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.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
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?
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