The West In Crisis

Before Trump got elected, I foresaw a need to make sure the bond the U.S. had with Britain, remains solid. I suggested a beach be named after Rena Easton. Did Rena vote for Trump?

I should be more famous than the Dutch boy who put his finger in a leak in the levy. He saw leaks. What did I see?


When does a feud become a separation? A separation a divorce? When do arguments, sharp-tongued put-downs and perceived betrayal among allies become the collapse of the Western-dominated order that has ruled the world, under U.S. leadership, for the past seven decades?

As each day brings a new series of punches and counterpunches between President Donald Trump and longtime U.S. partners, the question appears to be moving beyond the realm of the academic.

Rena was the muse to two California Artists. Christine Rosamond would not have become a world famous artist if  I had not rescued Rena Victoria Easton, by the sea – twice! She would go on to marry Admiral Sir Ian Easton who flew a Fairey Fulmer off an aircraft carrier in WW2.

Rena is right out of a Black Mask comic book. I am certain that is writer, Arthur Barnes, and John K. Butler in the camping photo where a unnamed writer brandishes a hand gun. I will be sending this to Parks department in order to get the unnamed beach named after Rena, and the Queen, in honor of War and Sea Romance.

When I first lay eyes on Rena, she was hiding her fear. War creates fear. One had to overcome your fear in order to defeat your enemy. We only found out three years ago we had the same enemy. Rena is ruled by Mars, and I, by Venus. We are a hundred and eighty degrees apart. We were Yin and Yang atop our mountain, searching for Peace and Serenity while war raged in Vietnam. Rena fought me as she fought her fears. We are epic.

Rena married an Admiral and lived on the Isle of Wight. Is there a monument to the joint effort to defeat the enemy in the Pacific Theatre? Ian was in charge of making sure America and Britain would be allies, forever!

Last night, world leaders listened to Beethoven’s 9th. Rena is a Aries, the god of war. She is my Damsel in Distress. I rescued her and helped her combat her epic fears. One could stand on Victoria Beach, and imagine a squadron of Spitfires flying out to sea to meet a wave of Nazi bombers in the battle of Britain. Beauty has been captured once again by the forces of evil. Our beautiful women need to be protected fro The Beast!

Victory over our fears! Peace…… last!

Easton joined the Royal Navy in 1931 and qualified as a pilot at the start of World War II in which he saw active service on aircraft carriers.[1] On 4 January 1941, flying a Fairey Fulmar of 803 Squadron from HMS Formidable during a raid on Dakar he force landed, with his aircrewman Naval Airman James Burkey and was taken prisoner and held by the Vichy French at a camp near Timbuktu until released in November 1942.[2] He was appointed Assistant Director of the Tactical and Weapons Policy Division at the Admiralty in 1960 and was seconded to the Royal Australian Navy as Captain of HMAS Watson in 1962.[1] He went on to be Naval Assistant to the Naval Member of the Templer Committee on Rationalisation of Air Power in 1965, Director of Naval Tactical and Weapons Policy Division at the Admiralty in 1966 and Captain of the aircraft carrier HMS Triumph in 1968.[1] After that he was made Assistant Chief of Naval Staff (Policy) in 1969, Flag Officer for the Admiralty Interview Board in 1971 and Head of British Defence Staff and Senior Defence Attaché in Washington D. C. in 1973.[1] He last posting was as Commandant of the Royal College of Defence Studies in 1976: he commissioned armourial bearings for the College which were which were presented during a visit by the Queen in November 1977.[3] He retired in 1978.[1]

In 1922 a cabinet committee under Winston Churchill, then Secretary of State for the Colonies, recommended the formation of the College.[1] The college was founded in 1927 as the Imperial Defence College and was located at 9 Buckingham Gate until 1939.[1] Its objective at that time was the defence of the Empire.[1] In 1946, following the end of World War II, the college reopened at Seaford House, Belgrave Square and members of the United States forces started attending courses.[1] It was renamed the Royal College of Defence Studies in 1970 and in 2007 the Queen and Prince Philip visited the college.[1]
The British Defence Staff – US, which was previously known as British Defence Staff (Washington),[1] is the home of the Ministry of Defence (United Kingdom) in the United States of America and its purpose is to serve the interests of Her Majesty’s Government in the USA. The British Defence Staff – US is led by the Defence Attaché and has responsibility for military and civilian MOD personnel located both within the Embassy and in 34 states across the USA.
British Defence Staff – US alongside the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and other Government Departments collectively serve the interests of Her Majesty’s Government in the USA.

Every three days, or so, Rena and I would drive Eisenhower on Highway 1 and spend the day at my favorite beach. She did not have a favorite beach. She was afraid of the ocean. I found this out when we stopped on a beach in Santa Barbara. She put herself well away from the waves, with her back to them, reading a book.

“You’re afraid of the ocean, aren’t you?”

“How did you know?”

We would climb a ladder to get over the barbed wire that kept the sheep off the road. I always stopped to take a picture with my mind’s eye of Rena walking amongst them, to the cliff, and down the trail to a protected beach. It was like being in Ireland, or Scotland.

Being from Nebraska, I knew Rena was ignorant of the many dangers. I did not take a chance that she was a quick learner. Note the warning signs, with discourse. Someone is trying to save lives.

I would make us dinner here. I went to gather driftwood. Coming back with an armful, my heart jumped out of my chest. I dropped the wood and ran down the beach. Rena was nowhere to be seen. Did a sneaker wave take her? There was only one place she could be – if she were still alive. The chances of her being there, was very low. This was an extremely dangerous place.

There was a large rock that buttressed into the water. My heart was racing as I made my way to the other side. I was in a kelp bed. The tide was still low. And, there she was, sitting on a dry rock surrounded by kelp. The look on her face was painful to behold. I knew what she was doing. She was embarrassed that she was afraid of the sea. Well, there are times to be very afraid of the ocean.

I spoke as calmly and lovingly as I could. I did not want her to panic, slip on the kelp, and get hurt. If the tide was coming in, a ten foot wall of water would be pushed in, and not break like a wave. Rena would find herself in a thick kelp bed – just like that! Her struggle to get to the slippery rocks, would be epic.

“Rena! Stay calm. You can’t be there. It is not safe. Get up slowly. Watch your footing, and come towards me.”

The look on her face guaranteed I will love her till the day I die. She did exactly as I told her. When she was near, I grabbed her, and gave her a long hug.

“I thought I had lost you. I thought the sea had taken you from me.”

This is “Unnamed Beach”. How about Victoria Beach?

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to The West In Crisis

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    The attack on the British Ambassador contains a portence of doom not unlike the one Casandra saw for Troy. Trump, Putin, and the Evangelicals have brought the Trojan Horse isdie the gate.

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