Long walk

Yesterday was for an extremely long walk. I walked down to River Bend Farm, which is several miles, crossed the bridge over the Blackstone Canal, and then walked back along the towpath. It was all very refreshing to the mind. The peacefulness of the water in the Canal is punctuated by the splash of turtles, Canadian Geese paddling and honking their way along their thoroughfare, and birds scolding chipmonks. I only encountered one other person who was walking a black Labrador Retriever.
The Blackstone River flows on the other side of the towpath, through woodlands and skunk cabbage, gravel banks and oxbows. The river and the canal and the birds and the turtles soothe the mind and reflection starts. I started thinking about my generation. a generation that was so full of promise and gentleness and respect for each other and the truth. It was the US generation and has devolved into the ME generation.
I started thinking about heroes, not the Greek definitions of heroes but who our heroes were. I have three heroes in mind. The first is James Earle Carter. What he was and who he is may never be equaled. The second is William Jefferson Clinton. I did not vote for him to be my moral leader, for, like Nebo, he has a problem with his feat. I voted for him to take care of America and that he did as no recent President has. Personal life aside, he did his job. He reminds me of Edward Kennedy, personal life aside, he did his job.
Of all the heroes, no one can match Hugh Thompson Jr.. My generation should carve a mountain to celebrate his humanity. He epitomizes the phrase "Beufel ist nicht beuful!" We are all responsible for our actions. The ghosts of Goring and Heidrich must be laughing at my generation and shuddering at the thought of Hugh Thompson Jr..
I cannot wear flowers in my hair as what hair is left is too short to retain them. The flowers are still in my heart. Once upon a time, forty years ago, there was hope. Life in a groove was better than life in a rut.