First a poem by Lance Corporal Jame M. Schmidt: I’m sure you’ve heard it but I think it’s apropos for the Season:
As many (if not most) of you know, I opposed Mr. Trump’s election based on several things that gave me pause during the campaign and that Ms. Clinton was far and away better qualified for the job.
But now that it is over, I hope Mr. Trump will keep one promise in reference he made to the Veterans.
Dear Mr. Trump:
Congratulations on becoming President. I think you have a very unique opportunity to utilize your position to make the situation for our Veterans in VA hospitals much better. First and foremost, follow through on the funding promises and all of the Washington initiatives…nothing happens without money but it takes more than that.
It takes dedication and drive on the part of the staff at the VA. I urge you to use your media savvy to it’s full impact and show up at some VA hospitals a few times a year; totally unannounced. If Presidents can fly into war zones and summit meetings without tipping off folks, surely you can visit some VA hospitals totally without warning so you can see an unvarnished, undoctored (excuse the pun), and real-life look at what type of care the veterans are receiving. I would urge you to put together a team that includes your Sec. of Veterans Affairs and some “special masters” and just show up at the VA over on 7th Street here in Phoenix.
I’m it will quickly turn it into a photo op—and that isn’t meant to be a criticism in this case; I’m sure the vets would be honored to be visited by the President and would love a photo. However while you’re shaking hands, the “special masters” can be taking notes about how many people are waiting, how many beds are in hallways waiting to be transported to or from procedures, observe practices and prepare serious questions for the administrators.
On one hand, you’ll scare the sh*t out of the administrators. Not only in Phoenix but the VA in Houston will not know if they are next on the list; neither will the one in Dallas, Las Vegas, or Los Angeles. So they will clean up their back yards without you going there. The “special master” will stay behind and take a personal interest in fixing what is broken.
The veterans deserve the very best we can give them. Make it happen.
Sincerely:
T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
And to see just who, in this small home did live
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see –
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds.
A sobering thought soon came into my mind.
For this house was different, it was stark and dreary,
T'was the home of a soldier, that I could see clearly
I'd heard stories about them, so I had to see more.
I walked down the hallway and pushed open the door
The soldier lay sleeping there, silent, alone
Curled up on the floor in his solitary home
The face was so tranquil, the room all in order
Not how I would picture the home of a soldier…
Was this the hero of whom I had read,
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed
His hair was close cropped, his face weathered tan.
I soon understood this was no ordinary a man.
And I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owe their lives to these men who are willing to fight.
And soon round the world the children would play
And grownups would celebrate a new Christmas day
They all enjoy freedom each day of the year
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many more lay alone
On a dark Christmas eve in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.
The soldier awakened, I heard a calm voice
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask any more
My life is my God, my country, my corps"
With that he rolled over, drifted back into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
To cover this soldier from his toes to his head.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
Both of us shivering from that nights chill.
I didn't want to leave him, on a cold dark night,
This guardian of honour so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rewoke and in a voice soft and pure
Whispered "carry on Santa, Christmas day is secure"
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
"Merry Christmas my friend - and to all a good night!"
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
And to see just who, in this small home did live
I looked all about, a strange sight I did see –
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds.
A sobering thought soon came into my mind.
For this house was different, it was stark and dreary,
T'was the home of a soldier, that I could see clearly
I'd heard stories about them, so I had to see more.
I walked down the hallway and pushed open the door
The soldier lay sleeping there, silent, alone
Curled up on the floor in his solitary home
The face was so tranquil, the room all in order
Not how I would picture the home of a soldier…
Was this the hero of whom I had read,
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed
His hair was close cropped, his face weathered tan.
I soon understood this was no ordinary a man.
And I realized the families that I saw this night,
Owe their lives to these men who are willing to fight.
And soon round the world the children would play
And grownups would celebrate a new Christmas day
They all enjoy freedom each day of the year
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder how many more lay alone
On a dark Christmas eve in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.
The soldier awakened, I heard a calm voice
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask any more
My life is my God, my country, my corps"
With that he rolled over, drifted back into sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
To cover this soldier from his toes to his head.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
Both of us shivering from that nights chill.
I didn't want to leave him, on a cold dark night,
This guardian of honour so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rewoke and in a voice soft and pure
Whispered "carry on Santa, Christmas day is secure"
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
"Merry Christmas my friend - and to all a good night!"
As many (if not most) of you know, I opposed Mr. Trump’s election based on several things that gave me pause during the campaign and that Ms. Clinton was far and away better qualified for the job.
But now that it is over, I hope Mr. Trump will keep one promise in reference he made to the Veterans.
Dear Mr. Trump:
Congratulations on becoming President. I think you have a very unique opportunity to utilize your position to make the situation for our Veterans in VA hospitals much better. First and foremost, follow through on the funding promises and all of the Washington initiatives…nothing happens without money but it takes more than that.
It takes dedication and drive on the part of the staff at the VA. I urge you to use your media savvy to it’s full impact and show up at some VA hospitals a few times a year; totally unannounced. If Presidents can fly into war zones and summit meetings without tipping off folks, surely you can visit some VA hospitals totally without warning so you can see an unvarnished, undoctored (excuse the pun), and real-life look at what type of care the veterans are receiving. I would urge you to put together a team that includes your Sec. of Veterans Affairs and some “special masters” and just show up at the VA over on 7th Street here in Phoenix.
I’m it will quickly turn it into a photo op—and that isn’t meant to be a criticism in this case; I’m sure the vets would be honored to be visited by the President and would love a photo. However while you’re shaking hands, the “special masters” can be taking notes about how many people are waiting, how many beds are in hallways waiting to be transported to or from procedures, observe practices and prepare serious questions for the administrators.
On one hand, you’ll scare the sh*t out of the administrators. Not only in Phoenix but the VA in Houston will not know if they are next on the list; neither will the one in Dallas, Las Vegas, or Los Angeles. So they will clean up their back yards without you going there. The “special master” will stay behind and take a personal interest in fixing what is broken.
The veterans deserve the very best we can give them. Make it happen.
Sincerely:
