Saying Goodbye to a Neighbor

We often become very comfortable with our neighbors and don’t really pay attention to them. They will always be around.

When Lewis and Clark came West everything was new to them. By trails end they had described 178 plants and 122 animals previously unrecorded for science. The Sitka Spruce, a species new to science, was described in detail by Meriwether Lewis on Tuesday, February 4, 1806.

" there are several species of fir in this neighborhood which I shall describe as well as my slender botanical skill will enable me... grows to immense size; very commonly 27 feet in the girth six feet above the surface of the earth, and in several instances we have found them as much as 36 feet in the girth or 12 feet diameter perfectly solid and entire. they frequently rise to the height of 230 feet, and one hundred and twenty or 30 of that height without a limb."

Until last night (December 2, 2007) Modern-day explorers could view a Giant Sitka at Klootchy Creek Park, Oregon. Klootchy Creek Giant - aka the Seaside Spruce- is a Sitka Spruce that stands 216 feet tall, measures 56 feet in circumference and has a crown that spreads 93 feet. That makes it the biggest tree in the State of Oregon and the biggest Sitka Spruce in the Country. The Klootchy giant has been named Oregon's first Heritage Tree, a program that recognizes trees for their connection to Oregon History.

Klootchy Creek Giant is located southeast of Seaside, Oregon on Highway
The 750-year-old Oregon tree is most likely the state's oldest and has been admired through time, said Paul Ries, forester with the Oregon Department of Forestry. "We know foresters passed up that tree when they were scouting for lumber during World War I," he said.

During WWI logger were recruited and assigned to the Spruce Division. Their job was to log the giant spruces in Oregon and Washington. Spruce was an ideal wood for manufacturing aircraft.

The Sitka has been an Oregon icon. A sign on U.S. 26, some 1 1/2 miles east of its junction with Highway 101, diverts a steady stream of traffic across a single-lane bridge into a parking lot not far from the base of the majestic tree. Though many motorists make it a point to visit the Sitka on their way to the coast, others simply see the sign, "Largest Sitka spruce tree in the United States," and turn in out of curiosity.

Five decades ago the The Klootchy Creek Giant was struck by lightening and the tree was badly damaged during winter storms in 2006. The tree was allowed to stand while visitors are kept a safe distance in case it falls.

Now those people who drive pass the sign and said “some day we’ll stop” have missed an opportunity to visit a giant and a living legend. Of course they can always drive North and visit a sister tree that Washington claims is just as big.

Friday Mornings at the Pentagon

A very touching article that I think everyone should be aware of. Even us old sea dogs can be proud of how the Army honors their wounded. Tom

Friday Mornings at the Pentagon By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY McClatchy

Newspapers Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war.

Thousands more hav e come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or years in military hospitals. This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate, Army Lt. Col. Robert Bateman , who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon. Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many tears every Friday morning

It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America Website.

"It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. There are thousands here.

"This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each other for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew.

"Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area. The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares.

"10:36 hours: The clapping starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.

"A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a private first class.

"Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in the burden ... yet.

"Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheelchair, also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, I believe, a full colonel.

"Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted as need be by a field grade officer.

"11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands hurt. Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come with them, and perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts. They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a private lunch, at which t hey are the guests of honor, hosted by the generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.

"There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her 19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks.

"An Airborne Ranger wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd have themselves been a part of this parade in the past. These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our brothers, and we welcome them home.

"This parade has gone on, every single Friday, all year long, for more than four years.

"Did you know that? The media hasn't told the story."