Band of Brothers: Some Thoughts About Warriors and War

In my adult years, I gravitated away from TV. As a kid, I watched tons of it, but other things took precedent later in life, I guess. But, ever since we got rid of cable TV, my wife and I have been delving back, on streaming channels, into the critically acclaimed stuff. We started with Lost, which we really enjoyed, despite the many objections people had to the later seasons. We watched and liked Deadwood and Rome. Deadwood got old for me at the end -- I found the over-the-top foul language started to make me feel numb after awhile. Still, it was good writing. I liked Rome better; I thought the characters and their portrayals were excellent. Most recently, we completed Band of Brothers.

My favorite interaction with art is when it stirs my emotions. While watching Band of Brothers, I was brought to tears at least once, every episode. 

Richard Winters

Having been based on Stephen Ambrose's book, the miniseries was sort of a different animal than the other shows we watched. Sure, Rome was based on history, but it was ancient history. That feels different, from the start. But Band of Brothers is about a war that family members of mine were in. My great uncle, Vince, may well have actually been saved by the central characters, members of "Easy Company" who, in a heroic effort pitting twelve men against fifty German soldiers, took out the guns at Brecourt Manor, overlooking the beach on D-Day. It's close. My great uncle, Bobby, was not as lucky in Europe. 

Most affecting, though, for me, were the interviews with the men, several of whom were still alive in 2001 when the show was made. Humble (and I do not throw this word around lightly) heroes, each and every one of them.

A Pocket Full of God

A rare repost, from two years ago, but it is a summation of the way I feel about our veterans, and about one veteran in particular, my great uncle. 

I knew a man from South Jersey. He was the sweetest, most lovable old fellow you would ever want to meet. He'd been a welder who built great ships, but an accident had rendered his leg lame. Still, he could always be seen walking the main road in his town, usually with frequent stops to talk to every one who know him -- which was, really, everyone. He was my Great Uncle Vince.

He had been a soldier in World War II. In fact, he had been in the D-Day landing. Sometimes, he would tell me stories, cautioning me not to tell my mother -- he feared she would be shaken up by the details. But I think he believed that every little boy should know a little of what war was. Maybe he was right.

In short, if you ever saw the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan, you got the truth. The stories my Uncle Vince told me matched that opening in such detail, I would have placed a bet that Spielberg had interviewed my uncle, though he had died many years before the film was made.

But the best story I ever heard was this:

To Gain and to Lose Dimensions: Arguments for a Corny Superman

I wonder if we can stop "re-booting" things now.

I haven't seen the new Superman movie, yet. I love Superman, even though I was never a comic book kid. I had them, but everything but Superman seemed a waste of time.

I also got the treat of seeing Richard Donner's wonderful Superman: the Movie at the age of ten, in the theaters. I remember the advertisements on TV: "you'll believe a man can fly."

Christopher Reeve

What I saw onscreen was Superman as I had seen him defined in the comics and in the old reruns of the George Reeves series and in whatever cartoons had floated through my little head. He was honest; he represented "truth, justice and the American way."  He was a man, in that he could thump the bad guys (or, you know, pick up a train) but he would still stop to get a little girl's cat out of a tree. That's good stuff.

Strangely, I find myself getting emotional from time to time when I show my kids movies from my own past. When I put on Superman for my boys, I found myself getting choked up. I'm not sure what to make of this, really. It has a lot to do with just sharing something that was dear to me; it has a lot to do with the example of Superman in that film; it has a lot to do with John Williams's music (which, to me, is like water to the growing plants of my boys' young minds and hearts) but, I also think it has to do with the beautiful simplicity of the character.

The Thieves of Glory

I suppose I have accepted the fact that it has become okay to brag, in modern society. I don’t like it, but it seems the guidelines of humbleness have disappeared. Athletes, actors and the common person in the street seem to have no compunction about saying, “I’m the best…” or “I’m great at…”  It’s probably a result of years of self-esteem programming in schools and on TV. I don’t like it, but I can’t change it.

I wonder, though, if we could try to stop this arrogance from extending into stealing the credit that is due to others. 

Father Mychal Judge: hero
-- victim 0001

I started thinking about this after the World Trade Center attacks. A few months after the dust literally settled, I started seeing bumper stickers that read things like: “Support Your Local Heroes of Station 4.” All of a sudden, one was a hero simply for being a firefighter.

Now, hold on…wait, wait… Before you get mad and start typing angry responses about the lack of respect I have for firefighters, let me say this: To become a firefighter is a noble choice born out of the desire to help others and out of the willingness to put one’s self in danger for others. I respect the career immensely.

An Open Invitation to Rush

Alex, Geddy, Neil

I've mentioned, before, how important the progressive rock band, Rush, was to my development as a musician and as a writer. Neil Peart, the drummer and lyricist, was one of my biggest influences as a thinker and as a drummer. Geddy Lee, the bass player, singer and keyboardist and Alex Lifeson (maybe one of the most underrated guitarists of all time) also had a big influence on me. But, now, as a forty-four-year old, I am realizing how lucky I was to have had these guys as role models. Why? Because they were (and are) true individuals who have always been honest about their music and who never felt a need to play a part (whether that be "rock star" or "eccentric artist") that the world pressured them to play.

In fact, I remember one interview with Geddy Lee, back in the Moving Pictures days, I think. Geddy was asked if he wanted to meet his heroes. He said no -- not any more. He had met one of his heroes, once, and he had been horribly disappointed.