Fall may have arrived but the cooler temperatures still elude us here on The First Coast!

However, we have much happening at the Post this Fall and we hope to see you at a monthly meeting or in the Canteen enjoying a cold beverage and bite to eat from our kitchen.  The canteen is open Monday-Saturday at 10 am, Sundays at 9 am for Breakfast, closing at 12 am daily.  The kitchen is open Monday-Saturday 11 am-2 pm for lunch, Monday-Thursday for Dinner 6-8 pm, Saturday Evening Food Truck 5-8 pm, Sunday Breakfast 9-11 am, and Sunday afternoons 1-6 pm for our Football Menu including our DELICIOUS Post 129 Wings.

The Monthly activities are available through these links:
​Entertainment - https://www.post129.org/live-entertainment.html
Menus -https://www.post129.org/menus---lunch--dinner.html
Weekly Events - https://www.post129.org/weekly-events.html
September 24th-30th - https://mailchi.mp/351504b22b62/weekly-update-april-18th-to-24th-3610769

So stop by and visit, invite  friend...its much easier to join now with the new law passed.

Hope to see you soon!

​The main canteen is be getting a much needed overhaul. 

We are replacing the insulation, updating the electrical wiring, the duct work, the floor, and are reworking the sprinkler system. Much of this work is being done to bring our much loved Post up to current code. 

We are also planning on replacing the tables and the bar stools as well as giving the canteen a fresh coat of paint.

This remodel is projected to take approximately 8 weeks so please bear with us. We will still be open but we will move the canteen operation to the back hall.

We know that everyone will miss the main canteen area, your canteen staff included, but in the end it will all be worth it to have a fresh updated safe canteen area for all of members to enjoy for many years to come.

Even though we will have the construction project going on it does not change our weekly schedule.

We will still have trivia, darts, karaoke, poker, live entertainment, queen of diamond raffle, pass the trash, regular bingo and of course steak bingo.

The kitchen will still be open Monday through Friday for lunch and dinner and we will still have Sunday morning breakfast. 

Our American Legion Kitchen has been slowly loosing items that are critical for use by our Volunteers while preparing meals and hosting specialty events.

People have borrowed various items from our Kitchen Facility and have failed to return them. When people host private parties or events within our post or outside it’s important that you return any items or American Legion Post #129 Equipment that you borrow.
​
I would like to note some common Kitchen items that have disappeared and yet returned.
Cast Iron Griddle with grate - Food Server Scoops - Long Handle BBQ Grill Tools Spatula, Fork and Tongs - Commercial Professional Knives - Sheet Pans - Medium Sized Pots for Stove Top - Various Sized Insert Cooking Pans - Food Serving Utensils, to include serving Spoons, Ladles and Tongs - To Go Ware, Paper and Plastic Supplies - Ice Chest or Cooler

It is asked that if you would like to borrow any of our American Legion Post #129 Kitchen Equipment, Utensils or Supplies that you please speak with Terry Stickles, Rick Miller, Brandi Haught first to help keep track and ensure it doesn’t impact any up coming scheduled events.

We understand that serving utensils are costly for hosting one time or special events but when people borrow and fail to return these items it becomes costly to our Post and make hosting special events difficult for our Volunteers and Patrons.

Vr/Terry Stickles Post #129 American Legion, 2nd Vice 

As I was randomly reading various recent Facebook postings, something that many of us do, I had the blessing to come across a very heartfelt posting of a fellow classmate of mine whom I had not seen in person for several years. As, I read his words my eyes began to water, and then
a smile filled my heart. At that moment, I knew his words needed to be shared with more than just Facebook friends and family, but also with our Legion family.

The man who wrote the following words has been one of the many active duty members of our Great United States of America, serving in the USAF for 25 years and counting.

"If you happen to read this entry, I'm closing out my day and thinking about being in the Autumn of my life, extremely thankful for having lived in the United States. As a nation we have endured
many challenges, and yet we continually persevere only to be better Union. Our common denominator is/has always been the American spirit which has sustained dynamic challenges, rising above adversity, holding fast to our way of life. 

I agree that we are in trying times as a nation... but now more than ever we must protect each other and our ideals. I believe that our future remains bright, but it is not without appreciation for those
people who've enriched our lives.

When you have a moment, stop to make a call to a loved one, a friend, or an old acquaintance
just to say thanks, and that you are thinking of them. Reflect to those special people how they have brought you joy, happiness, or even how they have touched your life with valuable lessons.

There is a reason for their presence in your life. To have had each of those wonderful people, even for just a season, was in itself a blessing from God. 

If I may, I'd like to leave you with a short passage that has come to mean a great deal to me - read it often. ‘Please, don't worry so much, because in the end none of us have very long on this earth - life is fleeting. And if you're ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night, and when a shooting star streaks through the blackness turning night into day, make a wish and think of me. Make your life spectacular. I know I did.’ Robin Williams, from the
movie "Jack". Until the next time...may God bless you and yours, Ron." 

Thank you Lt Col Ron Thornton for giving me permission to share your words and a huge THANK YOU for your many years of service.

As I've aged, I've become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world, too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it, if I choose to read, or  play, on the computer, until 4 AM, or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself  to those wonderful tunes of the 50, 60 &70 's..., and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will.

I will walk the beach, in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into
the waves, with abandon, if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful But  there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And, I eventually remember the important things.

 Sure, over the years, my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break, when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody 's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But, broken hearts are what give us strength, and understanding, and compassion. A heart never broken, is pristine, and sterile, and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I  am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other  people think. I don 't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be
wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like  the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still  here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like
it).

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round,
or   listened to rain slapping the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's 
erratic flight,  or gazed at the sun fading into the night?

You  better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last.
 

Do you run through each day on the fly,
when you ask "How are  you?", do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your 
bed,  with the next hundred chores running through your head?

You   better slow down, don't dance so fast,
time is short, the music won't last. 
  
Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow,
and in your haste, not  see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, let a friendship die,
'cause  you  never had time to call and say hi?

You better slow down, don't
dance so  fast,  time is short, the music won't last.

When you run so fast to  get somewhere,
you miss half the fun of getting there.


When you  worry and hurry through your day,
it's like an unopened gift  thrown away. 

Life isn't a race, so take it slower,
hear the music before your  song is over.

An old man stood Apart from the crowd Stooped and frail with his heart
beating proud


He shakingly salutes As his beloved flag passes And tears well up behind his
thick glasses


Time was when He was a strapping young man-- Who'd never set foot on a
foreign land


Then his country called And he reported for duty-- Leaving behind his
soft-eyed beau-ty


New friendships were forged On the battlefields plenty-- He lived a whole
lifetime before he was twenty


Some of his pals Were felled by the shots-- Time claimed the
rest who now lie in plots


He gave all he could And would gladly give more If time could turn backward
to a more distant war


One more Parade And I stand midst the throng But I'll stand apart too, once
my buddies have gone


by Michael Diercouff Member of American Legion Post 129

Earlier this week, as I was listen-ing to the neighborhood children outside
playing, I hear these old familiar words…   "Go ahead and just do it, I Dare you!" 

It brings back the memories of when I was growing up with my brother and  sister. Those words were part of the daily conversation which also ended up  being the fa-mous last words of my own chil-dren prior to them getting into trouble of some kind. In raising our children we try to teach them about life  and its amazing that they end up teaching us what life is actually all about and how it should and could be. I was imme-diately reminded about this: 

DARE TO BE 

When a new day begins, dare to  smile gratefully. 

When there is darkness, dare to be the first to shine a light… 

When there is injustice, dare to be the first to condemn it. 

When something seems difficult, dare to do it anyway. 

When life seems to beat you down, dare to fight back. 

When there seems to be no hope, dare to find some. 

When you’re feeling tired, dare to keep going. 

When times are tough, dare to be tougher. 

When love hurts you, dare to love again. 
 
When someone is hurting, dare to help them heal. 
 
When another is lost, dare to help them find the way. 

When a friend falls, dare to be the first to extend a hand. 

When you cross paths with another, dare to make them smile. 

When you feel great, dare to help someone else feel great too. 

When the day has ended, dare to feel as you’ve done your best. 

Dare to be the best you can be. 

At all times, Dare to be! 

Steve Maraboli 

I declare to let March be the Month of each of to "Dare" ourselves to try something new.

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. the shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street. 

 But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did. 

 But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike. 

 For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls — he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. but it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to. 

 I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them — when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name — sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey. 

 This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "darn dog probably hid it on me." 

 Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction — maybe "glared" is more accurate — and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me. 

 Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. 

 But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice." 
   

 To Whoever Gets My Dog: 

 Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time ... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong ... which is why I have to go to try to make it right. 

 So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. 

 First, he loves tennis balls. the more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hoardes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful — really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly. 

 Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones — "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down — I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog. 
  

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. 

 He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car — I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows. 

 Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. 

 And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you ... 

 His name's not Reggie. 

 I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. but I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems. 

 His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive. 

 Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter ... in the "event"...  to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word. 

 Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. 

 And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me. 

 That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things ... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades. 

 All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. 

 Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight — every night — from me. 

 Thank you, 
 Paul Mallory 

  

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer. 

 I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog. 

 "Hey, Tank," I said quietly. The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. 

 C'mere boy." He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. 

 "Tank," I whispered. His tail swished. 

 I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him. 

 "It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball? His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. 

 And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth. 

We are hosting the meet and greet for the Florida Legacy Run. We will be host to about 180 riders on Wednesday, March 26. They will depart on the 27th for a 1180 mile ride that shoelaces across the state. 

This will be the 2nd year for the Florida In-State Legacy Scholarship Ride.  If you can't make the whole ride, just jump on wherever you can and ride for however long you can.  Total ride approx. 1180 miles over 7 days and stopping at 42 posts.

Details of the Event and Forms for those participating are available on our website. Please use the below link for full details. 

http://www.post129.org/florida-in-state-legacy-scholarship-ride.html