The changing
Of sunlight to moonlight
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes
The greetings
Of people in trouble
Reflections of my life
Oh how they fill my eyes
All my sorrows
Sad tomorrows
Take me back to my own home
All my cryings
Feel I'm dying, dying
Take me back to my own home
I'm changing, arranging
I'm changing, I'm changing everything
Oh, everything around me
The world is a bad place
A bad place, a terrible place to live
Oh, but I don't wanna die
All my sorrows
Sad tomorrows
Take me back to my own home
All my cryings
Feel I'm dying, dying
Take me back to my own home
All my sorrows
Sad tomorrows
Take me back to my own home
All my cryings...
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Marmalade - Reflections Of My Life
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Americans...correct?
The company I work for recently sent six 50 lb. boxes to M in Iraq. In getting it all ready, I was sent an e-mail with a list of things my co-workers thought appropriate. On the list was cigarettes. I sent an e-mail back to the originator and told her smoking was frowned upon heavily by the military, and had been for about 20 years. So she took it off the list...end of story, right?
Not so skippy. Some time later, another employee walked up to her and said the following: "So...like...our soldiers murder someone and then smoke a cigarette?"
In Washington State this past weekend, a group of recalcitrant's entered a cemetery after dark and replaced over 200 US flags on graves with white, hand-drawn flags bearing a Swastika. Families and friends entered that cemetery to honor their fallen loved ones and were horrified, hurt, and deeply saddened by this act of anonymous cowardice.
In both cases, I'm talking about Americans who did and said these things. Americans...home of the free, land of the....what?
Pop quiz skippy:
Who do you think will be the first group of people that will scream "WHERE IS THE ARMY!?!?" if a nuke goes off in Philadelphia, Chicago, or Kansas City?
Uh huh.
PS A little post-script here. To those who would read this and tell me, "Not everyone is that way", I would obviously respond in the affirmative. But the fact of the matter is, more people are acting that way then ever before in this country. Studies have shown that even though the bulk weight and raw numbers of care packages being sent to service men and women in the Middle East is still as high as it ever has been, the sources for these packages has diminished by some accounts as much as 85%. Which means that 15% of the people are still loading up through the help of organizations like Anysoldier.com, Operation shoebox, etc. who keep the mail and comfort items rolling by petitioning large business as well as the general public.
In my own company's venture, 16 people out of 63 filled those six 50 lb boxes. That's 25%, an extraordinarily low and personally embarrassing number. Some of them were not just co-workers - but were people I considered friends. How much does it take to hit the supermarket and buy a few packs of gum to throw in the box? Not much. It's not because they couldn't either - it's because they wouldn't.
We have reached the precipice. We are now equating the soldiers - our brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, friends and neighbors- with the politics and anger of our own individualistic feelings.
Don't tell me it isn't true, because the statistics speak for themselves. Don't tell me we haven't cut off our nose to spite our political faces, because we have. Read the papers...the letters to the editors...watch the news...it's right there staring us in the face: Faux patriotism - wrapped in a blanket of "I support the troops but not the war or the President". I can clearly see the lack of support for the war and the President, but for the life of me, I'm still searching for something that shows me the troop support...it's just not there as a fact.
Only words, skippy... only words.
Not so skippy. Some time later, another employee walked up to her and said the following: "So...like...our soldiers murder someone and then smoke a cigarette?"
In Washington State this past weekend, a group of recalcitrant's entered a cemetery after dark and replaced over 200 US flags on graves with white, hand-drawn flags bearing a Swastika. Families and friends entered that cemetery to honor their fallen loved ones and were horrified, hurt, and deeply saddened by this act of anonymous cowardice.
In both cases, I'm talking about Americans who did and said these things. Americans...home of the free, land of the....what?
Pop quiz skippy:
Who do you think will be the first group of people that will scream "WHERE IS THE ARMY!?!?" if a nuke goes off in Philadelphia, Chicago, or Kansas City?
Uh huh.
PS A little post-script here. To those who would read this and tell me, "Not everyone is that way", I would obviously respond in the affirmative. But the fact of the matter is, more people are acting that way then ever before in this country. Studies have shown that even though the bulk weight and raw numbers of care packages being sent to service men and women in the Middle East is still as high as it ever has been, the sources for these packages has diminished by some accounts as much as 85%. Which means that 15% of the people are still loading up through the help of organizations like Anysoldier.com, Operation shoebox, etc. who keep the mail and comfort items rolling by petitioning large business as well as the general public.
In my own company's venture, 16 people out of 63 filled those six 50 lb boxes. That's 25%, an extraordinarily low and personally embarrassing number. Some of them were not just co-workers - but were people I considered friends. How much does it take to hit the supermarket and buy a few packs of gum to throw in the box? Not much. It's not because they couldn't either - it's because they wouldn't.
We have reached the precipice. We are now equating the soldiers - our brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, friends and neighbors- with the politics and anger of our own individualistic feelings.
Don't tell me it isn't true, because the statistics speak for themselves. Don't tell me we haven't cut off our nose to spite our political faces, because we have. Read the papers...the letters to the editors...watch the news...it's right there staring us in the face: Faux patriotism - wrapped in a blanket of "I support the troops but not the war or the President". I can clearly see the lack of support for the war and the President, but for the life of me, I'm still searching for something that shows me the troop support...it's just not there as a fact.
Only words, skippy... only words.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Too stupid to ignore
I had no desire to say anything about this, but I just can't ignore it any more. The Miss Universe Pageant was held this past weekend, and...well...just read on.
Miss Sweden withdrew because of nationalistic feelings. It seems Sweden - home to 50 years of pornographic movies once referred to as "Swedish Films" **wink **wink, and long-known as the original home of porn, has objected to this "exploitation". Sweden - the bastion of neutrality that has allowed virtually every tyrannical regime in modern history to pounce all over their neighbors Finland and Denmark in times of world war. Remember the Nazi's? Sweden - the nation that indeed held a Miss Sweden contest a couple of months ago to determine who would represent their country - has declared that the Miss Universe pageant is degrading to women. I have no idea if it is or isn't, mostly because I haven't sat and watched one of those things in about 40 years. I don't care, and never really did. If it's degrading, don't do it.
In any event, you can't speak out of both sides of your mouth, because it's bound to come crashing back into your ass. Feminists were pressuring the Swedish government, as if to imply that women fully volunteering to compete in these things were the same as roosters being forced to fight to the death. They are not, irrespective of what "Inga the man-hater" has to say about it.
Keeping on topic (in case you've forgotten, Stupid is the topic), Miss Tanzania, Flaviana Matata, an electrical technician whose country is participating for the first time, is also challenging stereotypes of beauty with her shaved head. "I never let anyone define me neither by hair nor clothing as I believe God made me perfect as a pure, natural African woman," she said.
Honey, it's a beauty contest. If you were told this was some sort of International Jeopardy competition, you were told wrong. If this were an English grammar class, you'd be getting an "F" for sentence structure and syntax. Given that this is indeed what it is, the fact remains you are judged on your appearance, whether you want to be or not. You can be pure, African, natural, hairless, and give your little "All I want is world peace and kindness to puppy dogs" speech...but it doesn't change the fact that you're judged by what you look like in an evening gown and a swimsuit.
Sorry I had to be the one to tell you...someone should have clued you in earlier.
And lastly, we have Miss Jamaica, 25-year-old Zahra Redwood, the contest's first Rastafarian and the first to appear in dreadlocks. She wants judges to see her as a "Rastafarian promoting the message of peace, love and unity throughout mankind."
Hmmmm...peace through hairstyles. She better get with Miss Tanzania and coordinate their stories. What is best for humanity, Telly Savalas or Bob Marley? While you contemplate the pro's and con's of Vidal Sasoon and the Schick Double Trac, somebody give me a hefty bag full of "Tums", cuz I think I'm gonna be sick to my stomach.
By the way, what's a Rastafarian? Someone from Rastafa?
I know...I know. It's a nice word for "stoner".
Pahhss dee ganga, mahn.
Miss Sweden withdrew because of nationalistic feelings. It seems Sweden - home to 50 years of pornographic movies once referred to as "Swedish Films" **wink **wink, and long-known as the original home of porn, has objected to this "exploitation". Sweden - the bastion of neutrality that has allowed virtually every tyrannical regime in modern history to pounce all over their neighbors Finland and Denmark in times of world war. Remember the Nazi's? Sweden - the nation that indeed held a Miss Sweden contest a couple of months ago to determine who would represent their country - has declared that the Miss Universe pageant is degrading to women. I have no idea if it is or isn't, mostly because I haven't sat and watched one of those things in about 40 years. I don't care, and never really did. If it's degrading, don't do it.
In any event, you can't speak out of both sides of your mouth, because it's bound to come crashing back into your ass. Feminists were pressuring the Swedish government, as if to imply that women fully volunteering to compete in these things were the same as roosters being forced to fight to the death. They are not, irrespective of what "Inga the man-hater" has to say about it.
Keeping on topic (in case you've forgotten, Stupid is the topic), Miss Tanzania, Flaviana Matata, an electrical technician whose country is participating for the first time, is also challenging stereotypes of beauty with her shaved head. "I never let anyone define me neither by hair nor clothing as I believe God made me perfect as a pure, natural African woman," she said.
Honey, it's a beauty contest. If you were told this was some sort of International Jeopardy competition, you were told wrong. If this were an English grammar class, you'd be getting an "F" for sentence structure and syntax. Given that this is indeed what it is, the fact remains you are judged on your appearance, whether you want to be or not. You can be pure, African, natural, hairless, and give your little "All I want is world peace and kindness to puppy dogs" speech...but it doesn't change the fact that you're judged by what you look like in an evening gown and a swimsuit.
Sorry I had to be the one to tell you...someone should have clued you in earlier.
And lastly, we have Miss Jamaica, 25-year-old Zahra Redwood, the contest's first Rastafarian and the first to appear in dreadlocks. She wants judges to see her as a "Rastafarian promoting the message of peace, love and unity throughout mankind."
Hmmmm...peace through hairstyles. She better get with Miss Tanzania and coordinate their stories. What is best for humanity, Telly Savalas or Bob Marley? While you contemplate the pro's and con's of Vidal Sasoon and the Schick Double Trac, somebody give me a hefty bag full of "Tums", cuz I think I'm gonna be sick to my stomach.
By the way, what's a Rastafarian? Someone from Rastafa?
I know...I know. It's a nice word for "stoner".
Pahhss dee ganga, mahn.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Don't forget to r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r
Travis. Left us 12/9/2006
M a few days ago. He needed a ride, and was offered one on an Apache. His fee? Play door gunner.While grilling your hamburgers and dogs, drinking your beer, and laughing it up with your friends and family...try to be cognizant of the fact that you have Monday off for a reason, and it's not because your boss was being nice to you.
It's because this man and his daughter are now - and have for 250 years - been shouldering the burden of courage in your absence.
Yeah, yeah, you're welcome.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Snapshots
For those of you under 27 years of age reading this:
A "snapshot" is what you would refer to as a 15 bit, 296 pixel, digitally enhanced, bi-matrixally loaded, semi-interchangeable, polarized composite image on your Cingular A-68 Top Shot cell phone and portable myspace device that you can't seem to separate from your friggin' ear long enough to pay for your Red Bull - sugar-free of course....unless it's your parents calling - then you act as if you never heard it, and let it go to voicemail.
For the rest of us...a "snapshot" is a photographic image in your brain.
But I digress - again.
When a person reaches middle age, memories become big. Yes, I know memories are just as precious to a teen, a new parent, or even a 10 year old. But not as important as they are to the people who are starting to lose the ability to create their own memories, and are now dependent upon children and grandchildren to produce the memories for them. Anyone who's been on the earth more than a minute or so knows most of these memories aren't actual movies, with talking and sequential action happening inside one's head. Instead, they come to us as 'snapshots', single photographic images that we apply to our consciousness and bond them together with a thing we call love.
Below are some of my snapshots.
**I was in the little league baseball championship game. I was 12, in my second-to-last year of LL, the starting shortstop and combined with the next year, I was to be a two-time All-Star. There were two outs in the first inning, but the other team had runners on 2nd and 3rd. A BIIIIIG kid was up at the plate, and he smashed a screaming ground ball towards me, and I clearly remember being so afraid of the speed of this ball, I kind of stepped to the side and made a weak attempt the grab it on the forehand side.
I did not.
Both runs scored and we eventually lost, 3-2. The next year we played the same team - won the championship - and I was part of the rarest of LL feats - the double play. As a matter of fact, we turned two 6-4-3 double plays, quite the accomplishment since in LL it's only 30 feet from home to first base, and nearly impossible to get the batter in a double play. But we did - I did - twice. And we won what we had failed to the previous year.
My snapshot: Winning the championship, right? Ummm, no. Stepping aside in fear instead of squaring up and taking that 100 mph ground ball....that is the snapshot I'm stuck with, like it or not.
**My Dad throwing passes to us kids in backyard football games. He sure did throw a pretty spiral back then. We used to catch it, then have to do an acrobatic move to avoid breaking our legs on the 3 foot drop off into the neighbor's back yard. Hand-eye coordination and good foot skills were at a premium in those games.
**Throwing a rubber ball against the steps of my parents house, hour after hour after hour...learning how to throw different pitches and catch balls that bounced back to me. The ones where I struck the very edge of the step always came back the hardest, making over the head and diving catches the rule of the day. I sure do miss doing that.
**All the neighborhood kids standing around in the rain, dancing, singing, and romping to the radio announcement that the long-suffering Red Sox had won the 1967 American League Pennant. They would lose the World Series in 7 games, but the loss is not my snapshot. The joy in the rain is.
**My brother sitting on my sister's wedding cake mere hours before the ceremony.
**My sister baby-sitting for the rest of us wild idiots, and putting her hand threw a plate glass door window while trying to keep me from going outside.
**Getting caught by my mom's sister (my Aunt) hosting a rather rowdy party for my high school friends when my parents were away. Ooops.
**Basic Training...wearing a uniform and getting to be a soldier for the first time...a sensation and joy that has not left me to this day.
**Watching the amniotic fluid come rushing out in a waterfall-like affect, 2 seconds before I saw my daughter - my first child - come out and say hello.
**Missing movement for a 60- day deployment to the desert because of my first son's birth.
**Weeping openly at what my wife had created in birthing my second son.
**Hitting the dirt and peeing my pants the first time I was in the middle of an artillery battle. For those in the bungee-jumping crowd who like to experience everything - take it from me - you might want to take a pass on this one.
**Seeing the look and pride on the faces of my mom and dad when they watched both boys play competitive soccer games on the same day they saw their granddaughter AND great granddaughter on the sidelines as well. Four generations represented in the same place and time.
These are some of my many snapshots, melding together as I get older, yet each trying desperately to hang onto their own place; their own individuality. They are mine to keep...no one can wrench them away from me...nothing can taint or ruin them. And only I can choose to delete or save them.
As I reflect on these any many other things, I'm struck by the fact that I am again afraid. The ball racing towards me at lightning speed is life itself. My life; the life of my loved ones; family. It's up to me to stand in front of the ball and square up. It's up to me to bend my knees and lay my glove down, knowing at any second the ball may take a bad hop and hit me right in the mouth. Will this particular grounder be a double play or a two run error?
I wish I could tell you, but I don't know either.
A "snapshot" is what you would refer to as a 15 bit, 296 pixel, digitally enhanced, bi-matrixally loaded, semi-interchangeable, polarized composite image on your Cingular A-68 Top Shot cell phone and portable myspace device that you can't seem to separate from your friggin' ear long enough to pay for your Red Bull - sugar-free of course....unless it's your parents calling - then you act as if you never heard it, and let it go to voicemail.
For the rest of us...a "snapshot" is a photographic image in your brain.
But I digress - again.
When a person reaches middle age, memories become big. Yes, I know memories are just as precious to a teen, a new parent, or even a 10 year old. But not as important as they are to the people who are starting to lose the ability to create their own memories, and are now dependent upon children and grandchildren to produce the memories for them. Anyone who's been on the earth more than a minute or so knows most of these memories aren't actual movies, with talking and sequential action happening inside one's head. Instead, they come to us as 'snapshots', single photographic images that we apply to our consciousness and bond them together with a thing we call love.
Below are some of my snapshots.
**I was in the little league baseball championship game. I was 12, in my second-to-last year of LL, the starting shortstop and combined with the next year, I was to be a two-time All-Star. There were two outs in the first inning, but the other team had runners on 2nd and 3rd. A BIIIIIG kid was up at the plate, and he smashed a screaming ground ball towards me, and I clearly remember being so afraid of the speed of this ball, I kind of stepped to the side and made a weak attempt the grab it on the forehand side.
I did not.
Both runs scored and we eventually lost, 3-2. The next year we played the same team - won the championship - and I was part of the rarest of LL feats - the double play. As a matter of fact, we turned two 6-4-3 double plays, quite the accomplishment since in LL it's only 30 feet from home to first base, and nearly impossible to get the batter in a double play. But we did - I did - twice. And we won what we had failed to the previous year.
My snapshot: Winning the championship, right? Ummm, no. Stepping aside in fear instead of squaring up and taking that 100 mph ground ball....that is the snapshot I'm stuck with, like it or not.
**My Dad throwing passes to us kids in backyard football games. He sure did throw a pretty spiral back then. We used to catch it, then have to do an acrobatic move to avoid breaking our legs on the 3 foot drop off into the neighbor's back yard. Hand-eye coordination and good foot skills were at a premium in those games.
**Throwing a rubber ball against the steps of my parents house, hour after hour after hour...learning how to throw different pitches and catch balls that bounced back to me. The ones where I struck the very edge of the step always came back the hardest, making over the head and diving catches the rule of the day. I sure do miss doing that.
**All the neighborhood kids standing around in the rain, dancing, singing, and romping to the radio announcement that the long-suffering Red Sox had won the 1967 American League Pennant. They would lose the World Series in 7 games, but the loss is not my snapshot. The joy in the rain is.
**My brother sitting on my sister's wedding cake mere hours before the ceremony.
**My sister baby-sitting for the rest of us wild idiots, and putting her hand threw a plate glass door window while trying to keep me from going outside.
**Getting caught by my mom's sister (my Aunt) hosting a rather rowdy party for my high school friends when my parents were away. Ooops.
**Basic Training...wearing a uniform and getting to be a soldier for the first time...a sensation and joy that has not left me to this day.
**Watching the amniotic fluid come rushing out in a waterfall-like affect, 2 seconds before I saw my daughter - my first child - come out and say hello.
**Missing movement for a 60- day deployment to the desert because of my first son's birth.
**Weeping openly at what my wife had created in birthing my second son.
**Hitting the dirt and peeing my pants the first time I was in the middle of an artillery battle. For those in the bungee-jumping crowd who like to experience everything - take it from me - you might want to take a pass on this one.
**Seeing the look and pride on the faces of my mom and dad when they watched both boys play competitive soccer games on the same day they saw their granddaughter AND great granddaughter on the sidelines as well. Four generations represented in the same place and time.
These are some of my many snapshots, melding together as I get older, yet each trying desperately to hang onto their own place; their own individuality. They are mine to keep...no one can wrench them away from me...nothing can taint or ruin them. And only I can choose to delete or save them.
As I reflect on these any many other things, I'm struck by the fact that I am again afraid. The ball racing towards me at lightning speed is life itself. My life; the life of my loved ones; family. It's up to me to stand in front of the ball and square up. It's up to me to bend my knees and lay my glove down, knowing at any second the ball may take a bad hop and hit me right in the mouth. Will this particular grounder be a double play or a two run error?
I wish I could tell you, but I don't know either.
Friday, May 11, 2007
These are the days of our lives
For my dad:
Sometimes I get to feelin'
I was back in the old days - long ago
When we were kids when we were young
Thing seemed so perfect - you know
The days were endless we were crazy we were young
The sun was always shinin' - we just lived for fun
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
The rest of my life's been just a show
Those were the days of our lives
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing is true
When I look and I find -
I still love you
You can't turn back the clock you can't turn back the tide -
Ain't that a shame?
I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride
When life was just a game
No use in sitting and thinkin' on what you did
When you can lay back and enjoy it through your kids
Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know
Better sit back and go with the flow
Cuz these are the days of our lives
They've flown in the swiftness of time
These days are all gone now but some things remain
When I look and I find no change
Those were the days of our lives - yeah
The bad things in life were so few
Those days are all gone now but one thing's still true
When I look and I find -
I still love you
I still love you
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Letters from there... and BACK again
Still at Slayer, nothing sked for the next week, so I should be in place for at least a few days. All is well, ran into a few of my old students here, which is a good thing...getting to see my product in an environment which I prepared them for...finally some of that job satisfaction I so lacked back state-side. Their eyes get really big and spooked for a few weeks when they get here. No amount of talking to them back in Texas or wherever they were at last can compare to actually being on the ground. It's fun watching the cocky ones getting a dose of reality!
I think as of today its 74 days - or you could say 73 and a wake up. Guys are filtering out of here one by one, which is good cause when their time comes to leave it just makes mine so much more of a reality. No complaints other then the heat....damn..but heat causes sweat, which causes me to drink more water, which fills me up, which make me not hungry, which means my meals are smaller, which means I have lost 13 lbs....no complaints on the last part...at least my wife will be happy!
I have to run.
M
M,
Desert Shield and Storm...the Army screwed up big-time on the food. They shipped the T-rat's to each unit on huge pallets...the problem was, each pallet contained the exact same item, and each unit received 4 months worth of pallets up front. During "Shield", we were in nowhere Saudi Arabia of course, so we were stuck - just as everyone else was.
Our meal? Beef and Carrots. Every lunch...every dinner...for 4 months.
We were glad the war was about to kick in around or just after the New Year, because that meant we could: A) Get away from the beef and carrots or B) Get killed...which - believe it or not - was a STEP UP from eating one more bite of that shit. They always provided bread however, so we all hoarded the packets of peanut butter and jelly, and that was basically our diet. By the time the war started, my belt was pulled fully 3 1/2 to 4 inches across, as I had lost about 25 lbs.
The things we do for God and Country, huh? 73 and a wake-up, baby. Keep the faith.
B
I think as of today its 74 days - or you could say 73 and a wake up. Guys are filtering out of here one by one, which is good cause when their time comes to leave it just makes mine so much more of a reality. No complaints other then the heat....damn..but heat causes sweat, which causes me to drink more water, which fills me up, which make me not hungry, which means my meals are smaller, which means I have lost 13 lbs....no complaints on the last part...at least my wife will be happy!
I have to run.
M
M,
Desert Shield and Storm...the Army screwed up big-time on the food. They shipped the T-rat's to each unit on huge pallets...the problem was, each pallet contained the exact same item, and each unit received 4 months worth of pallets up front. During "Shield", we were in nowhere Saudi Arabia of course, so we were stuck - just as everyone else was.
Our meal? Beef and Carrots. Every lunch...every dinner...for 4 months.
We were glad the war was about to kick in around or just after the New Year, because that meant we could: A) Get away from the beef and carrots or B) Get killed...which - believe it or not - was a STEP UP from eating one more bite of that shit. They always provided bread however, so we all hoarded the packets of peanut butter and jelly, and that was basically our diet. By the time the war started, my belt was pulled fully 3 1/2 to 4 inches across, as I had lost about 25 lbs.
The things we do for God and Country, huh? 73 and a wake-up, baby. Keep the faith.
B
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
When enough is too much
In drafting this post, I have written it...erased it...changed the format...erased it again...added photos...then deleted them...and in the end I arrived at this. As you know, I communicate almost daily with a friend who is in Iraq right now. I keep my communications with him constant, even if he cannot respond due to mission requirements. I know what it's like to be in a combat zone, and I know the positive effects of mail...paper or e-mail.
I received an e-mail about 2 hours ago from another friend who told me about the death of a former soldier of mine in Iraq. It happened on December 6th, 2006...five months ago, but I didn't know about it until today. That makes 3 for me. Two who worked for me, and one who worked with me. I'm just a Military Intelligence guy. If I were an Infantry, Artillery, or Tanker guy, I suspect I'd know dozens. But MI guys aren't supposed to go down that often. For me to have personally worked with or supervised 3, plus another who is being discharged soon with permanent disability from a grenade attack...well...that's a high number.
When I was a little boy, I loved parades. I loved marching with the bands, saluting the flags when they went by, and playing my own plastic trumpet along with the music. We had such great parades where I grew up. To me, the biggest day of the year - bigger than Christmas - was the 4th of July and the parades. My parents, closing in on 80, still talk about me and those parades.
When I was a boy, I loved to climb rocks, crawl in the dirt, and play soldier. I did it for hours with my friends, and even longer all by myself. I learned to maneuver in the woods behind our home, and to navigate through all kinds of terrain. I was comfortable alone...comfortable out away from the rush of people.
I took these traits with me into my adulthood. After the fact, it only seems normal and natural that I would have pursued the life's choice I did. I was born a soldier quite by accident, and I now know I'll die one on the day I pass.
You never plan on an early exit. You know it's possible...in some circumstances it seems likely at times...but you still don't give in to the feelings, to the angst, and to the fear. You block it out, focus and what's ahead...on what is important to you...and you trudge on.
And so we shall today, as well.
Sigh. When I was a little boy...
I received an e-mail about 2 hours ago from another friend who told me about the death of a former soldier of mine in Iraq. It happened on December 6th, 2006...five months ago, but I didn't know about it until today. That makes 3 for me. Two who worked for me, and one who worked with me. I'm just a Military Intelligence guy. If I were an Infantry, Artillery, or Tanker guy, I suspect I'd know dozens. But MI guys aren't supposed to go down that often. For me to have personally worked with or supervised 3, plus another who is being discharged soon with permanent disability from a grenade attack...well...that's a high number.
When I was a little boy, I loved parades. I loved marching with the bands, saluting the flags when they went by, and playing my own plastic trumpet along with the music. We had such great parades where I grew up. To me, the biggest day of the year - bigger than Christmas - was the 4th of July and the parades. My parents, closing in on 80, still talk about me and those parades.
When I was a boy, I loved to climb rocks, crawl in the dirt, and play soldier. I did it for hours with my friends, and even longer all by myself. I learned to maneuver in the woods behind our home, and to navigate through all kinds of terrain. I was comfortable alone...comfortable out away from the rush of people.
I took these traits with me into my adulthood. After the fact, it only seems normal and natural that I would have pursued the life's choice I did. I was born a soldier quite by accident, and I now know I'll die one on the day I pass.
You never plan on an early exit. You know it's possible...in some circumstances it seems likely at times...but you still don't give in to the feelings, to the angst, and to the fear. You block it out, focus and what's ahead...on what is important to you...and you trudge on.
And so we shall today, as well.
Sigh. When I was a little boy...
Letters from there...
Hey brother,
Just to let you know there will be days that I will not be able to email nor reply, due to the fact that I do travel while here. But I am back at Slayer, flew in last night, and all is well. I really do appreciate the concern.
(I mean this next part as a compliment, even though it might not read well)
Getting emails like yours reminds me of coming home and seeing my dog. Of course I am glad that I get to see my kids and wife, but every time I leave and then return home, my dog is sitting there wagging his tail at a million wags per second, always glad to see me, and that is when I know I am home....hope the point was made, not trying to compare you to a dog, but it's just nice to see concern out there....something kinda rare over here...
74 days.
M
Just to let you know there will be days that I will not be able to email nor reply, due to the fact that I do travel while here. But I am back at Slayer, flew in last night, and all is well. I really do appreciate the concern.
(I mean this next part as a compliment, even though it might not read well)
Getting emails like yours reminds me of coming home and seeing my dog. Of course I am glad that I get to see my kids and wife, but every time I leave and then return home, my dog is sitting there wagging his tail at a million wags per second, always glad to see me, and that is when I know I am home....hope the point was made, not trying to compare you to a dog, but it's just nice to see concern out there....something kinda rare over here...
74 days.
M
Friday, May 04, 2007
Letters from there...
I asked for a personal opinion on what M thought was the current status over there. Not an MSNBC or Foxnews take...not a Pentagon take...a real take from a 13 year veteran - in the know and on the ground. What follows is that take. Make of it what you will:
Mr B-
From what I have seen myself and gathered from other guys who've gone outside the wire, the Iraqi's ARE capable of maintaining themselves, BUT....There is a lot more aggression internally then there is against the U.S. We get caught in the middle trying to save innocent lives from being lost.
We have the ability to be more successful here because we don't have family's or a way of life to terrorize. The Iraqis on the other hand, including their military, are highly vulnerable to sectarian violence, because the "bad guys" find out were they live, find their families, mosques, shops, whatever... and then do what you see in the news each day. It is very similar to the drug cartels in South America, but on a larger scale here.
What was touted as a religious war against America has turned into a religious war within each individual city and region. Look at it this way if you will: Go to any American college campus and tell them there will be a draft. You will have kids leave school, some will join before a draft, some will wait for a draft, many will fight the draft, and some will fight the people there who conduct the draft, and of course you will have students fighting each other solely on the basis of whether or not there should be a draft....At no time will the entire college line up and accept the fact that there will be a draft...or no draft at all.
It's the same thing here. We are fighting an invisible war against ideas and ideals. The only way to win against a certain idea is to kill all those who don't agree with your idea, and we're Americans, so we don't do that. Do I think we need to be here? YES, I do. The numbers of people that want us here are quadruple the numbers who do not, and most who do not are not even Iraqi anyways. These people were under the thumb of a madman for 25 years, and they want to be free and peaceful again. They need us to make that happen. It's the people who aren't from here who don't want that. They want everyone in the stone age - stupid and clueless.
Ok my friend, I have rambled enough. I hope you can see the meaning behind the tired typing of somebody here just doing his job, counting the days until I get home. 79, to be precise.
M
Mr B-
From what I have seen myself and gathered from other guys who've gone outside the wire, the Iraqi's ARE capable of maintaining themselves, BUT....There is a lot more aggression internally then there is against the U.S. We get caught in the middle trying to save innocent lives from being lost.
We have the ability to be more successful here because we don't have family's or a way of life to terrorize. The Iraqis on the other hand, including their military, are highly vulnerable to sectarian violence, because the "bad guys" find out were they live, find their families, mosques, shops, whatever... and then do what you see in the news each day. It is very similar to the drug cartels in South America, but on a larger scale here.
What was touted as a religious war against America has turned into a religious war within each individual city and region. Look at it this way if you will: Go to any American college campus and tell them there will be a draft. You will have kids leave school, some will join before a draft, some will wait for a draft, many will fight the draft, and some will fight the people there who conduct the draft, and of course you will have students fighting each other solely on the basis of whether or not there should be a draft....At no time will the entire college line up and accept the fact that there will be a draft...or no draft at all.
It's the same thing here. We are fighting an invisible war against ideas and ideals. The only way to win against a certain idea is to kill all those who don't agree with your idea, and we're Americans, so we don't do that. Do I think we need to be here? YES, I do. The numbers of people that want us here are quadruple the numbers who do not, and most who do not are not even Iraqi anyways. These people were under the thumb of a madman for 25 years, and they want to be free and peaceful again. They need us to make that happen. It's the people who aren't from here who don't want that. They want everyone in the stone age - stupid and clueless.
Ok my friend, I have rambled enough. I hope you can see the meaning behind the tired typing of somebody here just doing his job, counting the days until I get home. 79, to be precise.
M
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Letter BACK to there....
M-
Same old crap happening here. Mr Democrat says blah blah blibbety blah, and Mr Republican says na na na na na blibbety blah back at you. Assholes. In the meantime, you guys are short funding and soon you'll be using slingshots and hand-held shields. Did I say they were all assholes? I didn't? Well, they are. Assholes, I mean.
Got your mailing address...my company wants to send someone a care package, and since you're someone, I figured it may as well be you and your fellow troops. We'll get it out next week. I checked into packing your wife in the box, but I guess they frown upon that kind of shit.
Not much else new...everyone here has it a lot better than you do, so we don't allow complaining. Okay...I don't allow complaining. Most everyone else continues to bitch their way through life because they have to turn their belt buckle over at the airport, or they can't gas up their 2.3 mpg Hummer. Ohhh, the humanity!
By the way, during Gulf War I, I got a letter from someone I didn't even know, and he said this to me: "Keep your chin up and your head down". I'm fairly sure you know what that means.
79 days....Keep the faith, baby...keep the faith.
Mr B
Same old crap happening here. Mr Democrat says blah blah blibbety blah, and Mr Republican says na na na na na blibbety blah back at you. Assholes. In the meantime, you guys are short funding and soon you'll be using slingshots and hand-held shields. Did I say they were all assholes? I didn't? Well, they are. Assholes, I mean.
Got your mailing address...my company wants to send someone a care package, and since you're someone, I figured it may as well be you and your fellow troops. We'll get it out next week. I checked into packing your wife in the box, but I guess they frown upon that kind of shit.
Not much else new...everyone here has it a lot better than you do, so we don't allow complaining. Okay...I don't allow complaining. Most everyone else continues to bitch their way through life because they have to turn their belt buckle over at the airport, or they can't gas up their 2.3 mpg Hummer. Ohhh, the humanity!
By the way, during Gulf War I, I got a letter from someone I didn't even know, and he said this to me: "Keep your chin up and your head down". I'm fairly sure you know what that means.
79 days....Keep the faith, baby...keep the faith.
Mr B
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Letters from there...
Mr B,
I'm trapped in this camp a lot, but do leave here once in awhile. 99.9% of the time I go to very established, built up FOBs, and always - travel is at night and by helo...
Try not to worry about me too much....I'm ok. Don't get me wrong, I am at the Baghdad Inter Airport, and you can hear alot of stuff, but most of the time it's like being in the nose bleed section of a baseball game, you can see and hear the game but kinda back and away from it..all is well, 80 days and counting.
M
yeah...80 days...
Peace
I'm trapped in this camp a lot, but do leave here once in awhile. 99.9% of the time I go to very established, built up FOBs, and always - travel is at night and by helo...
Try not to worry about me too much....I'm ok. Don't get me wrong, I am at the Baghdad Inter Airport, and you can hear alot of stuff, but most of the time it's like being in the nose bleed section of a baseball game, you can see and hear the game but kinda back and away from it..all is well, 80 days and counting.
M
yeah...80 days...
Peace
...with the Stars!!!
Last night, John Ratzenberger of Cheers and some lady named Ervita Lalalalalalal la la were eliminated from Dancing with the Stars. Unknown to many, the finals of the entire "Stars" series happened over the past week. Here for you and you alone, is a short run-down of the results:
Bonging with the Stars: In a close battle, it came down to two hardened couples, each with their own goal of taking away the chocolate with twinkie filling crown. Willie Nelson and Courtney Love barely edged out Cheech Marin and Britney Spears for the title.
Drinking to excess with the Stars: Mel Gibson easily outdistanced Paula Abdul, and Mr. Gibson paid a wonderful tribute to "my Jew-bastard friends" in his acceptance speech.
Grossing us out with the Stars: Most people thought Keith Richards snorting his dad live on tv would be the winner, but surprise, surprise!!! It was Paris Hilton switching underwear with the entire cast of "Gray's Anatomy."
Bullshitting with the Stars: This one - incredibly - ended in a tie. The tandem's of Dubya and Dick vs. Reverend Al and Hillary bullshitted like nobody has ever seen before, and neither the judges nor the call-in audience at home could make up their minds. "Since they both bullshit so profusely, I had to give one vote to each of them," co-host Sean Hannity said. "It was a masterful performance that will be remembered for years to come."
And finally, Monday night marked the last show of the year for:
Saying stupid shit with the Stars: This title was taken away in a landslide by Rosie O'Donnell. "When she said, 'Hey...terrorists deserve some of our sympathy too. They have kids. They're parents as well', I knew I was destined to finish second," said Senator John F. Kerry. "All I had was my 'stupid soldiers in Iraq statement,' and I knew that could never top Rosie's everyday statements, no matter what they were."
Bonging with the Stars: In a close battle, it came down to two hardened couples, each with their own goal of taking away the chocolate with twinkie filling crown. Willie Nelson and Courtney Love barely edged out Cheech Marin and Britney Spears for the title.
Drinking to excess with the Stars: Mel Gibson easily outdistanced Paula Abdul, and Mr. Gibson paid a wonderful tribute to "my Jew-bastard friends" in his acceptance speech.
Grossing us out with the Stars: Most people thought Keith Richards snorting his dad live on tv would be the winner, but surprise, surprise!!! It was Paris Hilton switching underwear with the entire cast of "Gray's Anatomy."
Bullshitting with the Stars: This one - incredibly - ended in a tie. The tandem's of Dubya and Dick vs. Reverend Al and Hillary bullshitted like nobody has ever seen before, and neither the judges nor the call-in audience at home could make up their minds. "Since they both bullshit so profusely, I had to give one vote to each of them," co-host Sean Hannity said. "It was a masterful performance that will be remembered for years to come."
And finally, Monday night marked the last show of the year for:
Saying stupid shit with the Stars: This title was taken away in a landslide by Rosie O'Donnell. "When she said, 'Hey...terrorists deserve some of our sympathy too. They have kids. They're parents as well', I knew I was destined to finish second," said Senator John F. Kerry. "All I had was my 'stupid soldiers in Iraq statement,' and I knew that could never top Rosie's everyday statements, no matter what they were."
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Letters from there...
E-mail from Iraq:
Mr B,
Sorry I haven't written, I am at Camp Slayer still, and life is good. Minus the dirt and the sound effects from the city, where I am living is very much like Camp Humphreys in Korea. I live in kind of a tiny bungalow with one roomate - I have my own side though. It's a typical dusty, musky, crappy room, but it's out of the elements and beats a tent. Everything is within a few minutes' walk, to include chow hall, internet/phone cafe, mini PX/BX, barber shop; shit I even have my own GMC 4x4 pickup, and can take a 10 minute drive to Camp Liberty or Victory and go to those PX's which are huge. Of course, taking road trips can be a little dangerous. Okay, a LOT dangerous. I get to call my wife and kids about once a week, so life is very good for me...went to Taji yesturday, did a site survey, 12 hour trip all together..and every bit of travel that we do is via Blackhawk, and they only fly during the night. Flying during the daytime is more dangerous than driving, as I've already explained. I have inclosed a pic... a panoramic of Camp Slayer......81 days and counting...
M
I love M
...81 days
Peace.
Mr B,
Sorry I haven't written, I am at Camp Slayer still, and life is good. Minus the dirt and the sound effects from the city, where I am living is very much like Camp Humphreys in Korea. I live in kind of a tiny bungalow with one roomate - I have my own side though. It's a typical dusty, musky, crappy room, but it's out of the elements and beats a tent. Everything is within a few minutes' walk, to include chow hall, internet/phone cafe, mini PX/BX, barber shop; shit I even have my own GMC 4x4 pickup, and can take a 10 minute drive to Camp Liberty or Victory and go to those PX's which are huge. Of course, taking road trips can be a little dangerous. Okay, a LOT dangerous. I get to call my wife and kids about once a week, so life is very good for me...went to Taji yesturday, did a site survey, 12 hour trip all together..and every bit of travel that we do is via Blackhawk, and they only fly during the night. Flying during the daytime is more dangerous than driving, as I've already explained. I have inclosed a pic... a panoramic of Camp Slayer......81 days and counting...
M
I love M
...81 daysPeace.
Really? I don't think so home-boy
Here is a sign we don't see a lot of nowadays. "No blood for oil" is dramatic, searing, heartfelt, poignant...and dead in the water.
You see, now that gas prices are soaring to $3 and higher for the second time, even the most bone dumb idiot out there has started to realize, "Hmmmm...This kinda sucks."
Yeah...kinda.
And here is some more bad news Mr. & Mrs. Enlightened: 3 of the 4 largest oil fields in the world are in Middle East, Venezuela, and Russia. Oooops. That ain't good, is it Buckwheat?
In the United States alone, there are 143,781,202 registered cars, 21,760,000 trucks or construction vehicles, and an estimated 68.7 million non-registered yet functioning automobiles or trucks driving our highways and byways.
Q.How many United States businesses are 100% dependent upon oil?
Cue the Jeopardy theme song
A. All of 'em, brainchild. All of 'em.
If gas goes to $5 a gallon or higher, you think you're working next week? Or the week after that? You do? I don't. You think your boss or your company's clients are going to foot the bill for the petrol? You do? I don't.
We need alternative sources of fuel and energy. I agree. Read this again...I agree. But right now, we don't have them, do we? Nuh, ah. We gots oil, Buckweat. It even takes oil...and a lot of it...to run the facilities that we have trying to develop alternative sources. In other words, there is no getting away from it...which makes those signs and sympathies obsolete.
And who is in charge of the oil?
Cindy Sheehan's friend Hugo Chavez. And our favorite picnic napkin wearing buddies, Ibn AL Phukwad and his passenger airline demolition derby team. Oh, and let's not forget Vladmr Putin, the man who wants the Soviet Union rebuilt to its old self, and is willing to take sides with all the bad seeds to make it happen.
You don't want blood for oil? Me either. But you know what, that's exactly what is going on, and I'm damn glad it is. Hand me an M-16 and tell me it's about oil, and I'll say to you, "Where are they at?" You see, I'll be checking out for good soon enough, but my children and their children are going to want to live longer. That means they need oil...and it's in Iraq, Iran, and Saudi Arabia. We need someone in the world to maintain a presence and keep it safe for everyone. Since I'm not seeing anyone besides England standing up to the task, that means it's up to us.
Then again, the flip-side is we could all be unemployed, penniless, hungry, and our children and grandchildren will die starving paupers...that would be fun, wouldn't it, Buckwheat?
News
In the event that you were watching any of the free news channels lately: NBC, CBS, ABC, FOX...or any of the mainstream on-line news: GOOGLE, YAHOO, MSN.COM...or any newspapers or any other paper news sources lately...or perhaps the cable news...CNN, HEADLINE NEWS, MSNBS, CNBC, FOXNEWS....
Then you DIDN'T see this:
Al-Qaida Claims Attack on Saudi Oil Refinery
By Evan Kohlmann
Al-Qaida's Committee in the Arabian Peninsula has issued an authenticated statement claiming responsibility for yesterday's failed suicide bombing attack on a major Saudi oil refinery in the eastern town of Buqayq on behalf of its "Brigade of Shaykh Usama Bin Laden." According to the communique, "the mujahideen [from the brigade] managed to prepare two car bombs that were driven by martyrs inside the refinery. These refineries facilitate the looting and stealing of Muslim petroleum... These heroes are from the cream of Saudi Muslim male youth. Praise be to Allah, there are many more like them and they are all competing amongst themselves to become martyrs."
Why is no one in our media covering things like this?
I know...do you?
Then you DIDN'T see this:
Al-Qaida Claims Attack on Saudi Oil Refinery
By Evan Kohlmann
Al-Qaida's Committee in the Arabian Peninsula has issued an authenticated statement claiming responsibility for yesterday's failed suicide bombing attack on a major Saudi oil refinery in the eastern town of Buqayq on behalf of its "Brigade of Shaykh Usama Bin Laden." According to the communique, "the mujahideen [from the brigade] managed to prepare two car bombs that were driven by martyrs inside the refinery. These refineries facilitate the looting and stealing of Muslim petroleum... These heroes are from the cream of Saudi Muslim male youth. Praise be to Allah, there are many more like them and they are all competing amongst themselves to become martyrs."
Why is no one in our media covering things like this?
I know...do you?
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