Army Mom’s Safe Haven

MY HEROINES

I hear much talk of heroes
and I'm sure I've known a few

then I thought about the women
who might be heroes, too

"Heroine" is the female version
of that illustrious word

and it seems to me to be
so very seldom heard.

Tonight I'm feeling
melancholy
and just a little blue

I thought about my
heroines
and some of them are
you.....

My sister is extraordinary
in the way she lives her life

My aunts have had some hard times
and still smile, through all the strife.

The friend who helped me pack
my life into many a cardboard box;
who helped me stumble back again
over my own road-blocks.

My Mother, darling, dear one;
now long consigned to Earth
the lady I miss so very much
the one who gave me birth

My Grandmothers, so different
and yet, so much the same....
they can no longer visit
They cannot hear me call each name;

Bunny bravely stood the pain,
and was way too young to die;
she was what bravery looks like,
and I think of her, and cry.

Along with these personal heroines
there are so many others
the women in the military
the nurses, soldiers' mothers

the ones who help
the wounded walk
and tend the ones
who cannot talk

who write a letter
for someone
who can no longer see
all of them are special
and heroines to me.

Do one small, simple thing today ~
to help someone make it through

I have so many heroines,
and some of them are you.

©Copyright July 1, 2007 by Christina

Chris,

That is a beautiful poem, and you are so right. The heroines are all too often forgotten when credit is being given the brave and the stalwart who helped to build our nation. After my mother's death in spring of 2002, I began researching her family lineage. I found some of them pioneered the interior West with Daniel Boone and fought in the Kentucky Indian Wars during our Revolution. The brave women of that time played an indispensible role in the Revolution and the settling and taming of the American wilderness.

On horseback and on foot they had traveled 600 miles from Eastern Pennsylvania, through the Cumberland Gap to Kentucky in the Spring of 1780 and struggled to make a new life for themselves there in the wilderness, hundreds of miles from the nearest Colonial settlements. My 4th Great Grandmother Mary Cossart became widowed the following year when her husband was killed by the Indians in the woods outside Boonesborough in the summer of 1781. (His name, Peter Cossart, is engraved on the Pioneer National Monument there.)

Left with six boys, aged 11, 9, 7, 5 and 3-year old twins, Mary soldiered on and managed to raise all of her boys to adulthood, living mostly within the confines of the Fort Boonesborough stockade. All the while, terror and bloodshed continued to rage about them in what was to become known as Kentucky's "Year of Blood." There were many others at the fort like her – so many stories of bravery and gutsy toughness and determination in the face of hardship that is difficult for us today to fully comprehend. My heart swells with pride for all of them.

In my research I found the following brief verse that describes the fiber of which these great women were made. God bless their souls.

"The Mothers of our forest land
On old Kentucky's soil,
How shared they with each dauntless band
War's tempest and life's toil?
They shrank not from the foeman,
They quailed not in the fight,
But cheered their husbands through the day,
And soothed them in the night."

(William D Gallagher, 1841)

Bob Wheatley
United States Air Force Linguist
Sergeant, USAF Security Service
6927 Security Group, Onna Point, Okinawa, 1966-1967
6922 Security Wing, Ramasun Station, Nong Soong / Udorn, Thailand, 1967-1968

Charter Member/Member at Large/Assistance Committee, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia Brotherhood, Inc.
Life Member, Veterans of Foreign Wars
Member, Defense Language Institute Alumni Association

July 2, 2007