Three days ago I didn't know many, if any people who could say "I was there when a war began", but today, I know of several and I am one of them. What began as a business-as-usual overnight trip to Tbilisi, Georgia ended as a bit of a race against the clock.
For those who don't know, a brief geography/history lesson. The Republic of Georgia is a former Soviet state on the eastern shore of the Black Sea. It is a relatively small country, roughly the size of Nebraska. For the past few months, the region of South Ossetia, about 40 miles northwest of Tbilisi, has been trying to break away from Georgia in an attempt to join the Russian Federation. Until recently, the uprising was limited to small armed skirmishes between Ossetian fighters and the Georgian Army, and was relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things. As my luck would have it, that all changed the day we arrived in Tbilisi.
It seems the Ossetians, fearing being overrun by the Georgian Army, requested military assistance from Russia, and they got it in the form of hundreds of Russian tanks, and dozens of fighter/attack aircraft. The last I heard, thousands of people had been killed, several Russian jets had been shot down, and in retaliation, the Russians had bombed targets all around Tbilisi. The night before we left, they bombed an airfield just 3 miles south of the one we'd landed at. I even heard a rumor that the only reason the Russians didn't bomb Tbilisi International Airport was because our airplane was there and they didn't want to give the US any reason to get directly involved. How considerate of them...
All of the above is just to set up my real story. Obviously and thankfully, I did not experience any of the fighting or destruction first hand. What I experienced and what moved me was the reaction of the Georgian people to the news that their country was in the early stages of all out war. I was just a visitor to their nation, and I had a ticket out of town (provided they kept the airfield open...but I guarantee you we would have found a way to get out of Dodge either way), the local citizens were in it for the long haul. This was their home and their way of life, and it was under attack from one of the most powerful nations on Earth. I hope and pray none of us ever have to find out what that feels like, but if we ever do I hope we weather it with the calm and grace or these kind people.
As I've told many who were concerned about our well being, unless you watched CNN or BBC News, you would never have known that there was a real live war starting just up the road. Nobody was panicking, people were going about their daily activities, all businesses were open, it was life as usual for the Georgians. That's not to say they didn't know or understand the gravity of what was happening, everyone did, but it just did not seem to affect them in a way that caused them to alter their normal daily activities. Everyone at the hotel, from the housekeepers to the front desk clerks, to the waitresses in the restaurants had smiles on their faces. They went about their jobs as if it were just another day in paradise. One of the waitresses apologized for the "bad time", and invited us to come back again in "good time", all with a big smile on her face. Can you imagine? She apologized to us because her country was under attack? Seems a little counterintuitive, but she was sincere.
If anything, the beginning of this war brought about an outpouring of Georgian pride and patriotism. The night before we left, there was a rally in Freedom Square (formerly Lenin Square), just down the street from our hotel. Horns were honking, people were cheering, and Georgian flags were everywhere. It was an impressive display, and I realized then that David had no intention of letting Goliath get the better of them. These people truly loved their homeland, and it was inspiring.
As you might be able to guess, the Georgian people are very proud of their heritage, and very proud of their national individuality. Georgia has a long and varied history, with the first settlers arriving in the region in approximately 4000BC. Since that time, just about anyone with a cause has come thru and left their mark. The Greeks, the Romans, the Persians, the Mongols, etc, etc. The resulting culture provides a very unique experience. The majority of Georgians are Orthodox Christians, but most other religions are present and welcomed. How many places do you know of that have a Mosque on one corner and a Synogogue on the other?
Until 1988, Georgia was part of the Soviet Union, and the Soviet/Communist influence is still very evident, but evident as part of the Georgian past, not it's present and hopefully, not it's future either.
Our trip back to Iraq was uneventful, as was our entire experience in Georgia. It was only after I returned to Iraq and had a chance to watch the news in English that I realized just how perilous the situation really was/is. I never thought I would say it, but I'm glad to be back in the relative safety of Iraq.
My thoughts and prayers are with all the kind people we encountered on our brief trip to Tbilisi, and for that matter, with all the people of Georgia. May cooler heads prevail, and bring about a quick and peaceful end to this conflict.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
What's it like?
People back home often ask me what it's like here in Iraq. Being that the answer is so in-depth and varied, I thought I'd share some of my observations here.
Sights:
Dusty - There is a constant dust-haze in the air here. Even on a "clear" day, there is still a brown haze. Only when you look straight up is the sky ever really blue. That's a clear day. Then there are the dust storms. They can last for weeks, but normally only stick around for a day or two. They seem to come about when strong winds off the Mediterranian sweep across Syria and Jordan, blowing the powder-fine dust off dry lakebeds. The dust is the consistancy of powdered sugar, and is carried thousands of feet in the air, and blown over hundreds of miles. It coats anything and everything, and can get so dense that visibility is reduced to just a few hundred feet and the sun is almost completely blocked out. On those days, the little bit of sunlight that filters through all the dust has an erie brownish-orange color to it, and the only thing you can smell or taste is dust. Not at all unlike when you blow the dust off a box that's been sitting in the attic for years on end.
Brown - Not surprisingly, because of the constant dust, most everything here is a tan or light brown. There are a fair amount of trees, mostly eucalyptus, but even they are coated with dust. Greens here are not the same as they are at home. They are all faded and dust coated. About 40 miles west of us is an enormous lake (About the size of Lake Mead if I had to guess), but that is the only real blue water I've seen here (aside from the Persian Gulf). The Tigris and Euphrates rivers are extremely muddy and poluted, and the water is (guess which color?) brown. Even the thousands of farm fields here in the "fertile crescent" appear brown from the air. No vibrant colors anywhere, aside from... you guessed it.... vibrant brown.
Dingy - This is a very poor country, and all the wars and conflicts in the past 50 years have taken their tolls. All the buildings here (left over from when Balad was an Iraqi Air Force base) are run down and in poor repair. In the years that we've been here, a few improvements have been made, but just those that were absolutely necessary. Utilities may or may not work, water may or may not come on (and quite often when it does, it is brown for the first few seconds), and so on. Not at all up to the standards we're used to back home. Everything is dirty, and most everything is broken in some respect and works just enough to get by.
Blast walls - They're everywhere. Large, steel reinforced concrete wall sections. They're called "T" barriers, because they're sort of shaped like an upside down "T". They're designed to contain explosions from mortar rounds or rockets. Fortunately for us, they don't get used for their intended purposes very often. They surround just about every building on base, and sometimes they even have "T" barriers surrounding other "T" barriers. They're anywhere from 5' to 20' tall and 6' to 10' wide, and you can't turn your head without seeing dozens of them. Most of them are just plain old concrete gray, but soldiers being the creative types they are, have turned many of them into concrete canvasses onto which they've painted some beautiful murals. Some are memorials to fallen comrades, some are reminders of home, some are unit insignias, and others are just the "Kilroy was here" type of mementos used to mark a brief point in time that seemed like an eternity to the creator.
Sounds:
Balad is a very noisy place. Not that any big city back home is "quiet", but there are some sounds that are unique to a military airbase in a combat zone.
F-16s - Every hour or so, the air is pierced with the sounds of F-16s taking off in full afterburner. If you've never experienced this from 1/4 mile away, you should try it once. Then imagine it happening on a regular basis, all day every day. I used to live near a railroad crossing, and remember how the train horns used to wake me up at 3am. I didn't think anything could be worse than that at the time. Now I only wish I just had to listen to trains.
Generators - Everything here on base is powered by enormous generators, and they're everywhere. You can't walk anywhere without passing 7 or 8 of them. Huge diesel engines just droning on, all day, every day.
Air conditioners - Being in the middle of the desert, air conditioners are a necessity. In our offices and in our rooms, there is always the constant din of the a/c in the background.
Explosions - Just about daily, there are large explosions somewhere on base. They're called "controlled detonations", and are the Explosive Ordinance Disposal (EOD... military Bomb Squads) teams destroying the various explosives they'd come across that day. They announce the detonations before hand, but they still get your attention even when you're expecting them.
Birds - In the satellite antenna just outside my window, a pair of mourning doves have a nest, and now have several chicks. About 6am each morning, the chicks get fed, and I get to hear all about it. It ususally doesn't bother me, as it reminds me of the sounds of home. There are also lots of sparrows, pigeons and hawks here on base. Each morning and evening, the eucalyptus trees I mentioned above sound like they're filled with chirping birds. It's actually pretty impressive just how loud they can be.
Gunfire - There are rifle and machine gun ranges somewhere on base, and every now and then we hear the distant crackle of a machine gun burst. I realized I'd been here a while when the sound of gunfire didn't even get my attention anymore.
Accents - This place runs because of "TCNs" or Third Country Nationals. They are non-Iraqi contractors that do all the various non-military jobs on base. They work in the mess halls, they clean the showers and restrooms, they drive the busses, they work in the housing office, at the movie theaters, the barber shop, the fast food restaurants and the 3-day laundry service. They come from all over the region (India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Kenya, Uganda, Philippines, South Africa, just to name a few), and most have very thick accents. Granted, they all speak English much, much better than I speak their native language, but its still a challenge to understand most of them. Also, we quite regularly have to deal with foreign air traffic controllers. Like the TCNs, their English is far better than my Arabic, but it can get interesting at times.
Gravel - Pretty much everywhere on base that is not paved or concrete, is covered with gravel. It varies from small pebbles to decent sized stones, but it is everywhere and it is usually about 6" deep. They put it down in the housing areas and parking lots to try to keep the dust and mud under control. It makes a very distinct "crunch, crunch, crunch" sound when you walk thru it. Very difficult to sneak up on anyone here.
Smells:
Sights:
Dusty - There is a constant dust-haze in the air here. Even on a "clear" day, there is still a brown haze. Only when you look straight up is the sky ever really blue. That's a clear day. Then there are the dust storms. They can last for weeks, but normally only stick around for a day or two. They seem to come about when strong winds off the Mediterranian sweep across Syria and Jordan, blowing the powder-fine dust off dry lakebeds. The dust is the consistancy of powdered sugar, and is carried thousands of feet in the air, and blown over hundreds of miles. It coats anything and everything, and can get so dense that visibility is reduced to just a few hundred feet and the sun is almost completely blocked out. On those days, the little bit of sunlight that filters through all the dust has an erie brownish-orange color to it, and the only thing you can smell or taste is dust. Not at all unlike when you blow the dust off a box that's been sitting in the attic for years on end.
Brown - Not surprisingly, because of the constant dust, most everything here is a tan or light brown. There are a fair amount of trees, mostly eucalyptus, but even they are coated with dust. Greens here are not the same as they are at home. They are all faded and dust coated. About 40 miles west of us is an enormous lake (About the size of Lake Mead if I had to guess), but that is the only real blue water I've seen here (aside from the Persian Gulf). The Tigris and Euphrates rivers are extremely muddy and poluted, and the water is (guess which color?) brown. Even the thousands of farm fields here in the "fertile crescent" appear brown from the air. No vibrant colors anywhere, aside from... you guessed it.... vibrant brown.
Dingy - This is a very poor country, and all the wars and conflicts in the past 50 years have taken their tolls. All the buildings here (left over from when Balad was an Iraqi Air Force base) are run down and in poor repair. In the years that we've been here, a few improvements have been made, but just those that were absolutely necessary. Utilities may or may not work, water may or may not come on (and quite often when it does, it is brown for the first few seconds), and so on. Not at all up to the standards we're used to back home. Everything is dirty, and most everything is broken in some respect and works just enough to get by.
Blast walls - They're everywhere. Large, steel reinforced concrete wall sections. They're called "T" barriers, because they're sort of shaped like an upside down "T". They're designed to contain explosions from mortar rounds or rockets. Fortunately for us, they don't get used for their intended purposes very often. They surround just about every building on base, and sometimes they even have "T" barriers surrounding other "T" barriers. They're anywhere from 5' to 20' tall and 6' to 10' wide, and you can't turn your head without seeing dozens of them. Most of them are just plain old concrete gray, but soldiers being the creative types they are, have turned many of them into concrete canvasses onto which they've painted some beautiful murals. Some are memorials to fallen comrades, some are reminders of home, some are unit insignias, and others are just the "Kilroy was here" type of mementos used to mark a brief point in time that seemed like an eternity to the creator.
Sounds:
Balad is a very noisy place. Not that any big city back home is "quiet", but there are some sounds that are unique to a military airbase in a combat zone.
F-16s - Every hour or so, the air is pierced with the sounds of F-16s taking off in full afterburner. If you've never experienced this from 1/4 mile away, you should try it once. Then imagine it happening on a regular basis, all day every day. I used to live near a railroad crossing, and remember how the train horns used to wake me up at 3am. I didn't think anything could be worse than that at the time. Now I only wish I just had to listen to trains.
Generators - Everything here on base is powered by enormous generators, and they're everywhere. You can't walk anywhere without passing 7 or 8 of them. Huge diesel engines just droning on, all day, every day.
Air conditioners - Being in the middle of the desert, air conditioners are a necessity. In our offices and in our rooms, there is always the constant din of the a/c in the background.
Explosions - Just about daily, there are large explosions somewhere on base. They're called "controlled detonations", and are the Explosive Ordinance Disposal (EOD... military Bomb Squads) teams destroying the various explosives they'd come across that day. They announce the detonations before hand, but they still get your attention even when you're expecting them.
Birds - In the satellite antenna just outside my window, a pair of mourning doves have a nest, and now have several chicks. About 6am each morning, the chicks get fed, and I get to hear all about it. It ususally doesn't bother me, as it reminds me of the sounds of home. There are also lots of sparrows, pigeons and hawks here on base. Each morning and evening, the eucalyptus trees I mentioned above sound like they're filled with chirping birds. It's actually pretty impressive just how loud they can be.
Gunfire - There are rifle and machine gun ranges somewhere on base, and every now and then we hear the distant crackle of a machine gun burst. I realized I'd been here a while when the sound of gunfire didn't even get my attention anymore.
Accents - This place runs because of "TCNs" or Third Country Nationals. They are non-Iraqi contractors that do all the various non-military jobs on base. They work in the mess halls, they clean the showers and restrooms, they drive the busses, they work in the housing office, at the movie theaters, the barber shop, the fast food restaurants and the 3-day laundry service. They come from all over the region (India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Kenya, Uganda, Philippines, South Africa, just to name a few), and most have very thick accents. Granted, they all speak English much, much better than I speak their native language, but its still a challenge to understand most of them. Also, we quite regularly have to deal with foreign air traffic controllers. Like the TCNs, their English is far better than my Arabic, but it can get interesting at times.
Gravel - Pretty much everywhere on base that is not paved or concrete, is covered with gravel. It varies from small pebbles to decent sized stones, but it is everywhere and it is usually about 6" deep. They put it down in the housing areas and parking lots to try to keep the dust and mud under control. It makes a very distinct "crunch, crunch, crunch" sound when you walk thru it. Very difficult to sneak up on anyone here.
Smells:
Ah yes, all the glorious smells of a 3rd world combat zone. Where to begin?
Dust - As I previously mentioned, dust is everywhere and it has a very specific smell that is just about everywhere, except on the very clearest of days. There is no escaping it when it's bad. It wakes me up at night on a pretty regular basis.
Smoke - About a half mile away from us is a huge trash burn pit. Imagine an enormous landfill where they don't bury the trash, but burn it instead. Anything and everything gets burned, and we get to breathe the smoke. Daily. It's almost to the point that we can tell what they're burning that day, just by the way the smoke smells. Plastics are the worst. I've taken some pictures of the giant plume of jet black smoke that billows up from the burn pit. I'll post them here sometime. There is no way on Earth this would ever be allowed back home because of all the toxins and pollutants that result, but hey, we're not at home so it must be ok, right?
Exhaust - With all the generators running all over the base, it's not surprising that there is also a constant stench of diesel exhaust just about everywhere you go. It first hits when I walk outside, but by the time I get to wherever I'm going, I've gotten used to it and don't even notice anymore. Then there is the jet exhaust out on the flightline. It's everywhere, and again, after a while you don't even notice.
Pine Sol - I think the Army keeps the makers of Pine Sol in business. Every Army building I've ever been in smelled like Pine Sol. I don't know what the fascination is with it, but I sure wish they'd switch to a different floor cleanser. Enough already with the Pine Sol!
Porta Potties - They're everywhere, and they smell like, well, porta potties. To add insult to foul smells, they hardly ever put just one anywhere. Normally there are 4 or 5 together, just to ensure that everyone for a half mile downwind can sample the bouquet of less-than-pleasant aromas. Oh yeah, and there isn't much that smells worse than a porta potty that hasn't been cleaned in a week and is baked on a daily basis in 117* heat. Not fun. They should encase them in glass and write "For Emergency Use Only" on the doors.
Body Odor - Most people here smell pretty bad. Usually, it's either for job-related or cultural reasons, but whatever the cause, the result is the same. I can't go more than two days without washing my flightsuit, but apparently, many people can (but shouldn't...). Then there are the TCNs, many of whom seem to feel it is "masculine" to smell like 3 week old rotting garbage mixed with sweat (either that or they use a cologne called "Eau De Dumpster"). I'm starting to better understand how their families can send them off to work here for years on end.
Tastes:
A common question is "What's the food like?" Well, it's actually pretty normal. We have many options available to us. The most common eatery is the 4 mess halls or "dining facilities/DFACs". They're each open 4 times a day, and always have a wide variety of foods to choose from. There are different theme meals every day, and they range from Mongolian BBQ and Indian food to Surf & Turf and Italian. The menu is pretty much the same week after week, but there is enough of a variety to keep us from getting too bored with it all. In the event that we do tire of the mess hall food, our other options on base include: Taco Bell (150 yards from my room), Pizza Hut, Burger King, Subway, Popeye's Chicken, Cinnabon, McDonalds, Green Beans (a military version of Starbucks) Baskin Robbins, and a mom and pop type Turkish restaurant (my favorite). We can also get a limited amount of foods (steaks, hamburgers, soup, canned vegetables, bread, etc) to cook in our rooms, altho most rooms are not set up for cooking aside from having a microwave. Most of the fast food tastes pretty close to the way it does back home, which I guess is the point.
Activities:
What is there to do on base? Well, aside from eating and sleeping, we actually are offered lots of options to pass the little spare time we do have.
There are three major recreation centers on base, and each offers various and assorted activities. From Bingo and Poker to video games and ping pong, you can generally find something to do 24 hours a day.
There are several nicely equipped gyms on base.
There is a huge movie theater, which aside from the ballistic shields around it and the fact that it's free to get in, could pass for any theater back home. They play two different first run movies during the week, and three on weekends. They also have various USO concerts and activities there.
There are two pools here, one indoor, one outdoor. The outdoor pool was formerly used to train the Iraqi Olympic swim and diving teams.
There are three exchanges (military version of Wal Mart) on base, and you can usually get just about anything you want, just not when you want/need it. For example, right now it's 117* outside, and it's a great time to stock up on sweat pants, jackets and thermal underwear. Come winter, you won't be able to find those things, but you can get a great deal on shorts.
There are several chapels on base, and there are services for just about every faith imaginable.
If all else fails and you can't find anything else to do here on base, you can always go back to work.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Transitions
Well, my transition is once again complete. I am back to being CW3 Bishop, United States Army. For the past two weeks, I’d been Dada, Husband, Brother and Son. If you have to ask which role I prefer, you don’t know me very well.
Being an Army Reservist, I get the unique opportunity to switch back and forth between my military and civilian personas, and I’ve always thought the process of doing so was fairly interesting, so I thought I'd share it here.
It’s not really a “scheduled” transition so to speak, more of a mental changeover that just sorta happens. Going home on leave, I started out in Kuwait with 300 other people who couldn’t wait to get home to friends and family. We were in full military mode at this point, seeing as we’d all been deployed for many months and been surrounded by nothing but uniforms the entire time.
Our first dose of civilian life came as we boarded the airplane to head home. The flight crew was the first group of non-contractor civilians we’d seen in many months. They treated us as people, not as soldiers (there is a difference…those who’ve been there know what I mean.) Our civilianization had begun.
The next step was getting off the plane in Atlanta, 16 hours after we’d left Kuwait. This was the first time I’d been back on US soil in 7 months, but it didn’t take long to get used to all the sights and sounds again. We also had some interaction with civilian passengers in the terminal, many of whom came up to shake our hands and thank us. It was good to be back in the US.
When we got to Dallas (the 3rd stop on my way home), we were welcomed by the wonderful volunteers from the DFW USO. There were hundreds of people lined up to shake our hands, high 5 and hug us as we headed out of the terminal, and it is an experience I will never forget. I now know what a movie star feels like on the red carpet, and it was humbling to say the very least.
Dallas was where we left the military charter flight and went on to regular scheduled airlines to our individual destinations. I was one of two soldiers on my flight from DFW to Phoenix, and again we were treated like royalty. For two rows around me, people were offering to buy my lunch (I’d eaten 5 times by this point), give me their pillows and blankets, or whatever else they thought I needed. In case I’ve not said it recently, I am so very grateful to all those who are grateful for what we do. Thank you.
By the time I got to the curb in Phoenix, I was the only one in a military uniform. My transformation was nearly complete. In a little over 28 hours, I’d gone from a sea of green suits to being surrounded by civilians, and it was rubbing off. I arrived home and within 10 minutes, was in shorts and a T-shirt that didn’t say “Army” on them. I was ready to be a civilian for a while, and boy did I enjoy it. I will try to write about all my wonderful leave experiences in the near future, but I want to make sure I have the time to do it properly, so it will have to wait until things settle down a little.
The civilian to Army transition was pretty much the same as above in reverse. It began when I put the uniform on for the first time in 2 weeks, and ended 40 hours later when I stepped off the plane back in Kuwait and was hit square in the face by the dust filled 105* heat.
I am eagerly awaiting the opportunity to write about my next transition, which will take place in about 3 ½ months. It can’t come soon enough, but I know that the time will pass quickly. We’re on the downhill side of the clock now, and to quote a popular Army phrase, I can do that time “standing on my head”.
Being an Army Reservist, I get the unique opportunity to switch back and forth between my military and civilian personas, and I’ve always thought the process of doing so was fairly interesting, so I thought I'd share it here.
It’s not really a “scheduled” transition so to speak, more of a mental changeover that just sorta happens. Going home on leave, I started out in Kuwait with 300 other people who couldn’t wait to get home to friends and family. We were in full military mode at this point, seeing as we’d all been deployed for many months and been surrounded by nothing but uniforms the entire time.
Our first dose of civilian life came as we boarded the airplane to head home. The flight crew was the first group of non-contractor civilians we’d seen in many months. They treated us as people, not as soldiers (there is a difference…those who’ve been there know what I mean.) Our civilianization had begun.
The next step was getting off the plane in Atlanta, 16 hours after we’d left Kuwait. This was the first time I’d been back on US soil in 7 months, but it didn’t take long to get used to all the sights and sounds again. We also had some interaction with civilian passengers in the terminal, many of whom came up to shake our hands and thank us. It was good to be back in the US.
When we got to Dallas (the 3rd stop on my way home), we were welcomed by the wonderful volunteers from the DFW USO. There were hundreds of people lined up to shake our hands, high 5 and hug us as we headed out of the terminal, and it is an experience I will never forget. I now know what a movie star feels like on the red carpet, and it was humbling to say the very least.
Dallas was where we left the military charter flight and went on to regular scheduled airlines to our individual destinations. I was one of two soldiers on my flight from DFW to Phoenix, and again we were treated like royalty. For two rows around me, people were offering to buy my lunch (I’d eaten 5 times by this point), give me their pillows and blankets, or whatever else they thought I needed. In case I’ve not said it recently, I am so very grateful to all those who are grateful for what we do. Thank you.
By the time I got to the curb in Phoenix, I was the only one in a military uniform. My transformation was nearly complete. In a little over 28 hours, I’d gone from a sea of green suits to being surrounded by civilians, and it was rubbing off. I arrived home and within 10 minutes, was in shorts and a T-shirt that didn’t say “Army” on them. I was ready to be a civilian for a while, and boy did I enjoy it. I will try to write about all my wonderful leave experiences in the near future, but I want to make sure I have the time to do it properly, so it will have to wait until things settle down a little.
The civilian to Army transition was pretty much the same as above in reverse. It began when I put the uniform on for the first time in 2 weeks, and ended 40 hours later when I stepped off the plane back in Kuwait and was hit square in the face by the dust filled 105* heat.
I am eagerly awaiting the opportunity to write about my next transition, which will take place in about 3 ½ months. It can’t come soon enough, but I know that the time will pass quickly. We’re on the downhill side of the clock now, and to quote a popular Army phrase, I can do that time “standing on my head”.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
This Time Vs. Last
As I sit here today in the Atlanta airport, waiting on my flight back to Kuwait / Iraq, I can’t help but compare this trip to my last eastbound odyssey over 7 months ago. True, leaving home and loved ones is always difficult and unpleasant at best, but this time was far easier than last in most respects.
Last time was the first time I’d ever been away from home for such an extended period. This time, I’ll only be gone half as long. Last time, I was going into the unknown and the apprehension was palpable. This time, I am returning to a known entity and aside from the ever present frustrations of dealing with the hurry-up-and-wait method the government seems to choose for transporting masses of people, there was little or no stress involved. I was just along for the ride and whatever happened en-route was ok with me. Last time, our exact departure date and time was uncertain until the very last minute, and Jamie and Jaislyn were there with me, so it was very stressful and hectic. I didn’t want to leave them until I absolutely had to, but nobody knew for sure when that would be, so we sat by the phone and waited. This time, I knew before I even got home when I would be leaving, so we could plan our time together accordingly. Still the most difficult thing I’ve ever done was kissing Jaislyn goodbye this time. She’d just gotten used to having me back in her life, and now I was leaving her all over again. We’d talked to her about it beforehand (complete with a deployment-themed Elmo dvd...Thanks MilitaryOneSource!), and she knew that I was only going to be home for a short time, but that didn’t make it any easier, at least not for me. Last time, I’d never been gone that long so she had no frame of reference. This time she knew what it was like to have me gone for a long time. Not easy.
On a positive note, there is a definite sense of calm today that I did not have 7 months ago. Today, I am just headed back to work. Back then, I was “Going off to war”, complete with all the drama that goes along with such an endeavor. I know now that my “war” and the war we see on TV every day are thankfully, two very different things.
Something else strikes me as I sit here waiting and people watching: I can’t help but notice the two parallel and somewhat ironic realities that I’m currently straddling. All around us, people are going about their daily activities. For the most part, they’ll all return to their own homes, their families and sleep in their own beds. I’ve seen and heard people complaining about this and that. Things that 8 months ago, I too probably would have wasted the energy complaining about, but now seem far too insignificant to worry myself over. Then there is the group of soldiers I’m traveling with. We’re all headed to various and assorted unpleasant parts of the world to do various and assorted, often unpleasant jobs, yet I hear all sorts of laughter. I often wonder if the civilians around us know how much we’d love to change places with them, even the seemingly miserable ones. I’d bet most of them have no clue, but that’s ok.
Until today, I’d never seen or met any of the people I’m traveling with, yet there is a sense of “family” among us. I know that I can go up to anyone wearing this uniform, and they will help me in any way they can, and they in turn can expect the same of me. We talk to complete strangers like we’ve known them for years. That is perhaps my favorite thing about being in the military, no matter where you go or who you are, we take care of our own and look out for each other. Perhaps it stems from our common experience, or because we share a mutual respect for anyone that is willing to put on the uniform and step up to the proverbial plate, but whatever the reason, that sense of belonging is always there, no matter when or where. I can’t help but think if people out in “the world” treated each other with the same sort of respect, the world would be a much different and far better place.
Last time was the first time I’d ever been away from home for such an extended period. This time, I’ll only be gone half as long. Last time, I was going into the unknown and the apprehension was palpable. This time, I am returning to a known entity and aside from the ever present frustrations of dealing with the hurry-up-and-wait method the government seems to choose for transporting masses of people, there was little or no stress involved. I was just along for the ride and whatever happened en-route was ok with me. Last time, our exact departure date and time was uncertain until the very last minute, and Jamie and Jaislyn were there with me, so it was very stressful and hectic. I didn’t want to leave them until I absolutely had to, but nobody knew for sure when that would be, so we sat by the phone and waited. This time, I knew before I even got home when I would be leaving, so we could plan our time together accordingly. Still the most difficult thing I’ve ever done was kissing Jaislyn goodbye this time. She’d just gotten used to having me back in her life, and now I was leaving her all over again. We’d talked to her about it beforehand (complete with a deployment-themed Elmo dvd...Thanks MilitaryOneSource!), and she knew that I was only going to be home for a short time, but that didn’t make it any easier, at least not for me. Last time, I’d never been gone that long so she had no frame of reference. This time she knew what it was like to have me gone for a long time. Not easy.
On a positive note, there is a definite sense of calm today that I did not have 7 months ago. Today, I am just headed back to work. Back then, I was “Going off to war”, complete with all the drama that goes along with such an endeavor. I know now that my “war” and the war we see on TV every day are thankfully, two very different things.
Something else strikes me as I sit here waiting and people watching: I can’t help but notice the two parallel and somewhat ironic realities that I’m currently straddling. All around us, people are going about their daily activities. For the most part, they’ll all return to their own homes, their families and sleep in their own beds. I’ve seen and heard people complaining about this and that. Things that 8 months ago, I too probably would have wasted the energy complaining about, but now seem far too insignificant to worry myself over. Then there is the group of soldiers I’m traveling with. We’re all headed to various and assorted unpleasant parts of the world to do various and assorted, often unpleasant jobs, yet I hear all sorts of laughter. I often wonder if the civilians around us know how much we’d love to change places with them, even the seemingly miserable ones. I’d bet most of them have no clue, but that’s ok.
Until today, I’d never seen or met any of the people I’m traveling with, yet there is a sense of “family” among us. I know that I can go up to anyone wearing this uniform, and they will help me in any way they can, and they in turn can expect the same of me. We talk to complete strangers like we’ve known them for years. That is perhaps my favorite thing about being in the military, no matter where you go or who you are, we take care of our own and look out for each other. Perhaps it stems from our common experience, or because we share a mutual respect for anyone that is willing to put on the uniform and step up to the proverbial plate, but whatever the reason, that sense of belonging is always there, no matter when or where. I can’t help but think if people out in “the world” treated each other with the same sort of respect, the world would be a much different and far better place.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Heroes?
In the past two weeks, I’ve heard the word “Hero” used quite a bit, and often in reference to me. Each time I hear it, I feel like looking around the room to see whom the person is talking about. I am no hero. I haven’t cured any devastating illness, I haven’t saved anyone’s life, I haven’t prevented any catastrophe, I haven’t invented a way to reduce gas prices ($4.00 a gallon?? It was “only” $2.50 when I left!!), in short, I’ve not done anything to save the proverbial day. I don’t wear a shiny red cape or change clothes in phone booths, I just wear a tan flight suit and do the job I’ve been trained and love to do. Hardly a heroic deed, at least in my humble opinion. The fact that I do that job in some far off war-torn country that we see on the evening news every day is I think where the - for lack of a better term – misconception comes from.
Before I go any further, let me say that I certainly do not mean to sound conceited or ungrateful in anyway for all the wonderful support I/we have received from family, friends and even complete strangers. Knowing that we’re thought of, missed, loved and cared for by people back home means the world to me and all the soldiers I know. Knowing that people acknowledge and appreciate the sacrifices we, and more importantly, our families have made means a great deal as well. Still, that in and of itself does not make me a hero, at least by my definition.
A hero to me is the 19 year old PFC who goes “outside the wire” (off base) every day and must constantly be wary of IEDs, Snipers, Suicide Bombers, and whatever other new forms of death and destruction the bad guys have to offer today. For him/her, there is no guarantee that once they leave the relative safety and security of the base that they will return safely to the same when their patrol is over. Each day they gamble with their lives, and they do it willingly and fully aware of the threats that face them. If that weren’t enough, most of them do it for 15 months on end. They are heroes. I just fly airplanes.
A hero to me is the 22 year old who throws himself on a grenade because he knows it will save his fellow soldiers. Can you imagine the kind of split second courage a decision like that would take? Deciding whether or not to save yourself or to end your own life in order to save friends’ lives? I cannot fathom ever having to make such a decision, and I’m not too proud to admit that there are only a select few people in this world that mean enough to me to make such a decision. That young man is a hero. I just fly airplanes.
Heroes do what they do not because they want the praise, awards or spotlight, not because they are paid to do it, not because they are told to do it, but because they believe it to be the right thing to do, and know that if they don’t do it, someone else will have to be put in harms way to get the job done.
I think people refer to us as heroes collectively for a variety of reasons. Perhaps they do not fully understand what it is we do. Perhaps they feel that just because we do what we do where we do it, we qualify for the accolades. Perhaps they feel the sacrifices we make (even tho our families sacrifice far more than we do) qualify us. Perhaps it is because they appreciate people who are willing to do things that they themselves are not (As I appreciate the “grunt” soldiers who go out and do the dirty/dangerous work every day.) Perhaps they are just grateful for what we do and don’t know how else to qualify us (I’ve found that people have an innate need to label everything…) Who knows? I’m sure the reasons vary from person to person, just as I have my own definitions of what makes a hero. Whatever the reason behind it, I truly appreciate the sentiment, even if I don’t feel qualified. There are definitely true heroes in our ranks, don't get me wrong, but at least for myself, I'm pretty much just satisfied knowing that I've done the best, safest job I can. That's enough for me.
Quite honestly, I hope I never do anything to actually qualify for my own definition of a hero. There is an old saying that pilots have: “Always use your superior judgment to avoid situations in which you would have to demonstrate your superior skill.” If I ever find myself in a situation that requires heroism, something has gone severely wrong and I try my best to ensure that I avoid such situations whenever possible. Heroism is hazardous to your health, and I’ve developed a breathing habit that I’ve become rather fond of. My goal in this little adventure is not to become a “hero”, but just to return home safely to my friends and family in the same (or better) condition as I left.
Before I go any further, let me say that I certainly do not mean to sound conceited or ungrateful in anyway for all the wonderful support I/we have received from family, friends and even complete strangers. Knowing that we’re thought of, missed, loved and cared for by people back home means the world to me and all the soldiers I know. Knowing that people acknowledge and appreciate the sacrifices we, and more importantly, our families have made means a great deal as well. Still, that in and of itself does not make me a hero, at least by my definition.
A hero to me is the 19 year old PFC who goes “outside the wire” (off base) every day and must constantly be wary of IEDs, Snipers, Suicide Bombers, and whatever other new forms of death and destruction the bad guys have to offer today. For him/her, there is no guarantee that once they leave the relative safety and security of the base that they will return safely to the same when their patrol is over. Each day they gamble with their lives, and they do it willingly and fully aware of the threats that face them. If that weren’t enough, most of them do it for 15 months on end. They are heroes. I just fly airplanes.
A hero to me is the 22 year old who throws himself on a grenade because he knows it will save his fellow soldiers. Can you imagine the kind of split second courage a decision like that would take? Deciding whether or not to save yourself or to end your own life in order to save friends’ lives? I cannot fathom ever having to make such a decision, and I’m not too proud to admit that there are only a select few people in this world that mean enough to me to make such a decision. That young man is a hero. I just fly airplanes.
Heroes do what they do not because they want the praise, awards or spotlight, not because they are paid to do it, not because they are told to do it, but because they believe it to be the right thing to do, and know that if they don’t do it, someone else will have to be put in harms way to get the job done.
I think people refer to us as heroes collectively for a variety of reasons. Perhaps they do not fully understand what it is we do. Perhaps they feel that just because we do what we do where we do it, we qualify for the accolades. Perhaps they feel the sacrifices we make (even tho our families sacrifice far more than we do) qualify us. Perhaps it is because they appreciate people who are willing to do things that they themselves are not (As I appreciate the “grunt” soldiers who go out and do the dirty/dangerous work every day.) Perhaps they are just grateful for what we do and don’t know how else to qualify us (I’ve found that people have an innate need to label everything…) Who knows? I’m sure the reasons vary from person to person, just as I have my own definitions of what makes a hero. Whatever the reason behind it, I truly appreciate the sentiment, even if I don’t feel qualified. There are definitely true heroes in our ranks, don't get me wrong, but at least for myself, I'm pretty much just satisfied knowing that I've done the best, safest job I can. That's enough for me.
Quite honestly, I hope I never do anything to actually qualify for my own definition of a hero. There is an old saying that pilots have: “Always use your superior judgment to avoid situations in which you would have to demonstrate your superior skill.” If I ever find myself in a situation that requires heroism, something has gone severely wrong and I try my best to ensure that I avoid such situations whenever possible. Heroism is hazardous to your health, and I’ve developed a breathing habit that I’ve become rather fond of. My goal in this little adventure is not to become a “hero”, but just to return home safely to my friends and family in the same (or better) condition as I left.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Then, and Now.
6 months ago today was the last time I woke up in my own bed. It was the last time I saw my home. It was the last time I drove my own truck (Thanks John and Leslie for taking such good care of it!!). It was the last time my life was in any way "normal".
Now, in the grand scheme of things, 6 months is not a long time but when you're taken from all you know and those you love, it is an eternity. It has gone by very quickly in some respects, but in others time seems to stand still.
It is amazing to me, as I knew it would be, to look back on all that I once took for granted and compare those things to all the "little" things that I now look forward to.
I used to dread having to "work" (i.e. sitting around a fire station and on occasion, flying a helicopter) 7 whole days in a row. Now I work 9 or 10 days in a row and consider myself lucky.
I used to think that 7 days off in a row was normal. Now I'm happy just to have one day off.
I used to complain about having to go to the grocery store. Now I only wish I could select my own groceries.
I used to complain about occasionally having to cook. Now, it would be an unheard of luxury to actually be able to cook your own meals (microwaves dont count).
I used to leave Jaislyn in daycare because it was easier to run my errands by myself. Now, I would do anything to spend just 5 minutes with her or Jamie.
I used to call my parents two or three times a week, because I let myself get too "busy" to call every day. Now, talking to them, Jamie and Jaislyn is the highlight of my day and I wish I could call two or three times per day, no matter how busy I am.
I used to drive everywhere, no matter how close the destination, and usually I found it inconvenient. Now I walk a mile and a half round trip to work and I don't even notice.
I used to see dogs and cats and never give them a second look. Now, seeing a dog is reason to go out of my way to pet it (there aren't any dogs here on base aside from MP dogs, but occasionally the USO brings a therapy dog for a visit...funny what something as simple as petting a dog can do for morale).
I used to pass all sorts of lush greenery every day without notice. Now, we plant small (1'x3') patches of grass outside our rooms and call them "lawns" and people will stop, look and admire.
I would occasionally hear birds chirping outside, but didn't give them a second thought. Now, I love hearing the sparrows chirping in the morning because it reminds me of home.
Simple things like changing radio stations, or having more than 6 TV channels, or being able to take a shower by yourself without having to wear flip-flops, or go more than 2 miles from your home whenever you wanted... I used to take it all for granted. Now, I'll listen to the radio station they broadcast on the TV guide channel, just because it's a radio station. I'm happy to have any sort of TV, because occasionally they show something new (LOTS of reruns of reruns). I am thankful we have any showers, because there are lots of people who don't. I'm also more than happy to stay safely within the confines of my base, because I realize that there are thousands who only wish they didn't have to venture outside "the wire" every day.
I know that when I return home, I will likely eventually lose sight of these things and once again I will take them for granted, but hopefully when I read this blog it will remind me of how precious even the simplest of daily activities really are, and how we need to cherish those around us at every opportunity we're given.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, 6 months is not a long time but when you're taken from all you know and those you love, it is an eternity. It has gone by very quickly in some respects, but in others time seems to stand still.
It is amazing to me, as I knew it would be, to look back on all that I once took for granted and compare those things to all the "little" things that I now look forward to.
I used to dread having to "work" (i.e. sitting around a fire station and on occasion, flying a helicopter) 7 whole days in a row. Now I work 9 or 10 days in a row and consider myself lucky.
I used to think that 7 days off in a row was normal. Now I'm happy just to have one day off.
I used to complain about having to go to the grocery store. Now I only wish I could select my own groceries.
I used to complain about occasionally having to cook. Now, it would be an unheard of luxury to actually be able to cook your own meals (microwaves dont count).
I used to leave Jaislyn in daycare because it was easier to run my errands by myself. Now, I would do anything to spend just 5 minutes with her or Jamie.
I used to call my parents two or three times a week, because I let myself get too "busy" to call every day. Now, talking to them, Jamie and Jaislyn is the highlight of my day and I wish I could call two or three times per day, no matter how busy I am.
I used to drive everywhere, no matter how close the destination, and usually I found it inconvenient. Now I walk a mile and a half round trip to work and I don't even notice.
I used to see dogs and cats and never give them a second look. Now, seeing a dog is reason to go out of my way to pet it (there aren't any dogs here on base aside from MP dogs, but occasionally the USO brings a therapy dog for a visit...funny what something as simple as petting a dog can do for morale).
I used to pass all sorts of lush greenery every day without notice. Now, we plant small (1'x3') patches of grass outside our rooms and call them "lawns" and people will stop, look and admire.
I would occasionally hear birds chirping outside, but didn't give them a second thought. Now, I love hearing the sparrows chirping in the morning because it reminds me of home.
Simple things like changing radio stations, or having more than 6 TV channels, or being able to take a shower by yourself without having to wear flip-flops, or go more than 2 miles from your home whenever you wanted... I used to take it all for granted. Now, I'll listen to the radio station they broadcast on the TV guide channel, just because it's a radio station. I'm happy to have any sort of TV, because occasionally they show something new (LOTS of reruns of reruns). I am thankful we have any showers, because there are lots of people who don't. I'm also more than happy to stay safely within the confines of my base, because I realize that there are thousands who only wish they didn't have to venture outside "the wire" every day.
I know that when I return home, I will likely eventually lose sight of these things and once again I will take them for granted, but hopefully when I read this blog it will remind me of how precious even the simplest of daily activities really are, and how we need to cherish those around us at every opportunity we're given.
People are People
Before I came to Iraq, my experiences with foreign cultures and peoples was limited to what I'd experienced growing up in Los Angeles, and on a few short trips to Canada, Central America and the Carribean. I'd learned more from reading National Geographic than I had thru personal experiences. That has changed, at least a little, and hopefully for the better. I'm starting to understand that no matter where we live, what we believe, or what language we speak, we share more in common than we'd probably like to admit.
Granted, I've also had relatively limited exposure since arriving, but comparitively speaking I've learned lots about people in the last 6 months, and what I've learned has surprised me a little, altho I'm not sure just why.
In the past few months, I've been all over the Middle East (or "Southwest Asia" for the politically correct crowd) to places like Iraq (obviously), Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Turkiye (Correct spelling), Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Georgia. The one constant I've noticed is that as a whole, people are pretty much the same. While there are some major surface differences in things like religion, moral values, language, dress, etc, when you dig down deep, we're not really all that different. We all have the same wants, needs, desires and dreams. We all need to feel loved, we all need to have someone to love, we all need to feel accepted, we all need to have some sort of hope to cling to, and the list goes on. The differences lie in how we choose or are allowed to go about pursuing those needs, but the needs themselves do not change no matter how some may try to disguise them. We're the same.
In all my travels to all these places I'd never been before, I found it extremely easy to identify things like grocery stores, restaurants, schools, apartment buildings, etc etc. Aside from a different language on the signs (and sometimes not), they looked pretty much the same as back home. Going into a mall in Manama, Bahrain, or Dubai, UAE is almost exactly like going into a mall in any US city. Same stores, same layout, same smells, and people doing the same things. Watching children playing in Tbilisi, Georgia, if you couldn't hear the language they were speaking, you could have easily mistaken them for kids playing in Anytown, USA. So many similarities, and very few differences.
A few days ago, I watched as a father bought his 4 year old daughter her first "big girl" bicycle in a Dubai department store (that reminded me a great deal of the Sears in North Hollywood). I didn't need to know exactly what they were saying in order to understand what was being communicated. I could see the excitement in her eyes, and the pride and love in his. He saw me watching them. I flashed him a knowing smile, and he returned it. He knew that I knew we were the same.
I guess I am surprised that any of this surprises me. I don't really know what I expected, but I did expect to find vast differences in who and what people in different parts of the world were. I did not expect to find so many close similarities.
Watching the news at night, all I see is people complaining about differences. This group does things this way, and that offends that group. Hillary said this, but Obama did that. Who cares? Not that I've become some soft bellied tree hugger, but what about the similarities? Why are we so afraid of what is different that we are completely unable to focus on what we have in common and use that as a foundation on which to build? The more I look around, the more I see how we continue to divide ourselves based on differences, rather than come together based on similarities. I guess I'd have to study psychology for a fairly long time in order to even begin to understand the answers to those questions, but as an uneducated observer looking in from the outside, it seems pretty silly in most cases, don't you think?
Granted, I've also had relatively limited exposure since arriving, but comparitively speaking I've learned lots about people in the last 6 months, and what I've learned has surprised me a little, altho I'm not sure just why.
In the past few months, I've been all over the Middle East (or "Southwest Asia" for the politically correct crowd) to places like Iraq (obviously), Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Turkiye (Correct spelling), Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Georgia. The one constant I've noticed is that as a whole, people are pretty much the same. While there are some major surface differences in things like religion, moral values, language, dress, etc, when you dig down deep, we're not really all that different. We all have the same wants, needs, desires and dreams. We all need to feel loved, we all need to have someone to love, we all need to feel accepted, we all need to have some sort of hope to cling to, and the list goes on. The differences lie in how we choose or are allowed to go about pursuing those needs, but the needs themselves do not change no matter how some may try to disguise them. We're the same.
In all my travels to all these places I'd never been before, I found it extremely easy to identify things like grocery stores, restaurants, schools, apartment buildings, etc etc. Aside from a different language on the signs (and sometimes not), they looked pretty much the same as back home. Going into a mall in Manama, Bahrain, or Dubai, UAE is almost exactly like going into a mall in any US city. Same stores, same layout, same smells, and people doing the same things. Watching children playing in Tbilisi, Georgia, if you couldn't hear the language they were speaking, you could have easily mistaken them for kids playing in Anytown, USA. So many similarities, and very few differences.
A few days ago, I watched as a father bought his 4 year old daughter her first "big girl" bicycle in a Dubai department store (that reminded me a great deal of the Sears in North Hollywood). I didn't need to know exactly what they were saying in order to understand what was being communicated. I could see the excitement in her eyes, and the pride and love in his. He saw me watching them. I flashed him a knowing smile, and he returned it. He knew that I knew we were the same.
I guess I am surprised that any of this surprises me. I don't really know what I expected, but I did expect to find vast differences in who and what people in different parts of the world were. I did not expect to find so many close similarities.
Watching the news at night, all I see is people complaining about differences. This group does things this way, and that offends that group. Hillary said this, but Obama did that. Who cares? Not that I've become some soft bellied tree hugger, but what about the similarities? Why are we so afraid of what is different that we are completely unable to focus on what we have in common and use that as a foundation on which to build? The more I look around, the more I see how we continue to divide ourselves based on differences, rather than come together based on similarities. I guess I'd have to study psychology for a fairly long time in order to even begin to understand the answers to those questions, but as an uneducated observer looking in from the outside, it seems pretty silly in most cases, don't you think?
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Happy Birthday Dad, I Love You.
Dad,
As I was laying in bed trying to go to leep tonight, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wished I could have been with you today on your birthday, so I decided I'd write and tell you.
I wanted to apologize again for not having a card or a gift for you on your special day. The card is on it's way, and the gift will be shortly, but they weren't there today when they should have been, and I feel badly. I'm sorry. That being said, there are things that no simple card can ever express, so I wanted to tell you about them now. I hope you don't mind that I shared them with the world on this blog. I just want everyone to know how very proud I am to call you my Dad.
First of all, you are now, always have been, and always will be my hero. You and Mom have taught me and raised me to be who I am today, and while I'm sure I didn't turn out quite as you'd hoped (I still can't speak Latin...), I think you did an incredible job with what you had to work with. You taught me to do the right thing. You taught me the importance of telling the truth. You showed me what it meant to be a man and a father. Big footsteps to follow in to be sure, but I try my best every day to make you proud of me.
You were (and still are) always there when I needed you. You let me sleep with you and Mom in the middle of the night when I was scared. You let me "help" you build things, even when all I did was get in the way. You put a bicycle together for me on my 6th Birthday. You let me run the trains under the Christmas tree. You drove an hour and a half to rescue me in the middle of the night when I got scared at camp. You went to every soccer game, baseball game, football game and parade even when all I did was stand in the middle of the field watching airplanes and trains. You made sure I got that double dump truck, even when there weren't any to be had. You fixed countless flat tires, broken toys, skinned knees, and hurt feelings. You soundproofed your garage for me when I just had to have that drum set. You took us on countless wonderful vacations. New York, Las Vegas, Yellowstone, Bryce, Zion, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Salt Lake City, San Diego, San Francisco, Reno, Driving accross the country (what is it? 4 times now?) You showed me the things that were special to you. You took me golfing with you and just you at 6am on a Sunday morning, and taught me a little about the game you loved. You put me through a private school, even when I gave you every reason not to. You drove down to LAX in the middle of the night to rescue Mike, Greg and I when I wasn't paying attention and crashed the car. You pinned my WO1 bars on my shoulders. You pinned my wings on my chest. You moved me and my junk accross the country...twice.
You gave of yourself whatever it was you thought I needed, and you did so graciously and without question. You taught me the importance of doing a good job, no matter what job I was doing. You taught me to take responsibility for myself and my actions. You taught me to be proud of myself, and to stand up for what I believed in. You taught me to "think positive". You reminded me that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. You taught me the importance of just saying a prayer, and you let me decide who to pray to. You let me follow my dreams and pursue my goals, never once trying to change my mind. You let me become me because you were you.
In short Dad, you set the example for me to follow, and a simple "Thank You" will never be thanks enough. You and Mom were and are my biggest fans. I just wanted you to know that I am yours as well.
I can only hope that I can be for Jaislyn what you are to me. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, that will be enough. Thank you for who you've helped me become Dad, and thank you for who you are. I love you more than you can possibly know.
Happy Birthday.
As I was laying in bed trying to go to leep tonight, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wished I could have been with you today on your birthday, so I decided I'd write and tell you.
I wanted to apologize again for not having a card or a gift for you on your special day. The card is on it's way, and the gift will be shortly, but they weren't there today when they should have been, and I feel badly. I'm sorry. That being said, there are things that no simple card can ever express, so I wanted to tell you about them now. I hope you don't mind that I shared them with the world on this blog. I just want everyone to know how very proud I am to call you my Dad.
First of all, you are now, always have been, and always will be my hero. You and Mom have taught me and raised me to be who I am today, and while I'm sure I didn't turn out quite as you'd hoped (I still can't speak Latin...), I think you did an incredible job with what you had to work with. You taught me to do the right thing. You taught me the importance of telling the truth. You showed me what it meant to be a man and a father. Big footsteps to follow in to be sure, but I try my best every day to make you proud of me.
You were (and still are) always there when I needed you. You let me sleep with you and Mom in the middle of the night when I was scared. You let me "help" you build things, even when all I did was get in the way. You put a bicycle together for me on my 6th Birthday. You let me run the trains under the Christmas tree. You drove an hour and a half to rescue me in the middle of the night when I got scared at camp. You went to every soccer game, baseball game, football game and parade even when all I did was stand in the middle of the field watching airplanes and trains. You made sure I got that double dump truck, even when there weren't any to be had. You fixed countless flat tires, broken toys, skinned knees, and hurt feelings. You soundproofed your garage for me when I just had to have that drum set. You took us on countless wonderful vacations. New York, Las Vegas, Yellowstone, Bryce, Zion, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Salt Lake City, San Diego, San Francisco, Reno, Driving accross the country (what is it? 4 times now?) You showed me the things that were special to you. You took me golfing with you and just you at 6am on a Sunday morning, and taught me a little about the game you loved. You put me through a private school, even when I gave you every reason not to. You drove down to LAX in the middle of the night to rescue Mike, Greg and I when I wasn't paying attention and crashed the car. You pinned my WO1 bars on my shoulders. You pinned my wings on my chest. You moved me and my junk accross the country...twice.
You gave of yourself whatever it was you thought I needed, and you did so graciously and without question. You taught me the importance of doing a good job, no matter what job I was doing. You taught me to take responsibility for myself and my actions. You taught me to be proud of myself, and to stand up for what I believed in. You taught me to "think positive". You reminded me that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. You taught me the importance of just saying a prayer, and you let me decide who to pray to. You let me follow my dreams and pursue my goals, never once trying to change my mind. You let me become me because you were you.
In short Dad, you set the example for me to follow, and a simple "Thank You" will never be thanks enough. You and Mom were and are my biggest fans. I just wanted you to know that I am yours as well.
I can only hope that I can be for Jaislyn what you are to me. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, that will be enough. Thank you for who you've helped me become Dad, and thank you for who you are. I love you more than you can possibly know.
Happy Birthday.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Step By Step
As I sit here tonight, writing my first blog since Christmas day, I have to remind myself that we've been here in Iraq for over 3 months already. The old saying "Time flies when you're having fun" doesn't necessarily apply, because I would hardly call this experience "fun", but I've found that the time is indeed beginning to pass quickly. The irony is that at the same time, it seems like I have been gone forever, and still have an eternity and a day yet to go before I can return home.
More often these days, I am hearing people saying that they're "ready to go home." Who isn't? Sure, I miss my family like crazy. I miss doing the silly little things that most people normally don't even think twice about. I miss being able to go where I want, when I want. I even miss waking up with a little Jaislyn foot in my mouth in the middle of the night, but the fact remains that we're not yet even 1/3 of the way thru this deployment. There is nothing that can be done to shorten our time here (barring serious injury or criminal activity), so we're faced with a choice: We can ignore the calendar and maintain a positive attitude, or we can focus on and complain about things beyond our control. I choose the former, simply because I refuse to sit around and think about being miserable. Depression is a self-sustaining, downward spiral and it can ruin people in a hurry. I think being miserable is in part, a conscious descision. If you focus on the negative, and dismiss the positive, it only stands to reason that you will be unhappy with your situation whatever it may be. It's true, there aren't many positives here, and there are lots of negatives to choose from, but notice the wording..."choose". There ARE positives here, we just have to search for them and be willing to recognize them when we come across them.
Some of the positives I've found here include: The ability to talk to my family and friends on a daily basis; the chance to meet new people and make new friends; the opportunity to go to places most people will never see; the satisfaction I get from doing my job as safely and professionally as possible; the pride I feel in serving our country; the beauty of a sunset; the serenity of a night sky full of stars; the fact that I sleep in a real bed, in my own real room (as opposed to a cot in a tent); and the list goes on.
No, those are not the kinds of positive things most people would focus on. In fact, I'm sure in most normal situations, those are not things most people would even notice at all. It is amazing at how much we take for granted in our daily lives, but being in a situation like mine has a tendency to remind us of all we have to be thankful for, even the little things.
On the last leg of tonight's flight, I was listening to a song called "Jacob's Ladder", and it pretty well summed up my attitude towards this "phase" of my deployment. "All I want for tomorrow is to get it better than today, step by step, one by one, higher and higher." Each day I get thru here is one day that I'm closer to going home and seeing everyone I love again. The more I focus on the positives here, the quicker the time passes, the quicker time passes, the more positives I find. I only wish everyone here was able to see things the same way, and I hope everyone at home can find the positives in this as well.
The real challenge however, is not getting through the next 8 months, the real challenge for me will be staying focused on all the positives that surround me back home, and not taking them for granted. Step by step, one by one.
More often these days, I am hearing people saying that they're "ready to go home." Who isn't? Sure, I miss my family like crazy. I miss doing the silly little things that most people normally don't even think twice about. I miss being able to go where I want, when I want. I even miss waking up with a little Jaislyn foot in my mouth in the middle of the night, but the fact remains that we're not yet even 1/3 of the way thru this deployment. There is nothing that can be done to shorten our time here (barring serious injury or criminal activity), so we're faced with a choice: We can ignore the calendar and maintain a positive attitude, or we can focus on and complain about things beyond our control. I choose the former, simply because I refuse to sit around and think about being miserable. Depression is a self-sustaining, downward spiral and it can ruin people in a hurry. I think being miserable is in part, a conscious descision. If you focus on the negative, and dismiss the positive, it only stands to reason that you will be unhappy with your situation whatever it may be. It's true, there aren't many positives here, and there are lots of negatives to choose from, but notice the wording..."choose". There ARE positives here, we just have to search for them and be willing to recognize them when we come across them.
Some of the positives I've found here include: The ability to talk to my family and friends on a daily basis; the chance to meet new people and make new friends; the opportunity to go to places most people will never see; the satisfaction I get from doing my job as safely and professionally as possible; the pride I feel in serving our country; the beauty of a sunset; the serenity of a night sky full of stars; the fact that I sleep in a real bed, in my own real room (as opposed to a cot in a tent); and the list goes on.
No, those are not the kinds of positive things most people would focus on. In fact, I'm sure in most normal situations, those are not things most people would even notice at all. It is amazing at how much we take for granted in our daily lives, but being in a situation like mine has a tendency to remind us of all we have to be thankful for, even the little things.
On the last leg of tonight's flight, I was listening to a song called "Jacob's Ladder", and it pretty well summed up my attitude towards this "phase" of my deployment. "All I want for tomorrow is to get it better than today, step by step, one by one, higher and higher." Each day I get thru here is one day that I'm closer to going home and seeing everyone I love again. The more I focus on the positives here, the quicker the time passes, the quicker time passes, the more positives I find. I only wish everyone here was able to see things the same way, and I hope everyone at home can find the positives in this as well.
The real challenge however, is not getting through the next 8 months, the real challenge for me will be staying focused on all the positives that surround me back home, and not taking them for granted. Step by step, one by one.
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