More Dreck from the Press

Speaking on Larry King Live, veteran CNN Reporter Christiane Amanpour manages to top ABC News President Westin's comments on reporters and Iraq:

The war in Iraq has basically turned out to be a disaster and journalists have paid for it, paid for the privilege of witnessing and reporting that and so have many, many other people who have been there.

So, when something happens to people that we identify, like Bob and like Doug, we wake up again and realize that, no, this is not acceptable what's going on there and it's a terrible situation.

...Most of the Iraqi people are now losing hope that the promised reconstruction is going to happen and that the quality of their lives is going to increase. This is a big drama because hope is the only thing they have in the middle of this spiralling security disaster. And by any indication whether you take the number of journalists killed or wounded, whether you take the number of American soldiers killed or wounded, whether you take the number of Iraqi soldiers killed and wounded, contractors, people working there, it just gets worse and worse.

There is so much wrong with those three paragraphs that I don't know where to start. I'll just say that she obviously doesn't know what she's talking about vis-a-vis Iraq's security situation, or Iraqi optimism. And then there's the incredibly self-absorbed focus of that second paragraph. Seriously, reading that has given me nausea.

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The Worst of Wounds

Severe brain injuries are one of the most heartbreaking wounds coming out of Iraq. It was patients at the VA Hospital with these types of injuries who most affected me when I visited.

But Raven of And Rightly So (a healthcare worker experienced with treating severe brain injuries) has some very encouraging words about the possible ultimate recovery levels of people facing these kinds of challenges. Please go read the NY Times article she references, along with her knowledgeable analysis. It'll both break your heart and give you hope.

As Raven says of these wounded warriors, "Some give all; some give all and are still with us."

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The President of ABC News "Gets It"

Here is the President of ABC News commenting on the serious injuries suffered by their news anchor and cameraman in an IED explosion in Iraq:

My initial reaction is we've all talked about this as a very real possibility, but this makes it real. I mean, we've talked about it, we knew someone was going to get hurt. We discussed what can we do to try to minimize that risk, how cautious can we be. But now it's really one of us, and two of us, actually.

Excuse my language, but what the hell is he talking about?! The American soldiers who have bled and died in the years since 9-11 aren't "one of us?!" It didn't feel "real" from the very first soldier who fell and died?! That SOB! And these are the same ghouls who counted down (up) to the 2000th death in Iraq with hushed tones and moist eyes, asking if the war was really worth it, and lamenting that the country was "detached" from the story of the war in Iraq, and so decided it would be a public service to spend half an hour reading the names of every soldier who had died. I'm repulsed beyond my ability to express!

If ever there was proof that the media is living in a different world than the rest of the country, this is it. I mean, how can it have taken so long for Westin to realize this is "real?" Does he not attend a church where at least one congregant has a loved one in Iraq? Has he never worked with someone whose son or daughter has been deployed? Does he ever really look at the footage and the stories his network broadcasts? He has obviously never read a blog, never sent a letter to a soldier on the "front lines," never given his time/money to a group collecting for care packages or ministering to the needs of the wounded.

That disgusting, self-absorbed human being is the head of a major media news organization, a leader in the stories and analysis offered up to the masses, and he's only just now finding out that it's real??!

I think I'd better stop now. I don't have the words for how loathesome I find him and his ilk. He makes me sick.

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Tagged!

I discovered that Homefront Six had tagged me with a meme just moments after posting the rant above. It's actually a relief to quickly turn my mind to something else. Thanks, HFS.

4 Jobs You Have Had In Your Life
1. Chemistry lab assistant/teacher's aide (high school)
2. Church organist
3. Transcriptionist (the tapes from Ireland were real fun...not!)
4. Book binder in a factory (high school, again)

4 Movies You Would Watch Over and Over
1. Anything with Fred Astaire in it *happy sigh*
2. I'm not really a movie watcher, but the other three HFS listed sound good to me (Star Wars--the original 3, Bull Durham, Jungle Book).

4 Places You Have Lived
1. The Delmarva Peninsula: Delaware, Maryland and Virginia along the Chesapeake Bay
2. Michigan: early childhood memories of fresh cider and blueberry picking
3. San Diego: the sun really is golden out there
4. Southern Indiana: miserable place to live for at least 9 months out of 12

4 TV Shows You Love to Watch
I occasionally enjoy the Fox network's sunday night lineup (Simpsons, et al), but really don't watch TV.

4 Places You Have Been On Vacation
1. New York: including singing in a choir at Carnegie Hall
2. Colorado
3. Big Bear, California: skiing
4. California Coast: car trip from San Diego to Monterey

4 Websites You Visit Daily
1. Neptunus Lex
2. Villainous Company
3. Castle Argghhh!!!
4. Milblogs

4 Favorite Foods
1. Anything chocolate
2. Fresh fruit/juice
3. Fruit popsicles (on 120-degree days)
4. Fresh-baked bread

4 Places You Would Rather Be Right Now
1. Any place populated by single men who aren't jerks
2. A state that pays new-ish single teachers enough to live on
3. On my patio with the sun setting over the lake (it's dark now)
4. Somewhere with all my favorite online friends

4 People to Tag
1. Sgt. B because he's been lazy about posting
2. Beth because I think she'd have interesting answers
3. Holly because I think it'd be fun
4. BillT because he's a great curmudgeon

[Responses of those I tagged linked directly above]

Other cool people I know who got tagged and answered (will be updated):

Punctilious
John Donovan (self-tag)
Boston Maggie

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The Ride

This is my personal biking goal in the coming weeks: about 24 miles. I had hoped to try it out this weekend, but lack of sleep and other issues prevented it. But it's what I'm working on, and I hope that putting it out there will hold me accountable.


It starts in the southeast corner and ends at the loop in the west. The relatively straight portion pointing northward is a backtrack. The eastern side of the town is near the top of the foothills to some modest mountains (by western standards). Basically, everything that is not close to water is serious hills. It is uphill from the beginning until about the middle of the half-loop that "points" northeast. It's then downhill until the waterfront portion, which consists of a few up/down sections, but no real hills.

I've ridden it almost up to the end of the uphill section (about 12-13 miles round-trip), but have always turned back because I'm afraid I'll get down to the waterfront and not have the strength to go back uphill for the return trip to my car. One of these days I'm gonna have to bite the bullet and do it.

So.... there it is! Twenty-four challenging miles by bike. A month ago I wouldn't have believed it possible, but I know I'm on the edge of having the capacity to do it. I just don't want to let up, so I'm letting you guys in on it.

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Depressive Detritus

Random thoughts in random order...

-The latter half of this week marks the beginning of a devastating loss in my family that occurred 21 years ago. One would think that after 10 or 15 years one gets a reprieve from the yearly whallop. No. One doesn't. Not every year.

-My loss is only one minuscule point in the thousands of losses suffered each day due to disease, accidents, violence, and war. Thousands of points of grief and loss around the world...each of them a crime against humanity.

-There are so many ways for a cruel or immature adult to mess up a kid, and so few ways to fix them once they're broken, especially when you're a teacher.

-I've been a follower of American politics since my early teen years. I never believed it was as broadly and fundamentally morally bankrupt as I think it is now. How these people sleep at night I will never know.

-Never thought I'd say this, especially 'cause I always thought I was an excellent judge of character, and had thus avoided this ugly type until now, but: single men my age are jerks (hence their singleness).

And one bright thought:

-There are still brilliant, informed, grounded people in this world who are also inspirationally idealistic. I'm privileged to know a couple of them.

Update: One more happy thought: my piano, as it often looks in the early evening...

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TMI

[Update: Dang it! I thought I'd saved this as a Draft about 2 hours ago, not as "Publish Post"--first needed to think about whether or not to post it. Didn't realize I'd clicked on the wrong button. *thoroughly embarrassed*

Well, too late to pretend I didn't put this up here (though I've edited it a bit). Oh boy.... this could attract some "interesting" trolls...]

My friends would likely say this explains a lot about my high-strung personality...

Brody discovered that...people who had abstained from sex [in the previous two weeks] had the highest blood pressure response to stress.

H/T Villainous Company

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Felt the Need to Laugh

Or at least chuckle...

A man sits down at a restaurant and looks at the menu. He tells the waiter "I think I will have the turtle soup". The waiter leaves, but the man changes his mind to pea soup. He yells to the waiter "Hold the turtle, make it pea".

*****************

A young blonde was on vacation in the depths of Louisiana. She wanted a pair of genuine alligator shoes in the worst way, but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking.

After becoming very frustrated with the "no haggle" attitude of one of the shopkeepers, the blonde shouted, "Maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator so I can get a pair of shoes at a reasonable price!"

Later in the day, the shopkeeper was driving home, when he spotted the young woman standing waist deep in the water, shotgun in hand. Just then, he saw a huge 9-foot alligator swimming quickly toward her. She took aim, killed the creature, and with a great deal of effort hauled it on to the swamp bank. Lying nearby were several more of the dead creatures. The shopkeeper watched in amazement. Just then the blonde flipped the alligator on its back, and frustrated, shouts out, "Damn it, this one isn't wearing any shoes either!"

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Stein, Again: An Officer and a Gentleman Responds

The American Thinker has published a gentlemanly but powerful reply to Joel Stein, written by the Lieutenant Colonel who commanded the Task Force that captured Saddam Hussein. It is the epitome of grace, class, and quiet confidence. In part, LTC Steve Russell writes:

I take exception to Mr. Stein’s comment about soldiers ignoring their morality. And as a soldier that has served in Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq, none of those experiences ever made me feel ‘lucky.’ The noble ‘wars’ and ‘fights’ are seldom noble for the soldier. They involve pain and human suffering on a grand scale. Mr. Stein I am quite certain has never killed a man and is proud of that. I have had to kill several men in desperate, close combat while I watched my opponents facial expressions change as life ebbed out of them. I am quite certain that I am not proud of that.

Like Mr. Stein, I have never killed a man. But unlike Mr. Stein, I know those who have, both from “antiseptic” distances and in the kind of desperate close quarters the LTC describes. And I know what the experience has done to them, for better and for worse. They faced that in my stead, leaving me obligated to keep up my end of the bargain.

The LTC goes on to write:

But what separates him from me is certainly not education. Nor is it conviction of purpose. It is indeed morality. But of a nobler kind. No greater love has a man, than he lay down his life for his friends—even when they act and write unfriendly.

The nobility is not in the fighting of the war, but the reasons for which the fighting is done, the reasons for which a soldier is willing to walk right up to that line and cross over it. In the heat of the moment it is all about his brothers, but his having volunteered to be in a position that might come to that is his gift to the rest of us and the future of our country.

We talk so easily about boys going off to war and becoming men, sometimes without considering what that means. Participation in war is not required for manhood, but it confronts a man with things that require increasing maturity in order to cope successfully. And so, men of all ages come back from war different men, having crossed that line, been confronted with corners of humanity and themselves that most of us never encounter, and having found that the hardest thing is not dying for what/who you believe in, but living with a thorough knowledge of what you are and what you have seen.

Phrases such as “sacrificing himself for others,” or laments over the hardships of wartime suffered on our behalf become almost cliché after awhile, though no less appropriate. But the true gift found in the service of a warrior is never marked on the outside: it’s found in the marks on his soul when he has passed through the fire of combat with his integrity, honor and humanity intact.

Warriors who can look themselves in the mirror are those who also can see the world as it is today—complete with dangers and darkness and evil—not as we hope it to be someday in a utopic future. And seeing it clearly, they offer to stand between us and that darkness: absorbing the hits and crossing that line so that we never have to. It is a gift of the spirit, a willingness to shoulder the burden because they believe they can do it and because it allows what they love a safe space to flourish. They know that in an imperfect world war is sometimes the best of a very bad lot, and that while the killing in wartime is nothing to be proud of, the fact that they stepped up to do what had to be done is.

LTC Russell closes with:

...when I am old, I will be able to look in the mirror and know that I acted on my convictions to preserve what others will not. Cannot. Do not. And what I will see is a man with a clear conscience and a moral sense of purpose.

Reading LTC Russell’s gracious letter brought all of the above to mind again, along with the deep, deep feelings of gratitude that overwhelm me when I think of these things.

LTC Russell, I know you are only one of many deserving my gratitude and respect. However, I am honored to be the beneficiary of your self-sacrifice, made as it was with such a clear-eyed view to what was necessary and coupled with the moral courage to ensure it was done with honor. In the tradition of the finest of our warriors, your gentle humanity shines through in your quiet confidence and the generosity of spirit with which you responded to Mr. Stein’s cruel ignorance and self-importance. I gladly count myself among the blessed recipients of your gift to our country, reminded again that my end of the bargain is to be worthy of your trust—to never hold lightly such an irreplaceable gift.

That, I swear.

H/T John of Argghh!!!

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The Deeper Meaning

Others far more informed and articulate than I have fisked Stein's abhorrent piece of trash to pieces, but I wanted to point out some comments on what it may portend.

In response to Uncle Jimbo's post, commenter Jordan writes:

Although he may have just intended to jerk the military's chain, Stein's assertion that he doesn't support the troops is a signpost not to be ignored. It has, in a sense, broken the "taboo" about demeaning or insulting the troops . This taboo had been mostly respected, even by Bush-bashers, but look for this to change. Now that its been written, published and discussed in MSM, its easier and more "acceptable" for others to do the same.

Cassie takes it even further in an additional comment on her post about it:

I once read (and I believe it with all my heart) that there are certain things you should never say out loud.

Like in a marriage: you should never say, "I want a divorce" unless you mean to walk out the door. Because once those words come out of your mouth, you have crossed the Rubicon.

[snip] Sometimes the social inhibitions, even the hypocritical ones like people who secretly don't support the troops but won't say so, come from shame. But they have value, too, in that they keep the general tone reasonable.

This man feels no shame for taking cheap shots at people he isn't fit to shine the shoes of, and that frightens me. I can't help but wonder if this represents a turning of the tide. I have a lot of bad memories from growing up, of the way the military was treated. I hope I am wrong.

One thing I particularly admire about Cassie's writing is that she expertly blends intellect and intution, possessing extraordinarily powerful doses of both. I am too young to remember the anti-military attitudes surrounding Vietnam and its aftermath, but I've read enough that all of this gives me a certain unpleasant tingle at the back of my neck.

I'm asking for your thoughts... Those of you who do remember, do you see this as just isolated pockets, or is there a tide possibly beginning to turn, here? It happened before. Is it truly happening again?

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Sexy!

Heh...

I'm a Ferrari 360 Modena!

You've got it all. Power, passion, precision, and style. You're sensuous, exotic, and temperamental. Sure, you're expensive and high-maintenance, but you're worth it.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

H/T Cassandra

Update: And on a related note, I'm #7 for "sexy" on Blogger.com's search engine.

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Ask the Lioness

In a whimsical moment of weakness, I recently signed up for an interview at Basil's Blog. I'm up on the list now, so go on over there and email him your questions for me. The faster the questions accumulate, the sooner the interview will appear.

So, here's your chance to ask away. I promise to answer every question Basil includes, though the quality of the answers may vary. ;)

So, what are you waiting for? Go here, scroll down to Fuzzilicious Thinking and Fuzzybear Lioness, then ask me a question!

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Enlistment Oaths

[Welcome, Blackfive and Cold Fury readers! It's been pretty sparse around here lately, but please check out my sidebar for worthy reading, including Valour-IT (a Soldiers' Angels program providing voice-activated laptops to military personnel with hand and arm wounds)].

New to me, if not to you (courtesy of Holly Aho)...

All persons, upon entering Military Service and upon reenlistment, are required to take the Oath of Enlistment. At one time, the Oath of Enlistment was the same for all services. Due to changes in both society and the differing Military Branches, the Oath has undergone marked change and has been specifically tailored to each branch of the Military and their specific function. Here are the latest versions of the Oath of Enlistment as recently released by the Joint Chiefs of Staff:

NEW ENLISTMENT OATHS
US AIR FORCE OATH OF ENLISTMENT

"I, (State your name), swear to sign away 4 years of my life to the UNITED STATES AIR FORCE because I know I couldn't hack it in the Army, because the Marines frighten me, and because I am afraid of water over waist-deep. I swear to sit behind a desk. I also swear not to do any form of real exercise, but promise to defend our bike-riding test as a valid form of exercise. I promise to walk around calling everyone by their first name because I find it amusing to annoy the other services. I will have a better quality of life than those around me and will, at all times, be sure to make them aware of that fact. After completion of "Basic Training", I will be a lean, mean, donut-eating, Lazy-Boy sitting, civilian-wearing-blue-clothes, Chair-borne Ranger. I will believe I am superior to all others and will make an effort to clean the knife before stabbing the next person in the back. I will annoy those around me, and will go home early every day. So Help Me God!"
____________________
Signature
____________________
Date


US ARMY OATH OF ENLISTMENT

"I, (State your name), swear to sign away 4 years of my otherwise mediocre life to the UNITED STATES ARMY because I couldn't score high enough on the ASVAB to get into the Air Force, I'm not tough enough for the Marines, and the Navy won't take me because I can't swim. I will wear camouflage every day and tuck my trousers into my boots because I can't figure out how to use blousing straps. I promise to wear my uniform 24 hours a day even when I have a date. I will continue to tell myself that I am a fierce killing machine because my Drill Sergeant told me I am, despite the fact that the only action I will see is a court-martial for sexual harassment. I acknowledge the fact that I will make E-8 in my first year of service, and vow to maintain that it is because I scored perfect on my PT test. After completion of my Sexual.....er.....I mean "Basic Training," I will attend a different Army school every other month and return knowing less than I did when I left. On my first trip home after Boot Camp, I will walk around like I am cool and propose to my 9th grade sweetheart. I will make my wife stay home because if I let her out she might leave me for a better-looking Air Force guy. Should she leave me twelve times, I will continue to take her back. While at work I will maintain a look of knowledge while getting absolutely nothing accomplished. I will arrive to work every day at 1000 hrs because of morning PT and leave everyday at 1300 to report back to "COMPANY." I understand that I will undergo no training whatsoever that will help me get a job upon separation, and will end up working construction with my friends from high school. I will brag to everyone about the Army giving me $30,000 for college, but will be unable to use it because I can't pass a placement exam. So Help Me God!"
_____________________
Signature
_____________________
Date


US NAVY OATH OF ENLISTMENT

"I, Top Gun, in lieu of going to prison, swear to sign away 4 years of my life to the UNITED STATES NAVY, because I want to hang out with Marines without actually having to BE one of them, because I thought the Air Force was too "corporate," because I didn't want to actually live in dirt like the Army, and because I thought, "Hey, I like to swim...why not?" I promise to wear clothes that went out of style in 1976 and to have my name stenciled on the butt of every pair of pants I own. I understand that I will be mistaken for the Good Humor Man during summer,! and for Nazi Waffen SS during the winter. I will strive to use a different language than the rest of the English-speaking world, using words like "deck, bulkhead, cover, geedunk, scuttlebutt, scuttle and head," when I really mean "floor, wall, hat, candy, water fountain, hole in wall and toilet." I will take great pride in the fact that all Navy acronyms, rank, and insignia, and everything else for that matter, are completely different from the other services and make absolutely no sense whatsoever. I will muster, whatever that is, at 0700 every morning unless I am buddy-buddy with the Chief, in which case I will show up around 0930. I vow to hone my coffee cup-handling skills to the point that I can stand up in a kayak being tossed around in a typhoon, and still not spill a drop. I consent to being promoted and subsequently busted at least twice per fiscal year. I realize that, once selected for Chief, I am required to submit myself to the sick, and quite possibly illegal, whims of my newfound "colleagues." So Help Me Neptune!"
______________________
Signature
______________________
Date


US MARINE CORPS OATH OF ENLISTMENT

"I, (pick a name the police won't recognize), swear..uhhhh....high-and-tight.... grunt... cammies....kill....fix bayonets....charge....slash....dig....burn.... blowup....ugh...Air Force women....beer.....sailors wives.....air strikes....yes SIR!....whiskey....liberty call....salute....Ooorah Gunny....grenades...women.... OORAH! So Help Me Chesty PULLER!"
X____________________
Thumb Print
XX _________________________________
Teeth Marks
_____________________
Date

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The Life of a Teacher

Bad: Watching the cold eyes of the 5-year-old you know is going to end up on the front pages by age eleven--and not for good reasons.

Good: Absent-mindedly telling the Kindergarteners to line up before you stand up from your position on the floor in a circle with them, thus affording them the opportunity to spontaneously suffocate you with a gang-tackle of giggling hugs as they tell you how much they love you.

Questionable: Watching your glasses fog up from the breath of the nineteen five-year-old germ factories who are gang tackling you with hugs and touching every inch of your exposed skin with hands they haven't washed since that cursory splash of water before lunch.

Necessary: Prayer, patience, and a magical germ shield.

Just another day on the job...

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Weak Tea

Sorry for the low-quality and self-absorbed focus of the content lately. Personal and professional life is a bit of a challenge at the moment, and it's not leaving many brain cells unengaged.

Please bear with me; I'll try to have something worth reading before the weekend is out. :)

Update: Please send prayers, good vibes, etc., my direction. Today (Friday) and Monday mark a time of intense professional evaluation for me, with an eye towards how well I corrected some serious deficiencies from a few months ago.

Update II: Only about 40% done, but the classroom observation portion is over (I was observed while actively teaching and given instant evaluation). I just had to brag: although direct/whole-group instruction is already considered my strong suit, I've still shown improvement. We are evaluated on a scale of four levels of "effectiveness" as a teacher (there's a range within each level), and I am in the top level for the first time! But now comes the bigger stuff, where I'm not nearly as skilled or confident. I still have a lot to do to show that I'm on top of things in those areas...

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The Marine Way

Just received the following from the father of a young NCO Marine who's been deployed three times since 2001, and will be home from his deployment to one of the worst parts of Iraq in a matter of days.

[My son] was denied his request to give up his seat to a buddy Marine whose wife had a little one while they were away. His BN CO responded to the request in this manner: "WTF, Smith. Are you nuts, son? You haven't rotated but twice in 6 1/2 months, you look like hell, and you smell like sh*t! You are going home son. Well done, Marine!" [...] So, he's coming in Sunday with the Advance Team.

Yup. Well done. Gotta love those Marines... for so many reasons.

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An Angel Among Us

What you see below is the face of an angel disguised is a human being. I'm sure many people have heard of Soldiers' Angels. But did you know the person behind the scenes? Patti Patton-Bader is a granddaughter of the famous General George S. Patton, but she is a force of nature in her own right. Recently, the Department Of The Army Awarded her the Civilian Award for Humanitarian Service for her service to the military and the country as founder of Soldiers' Angels. Blackfive has posted the official language of the award.


In three years Patti transformed Soldiers' Angels from a small project supporting her deployed son's fellow soldiers into an IRS-certified charity of tens of thousands of volunteers with a global reach. It now supports deployed/wounded military personnel and their families in myriad ways: from providing clothing for new babies, to blankets for the wounded, to care packages, letters, voice-controlled laptops, free airlines tickets for personnel on leave, and so much more. She's always said, "We see a need, fill a need."

And all this while facing her own personal challenges that would cow a lesser spirit. It's wonderful to see her get the credit and attention she deserves.

I had no contacts with Soldiers' Angels when I pitched my idea for Valour-IT to Patti. She jumped on it, became the project advisor, and did most of the hard work of developing contacts and distributing the laptops to the appropriate people/locations (she recently handed off her role to another person in the Soldiers' Angels leadership). I am deeply honored to have had the opportunity to work with her. I am near tears as I write this. She's truly amazing: an angel among us.

Update: I spoke to Patti this afternoon and she was mortified to see all the online attention she was getting. She said that the award was not for her alone, that she sees it as a testament to the devotion and generosity of the entire Soldiers' Angels Foundation and the tens of thousands of volunteers it encompasses. She directed me to the following on her personal page at the Soldiers' Angels website:

Congratulations Angels
Thank you for your ongoing efforts in providing support to our soldiers! This Award was made possible due to your hard work, your sacrifices and commitment.

She goes on to quote from the proclamation for the award:

In recognition to all the members and sponsors of the Soldiers' Angels Foundation, the Department of the Army awards Soldiers' Angels founder, Patti Bader, with the Civilian Award for Humanitarian Service.

I'll not deny that it's the thousands of angels around the world that make Soldiers' Angels the amazing organization that it is, but Patti is the glue that holds it together. Her optimism, passion, strength of will, and faith in her fellow human beings are what makes it all work. She has been, without a doubt, the heart of Soldiers' Angels.

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A Bit O' Fluff

Yeah, this blog has been awfully light on quality content lately. I guess I'm just subconsciously trying to fly under the trolls' radar screens or something. But I promise to do better, soon. Later this week I will write up Part 2 of my Arlington report, and then tie up the loose ends of the rest of the DC Travelogue.

In the meantime I have to share the following.

I was talking to a male friend last night who offered this bit of wisdom about men: "Of course guys like to kiss, but it's a gateway drug."

Left me laughing so hard I cried! Okay, maybe that was just 'cause it was late at night when I heard it...

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It's All in My Head

As you know if you're a regular reader, I'm new to cycling and I've been challenged to a 25-mile ride. Now, 25 miles sounds simple, except for the fact that one is lucky to find a mere two or three miles of mostly-flat road anywhere near this town. So, 25 miles means a lot of miles uphill.

So far in my rides I've stuck to circular tracks and places with very small and slight inclines. But yesterday I finally tackled some real hills. It wasn't quite as hard as I expected, but neither was it much fun. However, I learned some important things about myself and how the mind and body work together.

The route I chose included the first section of the likely course for the 25-mile ride, which is basically nothing but uphill for the first four miles. In the opening miles I hit some spots where I thought I wasn't going to make it. I wasn't dizzy or over-exerted. It was just so hard that I couldn't imagine going the full 4 uphill miles I had planned. And when I thought of the day I would do 21 more miles of up and down after that, I grew so discouraged that I wanted to stop. But I'm nothing if not stubborn, and so I kept going, sometimes at speeds slower than any I'd ever experienced. I set goals for myself: get just to that next cross-street, now the curve in the road, don't downshift until it gets steeper, etc.

As I agonizingly kept my legs pumping, I began to notice a pattern. Everytime I felt discouraged and thought of how I'd never be able to do 25 miles and how surely my riding partner would run circles around me, my legs burned worse and the bike got slower. And if I got irritated with myself for thinking that way and either thought "happy thoughts" or reminded myself of how much I'd improved and that I wasn't going to quit, suddenly my legs felt better and I literally had a small surge of strength.

I also noticed that if I let my mind wander too much, I would start to lose technique and either let the pedals go even slower or start doing things like sitting up too high in the seat. These and related things made it even harder, of course.

It all reminded me of the tremendous power of the mind: it really is mind over matter. I've already known from personal experience that when you're feeling down you have to sometimes consciously avoid certain thought patterns because they will push you "over the cliff" into even more depressive feelings. And as my experiences at the VA reminded me, a disciplined mind can often (though not always) choose when to allow and respond to overwhelming emotion, and when not to.

I've pushed through physical distress before--I mean, what was the week of the flu and dizziness leading up to the Christmas Program if not mind over matter? But I've never seen it so clearly illustrated as I did when I discovered how much more energy and effectiveness I had when I carefully directed my thoughts on that hill.

All of this came together in my consciousness in the middle of the ride. So, for the last half I worked on maintaining focus, and refused to allow negative thoughts any quarter. Although I grew increasingly tired, I surprised myself with my ability to keep griding my way up that hill. I wanted to go further after that, just to see how far I could push myself, but there was a steep downhill section in front of me, so I was afraid that I would get myself too far out there and then not have the strength to get back (this being my first ride in hills like that, I doubted my ability to judge my ultimate endurance). But I'm very excited to see how having the right focus and attitude from the beginning can help me next time.

Yeah, nothing original here, nothing most of my readers don't already know firsthand. But I'm feeling pretty good about stretching myself like this. And the great thing is that it builds over-all confidence that translates into other areas of my life. And then there's that wonderful physical high when it's all over and done with...

Yup, I'm definitely hooked on this. Damn you, Lex and Michael! ;)

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Morning Moon

I guess I'm on some kind of picture-taking jag lately. This one was taken at 8:00 this morning from my patio, looking to the right (west and a bit north). I wish I had a telephoto on this ancient camera, but this is the best I could do. It's actually much closer than it looks:


I just thought the full moon and sunrise tints reflected on the western mountains this morning were interesting. On Friday morning as I drove to work, the moon was hanging just over the top of the top of the mountain, as huge as can be. Jaw-dropping gorgeous.

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A Question

Could somebody please explain to me why, of the three blogs Arkin listed in his post on the Army blog PR effort, I'm the one all the fringe sites are linking to and holding up as an example of what they erroneously describe as "the Army hiring pro-war bloggers?"

Of those three, I'm the one with the smallest readership (by thousands!) and the least amount of politically-oriented content. Yet somehow I'm worthy of being linked on conspiracy sites, leftist political sites, and sites that monitor media?

If you're visiting from one of those sites, please go away. There's nothing here that will help you prove your theories about the Army PR program. Go pick on somebody who actually has an impact on the blogosphere.

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What do the Pros Think?

A PR professional's take on the Army's blog PR effort...

He includes some background on Hass MS&L (the PR company the Army hired), and his commenters also appear to be in the PR business. Interesting stuff.

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My Inner Music Slut

What is it about music from a certain time in our lives that reaches out and grabs us, whether or not we ever cared particiularly for that specific song, artist, or style?

I was driving around during lunchtime today and there was nothing on the radio. I hit the search button, cruising around the FM dial. I must've stopped it at some point, but I don't remember doing so, don't remember something catching my ear. I only suddenly realized that I'd been listening to half a song without it consciously registering in my ears or mind. But it spoke to my soul.

It was a pathetic late 80s/early 90s ballad full of shimmering synthesizers and gawd-awful lyrics about dying for love or lack thereof, etc. And suddenly I was right back there in those years. I knew the song because it had been a huge hit, but I had never specifically sought out the artist or his work (then or since). But somehow it was "my" music, the soundtrack to my life... gawd-awful, cheesy and immature as the entire song was in all respects, something primal in me resonated with that collection of sounds.

And the professional classical musician in me cowered in the corner, softly crying and muttering about betrayal...

Well, I guess I can soothe my inner snob with the fact that Chopin's Nocturnes and J.S. Bach's Fugues still leave me breathless.

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Heroes?

Subsunk wrote a post at Blackfive that inspired an interesting discussion about what a hero really is. In comments, he responded to a sevicemember who was uncomfortable with being called a hero:

Duty is the noblest word in the English language. And Heroes or heroes (large or small H) are defined by their devotion to duty, and their dedication to their country, in a fashion not demonstrated by the average civilian...Allow us the small thrill of shaking your hand, hugging you for your service, and paying for a meal now and then. It...helps us feel good that you are once again in the revered position which your service has always deserved. And always will.

The discussion and Subsunk's comment inspired the following in me (originally posted in comments at Blackfive). I'm interested to hear what thoughts readers over here may have on the subject:

Well said, Subsunk (as usual).

I'll only add that when I recently visited the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington Cemetery, I was reminded of a few things that may relate to this discussion:

Will standing there, I thought about how we know nothing about the circumstances of the deaths of those that memorial commemorates other than that they were soldiers, and so if they died on the field of battle they were in the middle of carrying out their duties. And part of the reason we honor them is simply because of that: "they served," and "they did their duty," even though we don't know their stories.

All those who fight bravely in wartime are at the very least doing their duty, whether they ultimately fall or live to fight another day. I'll not deny that the icons of warfare are used as political toys at times. But I think that this doing of their duty is why modest sorts such as Bram are earnestly hailed as heroes by us civilians--because they have honorably done their duty under the most difficult of circumstances, and because not all of us are convinced we could do the same.

I often hear vets say that the difference between coming home alive and dead is more luck than anything else. We call the fallen our heroes, so should we consider those who return home safe any less heroic simply because they were luckier?

One of the definitions of hero is, "A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life." Joining the military and taking an oath that involves places oneself under the control and use of your country as it sees fit is rather noble. And keeping one's wits on the battlefield and fighting effectively is pretty courageous. Sounds awfully heroic to me...

I'll agree to degrees of heroism--with people like Rafael Peralta at the top, but you're all still heroic in my eyes for your willingness to volunteer, tough it out through training, and ultimately face the darkness of war up close and personal if it comes to that. And because you do those things, I will thankfully never have that "up close and personal" experience for myself. Those who give me that gift are certainly noble and courageous in my book, and I'm certainly grateful beyond words.

****************

So dear readers, what do you think? Is military service, especially in time of war, properly called heroic in and of itself? It that appropriate in light of those who sacrifice their lives for others in Medal of Honor kinds of situations, such as in the case of Rafael Peralta, who fell on a grenade to save his brothers?

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CPT Ziegenfuss Update

CPT Chuck Ziegenfuss, the inspiration and co-creator of Valour-IT is back at Walter Reed for what we all hope will be his final surgery. If all goes well, this surgery will give him at least partial feeling and use of his left hand. Surgery began this morning. Keep him in your thoughts and prayers, and look for an update from Carren later today.

Update: I called Carren's cell phone this afternoon and Chuck answered! He said the surgery went as expected and they'll be able to judge how successful it might be in a few more days. He sounded very alert and energized, but conversation quickly revealed that he was still a little groggy. As he rather cheerfully said, "I'm awake, but that's about it!" Yup. After talking to him, I'd have to agree. But he sounded good, and it seems everything went well.

Carren's Update

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Washington Post Readers

Welcome, Washington Post readers! My post about the Army Blog PR push is here. I strongly dispute many of Mr. Arkin's characterizations, and will share my thoughts on it ASAP [Update: my response here].

In the meantime, feel free to look around. Please check out Soldiers' Angels Project Valour-IT, a charity project providing voice-controlled laptops to soldiers with arm and hand injuries (links on the right). Directly below that are two more sets of links you may find worthwhile: Valour-IT posts, and a "Notable Posts" collection.

Thanks for dropping by!

A friendly note to PR firms, CENTCOM, SOUTHCOM, Pentagon, DoD, and any other "biggies" who are "Googling" me: I am a small, no-name blogger who should never have been mentioned in Mr. Arkins' blog alongside people like Blackfive and Donald Sensing. Though I have some A-list contacts among blogs and milblogs, I have very little reach or impact on issues. However, I welcome your visit and encourage you to take a look around if you're so inclined.

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"Bought by the Army"

My response to William M. Arkin of the Washington Post...

I am a very amateur blogger who got talked into blogging by her friends, and whose only claim to fame is my leadership role in the Valour-IT program (and perhaps the luck of being friendly with a few heavyweight milbloggers).

Although I’ve strayed at times, I’ve been hesitant to be too “political” in this space because I wasn’t sure I wanted to get down and roll in the mud. I still don’t want to, but I am both offended and disgusted by Mr. Arkin’s implication that any of us who participate in the Army Blog PR effort will be willing conduits of oily and misleading propaganda (in the negative sense of the word). I am a total civilian, but more educated in military matters than many reporters I’ve read, and at any point my knowledge may be lacking I have plenty of very knowledgeable and experienced people to advise me. And I plan on using those sources to help me distinguish fact from fiction and misleading propaganda from truth if I end up participating in this program. As far as being some kind of willing arm of the government leadership at the expense of the truth or the wellbeing of our troops on the ground, I don’t have the words for how low I would have to sink in my own esteem to do that!

Much like Blackfive and John Donovan, I’m interested in the possibilities of this program, but a bit unsure of its value. I was initially puzzled by the email, and phrases like “exclusive editorial content” sound strange to me. I sent HS&L Hass MS&L a warm response to their email and I’m still awaiting clarification of what is being offered, but I am under zero obligation to write about or reproduce anything HS&L Hass MS&L may send my way (as Mr. Kondek made clear in his initial email, reproduced here).

And as far as Mr. Arkin’s statement that there is plenty of good news coming out of Iraq:

My second answer is to dispute the proposition. Plenty of "good news" stories come out of Iraq. The reconstruction and election and Iraqi police and military recruiting and bravery story has been told. In fact, one could argue that there is so much good news and progress, the President is measuring it to see when enough good news accumulates so that he can start withdrawing U.S. military forces in earnest.

I’m waving the BS flag here, big-time! In all honesty, I wonder what news sources Mr. Arkin is familiar with. The view of Iraq we receive from major news sources—from the networks to cable news to newspapers—is rarely more than body counts, explosions and opinion pieces masquerading as news. So, one must wonder what Mr. Arkin’s definition of “plenty” is. Is it “just enough good news that the person paying close attention will have a hint that things are going well in Iraq, but not enough that it might make the President look like he is both correct and of honorable intentions concerning Iraq?” I’m honestly puzzled by Mr. Arkin’s opinion here. I’d contest the idea that there is enough good news in the major media for the close viewer/reader to come to a positive opinion about Iraq. The soldiers who came back from Iraq (from the lowest grunt up through the command structure) constantly express their amazement at the way news coverage they see stateside fails to reflect the "reality on the ground." They say they feel that they are watching/reading about a different country than the one from which they just returned (see James Eadie's letter for one example).

And furthermore, the idea that the news being reported out of Iraq is so good (which it isn’t) that the president is looking at something other than military concerns (i.e. mounting “good news”) in his planning is nothing more than an ideologically-colored opinion, based only in his personal belief that the president (despite the president’s oft-repeated claims otherwise and the troops’ belief widespread belief in those claims) views Iraq through simply a political lens without military-strategic concerns. On what statements of the president or his closest advisors is Mr. Arkin basing this opinion?

You know, part of the reason I never wanted to really deal with politics here was because I was tired of fighting what feels like a losing battle. I mean, who am I to take on such a noble personage as Mr. Arkin, installed as he is on the payroll of the great and respectable Washington Post? What I have to say to on this subject is like spitting into the wind.

John Donovan says it better than I ever could:

Yeah, we support the troops. And the war. And we have our snarks about it, too. The point Mr. Arkin is missing is that there is an available relentless drumbeat of negative news, often reported by people with no context (i.e., journos with minimal understanding of things military) - one thing we do is explain what doesn't seem to make sense, and ask WTF when it *doesn't* make sense.

I’ll only add one thing to John's declaration: current and former military members and the people associated with them have the most finely-tuned BS detectors of any group of people I’ve ever met. They are the LAST people to get sucked into erroneous or rah-rah propaganda put out by military leadership.

If you want to think me an arm of questionable government propaganda, go right ahead. I don’t live in the news world and I don’t have a national image or presence to defend. I’m just a humble, largely-anonymous teacher from Arizona who thought I’d try out this blogging thing, immediately got sucked up into Valour-IT, and now feels like she has to keep blogging to keep a voice for Valour-IT. You want to call me a lackey for the government? Fine. That just shows you don’t know me, my values, my deep sense of honor and ethics, or anything else about me. Yeah, I’m taking this personally. But I take the people around the world fighting and dying in my place pretty personally, too.

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The Cathey Family Lives On

I'm sure most of the readers here will remember the heart-rending article about Major Steve Beck, a Marine casualty assistance officer. One of the families he worked with was that of Marine 2nd Lieutenant Jim Cathey. Lt. Cathey and his wife Katherine had been married less than a year earlier, in a civil ceremony. They planned an elaborate wedding when he returned. A wedding dress still hangs in her closet:

She placed the picture at the top of the casket, above the neck of the uniform. She bent down and pressed her lips to it.

"I'm always kissing you, baby," she whispered.

She took several other photos of their lives together and placed them around the uniform. She gently added a bottle of her perfume, then picked up the dried, fragile flowers of her wedding bouquet. She placed the flowers alongside the uniform, then turned again to the major.

"The ultrasound," she said.

The fuzzy image was taken two days after her husband's death. [snip] She stood cradling the ultrasound, then moved forward and placed it on the pillow at the head of the casket.

Their baby arrived as an early Christmas present to the heartbroken young widow. As Katherine says, "We brought a child into this world. He's a miracle and he'll be something that will bring joy to my life for the rest of my life."

H/T Jarhead Dad

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War and the Soul

The following is from a comment BillT left on his post about CW2 Hugh Thompson (if you haven't read that post.... do it now. I mean it!):

War takes a rasp to the veneer of civilization which covers a man and scrapes until the solid metal which forms his soul is exposed. Most soldiers are iron or steel, a few--very few--are base metal. And some are solid gold. They adhere to their values through the absolute worst that gets thrown their way and their souls survive untarnished...

That's gotta be one of the most eloquent things I've read on the subject.

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Just Had to Brag...

[Updates below]

Last time I went biking (Friday) I did 7.9 miles in 40 minutes, and I felt like I hadn't been pushing myself hard enough.

So this afternoon I pushed myself and rode 11.1 miles on a mildly hilly road in 34 minutes. Now I know you cyclists out there are unimpressed, but I had no idea I could do that! I kept double checking the numbers on my computerized odometer, 'cause that means I averaged about 20 mph. Whoa! Of course now I'd much rather go to sleep than write lesson plans for school tomorrow...

*snore*

Update: I knew that had to be too good to be true. And just as I crawled into bed, I figured out what had happened. When I set the time on my odometer (a Christmas gift) I was in San Diego, which is in the Pacific Time Zone. Arizona doesn't do the time change thing and is currently the same as Mountain Time Zone (one hour ahead of San Diego). Thus my odometer time is one hour earlier than local time. So... I checked the clock in the car before I started my ride: 4 o'clock exactly. I checked the time on the odometer after my ride: 4:34.

Now you'd think that I would notice I'd spent more than just half an hour on the road... but you'd be wrong. I daydream and am easily distractable. I lose total track of time on a not infrequent basis.

So, it was actually 11.1 miles in 94 minutes, which is an average spead of about 10 mph. Sigh. Of course only 6.4 of those miles were at an aerobic speed. The rest of it was cooldown at whatever pace I felt like moving.

Ah, well. If you haven't already been introduced: welcome to my airhead world (no, I'm a brunette).

Update II: Now wait just a minute... This morning I remembered that after my bike ride I spent about 15 minutes in my car, looking for a good place to ride next time. Then I went to the hardware store to get a little bolt I needed fro my bike, just before it closed at 5:00. In fact, they were locking the door as I left. So, I was right! I did go 11.1 miles in 34 minutes!! That's what I get for trying to think and blog as I'm crawling into bed and falling asleep...

Didn't I mention something about being an airhead?

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I'm Being Recruited by the Army?!

[Two big points: 1) The only people being paid in this are the employees of the PR firm that is contacting bloggers. Bloggers are being offered no compensation of any kind for participating! 2) I am not a milblog and I have no idea why I was contacted when I usually get under 100 hits as day. Go read Blackfive or Sensing if you want to see "pro-war" blogs contacted by the PR firm who have actual impact and visibility in the blogosphere.]

Blackfive and Donald Sensing have "gone public" with an offer they've received to participate in a public relations/information program of the U.S. Army.

I also received that offer, much to my surprise. In fact, I couldn't imagine why I would be on the radar screen of such a program, so I figured it was a scam. But I checked with a big milblogger who said that he knew several who had received it and it checked out as legit. Here's the email I received:

Hi, Lioness. I’m writing from a PR firm on behalf of the U.S. Army. We’re contacting a few bloggers to test a new outlet for public information. The Army believes that military blogs are a valuable medium for reaching out to soldiers. To that end, the Army plans to offer you and selected bloggers exclusive editorial content on a few issues you’re likely to be interested in. If you do decide you are interested in receiving this material, whether you choose to write about what we send you is, of course, entirely up to you.

Like I said, we’re only contacting a handful of bloggers at this time. If you are interested, please let me know, and we’ll send you further information as it becomes available. Either way, thanks for your time.
________________
Charlie Kondek
Account Executive
Web Producer
Hass MS&L

This morning I replied to Mr. Kondek and asked for more information about the program. I'm still not sure what to think of it, but at this point I'm following Blackfive and Sensing's lead.

As to explaining how I appeared on their list of prospective bloggers for this program, I'm largely at a loss. I'm not on any milblog list, and I certainly have a "modest" size readership. Perhaps they found Valour-IT and traced it back to here? The milblogger I first consulted about this suggested I should consider it quite the compliment. We'll see, I guess...

I'm certainly interested to learn what other bloggers have received this offer...

Update: Instapundit apparently approves. H/T John Donovan.

Update II: This has apparently developed into quite the tempest in a teapot.

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My Backyard

This was part of the view from my patio this evening, looking left ...

Oh, and by the way... the high today was 71 degrees.

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Travelogue III: Arlington

Travelogue I
Travelogue II

(from www.thecemetaryproject.com)
After the intensity of the visit to the VA Hospital, I found I didn't particularly want to talk to or associate with anyone; it took too much mental and emotional energy to interact. I felt a strong desire to visit Arlington National Cemetery. Alone.

Strange that I would seek what many see as an overwhelming emotional experience (a visit to Arlington) after my first day's intensities, but somehow part of me seemed to know its peaceful and contemplative aspects were just what I needed. The pull was so strong. As I emailed to a friend after the day with the VA:

Too much to talk about right now. I still have a lot to sort through mentally--from the wounded vets I met, to their families, to the conversations with the men of MOPH that accompanied us... just a lot... I think that's part of why I just want to do some sight-seeing [in DC] tomorrow: spend some quiet time thinking about and honoring the people on whose sacrifice this country has been built.

Having lived on the Delmarva (DE, MD, VA) peninsula for 8 years as a child, I may have visited Arlington as a youngster, but I certainly didn't understand it, and I have only hints of a memory of it--perhaps we only rode the bus through it? Yet somehow I knew that was where I needed to be.

And I was right. I did find some perspective and a bit of peace.

I took the Metro to Arlington, which meant a transfer at the Pentagon (which was an experience all its own). There was a bitterly cold wind, and by the time I walked from the Arlington station up to the visitor's center, my legs were numb. I longed to just wander the grounds, but the bitter cold convinced me to pay for the tour bus.

I got off the bus and walked along the road while the rest of the people went to the Kennedy memorial. I wasn't interested in seeing the tomb of any famous person, or seeing the near-worshipful reactions I expected of many at President Kennedy's memorial. I'd come to try to understand all the everyday sacrifices that had been made for our country, made by people who had quietly and anonymously done their jobs.

I walked along the road, reading headstones as I waited for the bus to continue. From the birth and death dates I could deduce whether they'd died in battle and in which war(s) they'd likely fought. But that wasn't enough information for me. Gazing at thousands of headstones spread on those hills, I realized how many people had nobly served, but whose stories we didn't know. What did they do in the war? How did they die, if on the battlefield? Did they have a long and happy life after the war, or did their experiences leave them so changed they struggled to return? What of the wives buried next to them, the women who kept the homefires burning? So many stories I would never know, yet I could stand there living the life I do because of what they had collectively done.

People whom nobody but those who loved them knew about... In my heart they somehow felt connected to the heroic patients at the VA hospital, people whose names and stories would likely never be known outside their family and caregivers. It somehow seemed wrong.

In the middle of these reveries, I suddenly noticed the back of a headstone that was quite unique. It was a simple marker like its neighbors, but the inscription stood out. All the other headstones included simply an ID number or a last name on the back. But this one was different: "Orwat, Fighter Pilot." I chuckled to myself, imagining that a young man had gone off to war full of a fighter pilot's bravado and pride, leaving instructions for his headstone if he didn't return.

I walked past the marker so I could turn and see the front. Much to my surprise, it was no swaggering youngster buried there. Major General Norman S. Orwat of the U.S. Air Force, fighter pilot of WWII, lived a long and productive life, ending his military career as a Deputy Director under the Joint Chiefs of Staff. But, once a pilot, always a pilot, of course... I returned to the bus, smiling.

The next stop was the Tomb of the Unknowns. The historian in me has always been fascinated by it, and I'd watched enough documentaries to know what I would be seeing. But I was in for a special treat: the Changing of the Guard ceremony was conducted by the commander featured in the wonderful documentary, Arlington: Field of Honor. The two soldiers who stood guard during the time I was there seemed to do an impeccable job, but the guy in the photo on the left (from the official website) was in a league of his own. The gravity, discipline, and precision with which he moved was amazing, and force of his presence and bearing was stronger than possibly anyone I've ever encountered.

There was some kind of construction nearby and so the air in that solemn place was often filled with the crashing and groans of heavy equipment. At first I was disappointed, but then I realized that it fit. In the presence of death, the world still went on around us, everyday life was being lived... for the sacrifices we were commemorating had helped to make that living possible.

I watched the ceremony from a corner of the balcony, alongside a man of obvious military bearing. We both stayed in our positions for awhile after the ceremony was over and most people had gone. It seemed we shared an unspoken companionship as we glanced occasionally at each other, and I wondered if he was thinking along the lines I was. My mind was filled with consideration of what made this memorial site so special and powerful and worthwhile, why the sentinels were so careful and precise. I think that in part it is because this devotion to impeccable ritual and perfectionistic self-discipline is a gift to those who have fallen... to those whom we cannot honor by reading their names or telling their stories to our children. So we selected this beautiful spot overlooking our nation's capital city and offer a representative piece of ourselves, sentinels of total devotion who will ensure that though they are "known but to God," we do know of their sacrifice, we are grateful for it, and we will always remember.

I was suddenly filled with gratitude for the sentinels who help remind us that among our honored fallen there are no small sacrifices, that each gave all they had. Though their stories were lost, we do know one thing about each Unknown: "he did his duty." And for that he is worthy of honor. I walked down the stairs toward the ropeline that would allow me the closest face-to-face encounter with the sentinel. When he came to the end of his walk and before he made his about-face, I couldn't help but make a small nod of my head and mouth the words, "Thank you." I don't know if I crossed his field of vision or not, but it just seemed important to do.

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I'm Important!

Enter "important" in the Yahoo! search engine, and Fuzzilicious Thinking comes up as number seven!

Bet ya'll didn't know you knew a star... ;)

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Thought for the Day

Actually, two...

1. One's instincts about people are often worth listening to.

2. Those who conduct themselves with honor and integrity will attract friends who do the same (and vice versa, unfortunately. As will those who conduct themselves without honor and integrity).

[There, that better, BillT?]

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CPT James Eadie Reports Again

Blackfive introduced us to Captain James Eadie, an Air Force physician, via an email he received in which the captain described a Marine corporal's heroic efforts to save his squad from severe injury or death by tossing away a live grenade.

Here is another example of CPT Eadie's reports of the heroism he encounters on a daily basis in Iraq...

I focused on one soldier who was the most severely injured. His face, arms and legs were severely burned. His gloves were welded to his fingers by the heat, though he remained conscious and able to talk.

His concern was for his men.

As the captain soon discovered, this soldier had done more than just show concern for his men. The rest of the story is here. Bring your tissues...

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Bike Journal

For those who may be interested (though I can't imagine why), I have set up an link to my bike journal in the sidebar. It's directly under the "Archives" section. If anyone has suggestions for making it more interesting or useful, please let me know.

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Bicycle Help?

As my normal sources of cycling info are rather busy, anybody out there who can help me with the following?

Until recently, I hadn't ridden a bike since I was a teen, and then it was usually at a rather leisurely pace. But now I'm back on a bike, and using it for a more serious workout. However, I'm finding that things like technique seem to matter a lot more than they did as a kid.

So, I'm begining to focus on making a very smooth pedaling motion that uses both legs equally (I think I rely on my left more), and I'm trying to figure out the right posture. To this end I've been doing some reading, but it's all very expert-oriented, and references only roadbikes. It's hard for me to understand, and I'm not sure how much of it applies to my more offroad-style bike. I'm also getting numbness on the 3rd and 4th fingers of my left hand after only about 15 minutes on the bike (no matter which bike I ride), and I can't seem to shift without slipping gears.

Any advice?

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How to Operate a Helicopter Mechanic

HomeFrontSix (wife of an Army Chinook mechanic) points us to some advice for new helicopter pilots who may struggle with the pilot-mechanic relationship:

Helicopter pilots and mechanics have a strange relationship. It's a symbiotic partnership because one's job depends on the other, but it's an adversary situation too, since one's job is to provide the helicopter with loving care, and the other's is to provide wear and tear. Pilots will probably always regard mechanics as lazy, lecherous, intemperate swine who couldn't make it through flight school, and mechanics will always be convinced that pilots are petulant children with pathological ego problems, a big watch, and a little whatchamacallit.

Ha! Sounds like it could apply to the world of fixed-wing aviation, too...

Read it all here, and be sure check out the comments at HFS's site.

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A Sea Story

As long as were on the subject of aircraft carriers, here's a story I just re-discovered...

It's the real thing. As the original poster (a naval aviator himself) says, "Here is the story as told from the pilot's perspective in an e-mail to his buddies ashore. It is a jaw-dropper. This guy needs a wheelbarrow just to get out to his jet..."

Just prior to the end of the stroke [of the catapult launching the jet off the ship] there's a huge flash and a simultaneous boom! and my world is in turmoil. My little pink body is doing 145 knots or so and is 100 feet above the Black Pacific. And there it stays - except for the airspeed, which decreases to 140 knots. The throttles aren't going any farther forward despite my Schwarzzenegerian efforts to make them do so.

From out of the ether I hear a voice say one word: "Jettison." Roger that! A nanosecond later, my two drops and single MER - about 4500 pounds in all - are Black Pacific bound. The airplane leapt up a bit, but not enough.

I'm now about a mile in front of the boat at 160 feet and fluctuating from 135 to 140 knots. The next command out of the ether is another one-worder: "Eject!" I'm still flying so I respond, "Not yet, I've still got it.

The rest of it is here. It's amazing!

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My Navy Day, pt. 2

After lunch with Lex, I was supposed to meet Sean (Doc in the Box) and his wife Heather at the MIDWAY Museum at 2:00. In consonance with the rest of my day, I arrived (after accidentally "taking the long way"), found a parking space, got change for the parking machine, and got in the door about 2:45 (so sorry, guys!). Even worse, Heather wasn't feeling well and they had to leave early. I felt so bad about leaving them waiting for me! It would've been so nice to just sit down and hang out with them (as Sean lamented), since in wandering around the museum we tended to not talk much, just take in and comment on the sights. But the companionship was great, and the museum itself was wonderful (probably why I kept paying attention to it, instead of being more friendly and sociable with Sean and Heather).

U.S.S MIDWAY served from 1945 (end of WWII) through the Gulf War of 1991, making it the longest-serving ship in U.S. Navy history. It was called "Magical MIDWAY" in reference to having a crew that consistently accomplished the impossible.

With no waist catapults (the ones in the landing area, angled outboard) the flight deck crew had to do a full re-spot of all the aircraft from the preceding recovery prior to the next launch. On a NIMITZ class (with a much bigger flight deck), this could take 2 hours. MIDWAY's crew could somehow do it in less than 45 minutes. This flexibility coined the expression "MIDWAY Magic," and it became a part of her legend as a fighting ship:

For the MIDWAY crew, the difficult was easy, and the impossible merely took a little longer.

Sean took a lot of great pictures that I hope he will post soon. Here are a couple of mine (click for full-size):

This model is one of the most fascinating things I saw on the tour. It was the scale model for the ship's developers/builders, and MIDWAY was built to it with very few adjustments/changes. Notice the contents of the hangar deck.

Upon seeing the Engine Room, I instantly understood where the creators of the original Star Trek had gotten their inspiration for the Starship Enterprise Bridge and Engineering. From the seats at the station to the wall of dials, it looked startingly familiar.

This is a view from the catwalk that leads to the bridge, looking down at the flight deck, towards the stern of the ship. If you look very closely, you can see the stern, under the the protrusion on the left (the Air Boss's "office"). In presentations that were given about plane landings, the presenters (former naval aviators) used that light, square building to the right as an example of what position they would be in relative to the ship as they began their 180 degree turn to the left and lined up for a daytime landing.

This is Ordnance Control, the tracking center for any activity on the ship involving moving around ordnance. My mind boggled at the complexity of apparently tracking it all by hand on a large chalkboard during combat flight operations.

And finally, here's a little puzzler for the non-aviator types out there. The sign just really tickled my funnybone. But the question is, what is it attached to?

Thanks to having read Lex's captivating and powerful descriptions of naval flight and life aboard a carrier, I largely saw the ship through the eyes of naval aviation. I think that made the tour ten times more interesting than otherwise, as I found there were things I already knew that went far beyond the basic museum explanations and gave me a deeper appreciation of what I was seeing.

The tour is worth every penny of admission, and I enjoyed myself immensely (it has lots of interactive exhibits, and I got to sit in a jet cockpit!). But something nagged at me: it was so quiet. I longed to know what the catapults sounded like from the deck underneath them, what the rumble under one's feet on the various decks must've been like at times, what the squawking intercom sounded like... I longed to see and hear sailors rushing around in ordered chaos on the flight deck as jets screamed in and out at regular intervals... It all just seemed so sterile now, so lifeless. The signal lights for the landing aircraft were removed, there were no catapults to see, there was no hum of engines or any of the other sounds Lex has described on his blog. There was no life. Just an Old Girl at rest, which I suppose is as it should be. Still, as interesting as it all was, I felt like I was seeing a ghost. And that made me rather wistful.

MIDWAY, as she once was...

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The Bicycle

No, this isn't my New Year's Resolution. It's the result of the suggestions, motivation and expertise of both Lex and Michael last Fall (thank you for your support and advice... and damn you both for getting me hopelessly hooked on the sport! *grin*).


I actually started riding a friend's bike back in November during the few days I was healthy enough, while I searched for a very affordable (read: cheap) bike of my own. I found one! It was so new when I bought it that the tire seams weren't even worn, but it'd been in an Arizona garage for about 5 years and needed a little bike-shop TLC. After weeks of waiting for parts to arrive, I got it out of the shop on Christmas Eve. Yippee!

Now that the broken front brake spring has been replaced and everything has been carefully calibrated, and I've got my health back and my computerized odometer, water bottle, etc. on hand, I am ready to rumble! Right on cue a spring for the rear brake broke during my 2nd ride around along Lake Hodges (north of San Diego). And the bike store isn't open until the 3rd. Sigh... It's back to my friend's 2-ton, 20-year-old Huffy for another two weeks.

On Michael's advice, I'm considering keeping a bike journal here on the blog. Either way, I'll keep you all updated. And if you've never taken a bicycle for more than a sight-seeing spin, I encourage you to drag your old bike out of the garage and go pedal for all you're worth. Those Jello Legs come with a marvelous payoff! *grin*

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