard site (http://www.uscg.mil/stcw/wwiimm.htm), "On Jan. 19, 1988, the Secretary of the Air Force, Edward C. Aldridge Jr., determined that the service of the 'American Merchant Marine in Oceangoing Service during the Period of Armed Conflict, Dec. 7, 1941, to Aug. 15, 1945,' shall be considered 'active duty' under the provisions of Public Law 95-202 for the purposes of laws administered by the Veterans Administration." This length of time was extended when, "On Veterans Day, 1998, President Clinton signed Public Law 105-368. A provision of this law states that service during the period, Aug. 16, 1945, to Dec. 31, 1946, shall be considered active duty for the purpose of eligibility for certain limited veterans benefits." 
http://freedomisntfree.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=30:14-april-08-military-museum-receives-large-artifact-donation&catid=7:columns-in-the-charlotte-sun&Itemid=14


Happy Father's Day to all Dads and always a special shout out to our military Dads serving near and far.  ♥ God Blessings and safety. Thank you.

Replanting a Holy Seed

Strong?  Why of course, one of the strongest.  Crafted of the finest, well grained; my personality shines with a few good strokes of wax. I prefer the lemon.  Mitered and measured, fitted and fastened, I exude excellence.  My parts fit together in harmony; very useable.  My right side matches my left side, although I probably prefer more the right side.  My insides roll with the flow and hold all the treasures and tools for your imagination.  My limbs and core, flat out, wait to feel the elbows of thought, the tapping pen of pause, the erasure crumbs of regret, the prose of poetic praise or the guiding grace greetings.  I held The Book, many nights left open, pages studied, references supporting.  Marked and memorized. Preached and lived out.  Oiled in prayer.

If I touch you, rub my fingers along your grains that ribbon through, will I hear those words, will I remember?

Open me.   I am deep and wide, spacious and eager.  Look at my detailing.  You know I am committed to my Maker.  I am here to serve.  You too? 

If I pull my self up to embrace you, fold my hands in reverence before you, will you inspire me, encourage this wordsmith?

There is nothing I haven’t felt, all absorbed. Go ahead, craft a love letter, scribble a sketch, color a flower garden, sign on the dotted-line, write in the correct amount, scroll an announcement, think –out a thesis, doodle a design, chart out a chapter or two.  I am such a good listener.

Look me over.  Can you find a scratch? Yet time has healed. Tears seal.  Salt of the Earth.


Isaiah 6:13  And if there be yet a tenth in it, it also shall in turn be eaten up: as a terebinth, as an oak, whose stock remaineth, when they are felled; so the holy seed is the stock thereof. (KJV). 


I am a Holy Seed, an ornament of God-Man made hands. For Glory? He taught us his Glory; some continued to nurture the remnant of that glorious time, that heaven-bound seed. Things change and winds move.  Giving is God's heart. Your glory is my glory to reflect God's heart. 


I am listening. I open the drawers, roll up the top, sit before you and I can hear. Keep writing, it tells me.  Keep speaking of my love; and the words...The WORDS...


But Jesus answered, "I tell you, if these become silent, the stones will cry out!" Luke 19:40  NAS. 


Right now my words are few but gracious. Thank you.  Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for an inheritance, a gift of strength and beauty. I hope to honor its presence in my hearthome. 

Note: I received this beautiful roll top oak desk last week, a desk that once belonged to my brave and cherished late pastor, Dan Vasquez.  Soon, it will be moved upstairs and I hope to use it as a place for quiet time and study.  

FYI:  http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/11638-oak-and-terebinth

Oh, Garden Hearts

Bougainvillea,

Let's add an Azalea

Hot pink Dahlia  

Easter White Calla.

Snapdragon cluster,

Rose leaf luster.

Purple Pansy face. 

Gather up a vase.

   Sweet Peas travel,

  Morning Glory unravel.
Petunias drape.

Wisteria grape. 

                                  Sunflowers boast.

 Impatiens coast.

 Periwinkles persist.

 Marigolds insist.

Ranunculus…

So scrumptious.

Begonia? 

We know ya.

Black-eyed Susan;

You’re not refusin'.

Queen Anne’s Lace;

Give her some space.

                                
                          

Tulip windmills,

Daffodil spindles.

Geraniums multiply,

Gardenia magnify.

Zany Zinnia,

Precocious Peony.

                          Poppy of power… 

                       Hello Shasta Daisy!

  Lingering Lavender,

 Salvia with a spike.

    Remind me,Forget-Me-Nots,
 It’s you I do like!

Spring surprises

Flower arises

Petals push

Buds, whoosh 

 Bees in a bumble.

Lady bugs rumble.

Hummingbird darts,

Oh, Garden Hearts! 

Snails saunter

Mantis, ponder

God reveals, 

Creation kneels. 

          Coleene 3/27/2012 

Isaiah 55:10 (NIV)

As the rain and the snow

come down from heaven,

and do not return to it

without watering the earth

and making it bud and flourish,

so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater.