Sacrifice, Sweet Tea and Western Skies

I was ready to leave the beach…it was a nice break, but it wasn’t real life.

We left there and headed directly north to an Army base in Georgia. An Army Ranger friend was having a party and participating in an event so we decided to make it our first stop.

Many of the people at the party just got back from Iraq or Afghanistan, and our friend is heading over there next month. He’s been over there a lot, even been shot a few times. He has a titanium plate in his leg for crying out loud…

The event was a Change of Command ceremony. I’ve been to several in the Air Force, they’re always a little moving as one commander leaves his leadership position and what has consumed most of his time the past two years, and another one takes charge. In the Air Force it typically happens in a hanger…the squadron of 20 or 30 pilots and a few others stand at attention in front of jets. It’s a picture of our war-fighting capability—a few people and multimillion dollar tools.

At the Army Ranger ceremony there were no tools of war. Standing at attention behind the outgoing and incoming leaders were just men. There were of course no jets, but also no tanks, no artillery, no helicopters--no tools. Just 1500 well-trained, highly-fit men, all of whom would rather be fighting the fight than standing on that parade field. They are the tools of war...their well-trained bodies, their minds, their willingness and whatever they can carry on their backs.

It was a stunning picture.

The outgoing commander choked back tears reciting the names of the ten men he’d lost in his two years of command. Then he apologized to his kids for not being there, and complimented their mother’s raising of them.

Wow. Our Air Force people are gone some and work a lot, but we don’t lose many and our people don't typically have to concede they haven’t even raised their own children. We are feeling this war, but not at that level of stress and loss. We are removed from it with our outlying bases and our multimillion dollar airplanes flying high above the fray. Army Rangers are over there all the time doing America's bidding, and I could feel the sacrifice.

I was struck by the clear knowledge they were giving their lives for this. It’s always interesting to see what people do with their lives, but usually it isn’t so clear. People are into their jobs and families, just living their lives and getting by, maybe not thinking too hard on what they are spending their lives.

Those are the exactly the words that came to mind watching those men—They have decided to spend their lives on this. They've done all the work to be fit, strong, willing and able to do whatever it takes, whatever it takes, over and over again. And with all their battle scars they are not crushed, or even weakened, they are strong and fired-up and itching to go again. It was obvious to me it’s just what they do, like there is no other option. Everything else falls into place behind this mission--no compromises--family and even religion get in line behind it.

I’ve heard a lot of prayers in my life, but the one at this event about knocked me over. In the Air Force we have chaplains of all faiths, saying prayers that tend to be pretty generic and politically correct. This chaplain pulled no punches. He basically called for a holy war—in Jesus’ name, of course. He not only prayed the Psalm of David asking God to “Prepare their hands for war,” but he also called down God’s "fury upon our enemies."

Wow again. No love of Jesus? No mercy? Yeah, no F-ing way. You know the other side is praying the same thing, not realizing God bleeds red, white and blue. Yikes. I wonder what God is thinking about all this...

I hate it when people mix patriotism and God…like he’s blessed us and is on our side because we’ve been so good following him. It was one of the last straws weighing down my Christian camel’s back a few years ago. I gave this chaplain a break though…I don’t know how many dead or injured Rangers he’s prayed over, he might deserve to be angry. I suppose the Rangers appreciated the prayer, and truthfully, I actually thought to myself, “Whatever you guys have to think to get the job done.” I’ll let them have it. I'll let them have whatever reality they live in that fires them up to give their lives to this...

Why? Because I’m sleeping in a safe bed and driving around drinking a Starbucks with my radio blasting, that’s why. And although no one is making them do it, they’ve chosen to give their lives to going to war for this country. They might not even be doing it for noble reasons, they might just be good at it and get a bang off it, but they can have that too...

Why? Because someone has to do it.

The next day in the car traveling across the South we were listening to country radio and I had to fight back tears when I heard a pro-military, patriotic song bragging about how we can rage at our enemies and silence them easily. Yes, I suppose we can, but there is a heavy price. Are we even looking at the bill?

I for one, am tired of paying it.

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We had to cross Alabama, and ended up in Montgomery at lunchtime. Ummm, fried chicken and sweet tea one more time...

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We didn’t have time for much sightseeing, but wanted to take a little downtime every day, so we decided to stop at Vicksburg National Battlefield and Cemetery in Mississippi. We’ve visited a few battlefields from our wars, and it always takes some imagination to understand how things went down. Here the battle was over the river, control of the Mississippi was imperative to both sides in the Civil War. President Lincoln himself mandated that Grant clear the Mississippi of Southern strongholds.

Well he did easily, except for here at Vicksburg, where the Confederates were dug in deep. It took several attempts, a months-long battle, and finally a siege before Grant finally succeeded. The National Cemetery there has 17,000 Union dead...13,000 of them unknown. Countless Rebels are buried a few hills over, they apparently don't deserve the honor of the National Cemetery. The details were brutal. I guess it's always taken a lot of sacrifice to make this country what it is.

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I found that the farther west we drove the more comfortable I became. I know that is crazy and I didn’t give any state its due time, but I liked Mississippi more than Alabama, and by the time we drove into Texas I was feeling more like myself.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, because really, how much does it really matter where I live in the USA, but I am such a Westerner. Every time I move back west after having lived east I am struck by it. I do not fit in the cities of the East, nor in the South. I am more relaxed and comfortable, the farther west I get.

So when we crossed the Mississippi Texas just felt plain good to me. The terrain started to open up, and I saw the big Texas sky. That’s why I know New Mexico will be okay…it’s the West. Since there is open sky, mountains, and a quick hop to the Pacific I'll be fine. It’s fun to live other places, but there’s just no getting me to change stripes I guess.

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One reason Texas is great is because people who are from there love it so much--they are all believers. We have several Air Force friends from Texas and it’s like it’s bred into them…they are proud of Texas and always plan to return. Why would they want to live anywhere else? Kevin always says he wishes he was from Texas and thought it was the greatest place…then he could buy a million acres for next to nothing, settle there, and actually believe he was in the best place.

Instead…we know better. Unfortunately so does every other Californian...hence the price difference.

I do like Texas…it’s just open, bright and BIG. It had to grow on me though, it was our first stop on this Air Force journey when we were first married and I was not impressed. I think I couldn’t get why it wasn’t more like California. Now I just let it be Texas. This time I got so carried away with it I bought a pair of boots.

We spent three nights getting across it, and after Ft. Worth there wasn’t much to see but beautiful sky. We left green behind and embraced the desert...again. But about an hour or two before we got to our new home we entered some surprisingly beautiful, green mountains, and the temperature dropped 40 degrees. Nice. It jumped right back up though as we descended to our new town, and I decided I needed an ice cream to deal with my new reality.

So far New Mexico is working for me, partly because those cool mountains are always in view. In only 30 minutes I can be there.

Delusions

I watched the movie “A Beautiful Mind” the other day.

The brilliant man in the movie went a little crazy, he saw and heard people that weren’t there. Those delusions became his mechanisms for getting through life. His mind and its dysfunctional patterns got away from him.

Finally at a desperate point he was forced to look hard to find the flaw in his reality—he was about to lose everything. He then made the incredibly difficult choice to every day pass on what he felt and saw, on what seemed to be working for him, the alternate reality that for so long comforted him and made him feel important.

It’s not that different than what we all have to do if we want to get past our bunk and dysfunctional mechanisms--discern what is real, then choose to pass over and over on things that aren’t. Like the man in the movie, we have to say “no” to our own delusions; else we too are carried deeper into our own dysfunctional patterns, our own brand of crazy. It doesn’t matter that we can see and feel them, that they make us feel important or that they seem to be getting us through this difficult life.

That’s faith—believing there’s something worth that painful journey…There is hope for change, it matters what we do, and there is more to life than what we see.

The man in the movie also added healthy patterns to his life: He became part of a community, developed some attachments to people to “elbow out the delusions.” He had to quit treating his delusions as real; quit talking to them, quit giving them his time and attention…quit feeding them. He replaced time spent on them with real, hard work. He also had the love and care of someone who believed in him and affirmed his right steps. Maybe no one does it alone.

He never got completely free of his delusions, we rarely get miraculously healed, although we're taught to pray and wait for it. No one tells us instead we have to face down the delusions and “elbow them out."

Every damn day.

Restlessness

I'm restless.

I often feel restless here, during my writing hours. I'm restless to become, to feel, to connect, to see a little clearer, to move past my bunk. And although writing here alone is my way past it, or through it, it is hard to sit here.

Sometimes I think it might be the caffeine from the couple of cups of coffee I down first thing, that I'm just physically amped up. That might be adding to it, but really it's just this incredibly deep need to get my thoughts and feelings out.

When I'm restless I'm impatient for movement, progress, interaction and distraction. I want it all to happen now, I want it to be easier. I want someone to bang around my thoughts with me and help me through my pain, I don't want to stare it down myself.

But for me, it doesn't work that way, that's too easy--No overcoming there...

Although, I could use an easy day every now and then....

I also feel grateful to have found a way to deal with it all. The questions, the tough answers, the loneliness, the dysfunction--sometimes I can write them off me. Sometimes I get to rise above it, break free for a bit or get a bit of light on the path. It soothes my soul.

Sometimes a little miracle happens here...I write it all off me and I walk away relieved, lifted and just a little freer.

It's a great feeling, and that's what brings me back--Hope.

Maybe it will happen today.

Non-rank and Privilege

So I'm a little lifted about life, moving and being back in the Air Force community, I'm feeling up for it. I think it was watching Kevin fly again that did it, it was such a beautiful thing. It's sinking in I have only a couple more days on the beach, and it's really okay. This vacation at the beach has been a tonic for me, but I'm mentally moving forward now, just in time.

I heard the joke about the "beach" in New Mexico three times when I was at the squadron the other day, and I managed a little laugh every time. It's painful to have everyone tell me how we're going to have such a good time there. When you're going somewhere good they don't have to try so hard to be positive.

I saw one of the guys who moved out there and got settled before he came here for training. He's actually from my hometown and was in Japan with us, so he might have a similar perspective on good places to live. I looked him right in the eye and said, "We're going to have a good time out there, right?" He met my gaze and seriously waited a full five seconds before launching into all the positives.

That's fighter-pilot talk for, "It sucks." It's like when they don't like a guy...they'll start by saying how great he is, list all his good qualities and only drop a hint there might be a flaw. If they like someone they just say, "He's such a good dude." Enough said.

So yeah, I know what we're getting into. I also know how to find the best in a place and take advantage of it. There will be some cool mountains nearby for hiking and biking, and I can get into that. There are no great restaurants, but there has to be some kick-ass Mexican food there--has to be--plus I plan to get back into cooking. And the sunsets are apparently enchanting--to what else could the license plates be referring with that "Land of Enchantment" emblazoned on every one? UFO sightings? Alien encounters?

Really I haven't been worried about living in New Mexico, I'm pretty much always up to live somewhere new for a year or two. It's the living on-base I've been worried about.

We've never done it. We've always tried to keep the USAF as a job, not a life, but when you get to this level there's no getting around it, I'm afraid it's going to be pretty all-encompassing. We're going to have some regular social obligations--I'm going to have to perfect a non-awkward version of the "smile, stand up and wave" as we're introduced at every event.

Hell, I'm not sure I have a version of that in me...

The house is big, beautiful and new. There are enough bedrooms for me to have my own office in one and a Pilates/yoga gym in another, with still a spare. The garage is huge if we needed to re-buy all the yard tools we've sold, but we won't--get this--Someone is going to do our yard for us. I feel like I have to whisper it. Okay so there is a perk I can get comfortable with...I guess I'll be taking that one.

I will not, however, park in a "Colonel" parking space at the gym, BX or commissary. I am not a damn Colonel. This is just principle and a point that needs to be made over and over to every officer's spouse--WE DO NOT WEAR RANK. This will be my way of restating it every day...I'll walk across the parking lot like every other non-handicapped person in the world.

The gym is supposed to be one of the best in the USAF, so I've got that going for me. The pool is new, so I'll take up swimming again since I suck at it, and there's a little Starbucks-ish place in the Officer's Club for when I need a good coffee.

Perfect, right? It's all right there, so incredibly convenient and close--Which is why I'm afraid I'll want to escape it. It's okay, we aren't moving to Stepford...right?

I can ride my bike to everything--Except I'll be required to wear a helmet, and maybe a safety vest--DORKY, if smart. I'm afraid that's enough of a deterrent though. So maybe I'll get my scooter going--Except I can't drive it until I've taken the "Motorcycle Safety Course" (actually a good idea for me); I'll have to wear closed-toed shoes (okay, can do...), a helmet (again, smart, and not that dorky on a motorcycle), long sleeves (okay maybe, but in summer?), and gloves. Whew. By the time I get all that on I'd be halfway through my workout if I'd have taken the car.

Living on-base will be super-convenient for Kevin, he'll be working long hours. There will be zero commute time, he can run home for lunch, and I might be able to watch him fly from the back patio. Cool.

It will be like the smallest of small towns and I like to be anonymous. I don't want to be that crazy "Colonel Robbins' wife" that's known for riding that wacky scooter or walking her dog at all times of the day and night. Or, and I can hear it now, "Is that Colonel Robbins' wife? Wow she sure runs slow...I think she's put on weight. Maybe she should pick up the pace..."

Yeah? Well maybe you should...

Just kidding, no one's going to care what I do, it's just I know I might be a bit of an oddity wearing my sun hat and walking everywhere with my ridiculous-looking, fox-like dog. I was one in DC, but there oddities are the norm.

Our next door neighbor is the Wing Commander, which sounds horrible and intimidating, except he and his wife are long-time, easy-going friends, so that part will be fine. Actually it will be more than fine if I get into trouble. I've recently realized if I get a ticket for having my dog off-leash or for speeding maybe I can run next door with a bottle of scotch and apologize instead of having to have my husband "notify his commander" of my "violation." Not that I'm asking to get around rules or consequences...I DON'T WEAR RANK.

I can't be reminded too often, I might start to get used to my husband's special treatment, it's human nature. For crying out loud I'm already taking the yard work for granted and I haven't even crossed Texas yet.