(Contact Info: larry at larryblakeley.com)
Important Note: You will need to click this icon to download the free needed to view most of the images on this Web site - just a couple of clicks and you're "good to go." For reasons why - go here.
A listing and access link to all:
song lyrics and mp3 audio files http://www.royblakeley.name/larry_blakeley/songs/ (all of which are a part of this Web site) can be accessed simply by selecting the "htm" file for the song you want;
quotations http://www.royblakeley.name/larry_blakeley/quotations.htm; and
essays written by Larry Blakeley http://www.royblakeley.name/larry_blakeley/articles/articles_larry_blakeley.htm,
all of which are used to tell the story in this Web site, can be accessed by going to each respective link set out above.
My son, Larry Blakeley http://www.royblakeley.name/larry_blakeley/larryblakeley_photos_jpeg.htm manages this Web site and the following Web sites:
Larry Blakeley (Contact Info: larry at larryblakeley.com)
Lori Ann Blakeley (June 20, 1985 - May 4, 2005) - my granddaughter
Evan Blakeley- my grandson
Major Roy James Blakeley (December 10, 1928 - July 22, 1965) - USAF (KIA)
When I was young my dad would say
Come on son let's go out and play
No matter how hard I try
No matter how many tears I cry
No matter how many years go by
I still can't say goodbye
- "I Still Can't Say Goodbye," Performer: Chet Atkins
MP3 audio file/lyrics http://www.royblakeley.name/larry_blakeley/songs/still_cant_say_goodbye.htm
For a larger image click on the photograph.
They have met on the Internet and on cross-country road trips. But mostly they find one another at the funerals.
As the number of American troops killed in Iraq has risen above 1,300, mothers of the dead have built a grim community of their own, mostly invisible to outsiders and separated by geography, but bound together by death. Some have met in pews, recognizing one another from newspaper photographs or with the simplest introduction: I lost my son, too.
"My closest friends now are three other mothers I have met who lost their sons," said Cindy Sheehan of Vacaville, Calif., whose son, Specialist Casey Sheehan, died in an ambush on April 4. "I feel closer to them, even the ones who live far away, than I do to the people I have known for years. I feel closer to them than to the people who knew Casey. Us moms are really the only ones who know what we're going through."
In this network linked by sorrow and empathy, however, one issue divides them: the wisdom of the war.
... Many said seeking out other families was not an option, but a necessity. Their new bonds became their only solace over months, they said. These were the only people who could really understand the dizzying memory of those first uniforms at the front door, the tears that might come at any time, the sons who reappeared in dreams, the emptiness of the holidays.
Rarely, if ever, Ms. Fisher said, do she and her friend talk about the necessity of the war and the political forces behind it.
"That is not a road I want to go down," she said.
- "G.I. Families United in Grief, but Split by the War," Monica Davey, New York Times Online http://www.nytimes.com/, January 2, 2005 http://www.nytimes.com/2005/01/02/national/02moms.html?hp&ex=1104728400&en=b4e232a34355b7c0&ei=5094&partner=homepage
File Name: monica_davey20050102
Post Date: January 2, 2005 at 1:20 PM CST; 1920 GMT