“Soldier Ride” Wounded Warrior Project

Empire State Challenge

July 24-26, New York City and Long Island

Schedule of Events

Pre ride event at Bar 9 in Manhattan. Wednesday, July 23 at 8 pm.

Day 1, Thursday, July 24: Riders will ride in Manhattan. Route to be announced but we will hit Central Park, Hudson River Park bike path, South Street Seaport, cross the Brooklyn Bridge and end in Bensonhurst. Later the soldiers will be guests of honor at a fundraiser dinner at the Airpower Museum in Farmingdale.

Day 2, Friday, July 25: Ride starts at the Babylon Town hall and heads from Jones Beach to Cedar Beach along Ocean Parkway. Riding is by invitation only but come out and cheer on the riders. Event route That night the riders will be treated to a dinner in Ocean Beach on Fire Island.

Day 3, Saturday, July 26: Riders will be the guests of honor at the Inagural Soldier Ride Empire State Challenge Metric Century Bike Ride in East Hampton. For more information and to register please see www.empirestatechallenge.org.After the ride come to the Stephen Talkhouse to meet the riders.

https://www.woundedwarriorproject.org/content/blogcategory/127/1011/

| View Show | Create Your Own

——————————–

Run for the Fallen is a collective of runners whose mission is clear and simple: To run one mile for every American service member killed in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

As Soldiers’ Angels mission is to support all of our Heroes and with your help, we are asking for your help to spread our wings around this event. With the thousands of dedicated Angels nationwide, we have the ability to stand wingtip to wingtip, coast to coast, literally, and join these runners in honor of our fallen. You can run with them, you can take water or snacks or simply cheer them along the route. We want the love and support of Soldiers’ Angels to be felt nationwide.

Every mile in this memorial run, Run for the Fallen, will be dedicated to a fallen soldier and marked with an American flag and personalized sign card. These dedication markers will create a memorial trail across the United States, which will allow the memorial to connect with towns and citizens and propagate the memories and lives of those who fought in Iraq. We run in honor of the soldier.

The run is a symbolic memorial. While each flag will represent a soldier who has fallen, the run will stand as one large stitch spanning the width of the nation, coast to coast. The run is an active healing process, and the miles manifest themselves as healing stitches. One mile of sweat and pain to pay homage to one soldier’s life. It is through the embodiment of each mile that we reflect upon and activate the memory of those who gave their lives.

We ask that you, as a integral part of Soldiers’ Angels assist in honoring a fallen service member by meeting the runners along the path in your area to show your support. We encourage you to help the healing process, and bring the lives of those lost to the forefront.

Please look over the route below for the date they will be coming through you area.

Love,
Patti Patton-Bader

Remaining dates of Run for the Fallen:

Day 40: July 24, 2008: Bolivar, MO to Camdenton, MO 58.11 miles.
Day 41: July 25, 2008: Camdenton, MO to Crocker, MO 56.63 miles.
Day 42: July 26, 2008: Crocker, MO to Owensville, MO 63.79 miles.
Day 43: July 27, 2008: Owensville, MO to Wildwood, MO 63.69 miles.
Day 44: July 28, 2008: Wildwood, MO to Mascoutah, IL 56.29 miles.
Day 45: July 29, 2008: Mascoutah, IL to Nashville, IL 50.92 miles.
Day 46: July 30, 2008: Nashville, IL to Herrin, IL 59.88 miles.
Day 47: July 31, 2008: Herrin, IL to Brookport, IL 62.84 miles.
Day 48: August 1, 2008: Brookport, IL to KY/TN border 60.21 miles.
Day 49: August 2, 2008: KY/TN border to Cunningham, TN 59.86 miles.
Day 50: August 3, 2008: Cunningham, TN to Nashville, TN 57.35 miles.
Day 51: August 4, 2008: Nashville, TN to Murfreesboro, TN 57.37 miles.
Day 52: August 5, 2008: Murfreesboro, TN to McMinnville, TN 64.02 miles.
Day 53: August 6, 2008: McMinnville, TN to Crossville, TN 61.81 miles.
Day 54: August 7, 2008: Crossville, TN to Oak Ridge, TN 59.65 miles.
Day 55: August 8, 2008: Oak Ridge, TN to New Tazewell, TN 58.26 miles.
Day 56: August 9, 2008: New Tazewell, TN to Van Hill, TN 55.51 miles.
Day 57: August 10, 2008: Van Hill, TN to Abingdon, VA 62.57 miles.
Day 58: August 11, 2008: Abingdon, VA to Wytheville, VA 59.13 miles.
Day 59: August 12, 2008: Wytheville, VA to Christiansburg, VA 50.52 miles.
Day 60: August 13, 2008: Christiansburg, VA to Buchanan, VA 55.49 miles.
Day 61: August 14, 2008: Buchanan, VA to Buena Vista, VA 46.16 miles.
Day 62: August 15, 2008: Buena Vista, VA to Waynesboro, VA 49.37 miles.
Day 63: August 16, 2008: Waynesboro, VA to Shannon Hill, VA 49.81 miles.
Day 64: August 17, 2008: Shannon Hill, VA to Old Church, VA 57.28 miles.
Day 65: August 18, 2008: Old Church, VA to Yorktown, VA 59.37 miles.
Day 66: August 19, 2008: Yorktown, VA to Burgess, VA 55.68 miles.
Day 67: August 20, 2008: Burgess, VA to Colonial Beach, VA 56.39 miles.
Day 68: August 21, 2008: Colonial Beach, VA to Quantico, VA 49.75 miles.
Day 69: August 22, 2008: Quantico, VA to Lincolnia, VA 54.73 miles.
Day 70: August 23, 2008: rest day in Washington D.C.
Day 71: August 24, 2008: Dora Kelly Nature Park, Lincolnia, VA to Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, VA 10k finish.

You are receiving this message because you are currently an approved angel at Soldiers Angels (http://www.soldiersangels.org

July 4th, Let Freedom Ring

http://www.ushistory.org/Declaration/

Flag Day 2008

For all the moms of servicemen/women and “Letter from a Mom”

Author Unknown

You see me every day going about life as usual - or so it appears. I
rub shoulders with you at work. I shop at Wal-Mart and the grocery store.
I fill my car at the corner gas station. You might see me anywhere.
Don’t be deceived: My life has not been “normal” for months. I am the
mother of an American soldier.

Although I continue the routines of life, I do so with a burdened
heart and distracted mind. There are some tell-tale signs of who I
am.

I’m the one with the frayed yellow ribbon pinned on my clothing. It
was fresh and new when my son first deployed months ago. Even though
the war is supposedly over, my son is in a place where bullets and
grenades (I.E.D.s) are still killing our soldiers. I am determined to wear my
ribbon until he comes home, because it reminds me to pray for him
every minute. When you see me wearing that ribbon, please stop and
whisper a prayer for him and all the others still there.

My house is the one with the faded yellow ribbons the tree in the
yard and one on the mail post. There is an American flag on a pole
attached to the front porch, and a small red-and-white banner with a
blue star in the middle in my window. When my son gave this to me
before he left, I told him that I never wanted to cover the blue star
with a gold one. Gold Star Mothers are the ones whose sons come home
in body bags.

When you drive by a house of this description, please pray for the
son or daughter overseas and for the parents waiting inside for their
child to come home.

To those of you who have posted yellow ribbons at your house or in
the windows of your schools, thank you. It warms my heart every time
I see your expressions of support for our troops.

One of the hardest things about being the mother of an American
soldier is living 1,500 miles (how bout 2600 miles!) away from the
post of my son’s unit. Wives usually live on or near the fort, where
they can glean support from others in the same situation. But a
mother may live across the nation, so she feels totally alone.

Letters rarely make their way home, and if they do, it is weeks after
they were written. We go more than a month without hearing anything;
then we might get a short phone call. E-mail is out of the question
most of the time.

Every week is like a rollercoaster ride that I want to get off. When
I read a soldier has been killed and his name has not been released
pending notification of kin, restlessness, depression and insomnia
rule my life until 24 hours have passed and the men in dress uniforms
have not appeared at my door. I pray constantly they will never come.

When you hold your baby close, remember we mothers of American
soldiers held our babies, too. Now our “babies” are putting
themselves in harm’s way for your babies.

And if you see a woman at the store buying tuna and crackers, beef
jerky, powdered Gatorade, baby wipes and potted meat, check to see if
she is wearing a yellow ribbon. If so, stop and pray for her. She is
probably the mother of an American soldier, getting ready to send her
child another “care package.” You may see tears in her eyes or dark circles under them.

I am there among you, trying to carry on some semblance of a normal
life. Like so many others,

I am the mother of an American soldier.

http://www.army.mil/fieldband/nimrod/nimrod.htm

“So Often we hear “Pray for our soldiers overseas”.  The word “Soldier” is so generic.  It does not begin to make known the person behind the title.  As my son prepares to go to Afghanistan, my mission, as a mom, is to raise the awareness of each American.  To make it known that these are soldiers, yes, but more importantly, someone’s son or daughter.  Someone’s child.  I wrote this to help you see MY son as more than just a faceless man in uniform.  Please SEE my son, please be grateful for my son, and to please pray for my son.

21 years ago, as I began to labor with my child, I realized this was the beginning of our separation.  The start of a process of growing for both of us.  Never again would I be so literally between him and the world, protecting him.  Early in the morning of December 10, the beautiful eyes of a precious soul looked into mine.  My heart was overflowing with feelings I had never known before.  Would I be a good mom?  Will I always be able to keep him safe?  I wanted to hold him close forever.  I still do.

As he grew, I watch the first tentative steps on pudgy little feet.  An unsteady gait, taking him precariously close to the danger of another bump or bruise.  I would rush to catch him.  Now, those feet march in military confidence. Again, marching precariously close to danger. I cannot catch him if he falls this time.

I remember a little boy standing at my door with a Bert and Ernie book bag hanging loosely off little shoulders.  It is the first day of school and he doesn’t want to go but knows he has to.  He had tears in his eyes. “I’ll miss you, mom.” he whispered.

The years rush by and bring into reality the young man I want you to see.  He loved dinosaurs, lasagna, Indian Jones and peanut butter cookies.  He had fish (they all died!), rode a bike, got stitches and went to prom.  He set an example, became a member of the National Honor Society and received a scholarship.  He forgot to take out the trash, continually lost his mittens and washed his colored clothes and white clothes together.  He grew up, trusted God and joined the Army.  The little hands full of dirt and dandelions that gave me my first bouquet now hold a weapon that gives you freedom.

Now, there is a young man with strong broad shoulders standing at my door, holding a green duffle bag.  He doesn’t want to go, but it is his duty.  He has tears in his eyes.  “I’ll miss you, mom.” he whispers.  I’ll miss you, too my son. I’ll miss you, too…

So, please when you say your prayers for the “soldiers” overseas, see my son.  See someone’s daughter.  Pray not only for the soldier, but also for the child behind the uniform and the family that loves them.

---

(This performance and reading was based on a letter written by Ms. Tami M. Ketteman from Ohio whose son is currently based at Fort Richardson in Alaska and is currently deployed to Afghanistan. Through this letter she shares the anxiety, the fear, and the proud patriotic spirit of a mother, of an American soldier fighting for freedom.)

Memorial Day

HEROES UNAWARE
By Mark A. Wright, HMC(SS)
22 June, 2000

I first saw him on a park bench
I’ve seen him every day
Sitting in a shady grove
Where my children come to play
Sometimes he feeds the birds and squirrels
Or whittles little toys
Sometimes he just sits and smiles
At the laughing girls and boys
And I never paid him any mind
‘Till one day just this year
I noticed that he wore a frown
And on his cheek … a tear.

Well I asked him why he seemed so down
He looked up, began to say
I lost half my friends 60 years ago today
He told me of the terror
As he fought to reach dry land
By the time the beachhead was secure
Half his friends lay in the sand

That was just in one long day
He fought on for 4 years more
And the 60 years from then to now
Have not dimmed His sights of war

He said they have reunions
Just to keep in touch and share
And for each comrade who has gone on
They leave an empty chair

Well, His park bench has been empty now
About 6 months or so
And if I’d never took the time
Then I never would’ve known
That sitting on that simple bench
With bread crumbs and little toys
Was a man who gave his all
To guarantee my daily joys

http://www.usmemorialday.org/

http://www.remember.gov/

We pause to remember those who died

With so much courage, so much pride

They’ll never come back, yet memories endure

To remind us of freedom: fragile, pure

We’re worthy of their sacrifice if we pause each day

Not just on the last Monday in May

©John T. Bird, copyright 2006

http://www.honorflight.org/

Last month my family and I observed a wreath laying/dedication at the Pacific WWII memorial in Washington D.C. We were unsuspecting tourists

A group of WWII veterans from Ohio had gathered together and made the trip to D.C. to pay tribute to all those they had served with and to remember those who had paid the ultimate sacrifice and to acknowledge the daily passing (a rate of 1200 a day-by many accounts)of their fellow WWII Veterans.

Some walked independently, some pushed in wheel chairs, most had on Honor Flight tee-shirts near all had their military caps-noting their branch of service….This procession was profoundly moving. The lone bag pipe player in Celtic garb played “Amazing Grace” followed by the Veterans. I can say, I had tears in my eyes and my heart in my throat as I watched. It was very noble and sacred.

May 08 - 10th Annual National Military Appreciation Month

http://www.nmam.org/

National Day of Prayer 2008

“Somebody’s Praying” By Ricky Skaggs http://www.ndptf.org/press_room/index_2668.cfm#

‘I still have hope’ April, Autism Awareness

Petition to rename the high school after Lt. Michael P. Murphy, “USS Michael Murphy” DDG 112,

Monday, April 14th at 7pm in the Medford Elementary School, the Board of Education heard the petition to rename the Patchogue Medford high school after Lt. Michael P. Murphy.

For anyone who was not able to attend Monday, please send an email to Superintendent of Schools Michael H. Mostow and the entire Board of Education at:

mmostow@pmschools.org
boe@pmschools.org

We are proud of the heroic actions of North Patchogue’s own son who was awarded the Medal of Honor for his unselfish courage in Afghanistan.

Congratulations to all my brothers and sisters of the North Patchogue fire department for speaking up and showing unity in supporting the renaming of the Patchogue-Medford High School in Mike’s honor.

Mike grew up in North Patchogue and graduated from PMHS.

Please watch this video …

http://www.eyeblast.tv/public/video.aspx?RsrcID=2094

(from Donna PAM-sent out from Brian)  Hooyah!  BRAVO ZULU!!  - WELL DONE!

http://www.history.army.mil/html/moh/afghanistan.html

“MURPHY, MICHAEL P.

Rank and Organization: Lieutenant, United States Navy
For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as the leader of a special reconnaissance element with Naval Special Warfare Task Unit Afghanistan on 27 and 28 June 2005. While leading a mission to locate a high-level anti-coalition militia leader, Lieutenant Murphy demonstrated extraordinary heroism in the face of grave danger in the vicinity of Asadabad, Konar Province, Afghanistan. On 28 June 2005, operating in an extremely rugged enemy-controlled area, Lieutenant Murphy’s team was discovered by anti-coalition militia sympathizers, who revealed their position to Taliban fighters. As a result, between 30 and 40 enemy fighters besieged his four-member team. Demonstrating exceptional resolve, Lieutenant Murphy valiantly led his men in engaging the large enemy force. The ensuing fierce firefight resulted in numerous enemy casualties, as well as the wounding of all four members of the team. Ignoring his own wounds and demonstrating exceptional composure, Lieutenant Murphy continued to lead and encourage his men. When the primary communicator fell mortally wounded, Lieutenant Murphy repeatedly attempted to call for assistance for his beleaguered teammates. Realizing the impossibility of communicating in the extreme terrain, and in the face of almost certain death, he fought his way into open terrain to gain a better position to transmit a call. This deliberate, heroic act deprived him of cover, exposing him to direct enemy fire. Finally achieving contact with his Headquarters, Lieutenant Murphy maintained his exposed position while he provided his location and requested immediate support for his team. In his final act of bravery, he continued to engage the enemy until he was mortally wounded, gallantly giving his life for his country and for the cause of freedom. By his selfless leadership, courageous actions, and extraordinary devotion to duty, Lieutenant Murphy reflected great credit upon himself and upheld the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.” http://www.history.army.mil/html/moh/mohstats.html

http://www.navy.mil/moh/mpmurphy/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_P._Murphy

http://www.newsday.com/news/specials/ny-murphy-seal-sg,0,6675676.storygallery

http://www.cmohs.org/

(from Donna-origins with Alicia–BZ!)

“FREE”

Free
and She called…
Blacks, Whites…wait
African Americans and Caucasians, Asians, excuse me.
Vietnamese, Philippines, Koreans and Jamaicans or
Haitians, waitin’, Hispanics, y’all.

Please be patient
Mexican, Puerto Ricans, Venezuelan, Cuban, v Dominican, Panamanian, Democrats
I beg your pardon, you partied with the late, great Reagan?
Republican, Independent, Christian, Catholic,
Methodist, Baptist, 7th Day Adventist, 5 Percenters,
Hindu, Sunni Muslim, Brothers and Sisters who never seen the New York city
skyline when the twin towers still existed.
But still She called.

From the bowels of Ground Zero she sent this 911 distress signal.
Because She was in desperate need of a hero,
and didn’t have time to decipher what to call ‘em,
so she called ‘em all Her children.
The children of the stars and bars who needed to know nothing more than the fact that she called.
The fact that someone attempted to harm us
this daughter who covered us all with her loving arms.
And now these arms are sprawled across New York City streets.
A smoke filled lung, a silt covered faced,
and a solitary tear poured out of her cheek.
Her singed garments carpets Pennsylvania Avenue and the Pentagon was under her feet.
As she began to talk, she began to cough up small particles of debris
and said, “I am America, and I’m calling on the land of the free.”
So they answered.

All personal differences set to the side
because right now there was no time to decide which state building the Confederate flag should fly over,
and which trimester the embryo is considered alive,
or on our monetary units, and which God we should confide.
You see, someone attempted to choke the voice
of the one who gave us the right for choice,
and now she was callin’.
And somebody had to answer.
Who was going to answer?

So they did.
Stern faces and chiseled chins.
Devoted women and disciplined men,
who rose from the ashes like a Phoenix
and said “don’t worry, we’ll stand in your defense.”
They tightened up their bootlaces
and said goodbye to loved ones, family and friends.
They tried to bombard them with the “hold on”, “wait-a-minute’s”, and “what-ifs”.
And “Daddy, where you goin’?”.
And, “Mommy, why you leavin’?”.
And they merely kissed them on their foreheads and said “Don’t worry, I have my reasons.
You see, to this country I pledged my allegiance
to defend it against all enemies foreign and domestic.
So as long as I’m breathin’, I’ll run though hell-fire,
meet the enemy on the front lines,
look him directly in his face,
stare directly in his eyes and scream,
“I AM AMERICA! WE WILL NOT BE TERRORIZED!
WE WILL NOT BE TERRORIZED!
I REFUSE TO BE AFRAID!
I’LL FIGHT YOU ANY COUNTRY, ANY CONTINENT, ANY TERRAIN.
I’LL FIGHT TO MY LAST BREATH!”

And if by chance death is my fate,
pin my medals upon my chest,
and throw Old Glory on my grave.
But, don’t y’all cry for me.
You see, my Father’s prepared a place.
I’ll be a part of his Holy army standing a watch at the Pearly Gates.
Because freedom was never free.
POW’s, and fallen soldiers
all paid the ultimate sacrifice
along side veterans who put themselves in harms way.
Risking their lives and limbs just to hold up democracy’s weight,
but still standing on them broken appendages anytime the National Anthem was played.
You see, these were the brave warriors that gave me the right
to say that I’m Black. Or white.

Or

African American or Caucasian,
I’m Asian, excuse me.
I’m Vietnamese, Philippine, Korean, or Jamaican.
I’m Haitian, Hispanic

Y’all, Please be patient.
I’m Mexican, Puerto Rican, Venezuelan, Cuban,
Dominican, Panamanian, Democrat
I beg your pardon, you see I partied with the late, great Reagan.
I’m Republican, Independent, Christian, Catholic,
Methodist, Baptist, 7th Day Adventist, 5 Percenters,
Hindu, Sunni Muslim,

Brothers and Sisters We’re just Americans.
So with that I say
“Thank You” to the Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines,
for preserving my rights
to live and die for this life
and paying the ultimate price for me to be…FREE!