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They belong Walking On or Planted In
AMERICAN SOIL--Nothing Less! ®



My Country 'Tis of Thee
A POW in SE Asia



No! Not again! My God! My God! Where are they?
Where are my countrymen? ?

After all these years, the depression still hits me...still knocks me against this cold, dank wall. This wall, that carries the names of Americans scratched into it. Some who got to go home. Some who did not. Do my countrymen remember me?
Do they care??!
I yearn for my family. Does my wife look at the same stars that I do wondering if I am glancing skyward? How did our lives change so much?! Does she demand my return or has she finally succumbed to
the lie?
What about my children? Have they gone to bed all these years crying because daddy isn't there? Oh God! I can't even remember their ages. Do they now have families of their own? Am I a grandfather? Do my grandchildren know of me? Do they care? ? ?
My Mom. God, how I miss her peach cobbler. Does she turmoil about me? Wonder if I am ok? Does she cry herself to sleep wondering why it is that fate took her Joseph from helping her through her golden years? Does she wonder if I am alive? Does she know? Is she alive, still?
My Dad. I wonder if he is ashamed that he taught me that we live in a nation that fights for Democracy. That we are lucky enough to be free and that there are responsibilities that go along with that freedom. Fighting so that others can taste that sweet breath, that sweet joy of freedom that we take for granted. I wonder if he had to do it over again, would he urge me to run...run to Canada?!
HA! Freedom! What does that mean? I answered the call. I did the right thing. I fought for their freedom, what now is anyone doing about mine? I am no ghost! I am POW and I am MIA.
My Country 'Tis of thee, Sweet Land of Liberty, why have you adandoned me?
My God, how I would love to watch the sunset on the Catskills once again. Or sit on the front porch, just after cutting the grass while rain fell and experience that wonderful smell.
Catchin' the Yankees and the Red Sox go at it. Ahh, but the thought of that brings a bittersweet tear.

I miss my country...I miss my home.

What I wouldn't give to go to the sweet shop for an egg cream.
How many presidents have been in office since I have been sentenced to this hell on earth? The last president I remember was Mr. Nixon when they played his address to my nation, saying that we were either all home or dead! And then they laughed at us saying , "We can keep you forever!"
Why? The war is over! I screamed, "NO!", but no one heard me. My mind. I fear I am retreating to the darkest, deepest recess of my mind and will never come back.
There has to have been other presidents by now. How many years can a man remain president, I don't even remember anymore. It is all I can do to hold on to my memories, my family, my children, my nationality...my being!! Don't they know? Don't they care? How can this have happened? Won't someone get me and the others out of here? Where, God, Where are they??!
Doesn't anyone realize that it could have been them? There But For the Grace of God Go I? Remember? I do not mean to complain, Lord, but isn't there a way that this cup could pass over my head? This chalice that runs over with the blood and tears of Americans still confined? Can't You relieve me of this purgatory? This hell? I did my time. I want to come home.
Does anyone hear me? Does Anyone Care???




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