This yellow ribbon will be displayed on this page until all our Armed Forces are home with family again! Please click on the yellow ribbon for a special Armed Forces Tribute. You will need to stop the music on this page before clicking on the ribbon, go to end of this page to do so.
This page is dedicated to my sons JOSHUA & DANIEL who are currently in the Military. They are proudly serving our country and dedicated to their jobs. I am very proud of them, and I love them so much. No matter how far apart we will be I will always hold you near to my heart. I am praying every day for your safety,and for wisdom and strength for you to get thru each day. LOVE MOM!
Click on the link below for a beautiful song
SIDE STEPPING
The photo album worn and old is sitting on the pile,
She flips the cover open just to reminisce awhile.
On the first page there she is, a baby in her lap,
Her son when he was one year old; she smiles as she thinks back.
That was taken in the park where she took him to play,
Funny how it sometimes seems like only yesterday.
But other times it seems those days are distant memories,
And all we have reminding us are pictures such as these.
She sees a picture of him with his second birthday cake,
And smiles as she remembered of the face that he would make,
When trying to blow out the candles he would have a fit,
He tried so hard to blow them out but they would all stay lit.
So Mom came to the rescue with a waving of her hand,
The same time that he blew on it she waved a little fan.
She smiles as she thinks back at all the things when he first tried,
When she would lend a helping hand and then just step aside.
She sees a picture of him standing holding his first bike,
And smiles when thinking how he said, "it's harder than a trike".
But she would run behind him holding on while he would ride,
Until he got his balance and then she would step aside.
She turns the page and sees a picture when he was in school,
Remembering he used to say that it was not so cool,
To have your mother waiting for the school bus at your side,
So when the bus would get in sight, she quickly stepped aside.
She goes on through the album like a trip down through the years,
And as she goes from page to page her eyes start forming tears.
All through his life she stood by him in everything he tried,
Until he could do it alone and then she stepped aside.
But even though she stepped aside she was always near,
With a mother's worried heart and with a mother's fear.
Knowing that a day would come when life would have a plan,
For her little boy who now has grown to be a man.
She closes up the album and looks at the fireplace,
She sees his picture on the mantle with his smiling face.
Called to active duty and he's serving now with pride,
And once again with worried heart, she had to step aside.
-- James "PoppyK" Kisner
PoppyK1 @ aol.com
This is my younger brother Rusty, he is serving in the Naval Reserve Seabeas, with Unit NMCB25. He went to Guam last spring, to do some cleanup work after the hurricane, he was there about 4 weeks. He has a job here in town working for a local plumbing company, He lives in a duplex that he plans to buy and fix up, and he has a golden retriever dog named Mollie and a cat named Seabee to keep him busy! Hey ladies, he is currently single! :)
I Am the Flag of America
I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.
I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident.
I am arrogant.
I am proud.
When I am flown with my fellow banners,
My head is a little higher,
My colors a little truer.
I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped.
I am saluted.
I am loved.
I am revered.
I am respected.
And I am feared.
I have fought in every battle of every war for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appamatox.
I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest,Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me.
I was there.
I led my troops,
I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
But my soldiers cheered me and I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled on in the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt for I am invincible.
I have been soiled upon, burned,
torn and trampled in the streets of my country.
And when it's done by those whom I've served in battle - it hurts.
But I shall overcome - for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.
When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud.
This was sent over the internet and is for all Military personel that is serving our country, whether they are male or female, black or white, they are standing together united as one, to keep our FREEDOM in the USA. Thank you for your dedication, your bravery, your strength and wisdom. We are praying for you all every day. And those that are already serving in the War of Iraq, we are praying for your safe return to your loved ones. GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
The Average American Soldier I cannot help myself from feeling pride and being proud for all our service personnel each time I read this. Just heard Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld say today, "Our troops are ready to go. We just need the word from the President," or words to that effect. The days ahead will bring a lot of hardship and death to many people on all sides. Only God can help them now, as it appears a war is written in the sand.
The average age of the Infantryman is 19 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment either.
He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his short lifetime.
He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and helped to create them.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
I am a small and precious child, my dad's been sent to fight.
The only place I'll see his face is in my dreams at night.
He will be gone too many days for my young mind to keep track.
I may be sad, but I am proud.
My daddy's got your back.
I am a caring mother, my son has gone to war.
My mind is filled with worries that I have never known before.
Everyday I try to keep my thoughts from turning black.
I may be scared, but I am proud.
My son has got your back.
I am a strong and loving wife, with a husband soon to go.
There are times I'm terrified in a way most never know.
I bite my lip, and force a smile as I watch my husband pack.
My heart may break, but I am proud.
My husband's got your back.
I am a Soldier, serving proudly... standing tall.
I fight for freedom, yours and mine, by answering this call.
I do my job while knowing, the thanks it sometimes lacks.
Say a prayer that I'll come home,
IT'S ME WHO'S GOT YOUR BACK!!!
~~~Author Unknown~~~
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