SAVE THE DATE

The Continental Army was officially formed on June 14, 1775, so June 14, 2025, the Army will be 250 years. That's a milestone worth marking and reflecting on. And apparently, plans are churning to do just that. Word is there will be a parade--the Army's birthday parade--through the center of Washington D.C.

I wish I could remember where I read the details so I could give proper credit, but the notes I made are missing the source. According to the report the parade will include:

28 M1A1 Abrams tanks (at 70 tons each, the heaviest in service)
28 Stryker armored personnel carriers
more than 100 other vehicles
a World War II-era B-25 bomber
6,700 soldiers
50 helicopters
34 horses
two mules; and
a dog.

I love a parade! In fact, it may be the pomp of a parade that first motivated me to want to be a drummer. As a kid I remember standing along the curb looking up Boston Avenue in downtown Tulsa in anxious excitement for the first of the parade to come into sight. But, before seeing that first car carrying the the grand marshall, before you could smell the horses, before any of that you could hear the cadence of the distant drums.

I've been to and marched in many many parades: Christmas parades, Rooster Day parades, Independence day parades, and one presidential inagural parade in D.C. for the infamous Nixon, which, by the way, will be the same parade route as the Army/Trump Birthday parade.

Oh I know, his name won't be on the cake so to speak but I'm sure that since by coindence he shares a birthday with the Army, he will feel celebrated too.

It should be a fine parade. Estimates are the cost will be in the $25 million to $45 million range. "But it could be higher because the Army has promised to fix any city streets that the parade damages, plus the cost of cleanup and police are not yet part of the estimate." I wonder: has DOGE heard about this?

Speaking of memorable points along the Army timeline, remember when Elvis, "King of Rock n Roll", served from 1958-1960? Let's take a look. From Wikipedia: "Before entering the Army, Presley had caused national outrage with his rock and roll music. Many parents, religious leaders, and teachers' groups welcomed his draft into the military. Despite being offered the chance to enlist in Special Services to entertain the troops and live in priority housing, Presley was persuaded by his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, to serve as a regular soldier. This earned him the respect of many of his fellow soldiers and people back in the United States who previously viewed him in a negative light."

Speaking of birthdays: depending on your view of the state of Elvis's aliveness, on January 8, 2026, Elvis will be or would have been 90 years old! How cool would it be to have a parade to commemorate? I'm open to brainstorming what it might look like: lots of Cadillacs, maybe a flyover of an old plane dropping Elvis impersonators out over the parade route, floating under bright parachutes. Maybe everyone could wear blue suede shoes. Floats could include a "Heartbreak Hotel" and another with a jail cell and a choir of recent pardonees singing "Jailhouse Rock". And of course there will be one "Hound Dog".

Although I'm not an Elvis fan, I respect his significant musical legacy and contribution. I do, however, remember his birthday every year. Coincidentally, old Pops here too was born on a January 8th, several years after the birth of Elvis. I know it's not a unique idea, but maybe I could go along for the ride as sort of a birthday 2-fer.

Speaking of psuedo-kings: There's another series of events planned for June 14, 2025. I don't know who's doing the planning but they've come up with a thought-provoking idea.

Maybe Elvis and I don't need the conspicuous consumption of a parade afterall. Remember that one Elvis song? The one with the bridge that said:

People, don't you understand
A child needs a helping hand
Or he'll grow to be an angry young man someday
Take a look at you and me
Are we too blind to see
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way?

-- In The Ghetto

Or, here's an idea: maybe we delay gratification for a little more than a year to, oh, let's say, July 4, 2026, and go all out for a party celebrating our Nation's 250th Birthday! We could save the $25 plus million until then and make it the the greatest, most huge party in the history of the world. I realize that steals the sparkle for those who have a June 14 birthday, but maybe if we need add-ons we could do a quick shout out to a few others with July 4 birthdays like: Calvin Coolidge, president #30. He was a conservative, limited government kind of guy. And Bill Withers who wrote songs we love and need like "Lean On Me"; or Nathaniel Hawthorne, who wrote "The Scarlet Letter", a book about sin and shame and repentance and judgement and imposing our morality on others.

July 4th just makes sense. A good party needs fireworks and July 4th is the pinnacle. And, according to the Oklahoma Fireworks Act, codified in Title 68, Section 1621-1635 of the Oklahoma Statutes the law that establishes the legal framework for the sale, possession, and use of fireworks across the state. Consumer fireworks can only be sold and used from June 15 to July 6 and from December 15 to January 2. So, to light a fuse on June 14th for a joint Army/Trump birthday bash would be illegal here in the Sooner state.

July 4th also would be perfect because Hobby Lobby already has all the trappings of a good celebration lining the shelves. Where in the H. E. Double Hockey Sticks are you going to find plates, napkins, banners, gnomes, flags, swizzle sticks, tablecloths, lights, hats, visors, flip-flops and a CD of saxophonist Kenny G playing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Onward Christian Soldiers" for a June 14 extravaganza?!

Oh well, enough of all that. It's not my call to make. It's his party--he can strut if he wants to--strut if he wants to; you would strut too if it happened to you; ta da dat dat dat.

EASTER IN 2025

From my earliest memories, our family was fully immersed in Easter celebrating: the bunny, the eggs, the vinegar smell, the hunt, the candy, a hollow chocolate bunny and of course, Peeps. New, scratchy, stiff clothes and uncomfortable shoes, extra butch wax to keep unruly hair in check. Pre-Sunday school threats about not getting dirty or wrinkly. And as we emerged from the car in the church parking lot there was a last minute spit and polish. Mom would literally spit on a tissue and wipe our mouths and pluck the "sleep" from the corners of our eye sockets. Into the church we would march with the throng that was extra large because it's Easter, and everyone goes to church on Easter.

My Amazing-Missus was raised in the same traditions so it was easy to lead our boys in that path. We didn't hesitate to let the Bunny and stuff be a part of their Eastertime experience. I know some today worry that having Peter Cottontail, Santa, and The Tooth Fairy in the childhood narrative will cause doubts in adulthood about the reality of the stories of faith. Honestly, I never remember feeling bamboozled by the mix of fiction and non-fiction gift-givers. To this day, I readily accept the truth of Jesus' having lived and living still. Of course there are still those beyond-understanding parts that I need a deep faith to accept. I'm like that guy in the Bible that said: "Lord I believe! Help me with my unbelief."

This morning, I read an article in the New York Times that included what we might call testimonies from people of some renown. This one from Andrea Bocelli, the 66 year-old, blind, Italian singer struck a chord with me:

As a boy in a Tuscan hill town, I went to the local Catholic church for the organ. They let me play it once a month. There, in that small church, in that cobbled, orange town, I fell in love with music.

My belief in God came later, when I read Blaise Pascal’s idea of a wager: He writes that we all have a choice; to believe or not to believe. Given the uncertainty, how little we know about the world, he argues it is a better bet to choose belief, to embrace mystery. That made sense to me. So I decided to dedicate my life to my faith.

My career is my offering. Saint Augustine is quoted as saying that those who sing pray twice. If that is true, I have prayed much of my life, and I am in a constant dialogue with God. --NYT. 4/19/2025.

I'll admit it. I do not like the uncertainty we are living in in 2025. I do not like the distorting of the message of Jesus. I'm in a bit of despair, but not without hope. I choose belief and embrace the mystery.

Here's an image I found on some social feed. My first thought: That's what it feels like to be a Peep in 2025.

HEAR YE HEAR YE

HENCEFORWARD, I, Pops, will be issuing an occasional "Executive Order". Why? Apparently we septuagenarians can be someTHING vibrant and virile by casting out a wordy, and often silly and irrational edict with all kinds of magisterial pomp, adding the flourish of a giant signature written with a Magic Marker, as if the marker and the mark it makes are somehow magically magical.

WHAT GOES IN TO A GOOD EXECUTIVE ORDER? Based on my own biased and baseless research: it needs to sound bold and brash. Sometimes it moves things forward with some expediency. Sometimes it shines a light on a need, or a problem needing a solution. Sometimes it offers a "solution" looking for a problem. Sometimes the Order is demagogic--stirring the pot and firing folks up for popularity's sake whether the idea serves any virtuous, just or moral purpose or not. Sometimes though, the Order can set in motion steps necessary to right the ship; or sink it--intentionally or not, maybe in hopes of setting a new one, a gaudy and golder one to sail across the waters in the Gulf of Whatever.

As I was thinking through what my first few Executive Orders would be, it dawned on me; I'm not an executive. I don't have a merry band of minions to execute any order. I don't have supporters, loyalists, an electorate, or a population of citizens: legal or not, whose lives might be improved or unsettled and altered--consequences be damned. I do wield some authoritarian sway over our GrandKids--wait, ignore that! It's actually the other way around.

So maybe "executive order" isn't what I'm looking for. How about this idea: I will issue DECREES! Sound the bugles! Unfurl the banners.

Maybe that's too regal. Maybe you have to have loyal subjects. [Shhh] (Don't mention this word to the current executive-orderer-in-chief. I have a feeling he might like the sound of handing down a Royal Decree or 200.)

Well, if not an EO, or a Decree, what's left for me. Surely at seventy-something I should be able to make a ceremonial something, something official if only because I've written it down and signed and sealed it and put it out there. Afterall I’ve been writing posts for this silly blog for more than ten years. At least it should be something that other like-minded beings could say: "Right On Pops!" "I'm with you." "Let's do this."

Then, I found it. From time to time I will be proclaiming A DECLARATION--an official announcement from POPS-DOM, a humble, peaceful, happy, funny little kingdom without a king, just a silly old man with enough time on his hands to actually ponder stuff like this.

Soon now I will be doing my first official Declaring ceremony, presenting the Declaration, signing the document and offering to any and all (for a small token to cover shipping and handling), a signed copy of the Declaration in a lovely presentation folder, along with the pen I use to sign it . But wait! That's not all. For a limited time, while supplies last, I will include a copy of my award-winning chili recipe which will come in handy when I Declare that any frigid frosty, cloudy, drizzly day with "feels-like" temps below zero(f) to be a good day for Chili, Tulsa style of course, with spaghetti noodles and saltines. Verily, Ye Verily.

I may not be Declaring for a few days. On this day after President’s Day 2025, our little village is iced over. I can’t get to the office supply store to get official pens and Declaring paper until The Thaw, because I do declare: that 70-somethings and frozen sidewalks are a hazardous combo. Stay safe and warm my friends.