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| I thought that I should get back on here and get back to writing, but Facebook is so much easier!!! :( But I don't exactly "write" on facebook either. But...if you are on Facebook, add me under: Andrea Marie Cooper. It will be much easier to stay in touch.
Now...perhaps tomorrow...I will give xanga another shot. Maybe.
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| Too often in life, extraordinary people pass away and leave a legacy behind worthy of the world’s notice but never receive it. They lived lives that many of us could only dream of, lives that are so rich in history and experience that they are what good books is made of. Pain, sorrow, anguish all mixed together with joy and happiness—that is what makes for an extraordinary life.
Mr. Alex Kiss was this kind of man. He died over the weekend in White House, Tennessee—a tiny little town nestled among beautiful hills that serve as footnotes of time and mystery. He was just a boy in Hungary when the dawn of World War II threatened to change his life forever. When Hitler rounded up young men to serve in the Nazi Youth, Mr. Kiss and his best friend were among them. Thus began his legacy…
I cannot imagine being swept into a movement anything like the Nazi Youth. When I was a child, life was more carefree than what should have been allowed. But to be forced to learn to hate and fight in the way that the Nazis did…is unthinkable. Mr. Kiss and his best friend were handed a gun and a uniform. They were sent out on patrols that I imagine started out innocent enough. The grown men probably offered them their first cigarette on a blistery dark night as they stood nervously clinging to their guns. They would have learned how to use swear words correctly in the rough and tumble military world they were falling into. The hate was all around them. The Jews were bad. They were the root of all evil, the cause of all the world’s problems. They must be held at bay. They must be killed.
I cannot imagine…
Alex Kiss saw hate in its raw form: unadulterated, unleashed, unrestrained and ugly. Eventually, the thin veil fell away and revealed the true intent of what the Nazi Youth was being trained to do. They were to kill—murder their fellow citizens.
Alex was only a boy when he witnessed what the heart of man was capable of. Being drug from their homes, Jewish men were stripped of their clothes in the town square for all to see. In the frigid temperatures, buckets of water were poured over their heads. Some passerby’s mocked the men and ridiculed them. Others tried not to hear the blood-chilling cries of the wife who begged the Nazis to stop only to be silenced by the slap of a hand or crushed by the butt of a rifle. Children cowered, much like Alex Kiss did—confused and afraid of what was happening before their eyes. The nightmare was only finished when the poor Jewish man froze to death, naked, exposed and left lying in the town square.
“Sich in Reih und Glied aufstellen!”
I cannot imagine what must have raced through Alex’s mind as he and his best friend held innocent Jews by gunpoint. His heart must have raced, afraid of what would happen next as Jewish men, women, and even children were lined up along a river. I am sure he stared into the eyes of a boy just like him—eyes wide with fear—heart pounding like mad.
“Feuer!”
When the shots were fired, he flinched. The echo shook the earth and birds exploded from the trees. The world slowed and spun around him as the bodies fell lifeless into the water. Rich, velvety blood was caught up in the rushing ripples that washed over the dead. Tears hung from his lashes as Alex’s breath caught in his throat. What kind of world had he been born into?
It was during the night that he and his best friend decided that they had to escape. They would not become monsters. They refused to kill innocent men and women. They could not watch another child be killed ever again. But it was risky. Anyone caught fleeing would be shot on sight.
“We’ll run.” His friend’s voice was hushed, his eyes serious. “We’ll run and never stop…never look back. Do you hear me?” Alex barely nodded. “If we hear gunshots, we won’t stop. No matter what, Alex, don’t stop!”
It was a dark night with pristine snow casting an eerie look over the land. The men were on patrol when Alex and his friend slipped away. Taking a deep breath, they stared ahead, looked one last time in each other’s eyes where a silent pact shone…
…And then they ran.
The German shouts only made Alex’s legs pump harder, his heart racing. “Keep running!” His friend commanded…
…And then the shots rang out.
Alex flinched, heard a hollow thud in the snow behind him, but he never stopped running. Silent tears slid down his cheeks. His best friend, his co-conspirator in boyhood mischief…was gone.
Over the last many years, Mr. Alex Kiss was just an old Hungarian man to most people in White House, Tennessee. He was a nice man that made friends easily. A member of the White House Methodist Church, he would often visit the church office during the week. This was where he waited for his wife to pick him up for Chemo treatments. He was dying of cancer, but no one would have known it by the life that radiated from him.
He came to the church office to sit a while and talk about nothing in particular with the pretty lady that worked there. She happens to be my Aunt. If you knew her, you would understand why it was the place Alex would want to be before the dreaded Chemo. My Aunt is vivacious, to say the least. She’s easy to talk to, and when you spend time with her, the world doesn’t seem so serious.
On one of these visits, my Aunt’s eight-year-old son happened to notice a strange tattoo on Mr. Kiss’s arm—a faded line of numbers. Like most nosey young boys, Corey asked why he had such a funny tattoo. Alex’s answer came in the form of a story; a story about his best friend and how Alex was captured and imprisoned in a concentration camp. He told him about his days in the Nazi Youth…and the evil that one man sowed in an entire generation of young boys.
Perhaps they were stories that some may deem inappropriate to tell to an eight-year-old boy, but Corey looked at Mr. Alex like one would look at a superhero. Even though Mr. Alex told his stories with tears pouring down his cheeks, to Corey, Mr. Alex was a hero.
Some people die and the world never knows. Though Mr. Alex’s stories may never be read in a thrilling novel, be seen on the silver screen, or grace the headlines of the media—they will forever be hidden in the heart of my cousin Corey. Alex Kiss was his superhero with a legacy that will forever haunt his boyish heart.
May there be more men that live and breathe lives worthy of such boyish praise.
NOTE: The above story was originally posted on www.fountainheadzero.com
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| Happy Veterans Day!
I made this video for this past church service and thought I would share it with you all. However, when I compressed it to upload here, it downgraded the quality...now the pictures do not fade in and out as they should. Ah well. You will get the idea.
~Gia
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| Check out the website: fountainheadzero.com Below is an excerpt from the website if you are interested...
It is worth looking at.
~Gia
WRITERS WANTED
True American liberals are a people still committed to the fundamental principals of freedom and liberty. A man is free to rise or fall on his own merit and is not dependent on government for anything but the protection of those freedoms. We believe in the sovereignty of the people, and of the Constitution.
If you're one of these people, I need your help. We need to build an army of miscreant rebel writers. Can you write? Can you prove it? Will you help me tackle the coming devastation with a sense of purpose and with confidence in the courage of our convictions? Then let's get started.
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Last night Senator McCain stood before his supporters and boldly spoke, "I urge all Americans who supported me to join me in not just congratulating him but offering our next president our goodwill and earnest effort to find ways to come together.
"Whatever our differences, we are fellow Americans."
Senator McCain’s words were met with boos. Is anyone surprised?
What would have happened if Obama had been the one standing on that stage, asking his supporters to show President-elect McCain their goodwill and unity? They would have booed. They would have been angry. They would have refused, just as many of McCain’s did—just as the anti-Bush crowd has been doing for the past eight years.
I voted for Senator McCain. With all my heart, I wanted him to win. I do not believe that Barrack Obama is the right man to run our country. I hesitate at the things he may do and the things he may not do. And like many other McCain supporters, I do not understand why people wanted him as their next president. But being angry won’t help.
“It is not the function of our Government to keep the citizen from falling into error; it is the function of the citizen to keep the Government from falling into error.”
~U.S. Supreme Court, in American Communications Association v. Douds, 339
U.S. 382, 442
Anger isn’t going to get us anywhere and it won’t change the fact that Barrack Obama will be running this country for the next four years. Instead, educate yourself on our government, learn our Constitution, and make sure that you let your voice be heard (rationally) whenever you are given the chance. Don’t resort to name-calling and heated debates that will get you nowhere. Don’t make cracks about packing your bags and moving to another country (because we know you aren’t serious). Don’t refuse to call the man ‘President’ (because that is absurd and we hated it when they did that to President Bush). Instead, make sure to keep a good—cool—head on your shoulders while making sure that no one strips away our liberty and freedom.
Bottom line: Hold the American President—no matter whom it may be—responsible to honor his oath of office:
"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."
Do not let Barrack Obama, or any other president, lead our government into error.
~Gia
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