Poem by e.e. cummings

One of my closest friends (I'm looking at you, M*A) who's been with our family since the founding of this blog, sent me this poem.  It seems to fit and is very appropriate.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Thank you for this poem.  It's very, very true.

1460 vs 1

Well, here it is.  Almost.  Tomorrow is The Day, but I'm not going to quibble.

Tomorrow will mark four years.  1460 days have passed, and still there are days where tomorrow will feel like yesterday.

I'm trying to not slip into the tailspin that so easily tempts this time of year, to step into the yawning foggy abyss.  I smile to those (who don't know) who wish me a jaunty Happy New Year.  And I try to not let that dreary, mournful tune of Auld Lang Syne worm its way into my head.

But, it's not an easy battle.  The countdown that has been ticking and building over the past couple of months is now practically bleating in my head.  It's unavoidable, no matter how much I try to avoid it.

There's something very un-Scarlett about it; tomorrow is not "another day".  It's The Day.

And don't think the symbolism isn't lost upon me.  New Year's Eve - out with the old, the New Year bringing "new starts", a "fresh life", etc.  Meh.

There are plenty of things I don't remember... where things are, names of people if I haven't seen them at least five (or fifty) times, and so forth.  But, I remember every detail, every second, of The Day. 

I remember it all... from start to end.  And I remember the New Year... sitting there in a quiet house, not really knowing what else to do, not able to sleep, or anything else... watching the ball drop - feeling very detached from The World.

And so it is each year - as The World celebrates and tries to decide where to party, I cannot help but feel away from it all.  I cannot envisage celebrating or partying.  It seems to rank as sacriligeous as chugging communal wine at a frat party.

I'm going to attempt sleep, not that I've been all that successful the last several days, but that's not new.  And for anyone who's paying attention who might have some control over such things... I'd really like to skip tomorrow.

Twas a Night in December

Cancer, Again

:(
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What do you think was the greatest invention in your lifetime?

The personal computer. It revolutionized the flow of information, eventually to all corners of the globe. From that flow of information, everything else follows - new inventions, quest for knowledge, even revolutions in government.

Ask me anything

That Time of Year (Again)

It’s that time of year… again.  My mind gears towards numbers and dates.  As such, around this time of year, my mind automatically starts what I’ve come to call The Countdown.  Many of the significant dates of 2005-2006 landed in November and December.  Lots of ‘little anniversaries’.  And I remember them all.

 

It ends up starting a bit of a mini-depression, but I’ve gotten better at riding through it.

 

Still, one thing… well, one of many, I suppose… of the whole process and aftermath of losing someone is this:  You do get better at getting through and adapting to the New Life.  However, no matter how much time passes, from time to time… a memory will come along and slap you upside your head.

 

The past day or two, I’ve kinda felt something… dragging at me.  Hard to explain, just didn’t feel ‘right’.  Was really feeling E.  Flipping through tonight, I caught what it was.  A new commercial… I’d heard it vaguely the other day, but was in another room, and hadn’t realized it.  It’s a new toy, something about a Weeble treehouse.  I have a crystal clear memory of E sitting on the floor, rocking and signing with the kidlets, “Weeble wobble…. Weeble Wobble… Weebles wobble but they don’t fall… DOWN!”  Made me smile and giggle back then… now, well, I smile… and feel wistful.  

 

And The Countdown has begun.

Last Combat Brigade Leaves Iraq

It's quite the news this week.  The "last" combat brigade has left Iraq.  The war is over!  Yay!

Or...

Not quite.

We still have 50K troops in Iraq, and they're now called "Advise and Assist Brigades".  Snort.  Whatever.  The point that the media seems to have missed is this:  Have the insurgents and al-Qaeda withdrawn the last of their combat troops?  No?

Hmmm... then I guess the war isn't over (sorry about the timetable), and that brings us to one last salient point.  When the bullets and IEDs and other explosive munitions fly between people, it doesn't matter if they're called "combat" troops or not... it's still combat.

War doesn't end because of the press release announcing it's over... it ends when both sides agree it's over.  Whether by treaty, defeat, annihilation, whatever.

So INCREDIBLY Frustrated

I'm scouring my hard drive for a picture of the "Four Generations"... Great-Grandmother, E's Mom, E, and our daughters...  can't find it.

This is becoming a quest now.  I MUST find this... Thought I might have posted it here, but, I can't find it here, either.  GRRRR.

TreasuryDirect.gov

I'd noticed on my pay statements that there was now a new way to sign up for US Savings Bonds.  Naturally curious, I took a peek.

It's Treasury Direct and it's where you can buy savings bonds and apparently, judging from the intensely overpopulated home page, a whole bunch of other things.

I started the sign up process which, like many Government signups involves waiting for a code to come in the mail.

I'm in no particular hurry to buy a savings bond, so... is cool, I can wait.

Today, the code arrived.  I was a tad confused at first, as it was a credit card sized piece of plastic with a code grid on it.  Lots of warnings about "Don't lose the card" because I'll need it EACH AND EVERY TIME I log in.  No saving passwords here!

Folks, I looked at this and my first thought was... I'm not wanting to launch the nuclear missiles, for crying out loud... I just thought I'd consider buying a savings bond (I hear-tell the government is in a bit of debt, and could use some funds).

Here's the login process:
Find the login starting spot...  There is NO item saying "Login here" or handy-dandy login button... After some scrutiny, I discovered it.

Enter my Account code... oh yes, this 10-character combination emailed to me a ways back.  Found it.  Glad I didn't delete that!

Enter your password.  The government has also fallen in love with the "Virtual Keyboard".  This little annoyance is so keyloggers won't know your password.  It also slows you down a few seconds.  No matter, I moused my way around.

New screen.  New security procedure...

Enter my serial number for my launch code card.  Got it.

Now, Mr. President, I need you to look up the codes for the following grid squares... it asks for 3.  Success!  I'm in... I'm ready to nuke Moscow or... consider buying a savings bond.

Here's the deal, Mr. and or Ms. Bureaucracy... security is a good thing.  Hey, I'm all for it.  Pretty great concept.  This website is merely one step away from asking for a retinal scan!  If you make something too difficult or annoying, people will not use it.

I'm going to lose my launch codes... I just know it.  So, the next time I get the urge to dabble in savings bonds or other treasury instruments, I'm going to have to wait a couple of weeks for another code-card to be mailed to me.  Or, I can go buy stocks and mutual funds online rather instantly, or should the paranoia kick in too deeply, my mattress is in the next room.  (Here's my security steps for the mattress:  1) I'm not telling you which mattress.  2) There's an alarm on the house.  3) The guns are loaded.  4) I may or may not have a ferocious attack animal.  5) I'm fairly low on the financial totem-pole; really, look for a McMansion and try their mattress!)

So, now that I know that I, too, could read the codes should I ever get chosen to launch nuclear missiles, my dabbling in the wonderful world of US Debt instruments is brought to an end.  Really, it's just not worth the hassle for something that won't fully mature for 30 more years anyway (before the angry emails pour in, yes, I know... there are other options - I'm making a point.)

Hack away, evil-doers!  I'll even give you some hints.  One of the characters of the account code is a "6".  And one of the grid squares is a T.

Random Thought

Anyone think that Mrs. Incredible complains about stretch marks?

Comfort Zone Camp

These folks are Saints.  Watch the video.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

If you know of a family that needs help, they should contact CZC... or, if they have questions about what it's like, I'll chat with them.

Enough Already!

There is no questioning my deep love and affection for someone who's been my partner for the past eleven years.  He's incredibly special to me, and those who see us can tell that our bond is very strong.

I love the little furball.

Truth be told, he's not that little.  Recent weigh-ins have him at 18 pounds, and folks, he's lean.  Muscular.

Together, he and I have been through quite a lot.  He's patient with me (usually), comforts me when I'm down, has taught my kids to walk (no kidding), and no matter where we have lived - he's managed to demonstrate a level of abject sluttiness unrivaled in the biped community (it's tame, really... he learns the timetable of the neighborhood bus stops and will always be there to greet the children and ensure he receives plentiful tummy rubs.  A complete slut, is he.)

But.

(Y'all knew that was coming, didn't you?)

My kitty could be the picture for every month on the "Stop Furry Bulimia" fund-raising calendar.  For over five years, and a similar number of veterinarians, he's suffered from chronic vomiting.  Initially, we thought he was being selfish and hoarding food from his little sister (RIP).  But, she's gone, and he continues.

With such a lengthy history, patterns have even been discerned.  For example, he always vomits four times.  The first is always the most productive, but there will be four.  Never three, never five, and six is unheard of.  Four.

He also refuses to get up to vomit.  Wherever he may be when the urge overcomes him, that's where the fun shall begin.  Bed.  Bathroom bathmat.  Sofa.  Even Computer.

He must be in agony.  Surely, if I vomited a couple of times every day, I'd be miserable (I'd also be a lot thinner.)

Amazingly, he maintains weight.  How he does that, I don't know.  Neither do the learned vets.

We've tried dry food, wet food, mixed food, this brand, that brand, even prescription food.  You know what?  They all come up the same.

My cat suffers from Bulimia, and there are no known kitty shrinks who can help him.  And we're open to suggestions.

Really, cause this is annoying.  I now live in a house with minimal carpet because of my bulimic cat.  That's right, folks, a recent home-buying decision was heavily influenced by copious feline vomit.

I'm tired of the middle-of-the-night squishy ick.  I'm tired of furniture with stains.  I'm tired of him begging for food because the meal delivered a few minutes ago is now decorating the floors of three different rooms.

I love my cat.  I cannot imagine, nor do I desire to face, one day not having him in my life.  But... this has got to stop!

For his sake... for mine...

Ick!

What A Difference 150 (or so) Years Makes

A tad over 150 years ago, the States were arguing with the Federal government. Large among the debates were the concepts that the states are sovereign and they could nullify Federal laws (see: Nullification).

Now, we have the Federal government trying to nullify State laws because they encroach upon the sovereignty of the Federal government.

Back then, it was part of the path to tearing the Union apart. And as opposite as the scenario is now, it's quite likely the more things change...
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Idle Thought

Given the current administration's penchant for laying blame at others' feet...  if the war in Afghanistan ends up being a colossal failure, will we have leaks and statements from the White House about how the strategy was right, but poorly executed (for any multitude of reasons) by those in the theater (i.e. the troops)?

There's *Always* A Story...

I often, even now several years later, receive notes, comments, emails, and so forth from people who tell me that our story is "very sad", and "quite tragic".  I have long since learned not to argue, no matter how much I wish to demur, because I know one simple, horrifying truth.

 

There's always a story.  Today's local paper carried the story of SPC Clay McGarrah and his bride... widow, Emily.  It's heartbreaking, as all such tales of Love and Loss are. 

 

I'm glad, quite honestly, to see it carried above the fold on the front page of our paper here in NC.  The family is from a small town in Arkansas, and no doubt, it was the whole page of their local paper.  I say I'm glad because as those who are connected to the War(s) will tell you - to most, it doesn't fit into their daily thoughts at all.  Lebron, Oil, Mel, President Obama... our nation's media, in some part due to our public consciousness and consensus, has declared that the War isn't usually newsworthy.

 

It's newsworthy to those connected to it.  And in communities all across this country, that connection is very strong and is shared by the whole community.  And when Loss occurs, the community comes and helps the new widow, the family without a son or daughter, try to shoulder the burden.

 

And try to face a new day.

 

I was caught by the eyes looking out from the picture of the bride holding her folded American flag.  I've seen those eyes, too often, in the mirror.  I feel for her... knowing she'd do anything to hold her Love again instead of that folded piece of cloth.

 

I invite you to go and read...  http://www.fayobserver.com/articles/2010/07/24/1015733?sac=Home.

 

57 days.  Seven years... a lifetime shared... a lifetime lost.

 

My thoughts go out to you Emily.  To you and Clay, "Thank you".  Thank you for all you've given to our country.  Your town is small, but in the end... you are part of something big...  you're a part of all of us.

#6

Today was... is... a special day on the calendar.  Six years ago, the above picture was taken.

To the beautiful lady with a really cute smile in that picture:  You're missed, Sweet. 

Hi. Do you accept guest posts? I would love the opportunity to submit an article to kafstorm.blogspot.com about traumatic brain injury as it pertains to the military. Brain injuries are common amongst military personnel. Unfortunately, the symptoms are n

I'm up for a guest post... one condition - I maintain editorial control. (I promise not to edit gratuitously, but anything inappropriate, OPSEC, etc...)

Ask me anything

Small Army

Everyone always thinks of the Army as big. Hundreds of thousands of Soldiers, HQ is called "Big Army", and so many times, you feel like just a small cog in the Big Green Machine.

And then, Life throws you a special treat.

This past weekend, a friend arrived and started house-hunting. He just finished a 1SG tour in Korea and is taking up with 82nd CAB. Haven't seen him since Germany/Afghanistan. Very cool and with an awesome sense of humor.

And as an added bonus, this am I'm walking through the DFAC, and I spot... another friend, last seen in VA, but also from my time in Germany & Afghanistan. It seems he's been here for awhile, except not, because he just redeployed back from his visit to the 'stan.

It's SO good to see familiar faces. Especially from my "past life." They are well and truly missed.

Today is a good day after all.
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Things to Do

4th of July - Party and Fireworks. 5th of July - Strip/Clean Weapons...

Intertwined

Good morning. I've already been up for several hours, and it is a beautiful day.

Today is a major holiday for many, especially in my line of work. However, for far too many in our country, it is as celebrated or known as Arbor Day.

Interestingly, it is actually TWO days of note: Flag Day and the United States' Army's Birthday.

These two days are closely intertwined, as one is empty without the other.

The Army was born on 14 June 1775, predating the Declaration of Independence by slightly more than a year. The United States Army has experienced many highs, and lows, in its storied history. Glorious victories, humiliating defeats, examples of Courage and Valor, and sadly, despicable acts of criminal wrongs - all can be found in the Army's history.

On Army flags, you can find now over 180 campaign streamers. These streamers document the many cases where the Army has seen action, oft in battles lost to the history books. Scrolling through the list of streamers is easily a reminder of our nation's history - as our country expanded and encountered challenges from other nations and from within, the Army was there. (Of interest, if ever given the opportunity, definitely watch an Army streamer ceremony where each streamer is attached to the Army flag. It's dramatic.)

Two years after the Army was born, and nearly a year after declaring our Independence, the Continental Congress adopted our national flag. Ever since, the flag of the United States, in its various incarnations, has been carried proudly to all corners of the world and seen both deeply below the surface and from the roof of the world. It's also been carried to the Moon.

On the right shoulder of my uniform, there is a patch of the US Flag. It's commonly thought to be backwards, yet it is meant to be viewed as if it's always advancing. The flag would not be without the US Army (to be fair, our sister services also play an important role). And throughout history, armies follow and fight for their country's flag. Is it any wonder that one of the more iconic images in our nation's memory is the raising of the flag over Iwo Jima (yes, yes, I know... It was raised by Marines, and we love them for it)?

Our own National Anthem captures the spirit of the meaningfulness of the flag flying, as remembered during the Battle of 1812. The capital already burned, our nascent nation's future was easily at stake as the British worked their way north. In Baltimore, they came upon Fort McHenry. A pitched battle ensued, and there was serious question as to whom might prevail.
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,..." and "...Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there." captures that vision of the next morning seeing the flag still flying defiantly.

Today, there may be much grumbling as people start a fresh week at work. However, it is a special day. Today, we (should) honor both our Army which has stood watch on the erstwhile ramparts of our nation and the Flag which has flown over our free land and home of the brave. May they both continue to do so.

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As Feared...

Yesterday was a primary election in 12 states.  For months, we've read about how America is fed up with the people in Congress.  The approval rating is in the low teens.

Tea Parties are held across the country.

"Throw the bums out!" is the common outcry.

Yet, yesterday... 97 out of 98 incumbents survived.  So, essentially... as feared... "They're all bad, except for my guy... he's good."

Sigh.  Is there any hope for real change?

Arlington

This is starting to break out... all over.

I first noted something from my FB feed from Army Times.  They posted a small blurb of a column noting the pending retirement of the Arlington Cemetery Superintendent:

Arlington Cemetery superintendent retiring

The Associated Press
Posted : Wednesday Jun 9, 2010 7:54:49 EDT

WASHINGTON — The superintendent of Arlington National Cemetery for the past 19 years is retiring.
John C. Metzler Jr. has worked for the government for 42 years and says his last day will be July 2.
The 62-year-old’s father was also superintendent at the cemetery outside the nation’s capital.
He said the high point of his career was expanding the cemetery for veterans and their families so it could continue to take new burials until 2060.
In November, Secretary of the Army John McHugh ordered an investigation into allegations of lost accountability of some graves, poor record keeping and other issues at Arlington.
Metzler said those issues weren’t as bad as had been reported.

Read the end, again.  It's barely even seems worth mentioning, right?  And the Superintendent, the guy under investigation, says it's not that bad.

Before I delve further, I have a question for Mr. Metzler.  Given the allegations of "lost accountability of some graves", what would be not as bad as reported?  The only thing I can think of would be... no lost accountability.  Anything else IS as bad as reported.  These are the graves of our servicemembers... and their spouses.  The Heroes of our Nation.  All cemeteries are special; our veteran and national cemeteries especially so.  However, while the cemeteries across the nation are likely known only to those connected to the ones interred there, Arlington is special.  It's immortalized in stories, poems, movies...  and this video from Trace Adkins:  Arlington.  Listen to the words.  The Army has dedicated an entire regiment, the Old Guard, to tend to those at Arlington.

Arlington is special.  Hallowed ground.

So, to refer back to the innocuous column from the Army Times, what are these issues?

From Salon, there are allegations of graves not marked, remains unknown (and no, not the ones at the Tomb of the Unknown).  Also, there are further allegations, of general disregard by the staff for mementoes and meaningful items left behind by those who visit the graves. 

Sigh.

When I first heard about this, my immediate question was... "How?"  And I think it comes back to how a certain jadedness sets in.  It's common wherever you work.  When I was at a call-center, I reminded my agents that while the customer may ask what to them were "stupid questions", to the customer they were the first time they'd asked the question and it was certainly important to them.

In the hospital climate I work in now, it is certainly easy to slide into your patients becoming just a procedure... not a person.

We encountered this a few years back at Walter Reed.  The scandal there brought down generals and the Secretary of the Army.

Who will answer to these allegations?  Will criminal charges be pursued?  If the fundamental notion of your job description as a Superintendent of a cemetery is to properly inter and care for the remains of our fallen, then I presume that allegations of misplaced and/or unknown remains and poor care of the cemetery will reflect a gross failure in that position, at a minimum.

Properly?  Punish.  Make the example.  Let it be clear that in a time where media and protesters can seem to almost revel in counting the numbers of our dead that our fallen are not merely numbers, not merely another task to do before going home for the day - they are our fallen Heroes, and more importantly, they are, or were,  meaningful to someone.  They were at least a Son or Daughter, and quite possibly also Husbands, Wives, Brothers, Sisters... Fathers and Mothers.

A key part of working there should be the fundamental realization and internalization of that simple fact.  If that's not possible, please work somewhere else.  There are thousands who would gladly work there and who would show the proper respect to those permanent residents of Arlington.

In the meantime, let's see our senior officials take immediate steps to ensure the command climate at Arlington properly reflects the special nature of Arlington.  It's not a lot to ask those charged with the care of the cemetery to give a damn; after all, those in their trust gave every last measure.

Awards Ceremony

Frustrated. No, ticked. Ok... I'm not sure what word I want to use.

Such *horrible* behavior by parents at M's award ceremony. Constant talking, talking on phones, and general disrespect to the students receiving awards. It's tough to teach T good behavior when surrounded by bad behavior. Really, could you not catch up on your various husbands' prostate problems, restraining orders, and how other children didn't really earn awards until later???

Kudos to the parents who did show up, even the one who reeked of alcohol (hey, she did make the effort...)

Jeers to the parents who left (noisily) after their kid's name was called.

Humorous moment: "Perfect Attendance, but not here today..."

Guess it's the way of the world today... Everyone gets awards. Not kidding. As they called names, the student would stand. 14 classes... Every kid stood for something. If every one gets an award for being special, what is special?

Ugh.
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Memorial Day

I had to work.  I didn't want to be there; none of us did.  But, hospitals are open 24/7/365, and people still get sick and hurt.

We had struck a deal that we would work Memorial Day in exchange for getting 4th of July off.  To be honest, it seemed like a good deal.  It's difficult for me to wrap my head around the concept of "celebrating" Memorial Day.  To me, it's more a time for somber reflection.  Given that the mass public has merged Memorial Day and Veterans' Day into all-encompassing "Thank those who serve" holidays, it's easier to just work, anyway.  (Granted, I like that the public does want to thank the troops, but... I feel like channeling Monty Python and saying, "I'm not dead yet!")

So, I'm at work.  And quickly, the discontentment of our shift sets in.  We discover that there will be no civilians joining us.  Admittedly, it rubs us a bit the wrong way because it is a "military" holiday.  Unlike Thanksgiving, this is a holiday about the troops and it was easy fodder that the troops were working while the civilians were home.  And then, we realized the normally scheduled military shift wasn't coming in, either.  Some shifts are more equal than others, apparently.  Yes, we'd all agreed to work our normal schedules, yet somehow the military techs scheduled to work Monday morning were... absent.  So be it.  We'll embrace the suck and do our job.

And we did.  While we were short staffed by over 70%, we tackled things well.  Sure, we were being bitchy and griping, but it was the fun sort.  We kept coming up with new ways to complain.  It's what Soldiers do... fairly well.  Gripe.  Time-honored tradition.

And then, the day changed.  We got a patient, a very special patient.  Now, I can't tell you who he was, but he was a Medal of Honor recipient.

What are the chances?  A MoH patient on Memorial Day.  Naturally, we couldn't resist learning more about who was coming in.  His citation was... humbling.  In today's Army, most of us worry about survival.  We do everything to ensure our survival.  And in the medical field, well... we're not likely to be charging the enemy any time soon.

My Patient, a member of Company X, distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy.

His platoon, in defensive positions on Hill XXX, came under ruthless attack by a numerically superior and fanatical hostile force, accompanied by heavy artillery, mortar, and machinegun fire which inflicted numerous casualties on the platoon.
His comrades were forced to withdraw due to lack of ammunition but My Patient, although wounded in an exchange of grenades, continued to deliver deadly fire into the ranks of the onrushing assailants until a ruptured cartridge rendered his rifle inoperative.
Immediately leaving his position, My Patient rushed the enemy armed only with rifle and bayonet.
Fearlessly engaging the foe, he killed 6 of the enemy before falling unconscious from grenade, bayonet, and bullet wounds but his heroic action momentarily halted the enemy advance and enabled his unit to counterattack and retake the lost ground.
The indomitable fighting spirit, outstanding courage, and tenacious devotion to duty clearly demonstrated by My Patient reflect the highest credit upon himself, the infantry, and the U.S. Army.

 Let's read that again... his rifle was inoperative.  He'd already been wounded.  His buddies retreated.  It says he charged armed only with rifle and bayonet, but... the rifle was inoperative.  He's charging machineguns armed with a knife and a club.  And he's wounded.  He was 20 at the time.  Just 20.

I'm not sure about others, but... when I read citations like that, I can't help but wonder... would I do the same?  Could I do the same?  Machismo requires me to say, "Of course!"  But, in reality... I don't know.  I'd like to think I could... that I would... but, it's the Medal of Honor precisely because such actions are rare. 

And so, I'm helping him through multitudes of exams.  Some of them, I'm standing there holding him during his x-ray... he's much older now than from the time of the citation... but, his sixty year old wounds are still plainly visible.  The effects permanent.  And to see the wounds radiologically...  My respect increases.  And I stand there, holding him.  Looking into his eyes.  And he to me.  The trust in there to help him find what's bothering him.

I think of all the speeches and ceremonies he's been to and heard over the years; the pomp and gratitude that comes with living to receive the Medal of Honor.  And my vocabulary fails me.  And I know he wants to just be himself, to not be identified only by the Medal... but, I can't help myself.  I lean down and whisper, "I know you've heard it many times, but... 'Thank you' for your service."  What else can I say?  And I don't want to focus on it.  He is a patient...

And right there, with him, I didn't want to complain about working any more.  I was honored to have been there... to have my life path intersect, however briefly, with someone so special.

But it turns out, that that wasn't why I was working that day.

Towards the end of the day, another of the long stream of patients came in.  Nothing special indicated on this patient's chart, but... little did I know.  She says her foot hurts.  So, I start a foot exam.  During the exam, I notice her extensive tattoos... memorial tattoos.  and they're excellent and quite detailed.  I compliment her on her tattoos.  And as the words come out, I notice the date on the dog tag... the man memorialized... died a few months ago.

And, her voice starts to waver.  I look, and it's like looking back in time and into a mirror.  I see me... a few years ago.  When the pain was still incredibly raw and on the surface.  When you're trying to go on, trying to put a brave face for the world, trying to... play the role the world wants you to play - that it's all ok and you're moving on.  Yet, inside, you can't... you're nowhere near ready.

The exam can wait.  I start to talk to her... and share my experience.  Her eyes meet mine and lock.  The desperation... the hope... to meet someone who knows, who has been there.  We talk for quite a bit... I run x-rays throughout the exam... but, mostly, I talk.  She really is a peek back in time.

And I try to offer her that Hope.  To cut through the tons of grief counseling BS that she's no doubt heard... from people who haven't lost their True Love prematurely.  And we talk... and talk... and she talks... and I reassure.  I don't promise that it ill get better.  I tell her that it doesn't... that she will adjust and adapt to it.  And the healing is long-time.  To not feel rushed... no matter what The World expects of her... To take it at her own pace.

We hug... I feel the desperation and rawness in her clutching embrace.  And I know why I worked today.

Memorial Day... barbecues and beaches for some... for others, the reason for the holiday is all too close.  The wounds of war are long-lasting, and we carry them either on our own bodies or in the Hearts of those who love us and hold us close... waiting for us to come home, whether we actually do or not.

What an Honor it was to work this Memorial Day.

87% Say English Should Be U.S. Official Language

87% Say English Should Be U.S. Official Language

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Continuing the Development

Well, having completed my board work, almost having my degree done... It's time for the next step. It's time to pass the Registry.

So, I'm off at a class to help me pass that! Here's hoping it goes well!
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Don't want this to end...

Don't want this to end...

Finished! I DID it!

At the end... 39.3 miles!
(And I found an Army 2LT the last 2 miles, so in true Army fashion, we SPRINTED the final tenth of a mile!)

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So Close

One mile remaining... The Washington

One mile remaining... The Washington Memorial is in sight.

National Cathedral

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8 Miles

7.5 miles. Taking my first

7.5 miles. Taking my first break. Get some oranges, bananas, and refills of my water & Gatorade. Must stay hydrated!

Just a little stroll...

We've entered DC now... Walking down Wisconsin Avenue.

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Six Miles - Almost Halfway!

Mile 2

And... We're off!

And... We're off!

Today' Route

As we walk back to the Washington Monument - From MARYLAND - we'll pass the National Cathedral, Fort Reno (highest point in the city - translation: HILLS), Department of State, Embassy Row, Lincoln Memorial... And many other exciting places.
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Made a slight modification to

Made a slight modification to my outfit. I added a "Happy Birthday" sign!

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, E! Today would have been #43 for you.

You are missed, and loved, still and always.
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Good Morning!

Well, I've been up since around 4...

All checked out of the hotel, and heading back to the Walk site.

Today, 13.1 miles, and we'll finish back at the Washington Monument. It's a slight drizzle right now, but should ease up soon.

Excited!
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I've enjoyed a great massage,

I've enjoyed a great massage, dinner, and good company! Now, back to the hotel for shower & rest. Tomorrow: The final 13.1 miles!

Apparently, the White House Correspondents

Apparently, the White House Correspondents Association dinner is in my hotel tonight. Think any reporters want to cover a great story??

I'm tired... I hurt... And

I'm tired... I hurt... And I do NOT care... Solid endorphins.

One nice perk... The free

One nice perk... The free massage I just enjoyed!

Just passed 26!

Just passed 26!

25! 1 to Go...

23 Down! 3 to go...

Too cool! Just saw Air

Too cool! Just saw Air Force One! Too many trees for a good pic, but it was close!

21 miles down... 5 to

21 miles down... 5 to go. Starting to pick up a blister, and my arthritis is painful. BUT, no matter... 5 to go!

It's noon... How's your day?

It's noon... How's your day?

9 to go!

This is Casey Kasem, bringing you the Walk Countdown... At #9: "I'm a Breast Man" by The Teardrops...

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Ten-Miler

I'm ready to start my ten-miler now...

Open Invitation (Challenge?): In 364

Open Invitation (Challenge?): In 364 days, who wants to meet me in DC for next year's walk? Can walk with me or be on Crew... Join Me!

My long stride and few

My long stride and few breaks is slowly taking me close to the front. We're spread thinly now. Keeping myself company with cadences! :)

Halfway There!

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Passing Georgetown Hospital... The Mammo

Passing Georgetown Hospital... The Mammo department is out cheering us on! Go Mammo!

Little known fun fact: DC

Little known fun fact: DC is hilly!

Lunch time! 9 miles down...

Lunch time! 9 miles down... 17 to go. Taking a short break... It's a beautiful day!

9 Miles - 1/3 Complete!

Passing the White House...

Passing the White House...

6 Miles!

Union Station!

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Mile 4!

3 miles!

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At the Capitol

IMG00017-20100501-0659.jpg

The First Steps...

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This year's DC walk has

This year's DC walk has raised $6.5 million!

Seen so far: Save 2nd

Seen so far: Save 2nd Base; Save the Ta-Ta's; Don't Let Cancer Steal 2nd!; Wonder Women...

Saw Marine 1 go by

Saw Marine 1 go by a bit earlier. Hello, Mr. President! Why don't you come walk with us?

One question: MEN... Where Are

One question: MEN... Where Are You? Men die from BC, too! And even if they didn't, these are our WOMEN! Come on, men... Be MEN! Fight!

Waiting to Begin...

I know I'm supposed to be here. Dropped off by Jefferson Memorial. We're starting by Washington Monument. The energy is already picking up as the sun is rising...

I'm stretching, and set to go. I have a small Camelback and, of course, my PINK water nottle. Hydrate, hydrate.

My emotions are running strong. This city means a lot to me. This weekend... Well, it's E's birthday weekend! I'm trying to keep the tears at bay.

We were dropped off at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial. Our son was named for him.

It is a beautiful morning... No clouds... It'll be very H-O-T later. No matter. The sunrise is beautiful.

There's no other place I'd rather be...
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On the Bus!

Up & on the bus to the opening ceremonies site. When you're energized like I and all these ladies are... WHO NEES COFFEE?!
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Up & At 'Em

It's shortly after 4 am... the city is still sleeping... but not US!  Time to get busy!

Avon Walk for Breast Cancer 2010 - Live Blog

Avon Walk for Breast Cancer 2010 - Live Blog

Getting *lots* of compliments on my tattoo...

I think my legs are getting in more photos than my face! LOL

Should I be jealous? Nah...
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Avon Walk for Breast Cancer 2010 - Live Blog

I'm here and all checked in. The atmosphere is electric, and emotional. I am so happy and excited to be here.
Already, we're all taking pictures, swapping stories...
No negative faces...
I'm modifying the slogan, a tad: In it to E nd it!
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Avon Walk for Breast Cancer 2010 - Live Blog

En route to DC! Not only do I love the chance to go to DC, but it's time for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer! I'm super excited!!!
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(You Too Can) Be the Accident!

There used to be slogans out about "Be the Change."

Well, on my drive back home from the Blues, I saw a few folks dertermined to Be the Accident.

Listen, if you want to go above the speed limit, that's one thing. I do it myself (I know, shocking). If you *really* want to speed, and I'm thinking Autobahn-esque levels of 90/95 MPH, ok. Use caution and *Do What You Can Handle*.

**DO NOT** chop your speed from 95 to 55 (in a 70 zone), especially through the suddent and heavy application of your brakes, because ou see Mr. Policeman on the side of the road. Even more true if he isn't even in his car and has no hope of magically reading the display on his radar.

Doing the above will surely cause you to Be the Accident, unless the other drivers in your pack happen to be better at driving than you are.

If you can't handle the speed, and the consequences, slow down and move over.

Sheesh.
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Just a pretty picture...

What a beautiful picture...

Less than 39 Days

In less than 39 days, I will walk 39 miles in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in Washington, DC.  I walk in memory of my wife, who died from breast cancer, and in support of those many women – and men – who will need a cure to this disease.

 

As part of my commitment, I have agreed to raise $1800, but I’m not there yet!

 

Each year, the Avon Foundation helps over one million women receive mammograms; this is a fundamental method of early detection of breast cancer.  With cancer, the best weapon is Time; the earlier it is detected, the better one’s chances for survival.

 

Please join me and help me meet and surpass my fundraising goal.  My personal web page is http://www.avonwalk.org/goto/WalkForEllicia2010 and donations may be made online.  I can also accept a check mailed to me made out to the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.

 

As always, I thank you  for your support.  I’m in it… to END IT!

 

Reid

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/flyingrt

If you could only read one magazine for the rest of your life, which would it be?

"Air and Space Smithsonian" I love it... and if you know me, you're not terribly surprised.

Ask me anything

Sometimes Work is Slow...

... and sometimes it's quite busy.

 

So far, tonight is one of the busy ones.  I walked in and before I even set my stuff down, I was told to go relieve an OR room.  I did, and I spent the next four hours up there.  Not too bad, as it was an interesting case.  I like watching the surgeons work.

 

Tonight, they were mending a guy's shoulder.  I heard them say it was supposed to be a 90 minute case.  They'd already been going for awhile when I got there, so it must have ended up being about five hours.  Still interesting...

 

I'd hoped to get some chow when I came down, as I'd worked right past dinner.  No, we turned out to be very short-handed and busy.  Just that kind of night.

 

But all in all, it's still good work!

Four Left

There are only four left...

The next shuttle launch, of Discovery, is scheduled for no earlier than 05 April.  I SO want to go, but don't know how I'll swing it.

Sigh.

No, She Didn't Lose a Fight

M had another tooth come out today. She's really turning into a gap-toothed lil' monster.
I'm going to have to keep her under wraps - as cute as she is AND with so many missing teeth, she's liable to be named Miss Junior North Carolina!
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Tranquil

I love how peaceful and dark I-95 in SC can be. Light traffic, just woods...

I enjoy dimming all the lighs and enjoying the sky.

Ahhhh.
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Live from the Road

Crossing the State Line into the GREAT State of South Carolina!!! (I feel better already...)
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For a Good Friend...

Last-minute scoot down to Charleston. Spend the night, have breakfast/brunch, and return.

Haven't seen her in a few years and WELL worth the trip.

Can't wait to see you again, P!
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A Nice Treat

Tonight, completely unexpected, I was released from work super early.  I got to tuck my kids into bed.  To my first-line supervisor, thank you.  The kids, though they don't know it, thank you, too.

Riddle Me This, Army

So, how is this supposed to work?

The Army professes support for families, and how families are vital to the Army's success.

And single parents... well, they're supported, too.

However, here I am working a shift that's opposite my kids' schedules. I don't mind so much, except... I can see the effect in my kids' behavior. M is just going off the rails. I see her for about 15 minutes each morning. That's it. Otherwise, it's schools and sitters.

Very frustrating.

My next schedule will be a "huge" improvement. In May, I switch to working weekends, Sat-Mon, 0700 - 1930. Yep. So, I'll see M at night during the week, and on weekends. Just in time to tuck her in.

HOW DO I GET TO BE THE DAD THEY NEED?!?!?!

Looking for answers... sigh.

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy

It's been a long time (about five weeks), but Swoopy is back from the body shop, looking as good as ever!

It's good to be back in my own car again...
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Missions...

This week, I've been tasked with being on-call for bus driving. Recently, Mother Army saw fit to get me licensed on the bus, so time to use it.
Mostly, I'm driving AirEvac missions. I'm greatly enjoying, because it's very rewarding. Bringing these Soldiers in for care, helping (small part, but still) to bring them home... To see their faces. Is good.

Plus, I get out on the flightline again!

It's surprising just how many missions there are. A tad too many, but it is what it is.

..Everyone comes home.
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Hoping to Have a Good Day Tomorrow

Going for a Board competition...

So, need to turn in.

Will be a VERY long day... hopefully, a good one.

'night!

D-Day...

Merely hours away. Tick-tock.
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Communication, Communication, Communication

Why is this so difficult? It should be easy in this day and age. After all, with rare exception, we can be reached by text, email, and sometimes, you can even go old-school and use a telephone.

So, there was a mandatory event this morning. "Lottie, Dottie, Everybody..."

No one was really sure where we were supposed to go, as we'd never gone there before. Therefore, it was put out the night before that everyone would meet at 8 at Place X.

Simple.

But... Seems that earlier, at the PT session, directions were given and everyone is just told to meet there. Everyone at the PT that is. Those not there... heard crickets.

So, at 8, imagine my surprise when no one *else* was at Place X.

I've noticed this trend lately to brief the plan, then change the plan, but not disseminate the change.

No further comment...
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Now Hear This. Now Hear This... Code BLUE. Code BLUE...

At my hospital, PA announcements are very rare. Purposefully so, as to ensure that when there is one, it gets our attention.

The most common of the rare announcements is the Code Blue - Cardiac Arrest. (Other terms you may be familiar with: "Coded", "Flatlined", or needing CPR.)

Tonight, after a busy night, we'd slowed down... and then, over the PA...

"Now hear this. Now hear this. Code Blue. Code Blue in ******."

I learned something new, or I'd just never noticed because of other things going on, but... Radiology Techs respond to Code Blue, too.

So, off I and another tech got moving. Quickly. We went to the ward where a patient was lying in his bed, while 10+ staff worked feverishly to keep him alive.

At one point, I counted over 15 responders, including security, nurses, respiratory techs, doctors, staff, and... two Radiology Techs. People rotated through doing the chest compressions as you can tire out easily.

Over the next 20 minutes, this team fought to keep him alive. I started to wonder if perhaps, he might not make it. It had been a long time. The odds didn't seem to be in his favor.

The family was called. I hoped that in their haste to rush to the side of their loved one that they'd be safe and not need their own emergency care. I can only imagine how some might react if called in the middle of the night and told their loved one had gone into cardiac arrest and may not be around long.

The other tech and I continued to talk... discussing various things, the shift, death, CPR, E... it meandered.

And then, beep.... beep... beep... I looked and could see his chest moving. He was making it! He wasn't going to die... not now, at least.

The crowd thinned, and we moved in and got out pictures to help document what may have caused the cardiac arrest.

And another successful day. I like my job!

Notes on Love and Death @ AMERICAN DIGEST

A friend sent this over to me - thanks M*A.

I've read and reread now a few times... Think I'll read it a few more.

Notes on Love and Death @ AMERICAN DIGEST

Valentines Day

Well...

Today is Valentine's Day. Seemed like just another day, here.

I remember well when I got excited about V day, but then, there was someone to get excited about.

One day, so I'm told, that excitement will return. I think I'm going to look forward to that.

In the meantime, I guess I've saved a little bit of $$$... LOL

I hope everyone else had a good day.

Movies That HIT Me

I caught the tail end of "City of Angels". Ugh... I love this movie, and yet, it's so gut-wrenching to watch. Especially the end... seems very... familiar.

Let's not forget "What Dreams May Come"

Or "My Life".


There are quite a few that both reach out and touch me, and sometimes, sucker punched at the same time.

"Dear John" got me the other night... and I couldn't even figure out why. But, it did.

Wonder what other movies might have these effects?

Pink Glove Dance

A friend sent this to me... and I'm touched.

I also just ordered a box of pink gloves for me to use at work! Oh, that should definitely get the conversation going... LOL!

I don't see a military hospital ever doing this - which is a shame... sometimes we're so busy maintaining our "military bearing" that we lose ourselves in it.

Speech for Graduation

One of my former Sergeants recently asked me to write a speech for a Graduation of a RadTech student. Seems there was going to be a 2-star there, and they wanted something really good.

This is what I came up with:

Speech for Graduation


Good morning. It is an honor and a privilege to speak to you today. For today, I have the distinct pleasure, as do all of you, of witnessing the future of our nation's Army at the beginning.

For many, the image held of our Army's Soldiers are of the warriors at the “tip of the spear”, our Infantry, Special Forces, and untold many who engage in direct combat with our country's enemies, all over the globe.

However, our Army is more than those War-fighters. It is true that they are unsurpassed in their capabilities and how they can bring the fight to the enemy, wherever they may be hiding. Those Soldiers would be ineffectual, at best, and likely defeated, were it not for the Soldiers who perform equally noble tasks, especially those in the Medical field.

Our Army's Medical Soldiers deliver a strength to the force that is envied throughout the world. Whether it's in Army hospitals such as Moncrief here at Fort Jackson, or major Medical Centers like Walter Reed, or even the battalion aid station attached to a small unit stationed far home in a country few may have heard of before, our Medical Soldiers deliver care to our Soldiers, and to their Families, and in some cases, even to those who a few moments earlier were our desperate enemy.

It is no easy task to become a Soldier in the Medical field. Not only do we as an Army expect all Soldiers to be capable of the universal Soldiering tasks – rifle marksmanship, combatives, for example – but they also must strive to have in depth, intimate knowledge of one of the world's most complex systems – the Human Body.

Within the Medical field, there are even more challenges. And it's a challenge that our graduating student, Private First Class #####, has risen to and achieved: That of being a Radiology Technologist.

Some of you may be unaware of what we require of our Radiology Technologist Soldiers. In the civilian world, the program of study is a minimum of two years. In the Army, we do it in eleven months. And this is no minor program. Our Radiology Technologists begin by learning essential medical care – the lifesaving techniques of CPR, IV insertion, and other skills needed by all medical staff. From there, they learn human anatomy, and not just the many bones of the body, but details which you and I may never have even known existed – the difference between a tuberosity and a tubercule, for example.

From there, the Army puts them through a study of electricity, physics, and nuclear radiation. If that's not enough, we give them an education on the effects of radiation on the body, down to the level of our DNA.

These Soldiers graduate Phase 1 in San Antonio with an encyclopedic volume of knowledge that impresses me every time I think about it. Our young Soldiers set the worldwide standard with their capability and knowledge. But as I said, they're only graduating Phase ONE. Afterwards, these Soldiers disperse to Army medical facilities across the United States to begin a practical demonstration and development of their skills. They spend nearly six months learning the art of the radiology craft; and it is an art form, for as we all know, every person is different. And in a field where you're taking pictures of that which you cannot see, it truly requires a special talent to develop that essential picture which gives our Doctors and Surgeons the ability to deliver the quality care that is expected and demanded worldwide.

During this second phase of their training, our Soldiers not only develop their skills in Diagnostic Radiology, but they will also begin their training in MRI, CT scans, and even Ultrasound. They learn Trauma Radiology, and learn to work not just in the health clinics, but in the unique environments of an Operating Room and the Emergency Room.

We always train our Soldiers to expect the unexpected; this is no less true in Radiology. The next exam may be a hand hurt when the patient fell down a staircase, or a twisted ankle, or perhaps a gunshot wound and the surgeons don't know where the bullet is, and it is up to a Soldier such as PFC ##### here to find that bullet to save that patient's life.

Our medical Soldiers provide this service twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. They are always on call, and practice their craft not just for our Soldiers, but for their families. Knowing we have the best medical staff in the world gives our deployed Soldiers that extra peace of mind; their families are well-cared for back home.

Perhaps the most unique task we ask of our medical Soldiers is to treat the enemy, as equally as we treat our own warriors. That insurgent who was wounded trying to explode a Vehicle-Borne IED at the guard gate is treated side-by-side, and without question, with the Soldier's comrades who manned that gate.

And when we combine all of these expectations, Ability to perform essential War-fighter tasks, comprehensive Medical knowledge and ability to perform your craft in any situation, and willingness to treat each patient, whether Soldier, Family member, or enemy, equally... you can see why we as an Army are fortunate to have elite Soldiers such as PFC #####, and countless others throughout this MOS.

It is their dedication to their knowledge, their skills, and to serving their country that helps make our Army.... your Army... ARMY STRONG.

Amelia Earhardt

Just finished watching the movie Amelia. I thought Hillary Swank was fantastic as the world's, to this day, most famous aviatrix, Amelia Earhardt.

I was especially touched by the quote at the end, which I've heard many a time in various forms:

"Everyone has oceans to fly, as long as you have the Heart to do it. Is it reckless? Maybe, but what do dreams know of boundaries?"

As I continue facing my various challenges in Life, I'm reassured when people (like today by a close Friend) tell me that the Heart I show will get me through it.

We erect our own boundaries around ourselves more than any one else. If we follow our dreams, we can accomplish... anything.

My Love for Government Indoctrination Centers

I took M to school this morning (after a two hour "snow" delay). While signing her in, I noticed on the window sill the American flag - all balled up and waiting forlornly to fly from the flagpole.

After M was on her way, I asked the receptionist if she'd like me to raise their flag for them. Figured why not, being in uniform and all... Seemed a reasonable request.

She demurred, saying the custodians would ensure it was raised.

Sigh.

I countered with, "In that case, could someone please fold it properly so it's not sitting balled up on the window sill?"

She, without looking, tells me that it's not balled, but actually folded. Right.She then proceeded to get the flag, and... place it in a drawer.

I continue my love for Government Indoctrination Centers.

Fire in the Spacecraft

Over forty years ago, those words crackled over the radio down in Florida.

It signaled a tragic halt to a breakneck pace program to reach the moon; three astronauts died on the launchpad during a simple test.

The Apollo program is long finished, many of the participants buried years ago, and even the launchpad itself is now just a stark empty monument to what once happened there.

Yet the lesson endures, for those of us willing to pause long enough to learn from it.

Too often, the dangers that will harm us are not the ones for which we plan and engineer for or for what we anticipate... It's that which is overlooked. Three astronauts died, not in deep space, or while stuck on the moon... But while on the ground, atop an unfueled rocket, surrounded by thousands. Yet, the could not be saved. For all that had been planned, a simple spark on the ground doomed them.

Our lesson is don't overlook the small stuff, the inconsequential, the minute - that's what brings down giants.

In memory of Gus, Ed, and Roger... Who made it safe(r) for those who followed.

And for NASA's week of tragedy (all of NASA's loss anniversaries are this week.)
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I Walk for One More

Yesterday, one of my beloved aunts, Deepe, succumbed to breast cancer. She's been battling for awhile now, and thankfully, she is now at peace.

She is now counted amongst the far too many whom this disease has claimed. And one more for whom I walk.

Rest in Peace, Deepe... And if you see, E, say hi for me...

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First Writing

For the past year, or so... I've been blocked. SERIOUSLY blocked. Not been able to write. Nearly nothing. You may have noticed the blog itself has slowed to a crawl.

Anyway, the other day, I had a very interesting experience, and shortly afterwards... felt the urge to write again.

And here it is. It's not my best stuff, and it's pure flow. When I write, I never know what I've written until I go back and read it anyway.

Unfiltered confusion
Random discombobulation

Complete and open weakness.

I don't like feeling this way. So unavoidably defenseless. Outside of my comfort zone. And yet, not only here I am, but perversely I seem to be seeking it out.

Why?


Perhaps I've grown comfortable with my relationship, or rather lack of one, with god. It's certainly been easier. I can be pissed at him, and anyone who asks will feel that I'm justifiably angry and will leave it alone.

But deep down, in the lower sub-basements of my mind and soul, I don't think I've truly wanted that. Over time, I have felt cheated. Cheated out of so much.

Quite frankly, Life has sucked. I have had the absolute Love of My Life ripped from me, and done so as I begged and pleaded through prayer for it not to be so. And if there was ever an example of Robert Frost's two roads diverging in the wood, then surely that must be it. While there have been a few Distinctive Markers in my life time, no one stands as large nor as prominent as that one.

I've oft looked back and seen that day as god essentially giving me (and the whole family) the finger. As we prayed, and pleaded, and hoped against all hope for a different outcome, he essentially said, “No, and I'm not going to tell you why.”

As Life branched off onto this new path, it has been one of unending (and in my view, unnecessary) pain and suffering. Family ripped apart, children lost, chaos reigning. And... for what?

For what purpose?

That's been my question all along, I suppose. What purpose does this serve? I will happily suffer whatever I need to... I like to know why I'm suffering. And I don't know. I have no idea. I don't know why my family is suffering. I don't know. And not knowing, for me, is another kind of pain altogether.

And today, a man talked about serving out your purpose. It could have been the proverbial lightning bolt from the blue... aimed right at me.

For you see, I don't think I've ever really “lost” my faith – as I like to tell people – so much as I have shunned it. Sort of a hissy fit, perhaps... but if he didn't want to help us... or even clue us in on what he's up to, well, he doesn't really need me now does he? And if he can give me the finger, I can give it right back. Screw me? SCREW YOU.

And I have become comfortable in that. It's so easy to not have to put work into a relationship. And I didn't really want his love anymore anyway, seeing as he seemed to have a strange way of showing it. It's like how we marvel at women in abusive relationships... why don't they just leave? I felt emboldened... I'd done it... I'd left. SCREW HIM.

Like I said... comfortable. Until now.

A new friend has thrown me completely off my game. She's approached, saying he's speaking to her... trying to reach me. Says I'm not hearing him. Well, I can't argue that, because ever since I heard his silence that one day and night, can't say that I've been really wanting to hear anything else from him. Hate and Anger run deep and long.

Yet, she's quietly persisted, but not pushed. Just been there. I won't say a beacon of light, or the Hollywood halo of light around her. Think of it as maybe a lone match flickering.

But, it's been a bright light just the same. She's talked to me... and listened to my hate. My anger. And not shunned me. She's understood it. Told me I'm justified (Damn STRAIGHT!), and still the light shone. She still continued her diplomatic shuttle. I sort of see her in that role... shuttling messages back and forth between two nations that have no urge to talk to each other... but need to. Thankless task. And she's embraced it! Curse her for it.

I was comfortable in my distance. I didn't stop believing in him, after all... more I felt he'd stopped believing in me. I hadn't left him, you see – he'd left me. Us. And it's not easy to forgive the SOB for doing that.

And what made this all so awkward is that she's giving me messages that he's ready to welcome me back. Where does he get off? I want my apology. I want my mea culpa. I want to know WHY all this suffering. What has it been good for? What good works has this accomplished?

What is the purpose?

And we're back to that question. The purpose. A timeless one – Man's always wondered the Meaning of Life. Well, I'm not worried about such grandiose ideas... I've merely wanted to know my purpose. I cannot believe in a god who advocates needless suffering. If he's truly involved, if he's working his way through his creation to this very day, then I refuse to believe that he lets things happen mindlessly, because that's too close to perverse amusement. Therefore, suffering has purpose. What's mine?

What's my children's?

What's Ellicia's mother's?

And on and on the ripple effects have spread. What is all this suffering for?

The part that has really killed me, and has crystallized so sharply for me is this. I don't get to know. And thus I'm being introduced to a new definition of Faith. For many, Faith means believing in what you can't see – god. Well, I see him everywhere I look. I believe in his existence; I couldn't deny it if I tried, and I'm pretty good at arguing both sides of an argument.

It seems I have to take on Faith that the suffering serves a purpose. What will be, to me, a secret one.

I don't like it. It's out of my control, and I don't like not knowing. I am a resourceful person, and I can learn anything I want to learn – find out anything. I've had at times networks of people spread across the planet that quite often would bring me news before it ever hit the common knowledge. I like to know things.

And I don't get to know this.

I don't even get to know when the suffering will end, or I suppose, if.

But I do want to know MY purpose. What am I supposed to be doing with my Life right now? A boat tossing on the seas seems to have more direction than I.

Obviously, there's caring for my children. And I'm doing that the best way I know how, no matter how much I feel I fail them on a semi-constant basis. I'm told I do okay, so I must believe in that. Or go crazy.

My work seems to be a giant tease. I have great opportunities – chances to excel, to lead and develop Soldiers... but there always seems to be a “snag”, and there's also chances to help people... to tend to them, to treat them and yet, I always seem pulled somewhere else.

My beliefs are challenged as I love my country, and yet I must prepare, MUST prepare for what I foresee as its rapidly approaching end. One area of my life that I've had rarely misfired is in my ability to read and predict the political landscape. For once, I'd love to be wrong. I hope I am, but doubt I will. But, there is always hope for change.

I have developed friendships without which I doubt I'd survive another day. And most of those may truly be acquaintances, or buddies, but I count myself blessed (and if it's a gift from him, then I'll take it) to have my three F-R-I-E-N-D-S. They are the only people on this planet, outside of my children, for whom I'd give up everything if only asked. And they know me deeper than anyone. I'm lucky to have them.

It's a chaotic landscape my life. I wish it were not so. I miss what once was, my surefooted readiness and preparedness for each day. The confidence that I knew what was coming, that I was ready for anything.

That I knew what I was doing.

But the past is past, and that is gone. I have to look forward to what is coming.

For as it's said, the past is prologue. And if that is true, then all of this must be leading to something, no? Chapters in books aren't written just to be discarded as irrelevant to the plot.

Put another way – and I hate this phrase – everything happens for a reason.

What is my purpose?

Why am I doing this?

What is coming?

Why can't I see just a peek... help me prepare? I want to do this right.


What is coming?

Which brings me back to... today. Today, I heard a man ask that very question. What is our purpose? And directed that we serve our purpose.

My blood ran cold. I had goose bumps and chills. I had initially feared even being at that place. And then, I'd found myself not just wanting to be there, but pleading with my temper-tantrum throwing son to please stop, because I wanted needed to be in there. I desperately wanted to go inside. And then once there, I found I couldn't leave. My feet were sewn to the floor. I had to hear this.

And I listened. And my blood ran cold. My heart raced and slowed. I felt horribly uncomfortable and still couldn't leave. I had to be there. What chilled me even more was the thought in my head that there was no more important place to be than right there, right then at that moment.

Haven't felt that in awhile.

I'd missed most of the church service. The singing, or whatever else this church does. The preamble.

I'd even missed the first part of the sermon.

All I really had the chance to hear was... Serve your purpose.

And I am so very freaked out by this. I've shunned and stayed away... and the one time I go back... the first time I go back... with so many interruptions and challenges and reasons to run away.... I hear only half a sermon and it's message is: Serve your purpose.

Alright, god, you have my attention. Want to tell me what it is?

A Good Thought

“Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that our sons and grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us. Let your watchword be order and your beacon beauty. Think big.”
—Daniel Burnham