A red rose of remembrance.

Dan at the Moving Wall

Lay a rose in remembrance.

Please take a few moments from your busy day to pause, reflect, and thank those who have served and are serving our country. Although this page is dedicated to veterans of our Armed Services, almost every American family, many without donning a uniform, has contributed to the preservation of the ideals of the United States of America. "Rosie the Riveter" serves as a symbol of all those who stayed behind during World War II. Mom may have helped at the Red Cross or USO, and rolled bandages at home. School girls and boys knit scarves, socks, and mittens for the men on the front, and collected milkweed pods for life jacket fill. From the American Revolution to today's War on Terrorism, many are the untold stories and many are the unsung heroes.

Today we ask that you remember all those currently in the service of the United States and all her allies. While military conflicts are never easy to accept, neither are the denial of basic human rights. Whatever your opinions or beliefs, RESPECT and HONOR those who are answering the call to serve their country.

Our Operation Iraqi Freedom Tribute

Please remember them all and say THANK YOU.
SUPPORT our troops.

"Hate war but love the American warrior"
Lt. Gen. Harold G. Moore, USA Ret. in a CBS interview 2002.

As a Lt. Col. in 1965 he led 400 soldiers into Ia Drang Valley (aka the Valley of Death) for what was to become a 34-day campaign. He is co-author of their story, "We Were Soldiers Once... and Young", which was made into the 2002 movie "We Were Soldiers" starring Mel Gibson as Lt. Col. Moore.

Read Peace Is, a prize winning poem by our granddaughter, Vickie

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A Place for Meditation

Thousands of people have visited this memorial to pause, pray, reflect and celebrate the hopes, dreams and ideals of democracy. You are invited to linger here with your private thoughts. To enrich your experience, a variety of music is offered. Currently playing is God Bless the USA. To play another song, simply select a title from the drop down menu and press PLAY. A new player window should open.
<a href="music/blessusa.mid">Click here to play music </a>

More Musical Selections
Midi files courtesy of The Music Odyssey, formerly located at

A place to meditate

Perhaps you would enjoy an alternate site for quiet meditation in the great outdoors. Keyà has just such a place nestled in the mountains. This link will open in a new window so you may continue to access our music.
Keya's Inner Sanctum

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More Than a Name on The Wall

RICHARD C ARCHER, one name amid more than 57,000 on a wall of polished black granite spanning almost 500'. I never knew Mr. Archer, but he touched my life. He brought the horror and reality of war and death to my consciousness, when the hometown papers announced his death. A square in Hyannis was named in his honor.

His brother, Curtis, was in the class ahead of mine in high school. During the traditional Thanksgiving Day football game in 1968, I thought of Richard and his family as "Curt" returned the opening kick-off for a touchdown. Dan, my husband, had known Richard as "Dick," a Boy Scout in a troop which he had lead.

Some twenty plus years later in 1990, The Moving Wall, a half-scale replica of the national monument (so long it required four separate photographs to capture its expanse on film) came to town. I, now married to Dan, a veteran and member of the participating American Legion post, attended the somber opening ceremonies. Later we walked The Wall to find panel 27-E. There on line 8 the simple words RICHARD C ARCHER stirred emotions we had never known. Dan's moment is captured in the montage photograph above.

MM2 - Navy - Regular
23 year old Married, Caucasian, Male
Born on 08/27/44
Length of service 3 years.
Casualty was on 09/25/67
Body was recovered
Panel 27E - - Line 8

Jake's Reflections, Dan's site, is dedicated to his father, Winfred and Richard Archer. For Memorial Day 2000 pages were added about Dick, his death aboard the USS Mansfield DD-728, and memorials to him. Please visit and put a face and a life with this name on the wall.

More Than A Name on The Wall

Words and Music by Jimmy Fortune and John Rimel.
Copyright ©1988 Statler Brothers Music (BMI).

I saw her from a distance as she walked up to the wall.
In her hand she held some flowers as her tears began to fall.
She took out pen and paper, as to trace her memories.
And she looked up to heaven, and the words she said were these:

She said, "Lord, my boy was special, and he meant so much to me.
And, oh, I'd love to see him, just one more time you see.
All I have are the mem'ries and the moments to recall.
So Lord, could you tell him, he's more than a name on a wall?"

She said, "He really missed the family and being home on Christmas Day.
And he died for God and country in a place so far away.
I remember just a little boy, playin' war since he was three
But Lord, this time I know he's not comin' home to me."

She said, "Lord, my boy was special, and he meant so much to me.
And, oh, I'd love to see him, but I know it just can't be.
So I thank you for my mem'ries and the moments to recall.
So Lord, could you tell him, he's more than a name on a wall."

"Lord, could you tell him, he's more than a name on a wall."

Used by Permission of The Statler Brothers

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Views of the Past

During the years since this page was first published on the WWW, it has been our pleasure to have met many wonderful people from around the world. Veterans. Sons, daughters, wives, mothers and fathers of fallen heros. People touched by the ravages of war and those blessed to have never witnessed it. Besides leaving thoughts and memories in our Book of Remembrance, some have shared stories with us personally. We would like to share several with you.

The first, Growing up in the wake of World War II, came to us through Bill Cunningham, a WW II veteran who served as a gunnery officer aboard a cruiser. Benoit Roisin had told Bill he would like to write a treatise as a tribute to all the USA forces past & present. It was completed in February 2000 and sent to Bill to share as he saw fit. We are honored and privileged to publish it with their permissions.

Growing up in the wake of World War II

Childhood recollections by Benoit Roisin
(now professor of engineering at Dartmouth College, USA)

"But, when we were growing up, it was the war and we had to do without it!" is a phrase that was often on my parents' lips when I was a small boy growing up in rural Belgium. We were then in the late fifties and early sixties, decades of plenty, when people were getting better off every year and thinking that it couldn't go another way. Yet, memories of the second world war were still vivid to those who had been unfortunate to live through it, including my parents who were teenagers during 1940-45. My mother would recount how she and her family had been deported to the south of France in May 1940, in a futile attempt to stay ahead of the Germans, and walked nearly 600 miles by foot carrying suitcases and pushing her younger brother half asleep on his small scooter, how she returned some months later again by foot only to find the family house ransacked, and how she lived through the rest of the war in fear of the Germans. My father, who spent the war years in Brussels, had tales of rationing and having to ride his bicycle to a distant farm where a cousin would be kind enough to give him bread, eggs and butter in return for a whole day of helping around the farm. And, as if the day of physical labor on the farm had not been enough, the bicycle ride followed cobbled backroads on which the bumps often snapped the weak strings - the only strings that one could then find - that held the precious cargo on the back rack of the bicycle, eggs, butter and all, falling without mercy on the cobblestones.

For me and my siblings in our plush family house surrounded by friendly neighbors and enjoying all kinds of commodities, those stories would have seemed to come from another world, a world with nothing in common with the one in which I was growing up, if it had not been for all those physical traces of the great conflict around nearly every corner: the bombed building that had not yet been levelled, the temporary river bridge paralleling the old stone bridge with the missing middle arch, the armored tank in the middle of the town square, and, saddest of all, those acres of white crosses in so-called "American cemeteries". So, when my parents recounted their stories, I knew it had been for real and in my evening prayers I would ask God to save me from having to live through a war.

And, so it went. The bombed building to which we had become indifferent would one day be demolished, reminding us that it had been bombed in the first place. My mother would then reminisce about bombing raids in her hometown, when all were warned by radios that "they" would come again at night and that windows had to be covered with black paper, lest lights would be seen from the outside and betray the location of the town. She would also describe how she and her siblings spent the night trembling at every noise and how terrifying were the explosions.

And, the old stone bridge of which the central arch had been purposefully dismantled to slow the Germans in their advance toward France, would gradually be rebuilt, until one day we could actually drive on it. I remember this well; we did not need to cross the river that day but my father drove the car across the bridge and back anyway, as a way to bring the bridge back to life. Naturally, we all started to think of the last time the bridge had been used and why it had been necessary to rupture it. I could vividly imagine frightening soldiers arriving at the bridge and not being able to pass on it.

And, that old tank on the town square would one day get a fresh coat of paint and look as if the battle had been yesterday. Stopping and scrutinizing it, I looked straight at it from the front and could imagine it crawling toward me and shooting from its big barrel.

And, during summer vacations, Dad would make a detour and have us visit American cemeteries. I must confess that initially I found them boring. With all those identical crosses! After all, "so what", I thought "the war is over, and this only serves to rehash the ugly past and to delay us in reaching our holiday destination", until one day, in one of those cemeteries - this one in Luxemburg, I recall - my father impressed on all of us children that below every cross lay a young man who had left his beloved family in America to fight in foreign soil and deliver from a wicked enemy my Belgian family who could not defend itself. "You can't go by on the road and not come in to say thank you", he added and then fell in a deep silence. Gratitude! Gratitude! This is what he was teaching me.

On another trip, we stopped at a certain fork in the road. Nothing was peculiar about it and I wondered why Dad stopped the car. Then, he would tell us all how the Americans were pushing the Germans back after the Battle of the Bulge but through some cicumstances a group was pursued by the Germans, arrived at this intersection and went one way, and when the pursuing Germans arrived an hour later they asked an old lady which way the Americans had gone and she pointed to the other way. Her quick thinking and her courage had saved precious lives. Such things, my father concluded, should never be forgotten.

Once during a winter, when all of us were assembled in the family room, my mother told us about the time when, before D-day, some Germans officers had commandeered half of her family house. Each morning, the soldiers would go to the battle and return in the evening, saluting the family with arm stretched à la Hitler and snapping their boots, until one day they left not to return. Barely a few days later, American officers took their turn in the house, and all had suddenly become alot safer. Like the previous tenants, those men would leave in the morning and return in the evening, but they were extremely friendly and their presence meant safety. Occasionally, one did not return and the companions would simply say that "Jeff got hit and fell". The next day, someone else took Jeff's place... A life had been sacrificied and, for my mother, that was the life of someone with a name and with pictures of his wife and children and homeland in his pocket, the life of a cheerful fellow who had drawn funny little creatures in her diary book, the life of someone who had taken her on his lap, looked into her face and said that she reminded him of his own daughter. Real people, with families just like my mother's and mine, have shed their blood on my native soil...

If they had not done so, my country would have been prey to nazism and later to communism. How could I go through life and not do something in return? What could I do to preserve the memory of those heros? Although I was not there during the war and all my information is second hand, I vowed I would never forget what I saw and what I heard. I vowed that I would always carry a debt of gratitude that I could never repay. I vowed that I would say from the bottom of my heart to those who fought and survived: "Well done!" and "Thank you!".

12 February 2000

What is a Vet? by Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC, came to us from veteran Rick Berry. This essay serves to remind us of all who have served their nation, not only those who paid the supreme sacrifice.

(We have obtained permission from Mr. Berry to publish this; however we were unable to find Father O'Brien prior to his death on August 29 of 2002. We have seen this piece published in several mediums and on on numerous websites. It is not our intention to violate any copyright. Please notify us if you hold or represent the holder of copyright to this piece.)

In January 2009 we were contacted by Linda May who says "I have an email from Fr. Denis E. O'Brien, USMC Chaplain and veteran of the Battle of Pelilieu, stating that he is not the author of 'It is the Soldier,' which he used once in quotes within a speech he did write... Charles M. (Mike) Province of the Patton Society says he wrote the meditation `It is the Soldier.`"

What is a Vet?

He is the cop on the beat who spent six months in Saudi Arabia sweating two gallons a day and making sure the armored personnel carriers didn't run out of fuel. He is the barroom loudmouth, dumber than five wooden planks, whose overgrown frat-boy behavior is outweighed a hundred times in the cosmic scales by four hours of exquisite bravery near the 38th parallel.

She - or he - is the nurse who fought against futility and went to sleep sobbing every night for two solid years in Da Nang. He is the POW who went away one person and came back another - or didn't come back AT ALL. He is the Quantico drill instructor who has never seen combat - but has saved countless lives by turning slouchy, no-account rednecks and gang members into Marines, and teaching them to watch each other's backs.

He is the parade - riding Legionnaire who pins on his ribbons and medals with a prosthetic hand. He is the career quartermaster who watches the ribbons and medals pass him by.

He is the three anonymous heroes in The Tomb Of The Unknowns, whose presence at the Arlington National Cemetery must forever preserve the memory of all the anonymous heroes whose valor dies unrecognized with them on the battlefield or in the ocean's sunless deep. He is the old guy bagging groceries at the supermarket - palsied now and aggravatingly slow - who helped liberate a Nazi death camp and who wishes all day long that his wife were still alive to hold him when the nightmares come.

He is an ordinary and yet an extraordinary human being - a person who offered some of his life's most vital years in the service of his country, and who sacrificed his ambitions so others would not have to sacrifice theirs.

He is a soldier and a savior and a sword against the darkness, and he is nothing more than the finest, greatest testimony on behalf of the finest, greatest nation ever known.

So remember, each time you see someone who has served our country, just lean over and say Thank You. That's all most people need, and in most cases it will mean more than any medals they could have been awarded or were awarded.

Two little words that mean a lot, "THANK YOU." Remember November 11th is Veterans Day.

"It is the soldier, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the soldier, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the soldier, not the campus organizer,
Who has given us the freedom to demonstrate.

It is the soldier,
Who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.

Father Denis Edward O'Brien, USMC

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Lay Flowers in Honor

According to the Dames of the Loyal Legion of the United States of America "General John A. Logan, as Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic in 1868, designated May 3Oth 'for the purpose of strewing flowers or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the Late Rebellion and whose bodies now lie In almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land.'" So began the tradition of Memorial Day.

thumbnail of remembrance awardYou are invited to honor someone (a relative, friend, or loved one who has served or is serving their country) by laying flowers in tribute in the Book of Remembrance. After you have made an entry please take your Remembrance Award, found on the thank you page.

Book of Remembrance
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View Past Books

Since this site was opened for Memorial Day 1998, hundreds of veterans have been honored. Visitors have shared their thoughts and memories; others simply leave a name; and some have written eloquent, poignant poetry and prose. We are honored you have made us custodians of your virtual memorial and invite you to return anytime.

All entries are available for your view.

Filled Pages
 1998 Book    - May thru December 1998
 1999 Book 1  - January thru May 1999
 1999 Book 2  - June thru September1999
 1999 Book 3  - October thru December1999
 2000 Book 1  - January thru April 2000
 2000 Book 2  - May 2000
 2000 Book 3  - June thru October 2000
 2000 Book 4  - November and December 2000
 2001 Book 1  - January thru April 2001
 2001 Book 2  - May 2001
 2001 Book 3  - June and July 2001
 2001 Book 4  - August thru October 2001
 2001 Book 5  - November and December 2001
 2002 Book 1  - January thru April 2002
 2002 Book 2  - May thru August 2002
 2002 Book 3  - Sept thru December 2002
 2003 Book 1  - January thru April 2003
Iraqi Freedom - Tribute to Casualties
 2003 Book 2  - May thru August 2003
 2003 Book 3  - September thru December 2003
 2004 Book 1  - January thru April 2004
 2004 Book 2  - May thru September 2004
 2004 Book 3  - October thru December 2004
 2005 Book 1  - January thru June 2005
 2005 Book 2  - July thru December 2005
 2006 Book 1  - January thru July 2006
 2006 Book 2  - August thru November 2006
site off line - December 2006 thru May 2008
 2008 Book 1  - May thru December 2008

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We are veteran's

This page was lovingly prepared in honor of all veterans, Memorial Day 1998. With special love to my veterans - husband Dan, son Wayne, and son Kelvin, still on active duty.
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Designed by Deborah Jacobs

As our way of saying thank you, please select your choice of armed services American flag desktops. Also available is a flag screensaver!
a GIFT for YOU from Mousehold Creations.

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Awards, Web Rings, & Links

THANK YOU to the many visitors to this site who have nominated us for awards. We are grateful to those who have honored us with their awards and have proudly displayed them on the next page.

If these moments of reflection and remembrance have stirred you to find out more about America's history and military, the WWW has many paths you may follow.
Only through understanding of the past can we not repeat the same mistakes in the future.

To view our awards or find links to start on your journey into history proceed to
Links & WebRings
[ Page 2 ]

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