Charles Frost Jr. often arrived at local veterans events in a 1942 Army Jeep. He also would wear his old uniform, which he will be buried in. He was 77.
“Wherever there was something that paid a tribute or an honor to soldiers, he was there,” former state Rep. Mike Weaver said.
Frost joined the Army at age 15, and two years later was sent to battle in Korea. Serving in the 34th Infantry Regimen, 24th Division, he and his fellow GIs were ambushed several times; Frost was the lone survivor of at least two of these attacks.
After he was captured, a North Korean officer — nicknamed “The Tiger” because he was so harsh — forced him and other Americans to march 126 miles to a Chinese prison camp. The temperature at times dropped to 20 below zero.
“It just took an extremely strong person to survive that,” said Weaver, a retired Army colonel.
Only 212 out of 850 GIs survived the march. Some froze or starved to death — or died from disease. Others were shot for leaving formation. Frost — a prisoner of war from 1950 until 1953 — was bayoneted twice in the leg. He also lost a kidney because of malnutrition, according to Weaver.
Fifty years later, with Weaver’s help, he was awarded the Purple Heart medal.
Here is an interview I conducted with Frost in 2005:
As a member of congress, It was both obligatory and an honor to attend Memorial Day celebrations in my district.
In New Hampshire, we have a beautiful Veteran’s cemetary and events are well attended. Often sitting in bright sunshine, sometimes in a late spring cloudy chill under a blanket, the World War II veterans who were residents at the nearby Veterans Home were always given front row seats. Many were in wheelchairs, some required constant attendance. Some came in uniform and some just came.
Having never experienced the horror of war myself, I sometimes struggled to convey my deep gratitude to thank those who served and died for their country. At first, it was intimidating to be in the company of so many former and present military personnel.
I later became comfortable with my role and theirs. I always tried to say something different and meaningful, something that went beyond the ritualistic expressions of gratitude. After a time, I came to appreciate the rituals and the importance of the repetition of those ritualistic expressions. But, here’s something I never talked about and I don’t know why.
I was named for a distant cousin. When I was a child my grandparents told me that Paul was a sweet, brilliant, handsome man destined for greatness. He died during World War II flying a combat mission. I carry his name and his legacy. He died in service to his country as did so many others.
So, on this Memorial Day, I am honored to remember him and thank him for his service and his sacrifice.
Cousin Paul, I thank you for your life, your service and your name. My own service, of a different kind, is the living proof that you did not die in vain. This great country with all its greatness and its flaws, endures thanks to you.
During most of 2008 and early 2009, I had the privilege to serve our country in Northern Iraq as a mobilized US Army Reservist. But, these thoughts are not about me, but rather CPT Adam Snyder, who paid the ultimate sacrifice in service to our nation.
You see, in my civilian job, I serve as the Director of Volunteer Services at Central Baptist Hospital in Lexington, KY. When I learned in November 2007 of my pending deployment, one of our volunteers mentioned that his nephew, Adam Snyder, was stationed only about 20 miles from where I would soon find myself. This volunteer expressed his hope that Adam and I might meet during our time of mutual deployment. Understandably, this volunteer expressed a very high opinion of his nephew who had graduated from the US Military Academy at West Point only a few years earlier.
Unfortunately, just before I left for my deployment, on the day we held our Volunteer Christmas Luncheon at the hospital in December of 2007, the volunteer received word that the vehicle in which Adam had been traveling had been hit by an Improvised Explosive Devise (IED) and Adam’s chances for survival were slim. Adam did not survive that attack.
Because the brigade and division headquarters in which Adam served was located near where I was in Iraq, upon my arrival, I had an opportunity to “meet” Adam and pay my respects in the land where Adam last was on this earth. Unfortunately, at that time, there were quite a few others who had lost their lives and a memorial was erected to those soldiers that all could see upon entering the headquarters building. An artistic soldier captured well the emotions experienced by soldiers who have lost a comrade through his painting on the wall by the fallen soldier memorial. You can see in the photo, “dog tags” with the name of each soldier who had lost his life are hanging on the weapon. On the wall, the ID tags were also respectfully displayed on the wall near the entry. And, no one could enter the headquarters without viewing the perpetually running PowerPoint remembering each fallen soldier.
It was during a Memorial Day Service on May 26, 2008, while serving in Iraq during which I discovered the depth of my appreciation and respect for Adam and the many others who have paid the ultimate sacrifice in service. I was overwhelmed with a sense of responsibility to continue carrying the torch of freedom – because of the men and women who had gone before and on whose shoulders I stand.
The photo to the right was displayed during this Memorial Day Service in Iraq during which Adam’s name was called – along with so many others. The words underneath the image say, “Lord, grant me the strength …” This image and phrase so accurately captures how I felt each day of service while there. And, I’m confident it is how many, many others have felt during their time of service – wherever that might be.
Now, as I prepare for Memorial Day this year, and every year, I thank God for Adam and all the other brave men and women who have selflessly served our nation, those who continue to serve, and those who will elect to assume the mantle of service in the future.
By Jonathan Miller, on Mon May 30, 2011 at 8:30 AM ET
If you’re at home catching up on work, or at the pool catching some rays, I encourage you to check in via your desktop or PDA every so often to The Recovering Politician. We are here to put the “Memorial” back into Memorial Day.
Too often, the special message of this important American holiday gets lost in the three-day-weekend vacations, department store sales, and swimming pool openings. This is the one day every year where it is incumbent on all of us to remember the brave men and women who served our country in uniform.
Because they remembered us. As the Scripture instructs, the greatest love is shown by those who sacrifice their own lives for the benefit of their neighbors.
On Friday, I invited our readers to join our contributing RPs in offering tributes to special people in their lives who served our country. And the overwhelming response was truly heartwarming.
Beginning at 9:00 AM EDT, and every half hour that follows, we will share a new tribute from one of our readers or our regular contributors. You’ll hear from the sons and daughters, grandchildren, and siblings of true American heroes. You’ll hear from veterans themselves, including my own hero who was a decorated World War II fighter-pilot. You’ll even hear from a sitting mayor who took time out of his extraordinary busy schedule to salute his own mother and father.
If you never had a chance to submit your tribute, please take the opportunity in the comments section below each post. Feel free to honor a beloved friend or family member, or perhaps an unknown, unheralded man and woman who lost his or her lives to preserve our freedoms.
Thanks for sharing this Memorial Day with us. I hope you enjoy it.
By Jonathan Miller, on Fri May 6, 2011 at 8:30 AM ET
Today, we debut a new contributing RP through the magic of Skype video.
Dan Hynes served with distinction for three terms and twelve years as Illinois’ state Comptroller. He took two tries to leap to higher office, once barely losing a Democratic primary to the incumbent Governor (2010), and once finishing in second in a Senate primary (some guy named Obama won that race.)
An expert in fiscal management and public pension funds, Dan speaks with the RP about the economic outlook for our states and the nation, and gives his perspective on the job performance and political prospects of his former rival and current friend, President Obama:
The recent attention to local and national politicians’ racial gaffes reminds me of my own.
As readers may be aware, politicians have lately dredged up one of the ugliest aspects of our nation’s history: slavery and the subsequent century of brutality and discrimination. Haley Barbour has often tripped himself up, beginning with his 1982 watermelon comment. More recently he’s praised the ignominious Citizens Councils and declined to condemn a proposal to venerate Confederate war hero and founding KKK Grand Wizard Nathan Bedford Forrest with an honorary license plate.
Former Virginia Sen. George Allen of “macaca” fame had another recent gaffe, where he twice (erroneously) assumed that a tall black reporter was an athlete. Even the ever-poised Alex Trebek may have slipped up.
Closer to home in St. Louis were the comments of State Sen. Maria Chappelle-Nadal, who compared the black state legislators opposing her on a bill – that is to say, all of them – to “house slaves.”
***
I spent years walking a racial tightrope in city politics. I represented a district that was roughly 55% black, 6% Asian, 5% Bosnian, and 4% Latino. Since it was also estimated to be 15% gay, the percentage of straight white males like me was likely in the single digits.
Not that I minded. I actually found it exhilarating. At first.
See, I’d grown up in a mostly white, middle-class suburb, but about 10% of my graduating class was comprised of black kids bused from the city as part of a school desegregation program. By my senior year, they comprised most of the basketball team, and as point guard, it was my job to lead the team.
My co-captain once told me that when he came out to our school freshman year, he was three years behind us academically. That pissed me off. It also made me want to learn more about the history behind the inequity. So at UNC-Chapel Hill, I majored in African-American Studies.
Conservatives like to invoke the guilty white liberal. I wasn’t guilty as much as obsessed. I wanted to immerse myself in the city’s black community and help black kids get to college.
So I came home from UNC and worked in the city public schools. Frustrated at the system’s dysfunction, I co-founded a charter school whose enrollment was 99% black. I served on the boards of non-profits focused on racial justice and black uplift. I coached basketball for a decade at a boys club where the only white people I saw were the occasional white refs. I taught ACT prep courses for black high school players in danger of becoming Prop 48 casualties. And when I played, it was with strangers in one of the small parks that dotted the corners of the city’s North Side, where the competition was fierce.
The point is, when I jumped in the race for Missouri’s 4th Senatorial District, I felt at least as comfortable around black people as I did around white people.
By Steven Schulman, on Thu Apr 21, 2011 at 8:30 AM ET
I have the greatest job in the world — or so I am told nearly every week or so, typically by a law student, but sometimes by colleagues and adversaries. No, I am not the shortstop for the Boston Red Sox (Jed Lowrie is doing just fine, thank you very much).
I am a partner at Akin Gump Strauss Hauer & Feld, an international law firm with more than 800 attorneys around the world. And not just *any* partner, but the Pro Bono Partner, leading a firm-wide practice group in which more than 550 of my colleagues work every year, collectively devoting nearly 60,000 hours annually to a wide variety of indigent clients and public interest causes. I work very hard, but I rarely bill an hour.
How did I get this gig? Well, like many such stories, this one starts with a large Nigerian coming to my office one spring afternoon.
On that day more than 13 years ago, I was a litigation associate at an even larger international law firm, Latham & Watkins. My practice consisted primarily of advising large corporations facing all manner of antitrust issues, from mergers and acquisitions being challenged by the Department of Justice to competitors suing over allegedly wrongful conduct. To put it bluntly, my practice was as relevant to a Nigerian man as the Washington Nationals are to the National League pennant race.
Placing Nigeria on a map...
But there he was, because I had raised my hand at a litigation group lunch when someone asked for help in this Nigerian’s immigration court case. Once we settled into a conference room, Tolu introduced himself and then his quite large family — both physically and numerically. My charge: get them asylum. Second place: deportation back to Nigeria, likely to return to the prison where he had been detained and tortured for his pro-democracy activism. I had never set foot in an immigration court, not could I confidently place Nigeria on a map. But I did have enough legal training to figure it all out, and enough pressure, given the stakes, to motivate me to work as hard as I would for any paying client.
Obviously, we won, or else I would still be worrying about how to get approval for the merger of the largest and second-largest widget makers in the North American market.
Winning Tolu’s case set me on an unusual path, one that eventually led me to focus on pro bono practice half-time (at Latham) and then full-time (when I joined Akin Gump in 2006).
It consequently led Jonathan to place on me the moniker of “recovering antitrust lawyer.” I resisted this label at first – after all, I did not surrender my law firm credentials or lifestyle, and count among my partners some fine antitrust lawyers. I am still very much part of the law firm world. Then again, the recovering politicians who contribute to this site are in similar positions – at once quite engaged in politics, even if no
longer serving in office.
Tolu and family
Like these RPs, I don’t reject my former practice. Rather, I embrace the law firm model and ethos, but work to improve our firm by pushing it to meet the lofty ideals of our profession. Representing Tolu, and subsequently other refugees from all over the world, inspired me not just to do this work myself, but to enlist others to use theirtalents to serve the less fortunate among us. I continue to be inspired by my colleagues, who selflessly give their time to advise the KIPP charter schools or fight for Social Security benefits for disabled clients.
My fellow Akin Gump attorneys show every day that the billable hour isn’t the only law firm value, as much as the profession has been driven to act more like a bottom-line business.
——
And now a tribute from another refugee advocate:
I am writing this while spending spring break with my family driving through North Carolina and Virginia visiting colleges with my sixteenyear-old daughter, Catherine. As we were driving from Lexington,Kentucky, to Charlotte, North Carolina, to begin our college search at Davidson, we began to discuss previous family spring break trips – Hilton Head, California, and skiing in Utah. I then asked my family what trip was before Utah and my family responded that I was still in politics before Utah and then reminded me that we seldom, if ever, went on spring break trips while I was a part of the political world.
That response is a perfect example of how my family discusses our family experiences: during politics and after politics. My children favor the after-politics period. A few months after my forced exit from public life, my son and I were heading home from the golf course and my son out-of-the-blue told me to not take it the wrong way, but he was glad I had lost my Supreme Court race. Although I wish that I had won the election, I, like my family, have loved my life after politics. I am probably still a recovering politician, but I think I may be in the final steps of recovery. In fact, I have traveled full circle.
I have known the founder of Recovering Politician since high school. When Jonathan Miller returned to Kentucky in the 1990s to run for State Treasurer, we had lunch together. I still remember our conversation. I had lost faith in the political system and I believed that it was generally a waste of time. I wrote Jonathan a small contribution and got my law partners to also write small contributions in support of Jonathan’s campaign. Jonathan had only Democratic opposition and this fact made it very easy to support my friend.
A few years later, I had become disenchanted with my law practice and in early 2000 I agreed to run Scott Crosbie’s 2002 Lexington, Kentucky, mayoral campaign. Although I had grown up around politics, I had never worked in a campaign full-time. Scott and I discussed that I may need to find some sort of campaign school or seminar to attend. It turned out that there was no need to find training because in April 2000, then-Congressman Ernie Fletcher asked me to run his 2000congressional campaign. Former Congressman Scotty Baesler had decided to try to take his seat back and I was thrust into one of the top-five targeted races by the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee and the AFL-CIO. I was convinced that the Lord had opened this door to provide me the skills necessary toget Scott Crosbie elected Mayor in 2002. Congressman Fletcher went on to crush Baesler in the fall of 2000. I then returned to the law firm for a brief period and began to get ready for the Lexington mayoral campaign.
The 2002 mayoral election began in 2001 and for over eighteen months Scott and I experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows. We suffered at the hands of abiasednewspaper, with its seeminglydaily negative coverage of our campaign. We survived a three-way primary and then ultimately lost the general election by 1300 votes. The loss was one of the most difficult periods of my life. I was convinced that the Lord had brought Scott and me together to help change Lexington and I was extremely disappointed. After election night I had no idea what was next. I spent the next three weeks watching Season 1 episodes of “24” and watching multiple seasons of the Sopranos at all hours of the night.
By late 2002 Congressman Fletcher was running for Governor of Kentucky and I did not believe that I could participate in another campaign. I was extremely tired, and I spent much too much time away from my family. Instead, I became the district director of his congressional office. After Ernie’s victory in the fall of 2003, Governor Fletcher asked me to be General Counsel to the Governor. I was thrilled. I had grown up in the Democratic bastion of Frankfort, Kentucky, and was excited to be a part of changing the culture of Frankfort and our state. Ernie Fletcher is the most impressive and genuine person I ever had the privilege to meet in politics. He was smart and driven to make Kentucky more economically competitive. It was an honor to be his lawyer and the head lawyer for his administration.
The first year of the administration required a tremendous commitment of time. My family still reminds me of the 7 1/2 hour conference call while we were on vacation at Martha’s Vineyard in June of 2004. Our administration not only had to deal with the normal challenges of a first-year administration but also had to plan and defend running the government without a legislatively enacted budget. Ultimately, after my work schedule caused me to cancel a one-day family trip, I decided in early 2005 that I was ready to leave public service behind. I told Governor Fletcher that I would stay until the end of 2005.
A few months after that decision, Justice James Keller announced his retirement from the Kentucky Supreme Court. I gave the vacancy an initial passing thought but did not give it serious thought. However, that would soon change. Before oral argument at the Kentucky Supreme Court concerning the power of the Governor to run the executive branch without a budget, one of my law classmates who was representing State Treasurer Jonathan Miller in the litigation came up to me and said that I should pursue the appointment. He was a Democrat and indicated he would publicly support me. After prayer and discussions with my wife, I decided to inform Governor Fletcher of my interest. Governor Fletcher asked what had changed my mind about leaving public service. I responded that the Supreme Court position was a dream position and I decided it would be worth the sacrifices of public service.
Ultimately, I was appointed to the Kentucky Supreme Court. I loved my job. I loved the research and the writing and I believed that everything that had happened in my professional life had prepared me for the position. However, the dream would end in over seventeen months when I was defeated in an election to keep my position. What was most surprising about the defeat was that I did not enter into the same post-election mood that I suffered through when I was Scott Crosbie’s campaign manager. In fact, I got up the day after the election and I went to my chambers and worked on judicial opinions.
What was the difference between 2002 and 2006? Although I have miles to go, I believe that my faith had matured. By 2006, I understood that if God is sovereign on the day you were appointed to the Supreme Court he is also sovereign on the day you lost.
I returned to my old law firm in late 2006 and I am still with Ransdell & Roach PLLC. For the first time since I became a lawyer, I truly enjoy private practice. Since my forced early retirement from politics I have had little to do with politics and feel much like I did at my lunch meeting with Jonathan Miller in 1999. However, I must confess I stayed up most of the night during the election night coverage in November, 2010. I guess you are never fully recovered.
My name is Lisa Borders, and I’m a Recovering Politician. I prefer the term public servant, because for me, it’s really all about serving the public, not politics, but I’ll leave that discussion to another post.
I’ve been out of office (clean?) since January, 2010, and as of this April 8, 2011, post that’s 15 months, 3 days and 10 hours and 15 minutes of sobriety. While serving as City Council President, or vice mayor, I lost a 2009 bid for Atlanta Mayor. The loss was painful, but by the time my opponent and successor was sworn in, I had journeyed through anguish, astonishment, anger and acceptance at such a pace, I’d left Atlanta’s politicos in their own state of shock. I’d endorsed one of my competitors, made high profile appearances on his behalf and even agreed to co-chair his transition team. I attribute this rapid recovery to my commitment to community vs. clinging to campaign catastrophe. I trust this commitment will sustain my recovery into a long future of incontrovertible impact.
By way of explanation, I would tell you that my addiction to public service, or politics, runs in my family. Although my mother and grandfather both made unsuccessful political bids, both (as extraordinary community activist citizens) made major contributions to desegregation in the City of Atlanta. Their service results included open housing as well as integration of buses, lunch counters and public safety forces. My father was a physician and, although he never sought public office, he made a difference by empowering people to take charge of their health through political activism.
This collective familial body of work focused on creating opportunity and developing capability among the city’s disadvantaged. I can proudly say my fore-parents opened many doors and left wide paths decorated with astounding, against-all-odds, or dare I say it, almost INTOXICATING accomplishments. With such powerful examples, how could I not “be seduced by the siren of public service”?
As a teenager, I made my own mark by integrating one of Atlanta’s most preeminent and pristine independent schools, convincing my European classmates that I wasn’t so different from them after all. As a Duke undergrad, I surprised my genetics professor by dispelling his “research-based” belief that blacks and women were GENETICALLY inferior by earning unprecedented A-grade-level work. These experiences demonstrate my preferred revolutionary role as one of inside team player vs. outside agitator.
So you could say by birth, breeding and branding, I defined myself very early as an imbedded change agent, not so much by talk, but by action. I sought office, in part, to satisfy an unfulfilled multi-generational pursuit, but also to take on yet another level of “Inside Woman’s Work.”
Mahatma Ghandi
I stand before you now as an ex-politician, who sees more clearly the battles to be waged and won. I’ve been to the dark side and returned with a greater appreciation for submerging ego, even a very public, high-profile one, to get thejob done. I know now that this work is more about the mission in my soul than a title behind my name or a label on my forehead. I realize now that I don’t necessarily have to be a player on the field to impact the outcome in the arena. I can’t promise I won’t ever run for public office again, but I can say that, as Gandhi advises, I’m fully committed to being the change I want to see in my world, whether politically titled/labeled or not. How about you?
