Vfw Quotes

I want you to stop being subhuman and become 'yourself'. 'Yourself,' I say. Not the newspaper you read, not your vicious neighbor's opinion, but 'yourself.' I know, and you don't, what you really are deep down. Deep down, you are what a deer, your God, your poet, or your philosopher is. But you think you're a member of the VFW, your bowling club, or the Ku Klux Klan, and because you think so, you behave as you do. This too was told you long ago, by Heinrich Mann in Germany, by Upton Sinclair and John Dos Passos in the United States. But you recognized neither Mann nor Sinclair. You recognize only the heavyweight champion and Al Capone. If given your choice between a library and a fight, you'll undoubtedly go to the fight.

It's smart. It's what men do. Why do you think they join all those clubs —the Elks? The VFW? The Masons? Congress!" she cried. "To support one another, that's why. Why do you think they call them booster clubs? Because they're trying to boost each other over the wall or bend the rules in their favor, help the group. If women stuck up for one another the way men do, this would be a very different world.

Frank says of his dad, “He will brag about his involvement with the POWs and the VFW and the flag thing. But what I really appreciate about him is how he took care of my mother for ten years when she was really ill.

Tuesday, March 3 [Meetings with economist Arthur Burns regarding China, and with President Ford on economy; message from Pope John Paul II expressing general greetings; VFW reception for Senator Laxalt (R-NV); dinner party.] During day I did a 1 hr. interview with Walter Cronkite—his last for CBS. He spent the 1st 20 min’s. on El Salvador. He didn’t throw any slow balls but the reaction was favorable. Because of our dinner we couldn’t watch the show but I was treated to another W.H. service. They taped the program & played it back to us later in the evening.

Dead Milkmen song that the Howlers cover a lot when they play at Sanctuary. It’s called ‘V.F.W.: Veterans of a Fucked Up World.’You

Dad used to tell me about the guys at the VFW who could feel their amputated limbs. I feel like one of those guys-wiggling my weak tortured, pathetic self from only a month ago even though I've amputated him. It's a little like being two people at once. One minute I feel like the old Lucky who had nothing, and the next minute I realize I have everything I could possibly need. While I'm in the driveway, I hear the neighborhood kids playing. Normal kids doing normal things. They probably don't know that as of today more than 1,700 servicemen have still not been accounted for. They probably don't know that about 8,000 are still missing from Korea, or that approximately 74,000 never surfaced after World War II. They don't know that amputees sometimes try to wiggle limbs they lost. I don't envy them. They have a lot to learn.

Someday, maybe, the various constituent parts of America will become “empowered” the way Serbia and Croatia are. Someday Aryan Nation, NOW, the VFW, Act Up, AARP, Native Americans, Right to Life fetuses, people with Hispanic surnames, the blind, the deaf, the rest of the differently abled will have their dreams come true. Having made the drive to Slavonski Brod I now know what America will look like when it happens.

There is an irresistible impulse among the boys of suburban Minneapolis to kick a football as far as they possibly can. Even among the men. Mike McCollow’s dad will come home from his dental practice, having stopped at the VFW hall for a brandy Manhattan en route, and drop-kick a half-frozen football between the uprights of two barren tree branches without even setting down his briefcase

The legislation I introduced was, according to the veterans’ organizations, the most comprehensive piece of legislation offered for them in many decades. Sadly, despite the strong support of the American Legion, the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW), the Disabled American Veterans (DAV), and other organizations, my legislation only received fifty-six votes on the floor of the Senate—all of the Democrats, but only two Republicans. We needed sixty votes. It turned out that Republicans loved veterans very much, except when it came to funding their needs

Staring into her coffee cup, Grace wondered how this had happened. How had she gone from her wonderful, sparkling life to where she was now, sitting in a VFW-turned-diner in the shrinking town of Monroe, Colorado, and dreading her upcoming shift at a dog kennel? “What’s wrong?” No. Please, no. Grace pushed her coffee out of the way so her forehead could hit the counter with a thump. Why do you hate me, God? “Are you sad because Oliver’s evil twin cheated on Constance with Tatiana?” “Stop!” Sitting up abruptly, Grace covered her ears and glared at Hugh. He looked all amused and hot and cheerful sitting there on the stool next to hers—right next to hers—and that made her even crankier.

You didn’t have musical common ground with anybody in your family? The one thing my dad and I could agree on was Creedence Clearwater Revival. My dad loved Creedence. And I love Creedence. Guess what? Earthlings like Creedence! Everybody likes Creedence! Young, old, black, white, brown, Muslim! Everybody loves Creedence. They could play Creedence at the VFW hall and everybody would be happy.

Roger Hayes, Braddock’s father-in-law, was a Navy veteran who liked to go to the VFW and would invite Will to join him on occasion for beers. Brule was often there, especially on weeknights. As Braddock and Tori pulled up to the front entrance, they had immediate verification Brule was inside. His white panel van was parked on the street in front of the bar.

After Armistice Day, the women of the U.S. Army Signal Corps were among the last to depart Europe, for they were needed to handle calls and translations throughout the peace conference. Months after the Treaty of Versailles was signed, they managed telephone communications for the Army of Occupation and the repatriation of nearly two million officers, soldiers, and civilian employees. In the two years that the women served, they connected more than twenty-six million calls and contributed immeasurably to the Allied victory in the Great War. Upon their return to the United States, the switchboard soldiers, proud of their service and eager to resume their peacetime lives, applied for veterans’ benefits and sought to join veterans’ groups. When asked to produce their discharge papers, the women contacted the War Department, only to be informed that they were not veterans. Although they had worn uniforms and military insignia, had saluted superior officers, had served in combat settings, and had not been free to resign their jobs at will as civilians could, the government insisted that they had never been more than paid civilian employees serving under contract. All of the women had sworn military oaths to serve their country as members of the U.S. Army Signal Corps, some of them multiple times as they moved through the application process or were promoted during the war. Not one of them had signed an employment contract. Shocked and heartbroken, the women realized that the nation they had served with such distinction now denied that they had ever been soldiers. They did not qualify to receive honorable discharges. They were not eligible for medical benefits, medals, or bonuses. They could not march in Memorial Day parades or join their local chapters of the VFW. They could not call themselves veterans. Before Inez Crittenden sailed for France, she had purchased war risk insurance, a transaction witnessed by a second lieutenant in the Signal Corps. In May 1919, a family member applied to collect on the policy, but a claims officer for the U.S. Treasury decreed that Crittenden had never actually been a member of the military, rendering the policy null and void.