Cooper Brannan: Padres and Purple Hearts

I wrote about wounded Iraq Veteran Cooper Brannan when he signed with the very pro-military Padres, then went looking for more info about him this morning and found some great profiles.

But first, the latest news. Brannan has apparently been impressing the Padres enough that they're spending some extra time with him:

...Pitcher Cooper Brannan, the Marine who served two tours in Iraq, will most likely remain in extended spring training along with 30-40 others who won't be assigned to teams to open the season. The camp runs through June 2.

And lest you think this a publicity stunt...

"This is about the military," said San Diego CEO Sandy Alderson, a former first lieutenant in the Marines and the man responsible for Brannan being a Padre. "This is about all Iraq veterans. This is about people who are wounded. This is a story that makes everybody feel good. And it's predicated on the fact that he can actually throw the baseball. [...]

And yet the Padres know Brannan is different, that he slips his ring finger in the glove hole made for the pinky and adjusts the rest of his fingers accordingly, that sometimes he'll go to grip a water bottle and it'll slip out of his hand, that nightmares occasionally stun him awake.

He should be a firefighter. That's what Brannan thinks sometimes. That was the plan upon his discharge. He would serve the public like his father, Linwood, a police officer.

"Your job," said Lindsay Brannan, Cooper's wife, "is playing baseball." [...]

"It's not so much if I make it [to the big leagues]," Brannan said. "It's when I make it."

Yup. As Brannan exchanges one uniform for the other, it's clear he's a typical "former" Marine: USMC through and through.

I was down in the dumps for a little bit [after being injured], I really was. But when I started coming around and working harder at occupational therapy, I saw one of these guys come by in a wheelchair and it about killed me. He had both of his legs missing and he was the happiest guy I've ever met. After that, I couldn't believe how selfish I was acting. I've got four fingers still left, and I lost a pinky--I lost a pinky! I hope that everyone can kind of feed off of that and feel how lucky they are. [...]

For everyone out there who's down in the dumps, whether it's a military man or anybody that's gone through any kind of pain and suffering, I hope they really learn from this, that you can pick up and strive to do better and fulfill your dreams.

[Interviewer]: Now that you're starting your second career, have you ever thought, "What if I'd reached back for that grenade with your right hand?"

Brannan: I would've done what the Marine corps taught me: adapt and overcome. I would've tried working with my left arm to try to become one of those goofy lefties.

The more I hear of this man, the more impressed I am. Read the whole interview; it covers everything from sandlot Wiffleball in Iraq to brothers laid to rest and how the warfighters feel about their mission. And he's inspiring his fellow Marines still in the fight, too.

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A History of Angels

May No Soldier Go Unloved is book one in a series that chronicles the history of Soldiers' Angels. Written by the founder's husband, it centers around how Soldiers' Angels started and the mission it set forth.

The books will revolve around the Soldiers' Angels motto:

May No Soldier Go Unloved
May No Soldier Walk Alone
May No Soldier Be Forgotten
Till They All Come Home
The first 1000 books will be signed by the author and his wife Patti, founder of Soldiers' Angels, and a portion of the proceeds will go to Welcome Packs for our deployed heroes!

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Seen

Update below...

The other day I found myself behind a large SUV at a stoplight on base and noticed a rather interesting license plate holder: "My next plate will be made by Bush and Cheney."

I have to admit that my mouth fell open at the thought that a Service Member or SM's spouse would openly sport something like that (though the sentiment is there among some, I suspect expression in that manner could fall under the UCMJ in terms of disrespect to superiors/government officials or at best be a career drag).

But I was terribly curious, and after the light changed I sped up enough to get ahead and check their base decal in my rearview mirror just to be sure. Yup: civilian base employee. Could make for interesting conversation at their place of employment, though... ;)

UPDATE: Apparently I have wrongly assumed that readers would know where I'm coming from in regards to my thoughts on political ideas/affiliations among military members. I am not making a judgment on the appropriateness of the political sentiments I've described here. Rather, my surprise came from the thought that someone would be gutsy(?) enough to share them so publicly in that environment. For more, please read the exchange with Liberal Army Wife in the comments.

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Fun With Banks and Robbers

How it happened matters not, but yesterday someone got ahold of my ATM/credit card long before I realized it was missing.

End result? over $600 (payday was Friday) in charges at Sears, Walmart and Food 4 Less. Draw your own conclusions... Oh, and nice of them to check IDs, huh?

Phone Teller with a Mouthful of Marbles: Well, the charges are listed but they haven't "gone through" yet. Look at your account online tomorrow morning and call us if they do.

FbL: So the money is still in my account but it's scheduled to be removed and there's nothing you can do about it even though you know I'm claiming fraud?

PTMM: Yes. Call us if it goes through.

FbL: And if it does?

PTMM: You can file an investigation request.

FbL: And how long will it take to get my money back?

PTMM: Four weeks.

FbL: Thanks for nothing. [Not really, but that's what I wanted to say].

Well, my recent good luck had to end sometime, I suppose--karmic balance and all that...

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Man Eater

When Condoleezza Rice became Secretary of State, I remember wondering how that would play with the more chauvinistic of the world leaders she'd be interacting with (especially in the Arab world).

Here's a hint, I think.

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Day in the Life of FbL

Continuing my generous habit of providing friends and readers with the opportunity to laugh at my expense...

Yesterday afternoon after getting a snack of raspberry sorbet, I found myself placing the half-full container in the fridge instead of the freezer. That's nothing new for me, so after quickly remedying the situation, I commented to my mother that no one would ever recognize it if I developed dementia: "Ice cream in the refrigerator and crackers in the freezer? How would that be unusual?"

Fast-forward a few hours. I'm talking on the phone to a friend (married to an MP) about my gate-running adventure this week. My mother walks up and wordlessly holds up a block of cheddar cheese that I had been using that morning. When she finally gets my attention she simply says, "In the cupboard."

Is anybody actually surprised I ran that gate?

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Milblog Conference and Valour-IT: Walter Reed

The MilBlog Conference ended Saturday night, but Sunday was largely dedicated to Soldiers' Angels activities. After enjoying a lovely breakfast courtesy of Patti Bader, a group of angels hopped on a bus and headed to Walter Reed.

The occasion was the monthly BBQ put on by SA during which Valour-IT laptop recipients still at Walter Reed assemble for food, fellowship and the distribution of laptops to new recipients who are well into their rehabilitations. It's held in the atrium and garden next to Mologne House. I was very excited because it would only be the second time I'd be able to distribute laptops in-person to wounded still at a medical facility.

But I was also somewhat apprehensive because the last time I'd been with a large number of wounded I'd maintained my composure, but had a powerful reaction to it that affects me to this day. This time was very different; instead of overwhelmed with emotion, I felt an amazing sense of "rightness" sitting among wounded warriors and their families, a startling sense that I was where I was supposed to be.

Though I'd never visited before, it felt like returning home. My father had served at Walter Reed as a Surgical Tech after a tour in Da Nang around the time I was born. He would meet patients at the helo-pad and assist in surgery. But on his own time he would "follow up" on certain patients, particularly amputees. It was amazing for me to stand in that garden and realize how much I was unconsciously following in his footsteps. It's cliche, but it seemed as if I were somehow closing a circle, returning to the place where everything I am today began.

However, I still felt uncomfortable intruding on the wounded in individual conversation. At events like this, I've been afraid of making them feel like a spectacle or as if they are providing me the opportunity to feel good about myself by "ministering" to them. Many of the Angels have the ability to walk right up to a stranger, un-introduced, but not me. So, I spent a lot of time just watching and listening.

I particularly had the chance to observe Carren Ziegenfuss interacting with the wives there. I was so impressed and proud of her as she mentored spouses of the wounded. She showed amazing strength and leadership: in quiet conversations with individual wives she commiserated, offered advice as one who had been there, challenged them to be advocates for their husbands' care, and handed over her business card, telling "strangers" to call her at anytime for any reason.

Fortunately I had met Mr. Sparling at Mologne House on Friday night (his son was visiting his mom, but he gave me an 82nd Airborne pin when he found out who I was), and he became one of the ways I got to talk to a few of the patients. He introduced me on Sunday to a wounded soldier who wanted to know the history of Valour-IT. After telling it, I met the soldier's wife. She was a tiny little thing with a spine of steel. She told me of missing her three children--showing me their pictures on her cell phone--and about how she wanted to be a good mother and about her background. She hadn't seen them for three months, but hastened to add that she knew her husband needed her. At that, she noticed he had walked away as we talked. "Oh, he's wandered off," she said with an affectionate sigh. "I better go find him. He's really improved a lot with that, but he's got TBI and I'm not supposed to let him wander off from me."

She waded into the sea of people and I was reminded of that awful WaPo article that treated the mixture of luxury and recovery at Mologne House as somehow grotesque rather than triumphal. The ability of her to so casually but affectionately talk of her husband's wounds and life in an out-patient facility in the middle of a top-notch BBQ was somehow "right" and perfectly normal.

Suddenly Mr. Sparling popped up again, "Have you seen Lynette? [SA's Wounded Care director.] When I pointed her out he said, "The general was just here. He was looking for her."

He pointed to two retreating figures outside Mologne House, a very tall white man and a short black woman, "Right there!"

"The general, you said?'"

"Yes! Schoomaker. Run and catch him!"


So I did. I felt like an idiot, but I figured it didn't matter what the general thought of me; I wanted to make sure Lynette and SA had the contact. So I ran down the sidewalk like a maniac. "Sir, General Schoomaker, sir! General Schoomaker, please stop! General, General! Sir, Mr. Sparling sent me to ask you to come back, please!"

He and his companion finally stopped and turned around, obviously wondering who this crazy woman was. I explained and led them back to Mr. Sparling, who introduced Lynette. MG Schoomaker was in a hurry, but was very gracious. As we stood there, I realized that I recognized his companion from news photos--the impressive new CSM of Walter Reed--which finally connected his name in my head: I was standing in front of not only the head of WR, but the Commanding General for the entire NARMC.

At that moment, Lynette introduced me as the "the creator, the force behind Valour-IT, which is distributing its 1000th laptop today." The MG obviously knew about the project, shook my hand and said something complimentary. I tried not to blush and turn shy, responding that there was a huge team of people that made it happen and calling myself the Nag in Chief, which he seemed to appreciate. At one point he reached into his pocket and exchanged a look with the CSM that I didn't understand at the time [see next paragraph], but all recognized he was in a hurry and we collectively cut things short before he and CSM Dixon hurried back down the sidewalk.

About 20 minutes later a tiny black woman suddenly hurried past me in the garden where Lynette, Chuck, Patti and I were gathered for the laptop presentations. It took me a moment to register who it was (the CSM again). She took Lynette's right hand in both of hers and said something barely audible. She then turned to me and did the same thing, saying in a lovely Caribbean accent, "My deepest appreciation for your service to these soldiers," as she closed my fingers around something warm and heavy. I didn't have time to say more than a startled "thank you" before she dashed off. I opened my hand:


I didn't want to miss a moment of the laptop presentation, so after exclamations of surprise I quickly slipped it into my pocket and refocused on Chuck. It was only later that I remembered to inspect and admire it [back view], and realized it was his coin and not hers. Very cool...

Coming Up: Chuck's amazing speech, and photos from the presentations.

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Once Again

Don't mess with a veteran.

Well, I noted, you could get shot.

He kind of smiled.

"I have confidence in my ability to protect myself," he said, "and to me these punks are not going to take my money and my car; and at 81 years old I have had a nice life."

The confidence of self-knowledge and a life well-lived, I suppose...

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You'll Be Happy to Know...

...that my local military base has excellent security. And how would I know that, Dear Reader?

I tested it myself. Unintentionally.

Setting: Early lunchtime, FbL is in the car and munching on what's left of lunch as she returns to work and approaches the least-used gate on the base (a gate where significant security precautions exist but are not readily apparent to the uneducated/naked eye). She's just finished a phone conversation about one of three subjects that have been preoccupying her for two weeks now.

Act I: The guard is firmly ensconced in his little shack, rather than on the road and there are no other cars in front of her. Thus, there are none of the usual visual cues to remind a preoccupied Fuzzybear to pull out her ID and stop. So she doesn't.

Completely oblivious, she soon turns off the main road into a parking lot, stops for a 3-minute errand, then takes the back way (through parking lots) to her employment site's parking lot. Checking the clock, she sees she still has a few minutes, so she pulls down the visor mirror and does some close inspection.

Act II: Relatively soon, a young warrior comes up from behind her vehicle and motions for her to lower her window. Looking up, she sees an MP vehicle blocking the only outlet to her left, another behind it, and a third pulling up across the street. "Huh. Wonder what's happening," she thinks to herself.

Young Warrior: What gate did you enter when you came on base, Ma'am?

FbL: ________ Gate.

YW: When?

FbL (wondering why this matters): About ___________ minutes ago.

YW: Stay in your vehicle.

Having relieved FbL of the burden of her various IDs and paperwork, he goes back behind her vehicle and FbL checks the rearview mirror and realizes his vehicle is blocking her car. They've surrounded me, this can't be good.

Act III: FbL is left to wonder what she did until a sergeant from the vehicle on the left steps up after a while...

Sergeant: Do you remember showing your ID to the guard at the _______ Gate?

FbL (perplexed, as she realizes she doesn't even remember coming through the gate): Umm... I'm not sure. But since you're here, I'm guessing I didn't.

Sergeant struggles to maintain his bearing, but fails as a look of amusement crosses his face. Realization of what she has done dawns on FbL, and in horror she apologizes profusely for causing problems and for making them chase down someone who is not a security threat instead of dealing with the genuine threats out there. She tries to be mature about it but would rather be crawling under the seat in embarrassment for her stupidity and shame for taking up their time.

The sergeant recovers his bearing, and what follows is his account of the seriousness of FbL's transgression (with which she heartily agrees) and of the security mechanisms they had decided NOT to employ against her as things developed. Reference is made to bad things that could have happened to her tires, to which she can't help but reply with resignation, "You might as well have done it, 'cause I need new ones anyway." Sergeant temporarily loses his bearing again.

After more lecturing in which phrases like "Fort Dix" and "extra watchful" and "very serious" and "that's why we have ______ at the gates now" figure prominently, the sergeant informs her the YW will be issuing the citation, then leaves her to ponder her fate after she once again avers her understanding of the awful significance of her transgression.

In the wake of way too much pondering, the YW approaches and informs her she'll be receiving a citation for "failure to stop at a stop sign." At her mild look of distress, he hastens to assure her, "Oh! This is a good thing. What you did was much, much worse!" FbL once again stifles the urge to crawl under the seat and settles for covering her face in shame as she apologizes for the 10th time.

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

So, that's the story. I can laugh about it a bit now, but I'm absolutely horrified at the stupidity of what I did and of having caused them so much unnecessary trouble by that stupidity. And apparently even though I received a lesser ticket, a major incident report will be filed.

I suppose the upside is that I'll now be well known among a number of handsome warriors who man the gate: "She's the dim bulb who crashed the gate without even knowing it!"

Top my day off with the very serious question of whether or not one of my charges is being abused and you may understand why I think I'll just go to bed now and pull the covers over my head.

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FbL Ran, But She Couldn't Hide

UPDATE: After consultation with several people who would know, I decided it was safe to publish the details.

Well, I didn't run. But there's good news and bad news...

Good News: Base security works!

Bad News: I was the proof.

Email me if you want details. In the end, merely a misunderstanding due to an honest mistake on my part. I'll only add that I can't complain about being the center of attention of six to ten warriors of a particular stripe; I only wish the circumstances had been more relaxed... ;)

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Examples to Follow... Or Not

This horrifying post and the accompanying fascinating comments on possible societal explanations for the bystanders' responses reminded me of an experience I had at the 2007 MilBlog Conference. One of the other attendees (a veteran) and I had been sitting on a bench in the middle of the large courtyard/park behind the conference hotel. It was after 11 o'clock on a Saturday night in Arlington, VA and the courtyard was relatively unpopulated--not the worst place to be by any means, but not a place in which it would wise for me to be alone.

In a moment of overwhelming negative emotion I suddenly jumped up and left my companion behind, needing physical distance to compose myself and so agitated that I forgot my surroundings. I had gone maybe 100 feet when I came to my senses and realized I shouldn't be wandering alone. I suddenly felt a little apprehensive and whirled around to get my bearings... and almost knocked into him, freaking myself out a bit until I realized who it was.

I don't know if he'd made a conscious decision to act, but he'd been silently tailing me and had been within a step or two nearly the entire time. I should've known better, for that was classic Sheepdog behavior--guarding little ol' me. Had he been onsite when Mr. Sims was attacked, he would've been calling 911, rallying bystanders and (knowing him) finding an unconventional/sneaky way to thwart the attackers.

In recalling this I'm reminded of how grateful I am to have so many Sheepdogs in my life, and that while I'm definitely not a Sheepdog myself, I will follow their examples when I can assist. So I'm led to wonder if another one of the disadvantages to the military's decreasing size and general society's increasing distance from it is that fewer and fewer people not only don't get Sheepdog training, but don't even have significant association with Sheepdogs to set the example and inspire them to become informal Sheepdogs ourselves.

Perhaps that was a part of why the bystanders were disturbed enough to turn their faces away, but not courageous enough to do anything about it... they'd never had the proper role models in their lives. As the commenters in the original post said, the message has been drummed into us to "leave it to the professionals," as illustrated by a comment on the news article:

I am dumbfounded when reading these comments [from people saying they should've intervened.] ...I am taught that interaction in a dangerous situation should be left to the professionals (police.) I am taught the best thing bystanders can do is exactly what these people did, watch, observe, and take careful notes for the police on the suspect description, behavior, getaway method, and anything else that would be helpful in apprehension. DON'T BE A HERO. DON'T BE A VIGILANTE! [People] seem to be implying that bystanders should put themselves in a dangerous situation...even if you don't know whether the suspect has a knife, or a gun...or worse...and teaching this is plain wrong.

I'll only note that the attackers were punching the man (21 times), which wouldn't make sense if they had a gun. Instead of a Sheepdog example, it seems the bystanders were inspired by models of victimhood and dependency...

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Dr. Laura Gets Educated

Dr. Laura, meet the MSM:

Raging radio human relations guru Laura Schlessinger, in Salt Lake City on Friday [Military Spouse Day] to speak to Army families at Fort Douglas, said she was tired of hearing the complaints of lonely and overwhelmed military wives whose husbands are deployed.
"He could come back without arms, legs or eyeballs, and you're bitching?" Schlessinger asked before taking the stage at the base theater to host her daily program on ethics, morals and values. "You're not dodging bullets, so I don't want to hear any whining - that's my message to them."

Needless to say, voluminous amounts of anger and scorn were heaped by military families on Dr. Laura for her supposed comments. Left in the dust was the fact that her son is currently a deployed paratrooper, and that even I (who is not a regular listener) know enough about her to know that her attitude for decades has been that a mature person is responsible for one's own emotions and does not lay one's own burdens on those whose burdens are greater. I knew the true context of her statements long before I read this:

Although this interview went over one-half hour, and I covered a wide range of subjects pertinent to military families and the war, he chose a comment, one that I’ve made before many times on the air, to make the primary focus of his article - and, he took it out of the entire context of my remarks. [snip]

I am a military mom. I whine to my husband every day about how scared I am for my son and how helpless I feel to protect his body and soul. However, I never whine to my son when he is able to call between missions.

That, and only that, is my point. Of course military spouses endure fear and domestic burdens. Of course they often need emotional support and practical assistance. As I said to the reporter, and many times on my program, family services, clergy, family, friends, and the camaraderie of other military spouses are available outlets. However, burdening one’s warrior spouse with your fears, upsets, loneliness, etc., is a huge mistake as it demoralizes the warrior and thereby undermines their concentration while they are in life-death situations.

Dr. Laura, take it from the rest of us who have been ambushed: don't expect the MSM to get it right.

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More Collisions

This is getting interesting. I knew when I linked USAA in a previous post that there was a chance they had Technorati and would follow my link back (tech-savvy big businesses do that with their corporate websites). But I also didn't think my comments about the donation--which was made public a week ago--and about meeting a nameless USAA employee would get anybody's attention.

I may have been wrong, though. A Technorati search for USAA appeared in my Sitemeter this morning. They hit both of my posts mentioning USAA and then apparently emailed at least one to someone else (someone from a USAA server made a direct visit to my post about the reception).

Interesting...

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MilBlog Conference and Valour-IT

Part of what made last weekend's MilBlog Conference so wonderful was the opportunities for highlighting Valour-IT/Soldiers' Angels and interacting with my fellow Angels. Friday night brought a surprise donation, Saturday lunch included Chuck's powerful telling of how it all started, and Sunday meant a BBQ at Walter Reed where the 1000th Valour-IT laptop was presented.

Yeah, it was an emotional weekend, but mostly in the best of ways. And most of it was a complete surprise to me...

Friday night at the reception, John Noonan stood up to announce the MilBloggies: “USAA [a conference sponsor] has provided prizes for the winners. Along with a digital camera, each winner will have $1000 donated in their name to Project Valour-IT.” The crowd gasped a bit and cheered. I about passed out right there--$8,000 for Valour-IT (over 10 laptops) in one fell swoop!

After I gave my little speech, I walked back into the crowd with my hands shaking from residual adrenaline. I looked up to see two guys I didn’t know making a beeline for me, trailed by a guy with a camera. They reached for my hands, congratulating me on my MilBloggie as pictures are taken, and telling me they’d been looking for a way to support the troops and they think Valour-IT is amazing. There's much more they're going to do with Soldiers' Angels and Valour-IT. I’m still stunned [one of them was the guy who showed up later at SpouseBUZZ].

At lunch the next day, I’ve barely finished my food when John Donovan (who has been working the politicians over Valour-IT) steps up to “hand out some awards and gifts that Soldiers’ Angels and others would like to bestow. And I’m going go ugly early. FbL, please come up here” (it wasn’t a request).

Embarrassing levels of applause ensue and I figure I’m getting a little plaque or something from Patti Bader. Not quite. Strangely, John starts talking about his recent visit with his congressional representative. I then realize there is a folded flag laying on the podium. As I’m pondering that odd fact, he starts reading, "This is to certify that this flag was flown over the United States Capitol on May 3, 2007, at the request of the Honorable Nancy E Boyda, Member of Congress.” I’m positively floored, and at the words "in honor of Soldiers' Angels and Valour-IT in recognition of their tremendous work," I nearly tear up.


Being recognized for something you've thrown your heart and soul into is always nice, but what really hit me at that point was that this was another indicator of how big it's gotten and how many people we've been able to help, thanks to all the wonderful bloggers in that room--and how many people have become involved in order to make it happen at all.

I have barely a moment to sit before I’m called up again to receive a plaque along with the other Soldiers’ Angels present.

And then the emotions get to be too much as Chuck starts to talk about how he was wounded and how Valour-IT got started and what it meant to him to have that first voice-controlled laptop. He says of using it, "For the first time since I'd woken up in the hospital, I felt whole again."

Valour-IT didn’t yet exist, but his experience inspired it, underlining the project’s impact and value, and I’m overwhelmed to think that by the next day we will have helped a total of 1,000 wounded warriors just like Chuck. His words about what a voice-controlled laptop meant to his psyche and his recovery wring my heart. But the kicker is to hear from Chuck’s own mouth how he nearly died and how he felt in recovery, and I am in tears as I think about how close it was, how far he has come in two years, and what his leadership and inspiration have meant to so many other wounded warriors.

I have to consciously resist the urge to walk up to the podium as he still talks and embrace him. Looking between him and Carren’s face fifteen feet from me painted in love and pride as she watches him, I am once again in awe of their strength and courage, and so proud to call them my friends. When he turns and hugs me at the end of his speech, it's one of the best hugs of my life. He is such a wonderful spokesman and living testimony for Valour-IT.

Sunday at Walter Reed involved more emotion and attention for Valour-IT (and more powerful speechifying by Chuck), but it's gonna take another long post to explain all that. I'll leave it for tomorrow.

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SpouseBUZZ Live: Collision

Another great day among bloggers and military folks! This could get to be a habit with me... [Btw, this post is about my experiences. Next one is about observations--it was an amazing event and I was privileged to attend as a learner.]

I was there to work, so Andi put me at the reception desk, handing out name tags and goody bags (have I mentioned the "lives colliding" phenomenon? Haha). Going in, I had some small concerns that I might encounter co-workers there, but my big worry was the KEY Volunteer leader for the base where I work; we've chatted inconsequentially when she regularly brings in her children for drop-in care, so she knows me but I thought I could avoid her if I stayed alert.

So, I look up from adjusting something at the desk and who should be standing directly in front of my station but Mrs. KEY with a look of shock on her face. "What in the world are you doing here?! Do you work for somebody at the Convention Center now?" I couldn't do anything but tell her I was there to help my friend Andi, which just brought questions about how I knew her and how I could be involved with SpouseBUZZ, etc. I just smiled ingratiatingly and said with irony that I had a whole 'nother secret life, which puzzled but amused her. All in all, I figured I'd escaped pretty well. Yeah, right...

When I got the chance, I headed to the panels. The panelists had been looking for tissues to prepare themselves, but I didn't feel the need--I knew their stories and thought I was far enough removed to not be overly emotional about it. But just like hearing Chuck say for himself at the MilBlog conference what a blessing a voice-controlled laptop had been, I was a goner when I heard Carren talk about her experiences at Walter Reed.

And then she pulled out the big guns. After describing how hard it had been the last few years, she said something stunning, "I don't want my husband to be hurt; I don't want him to have missing parts and not be able to do everything he did before... but I wouldn't change a thing because as a result of his wounds 1,000 other soldiers have been blessed."

I was floored. I'd heard her discuss the idea that such good had come from their suffering, but never ever something like "I wouldn't change a thing." I desperately tried to hold back the tears welling up; I had visions of someone asking me if my husband was wounded and having to explain I was there as a civilian spy. Carren went on to describe Valour-IT as the tears rolled down my cheeks. Then she said, "It happened because a reader of my husband's blog had an idea and ran with it. She's here today."

I looked at for an exit, but it was too far away. I saw Mrs. KEY sitting in my direct line-of-sight. I started shaking my head subtly and Carren says, "There she is! She's shaking her head... in the white blouse." There was a smattering of applause and I spotted Mrs. KEY with another look of shock on her face.

That dried the tears up pretty fast, but as I sat there listening to Carren say more, I remembered the phone conversations and watching her with the wives at Walter Reed last Sunday, and how impressed I've always been with her, how unspeakably honored I am by her friendship. As soon as the panel concluded, I gave into the single-minded desire to hug her and hurried up to the front of the room. I teasingly scolded Carren, AWTM and Andi that they should've warned me about the Kleenex. Then I wrapped my arms around Carren and said, "I've always been just your friend, careful not to put you on a pedestal, just be normal with you. But I have to tell you, I've always thought you were an absolutely amazing woman. I mean, 'I wouldn't change a thing???' I can't tell you how honored I am to have been a part of something that would make you say that, and how honored I am to be your friend." I also scolded her for pointing me out, explaining Mrs. KEY as we hugged and wiped our tears.

As I finished talking to Carren and turned to leave, who should be there standing there looking at me again but Mrs. KEY, gazing on us in amazement. "You really do have a double life, don't you?"

I skipped a beat in shock, then said laughingly, "You really have no idea... In all seriousness, nobody at work knows about this except the boss and a supervisor, and I'd like to keep it that way." Her inquisitive face looked disappointed, but she nodded sagely (my coworkers already think my education makes me a snob; the last thing I need for them to know is all about Valour-IT and my blog, etc). Later that day I was handing out raffle tickets and she made a crack to her friend about "taking a ticket from that person whom we don't know" and we exchanged friendly smiles.

Ever since I discovered a few weeks ago that a blog friend works on the same base as I do (sometimes even next door!), I've had a post about blogging and anonymity brewing in me. I think events of the past two weekends have brought things to a head. I've got a lot of thinking to do, but I'll put it down in pixels when I've got it sorted out.

All in all, it was a wonderful day and I'm so glad I was there. I learned a lot on an emotional/intuitive level from being in a roomful of military spouses, and I'm so grateful that Andi insisted I attend. I'll write more about the events and attendees in my next post.

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Lives Collide

One thing I came away with after last week in DC was that I am living a double life. On one hand I have my life in the world of Valour-IT and milblogging, which have taught me so much and allowed me to develop skills and connections that can lead to things like that interview. On the other hand I have my current job: entry-level childcare with an income that cannot sustain me in this part of the country, working for people who have a tendency to treat me like I'm a lazy good-for-nothing while I learn to just shut up and do my job without question, thought or creativity (using none of the skills I've developed in Valour-IT and milblogging).

Yesterday, those lives collided in my head. I worked a split shift, which meant I had five midday hours free. During that break I dashed down the freeway to meet up with Andi at the Convention Center and help with the SpouseBUZZ conference. It's a big event and both Military.com and USAA sent advance teams. I had just come off a day that included following up on pitching a big military support idea to Ward Carroll (he likes it) and dealing with two guys from USAA to finalize their corporate donation to Valour-IT.

Wearing ill-fitting jeans and my over-sized work-mandated T-shirt, I introduced myself as Andi's Flunky to those who asked--I'm not a MilSpouse and I was just there to do whatever she needed. Mid-morning, who should walk through the door but one of the USAA guys who was at the MilBlog Conference reception for the announcement of the donation! He was there to coordinate PR for the conference, and instantly remembered me. Hug-hug, kiss-kiss, and I'm confronted with the fact that I didn't imagine that weekend in DC; here I am standing on "my Coast" and something that only existed in what had been a separate world just crossed the divide.

And you know what the painful part was? At 1230 they all walked out on the patio to sit down for lunch and I went back up the freeway to be the idiot who's hanging on to her entry-level job by her fingernails.

Yeah, I cried. I'm okay now, and I've always known the dignity/value of every job and I don't have nearly enough arrogance or self-regard to think I should be treated any differently on the job than anybody else (absurd!). But I also know I'm currently in the wrong job/career for me, and so driving back up that freeway was hard.

Okay, pity party is over. As I said in an email to friends on Wednesday when the contrast between my employment situation and the events of last week was too much: Just suck it up and absorb the hits; it's not going to last forever. And after last week I know that, regardless of whether I get that particular job or not.

And so today I feed my soul and educate my mind... I'm off to SpouseBUZZ Live.

[See what I mean about how I've been preoccupied with everything that has happened in the last week-plus?]

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A Request

Dear readers,

Please bear with me. I have a lot of time-based excuses for not writing along the lines you're used to finding here. But it's a lot more than that. Most of this last week and a half of my life has been absolutely wonderful, but it has also involved a lot of braincell-engaging navel gazing and internal perspective shifts.

Add to it the pressure that I know that certain people are now reading my blog and I find writing the usual fare to be very difficult (the personal is taking my attention, but writing about it is hard when I consider the audience, and the regular support-the-troops writing is getting pushed away by the personal concerns/focus).

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Lack of Conference Content

Just wanted to apologize for the lack of substantive posting about the conference. I offer two excuses: 1) Others have covered it very well, and 2) I've been working 12-hours days since I got back and so I have yet to recover from last weekend. Will try to catch up this weekend (including pictures and behind-the scenes), half of which will be spent at another conference.

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The Interview

Of course it was a typical Fuzzybear Lioness drama. I’d been staying at Carrie’s house for two nights and Carrie’s husband Will rides the commuter bus in from Virginia direct to the Pentagon, so it was arranged that Tuesday morning I would accompany him in and take the Metro from there. Unfortunately, I left my cell phone charger at the conference hotel in Arlington on Sunday and was flying out that afternoon, so I figured I'd stop by there first. Besides, where was I going to put my giant suitcase? Carry it with me down K Steet?!

So, here are Will and I at 5;15 a.m. in Virginia. He seems to be the “strong silent type,” but I was already wired at that hour. I babbled all the way to the bus stop, continuing as we sat down. He was wonderfully patient, but finally leaned across the aisle and whispered in the gentlest voice a man like him can use, “This is a Quiet Bus; if you don’t stop talking, the communters on this bus will kill you.” I thanked him for the tip and shut up.

And it was a quiet bus. I had plenty of time to look and think. I’d spent my formative years across the Bay from DC, so the terrain and vegetation are as familiar to me as my own reflection. From the freeway to the trees, to look through the bus window was to be home. I suddenly felt like a child again, and thought of what Lex wrote about coming back to Virginia for the conference.

And then we turned the corner and DC was laid out below us as dawn was spreading across the sky. Such a beautiful sight! The façade of a soup of patriotism, politics, power-madness, idealism, business, industry, history, corruption, cultures and communities of all shades… Such a place! And here I was, headed to an interview on the street that is the lion's den of some of the worst aspects of our national politics. My mind bounced from personal to national and back to personal, with side trips into the warnings I’d recently received from wise friends.

The Pentagon swung into view and it was time to say goodbye to Will. With his uniform on a hanger in one hand and his bag in the other, he reminded me of my stop, then offered his cheek to kiss. I gladly did, so grateful for his kindness and that he’d been there to wrestle my bag up the bus stairs and get me headed the right direction—really kept my stress level down.

But deprived of my Marine escort, it turned Fuzzybear-like real quick. From the bus stop to the hotel took me 45 minutes, as I got myself completely turned around and tied up in knots, giant suitcase in tow. I finally found the hotel at 7 a.m., checked for the charger (no luck), and explained to the concierge that I had been a guest two days ago and had an interview downtown before flying out. Fortunately, he accepted my luggage. I dashed to the onsite Business Center to print out the notes, letters and resume I’d left at Carrie’s, put on my makeup in the bathroom, then dashed back to the Metro. I made it to my interview with three minutes to spare.

Unfortunately, the interviewer had no idea who I was or why I was there. She nearly gave me a heart attack!

It turned out she’d had a brain cramp in not putting me on her calendar, but soon remembered the appointment. What followed was 40 wonderful minutes of her eyes lighting up as I spoke, and me becoming more and more convinced this was a job I wanted and could do well. The kicker was when she traded off with the national head of the “organization,” who had been headed up to Capitol Hill for some “meet and greet” but instead spent the next hour talking to me.

I was thoroughly impressed by the people I met, and it was probably the best interview I've done at that level. A good interview does not equal a job, but there’s no doubt the odds are leaning more towards Yes than No. It’s essentially a Legislative Assistant position (in the field of military advocacy/support), and it’s a growth opportunity. Altogether, I spent nearly two hours being interviewed. I was told, “If you want to, this is the kind of job where you can make a name for yourself.” Another said, “Talking to people like you gets me excited, gets the juices flowing” over what we can accomplish. It’s pretty obvious I’m on the short list [btw, they knew exactly what Milblogs were].

Head spinning, I called my mother and the cell phone promptly died. I procured a new charger at a local store and headed to the hotel, figuring I could charge the phone in the lobby before leaving for the airport. No sooner had I plugged it in than the fire alarm went off (still hadn’t picked up my luggage and needed to be at the airport in an hour)! I walked over to PF Chang’s and told the host I’d take any table with an outlet near it. The only place was the bar, so I sat and snacked while watching the hotel antics across the street.

It was nearly 1:00 before I got back into the hotel. Running late, and sick and tired of dragging that behemoth of a suitcase around, I splurged on a cab ride to the airport after dropping a fat tip on the concierge (I am in love with that concierge; I’d tip him a hundred if I could), and finally took a breath again.

SMASH called on the way to the airport and I just babbled. I was still soaring, and couldn’t stop talking. And I still can’t believe it all. I just might be back to stay, in a couple of weeks…

Wow. What a capper to an amazing week…

[More on the Conference itself, coming up.]

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Still Exhausted

I thought a couple days’ distance would give me the clarity to write coherently about this last week, but not yet. The last 48 hours have only brought more experiences and perspectives for me to process. This conference and entire week have been amazing; there's no other word.

I am exhausted—mentally, physically and emotionally. This afternoon the plane made its final rolling/banking turn out of DC and I suddenly burst into silent tears. I’m not sure what those tears were—joy for what has happened in these last six days, sorrow that it’s over, maybe the pure exhaustion that comes from overwhelming experiences (even good ones).

Sunday night Carrie and Cassandra talked me into a glass of wine because I was so “wired” (I generally don’t drink the stuff). It worked. But as soon as it wore off, my mind was racing again. John described it as an endorphin/adrenalin overload, and he was probably right.

Monday was a blur. I slept ‘til 10:00 and was just half-dead all day. From lack of sleep and lack of food, my energy level was such that I tired simply from a trip to the store. But my mind never stopped its gyrations. That evening I finally started to come around and I prepared for the job interview. That was a whole ‘nother great experience…

I won’t know for probably at least two weeks, but I know it went very, very well. It’s in the field of “troop support,” and it looks like exactly the kind of job I want and need at this point in my “career.” I’ll write more about it in a separate post.

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MilBlog Conference AAR

From Wednesday through Saturday nights I got a total of less than 12 hours of sleep, so I feel completely hungover this morning after seven hours of sleep, though there is no alcohol-related reason for it. Since leaving home at 4 a.m. Thursday, I have lived on adrenalin, endorphins and one or fewer meals a day (I've probably lost five pounds). And I wouldn't change a thing.

I truly don't know where to start... so much to say and tell you about: awards, donations, Chuck Z talking to the wounded, 1,000th laptop, dear friends, media, the "big" bloggers, President Bush, Walter Reed, MG Schoomaker and his CSM, a flag flown over the Capitol, Valour-IT and the U.S. Congress, a gathering of Angels, deep conversations, OSD, DoD, falling off a bar stool, getting carded by a guy 10 years younger than me, dear men and women whom I'm honored to call my friends, utter exhaustion and a complete inability at this time to tell you more than just a partial list.

Plan for today? Sit here in Carrie's house in the "DC suburbs" and recover from my non-alcohol-related MilBlog Conference hangover, do some laundry, and thoroughly prep for my 8 a.m. job interview with one of the denizens of K Street before flying out tomorrow afternoon.

What a weekend!

UPDATE--Milblog Conference-related posts:

Still Exhausted
MilBlog Conference and Valour-IT
MilBlog Conference and Valour-IT: Walter Reed

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Milbloggie

Among many other fun and exciting things that happened yesterday, the 2007 Milblogging awards were given out. I'll have much more to say about it later (including how it benefited Valour-IT), but I thought I'd share with you the speech I made when I accepted the award:

In light of the recent concerns about how the new OPSEC rules, etc., might affect the Milblog Community, I felt it was very important for me to say something. I suppose Valour-IT, and maybe a few posts I’m not ashamed to claim have a little something to do with this… But the truth is, the spotlight should be on the Milblog community itself.

When I adopted deployed personnel through Anysoldier.com in 2004, I didn't know anything about the military. So, I went to the Internet to learn more about the people I would be writing to and what they were experiencing, and I discovered the Milblogs.

And it was the Milbloggers who educated me about the military, inspired me to action, and ultimately supported me in success. So, anything good coming from Fuzzilicious Thinking—from Valour-IT’s 1,000 laptops in 20 months to my modest role in highlighting and explaining issues like the Walter Reed problems and translating you all into “civilian speak”—all of that is a direct and exclusive result of my encounter with the Milblogs three years ago. People like John Donovan, Lex, Sgt. B of The Gun Line, and the Ziegenfusses—to name just a few—were my teachers, and my mentors.

In short, Fuzzilicious Thinking not only exists for you, it exists because of you. Without Milblogs there would be no Valour-IT, no Fuzzilicious Thinking… and there would be at least one more extremely ignorant civilian. And so it's about you—it's you who made it happen.

Thank you.

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Pre-Conference

About a dozen of us in town early got together for a bit of fun and fellowship last night. The evening of laughter and hugs and lively discussion can be summed up by the question our waitress asked as we were leaving after dinner: "Is this a family reunion? A family gathering for a special event?"

Answer: Yes.

I rarely stopped smiling last night, as it was so good to see so many people who are important to me gathered together and enjoying themselves. It made me happy just to watch them.

Finally, you don't want to miss the live broadcast of the conference tomorrow. There is a great surprise planned, and the recent brouhaha about Army OPSEC reglations has focused the media spotlight on the event--CNN and FOX are covering the entire thing, and a number of new and "old" media figures/luminaries will be attending. In fact, the term "feeding frenzy" has been applied. Add to it that the "master of ceremonies" is the CNN Pentagon reporter and it's gonna be an interesting day...

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Stupidity Beyond Words

UPDATE: News and analysis have been a mixed bag, but I think I'm finally getting a handle on what the regulations actually say, who they apply to, etc. Additionally, the Army [yes, it's just Army] seems to realize they've really screwed up on this. Not surprisingly, John Donovan has some clear-thinking analysis as he reports on this developing story.

That's what I think of the new military Internet/Blogging regulations.

Get this, though: as a DoD employee, I believe that I (technically speaking) fall under these regulations. And that, more than anything, should tell you how absurdly broad and restrictive they really are.

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Many Minor Miracles

...Add up to one big miracle.

I sit here typing on a brand new laptop mere days after I lamented that it would take a lottery win to equip me with a computer of any kind. Unfortunately, no lottery win. But frankly, I'd take what I have over a lottery any day. What do I have? I have generous friends and contacts that are dearer to me than I can express, plus a pleasant surprise paradoxically arising from my employer's less-than-competency.

Last week I got sick again (ultimately missing 3.5 unpaid days of work and shelling out more money for uninsured health care). There went my spending money for the Conference again, I thought. When I subsequently turned my computer into an expensive doorstop Friday afternoon, I was in shock as I pictured the forseeable future without a computer and regular at-will Internet access; I couldn't begin to imagine how I was going to pay for an new computer.

But we can't see the future, can we? And there were erroneous assumptions and incomplete information embedded in what I was imagining. I had underestimated the generosity of friends and readers, and Saturday morning I was informed that sick leave had been applied to my work absence (given their track record, I shouldn't be surprised that HR had misinformed me of my date of eligibility). Add to it some money I'd been given to repair the laptop before I completely killed it, and thoughts began to take shape as I added it all up and checked and re-checked...

I called up my local tech-geek Doc for advice and before I'd said two sentences, he offered to be my computer shopping adviser that very day in hopes we could find something in my price range. I'm pretty tech savvy, but my knowledge is inconsistently deep and I get very nervous about spending money on technology, requiring me to constantly check and recheck before I commit. So, having Sean to help and advise me made it effortless, which was good considering I was fever-free for the first time in a week, but didn't have a lot of endurance and was doped up on prescription decongestants (poor Sean winced in sympathy every time I coughed. He was a sweetheart, worrying about me like the caring Doc he is, and even driving me around so that I could rest).

The end result? I have a computer!! It's an "open box" deal from Fry's on a Compaq laptop at a price that makes me feel like a thief. It's not the "latest and greatest," but it's brand new and it's good, and it does what I need it to. As Doc says, it'll last me.

Wow. I still can't believe it. I am indebted to so many people in so many ways. Sometimes I can't believe you guys...

And strangely, this may actually be good in the motivation department, too. As unreservedly glad as I am to have this wonderful laptop, I find that I am very tired of being in as much need of others' financial assistance as I have recently--I think realizing I'd not have this laptop but for others' generosity brought it to a head. So, this reinforces my sagging motivation when it comes to finding a better job that will help ensure my independence (job-hunting... ugh!). As wonderful as these expressions of appreciation and support are, I'd like to be in a position to "pay it forward," instead of always being the receipient.

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Dual Anniversaries

In their rush last week to "celebrate" a particular anniversary by using military funding legislation to try to embarrass President Bush, the Congress overlooked an anniversary of actual import in the greater scheme of things:

Last week marked the anniversary of shame in U.S. foreign policy, as Congress cut off military funding to Cambodia, beginning a genocidal blood bath of nearly 3 million innocents. The Communists brought their style of reforms and "social justice" to the people.

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Upcoming Attractions

Still here, just crazy-busy getting ready for a 5-day trip to DC, including the MilBlog Conference (spending Monday through Friday mostly sick in bed with the flu put me way behind). But... I hope to be able to find some time before Friday to blog a couple of things:

1. A follow-up to comments made on this post.
2. The explanation I promised here.
3. Thoughts on blogging and anonymity (or lack thereof), including blog-meets.

I'll be giving it my best shot...

P.S. Interesting job prospect just popped up. Please cross your fingers, pray, think good thoughts, whatever works for you...

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Primal Scream

Update (4/29/07): It wasn't the lottery, but a handful of modest miracles and an increasing level of non-financial indebtedness to some dear people mean that I am no longer computer-less! More later.

Yes, that was me you heard this evening.

My laptop computer, my only computer--which already needed a new screen--is now completely worthless. I single-handedly fried the power supply.

Note to self: do not attempt laptop repair when you have a fever. Your judgment/reasoning skills may be impaired.

Barring a lottery win, I am now officially computer-less for the forseeable future (this was typed on my mother's company-provided laptop). I think I'll go cry now.

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An Artist and a Moral Leader

The comments found on just one page on YouTube upon the death of the great cellist and Russian dissident Mstislav Rostropovich give us a hint of the breadth and depth of his impact:

-Un grand musicien, un grand artiste un grand homme. Perte iréparable. Que son âme repose en paix
-R.I.P. you made our souls soar with your music.
-Such a wonderful example - an artist and a moral leader - such a rare combination. RIP
-Grandissimo maestro, ci hai deliziato con la tua musica, una grande perdita per il mondo. Riposa in pace
-Adieu rostropovitch, repose en paix
-RIP Slava. even in heaven, we know you'll continue to play on.
-Great Master I salute you. Your language is universal. Rest in peace
-Maestro Rostropovich, descanse en los beneplacitos brazos de la eternidad.
-I pray for the repose of the soul of Rostropovich

First, the dissident:

Rostropovich's sympathies against the Communist leaders of his homeland started with the denunciations of his teachers, Dmitri Shostakovich and Sergei Prokofiev during the Stalin era.

Under Leonid Brezhnev's regime, Rostropovich and his wife, the Bolshoi Opera soprano Galina Vishnevskaya, sheltered the dissident writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn in their dacha in the early 1970s.

The great Russian/Soviet composers and performers of the 20th century all suffered from attempts by the Tsars and the Soviets to control their artistic output. Not only was the melodic content controlled at times (i.e. mandated use or bans of certain folk and popular or political songs, etc), but there were even stylistic and formal restrictions.

Many composers resorted to subversion by encoding their music with secret anti-government messages through melodic fragments/distortions of ethnic songs or subtle changes to standard patterns of form/melody, which the average citizens easily decoded. Shostakovich and Prokofiev were particularly targeted and ended up defecting to the US, as did Rostropovich and many other Eastern European and Russian artists of that era, enriching American cultural life beyond measure [click for audio/video].

As a teacher and humanitarian, Rostropovich taught his students about more than the cello; he taught music itself, and did so with extraordinary generosity. His warm and ebullient personality enchanted all who met him, and his musical idealism never faded:

"The artist must forget the audience, forget the critics, forget the technique, forget everything, but love for the music. Then, the music speaks through the performance, and the performer and listener will walk together with the soul of the composer, and with God."

He's right. Though I can't hold a candle to Rostropovich as an artist, my best days at the organ or piano bench were always the ones I when I forgot the the audience, forgot my body, forgot the notes... and "walked" in another realm.

Fortunately for us, his performances have been recorded, and he invites us to walk with him at our leisure...
[Part II video--full of dazzling technique]
[Cross-posted at The Flight Deck]

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Celebrating

[Update below]

Blue Angel #6, LCDR Kevin “Kojak” Davis, returned to Pensacola yesterday with all due honor and solemnity. A man dear to family and friends has been lost and unnumbered futures will be different than had he not been snatched away so young.

But in mourning a loss of unrealized potential, let us not forget to celebrate a special life of extraordinary skill and dedication, a life that defended our country with all seriousness but also helped to bring the sheer joy of flying to the rest of us.

LCDR Davis, this is for you... and those who loved you.

Here's more from two people on whom he left quite an impression: a navy wife/columnist and a reporter. (video).

UPDATE: Duty in the Desert points us to some fascinating articles about LCDR Davis, and receives comments from those who knew him.

I didn't trust my memory of the name, but recently hearing Davis' voice on a video clip confirmed to me that he was the announcer at the Blue Angels show I attended last year (my very first). I remembered feeling sorry for the announcer because he didn't get to fly in the show, and so I'm happy to hear he joined the six in the sky this season... if only for an all-too-brief time.

[H/T to Cop the Truth for the video, and Instapinch for the photo]

UPDATE II: The original video has been taken down from YouTube, but here is a similar one (same soundtrack and many of the same video shots).

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Blog + Beg = Bleg

Skip this if you hate whining or begging (I hate both).

Bad News One: Working closely with children in a "new" environment means that for the third time in 2.5 months I'm too sick to work. Bad News Two: I'm not eligible for sick leave/benefits until May, so I've now missed two consecutive days of income.

Put that together with the MilBlog Conference, and all the money two very generous people gave me awhile back to help cover miscellaneous conference costs (haircut, meals, tips, Metro ticket, etc) long ago flew out the window in health-related costs.

So, if you find this blog informative, thought provoking or just plain enjoyable, please consider dropping a little something in the tip jar; it'll be appreciated more than you can know (tip jar contributions are anonymous). Thanks.

UPDATE: I dragged my sorry carcass into work today because I knew they were understaffed; I don't think I'm gonna make it through the day chasing toddlers. However, although I didn't need a note last time I was sick, I now need a note from the doctor if I have to leave early today--though my coworkers say I look like I'm about to pass out. Guess what? I'd have to take off from work tomorrow in order to do get the note (another unpaid day), plus pay the full doctor's fee (no health insurance), when I know I just have a virus that the doctor can't help me with. So yeah, if you're feeling generous... it would mean alot...

--Signing off to go lay on the floor until my lunch is over

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Code Pink Calls US Soldiers Terrorists

Yes, you read that title correctly.

Gael Murphy is head of the DC office of anti-war organization Code Pink, which has held a "vigil" outside of Walter Reed Army Medical Center in "support" of wounded troops for about two years. It started out as an anti-war and anti-military protest, but morphed into a "supportive vigil" after they received negative media coverage.

In response to the protest, members of Free Republic (and others supporting the troops) have long been counter-protesting Code Pink with positive and patriotic slogans and signs. It's become quite an event every Friday at Walter Reed, with many of the wounded reporting they look forward to looking out the window and seeing the signs of love and support from Free Republic and friends. Eventually Code Pink lost their permit for the main gate and must now hold their "vigil" down the street, but the counter-protesters maintain their position on all four corners at the main gate.

In the clip below, Murphy demonstrates that Code Pink has not changed their stripes from their earliest days of protest at Walter Reed, despite their claims to be supporting the troops. It was filmed last Friday night in front of Walter Reed (the relevant comment is about three minutes into the video):

[H/T Mudville Gazette for the video]

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The Dem Leadership is...

...vile beyond words? Why do I say that? Well, I'm sick (and not just from reading the following), so I'll leave these people to explain it better than I could:

Bill Roggio: The U.S. is having to pull back on training Iraqi units because of the funds being held up in the current political fight.

Hot Air: Sen. Reid says he will not believe what GEN Petraeus has to say in the coming briefing, and claims that Petraeus' statement that it will take more than military action to stabilize Iraq is equivalent to Reid's statement that Iraq is lost.

Harry Reid: "We're going to pick up Senate seats as a result of this war."

Greyhawk: The enemy is listening, and adjusting its tactics according to what they hear from Reid and others.

Cassandra: In short, the Democrats' Leadership is holding the troops hostage.

I believe (and always taught my students) that you should always be respectful and civil to people you don't like. Senator Reid is starting to make me think there are exceptions...

I don't want to casually throw out words like "treasonous" and unpatriotic," but I'm struggling to find appropriate descriptions that don't include those adjectives.

UPDATE: Greyhawk has the background and context on Reid's statements about Petreaus that I linked above.

UPDATE II:Tempered by experience and the restrictions of being an active duty sailor, Lex says what I hope I'd say if I could keep my temper on this subject.

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MOABS

Not "MOABs," but MOABS; Mother of All Baby Showers, in other words.

Andi has the details on plans to support the brand new daughter of severely wounded Marine DJ Emery and his wife Leslie Shivery in conjunction with the MilBlog Conference. He is currently at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, so gifts brought to the Conference can be easily transported to the new parents.

I just thought I'd add/collect some info and advice for those who might want to help:

1) They're registered at Target (they seem to like ocean/water themes and pink). I believe the gift registry will let you ship online purchases directly to them.

2) This is their first child, so they probably need everything--from burping cloths to blankets, clothes, and rattles. If you're stretched thin from the Conference, TJ Maxx has baby clothes, etc., at amazing prices (and tiny baby clothes fit easily into suitcases, of course--just throw in a gift bag when you pack).

3) Gift certificates for Target, Kmart, and Babies 'R Us can't miss. And they're highly transportable, of course...

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Idiocy

I hardly know where to start.

In the wake of Monday’s massacre at Virginia Tech in which a student killed 32
people, Dean of Student Affairs Betty Trachtenberg has limited the use of stage weapons in theatrical productions.

According to students involved in the production, Trachtenberg has banned the use of some stage weapons in all of the University’s theatrical productions. While shows will be permitted to use obviously fake plastic weapons, students said, those that hoped to stage more realistic scenes of stage violence have had to make changes to their props.

This is beyond stupid and ignorant. Replacing swords and guns and other weapons with obvious fakes in a theatrical setting will do nothing to reduce violence, sensitize people to the reality of violence in our world, or increase public safety. A student puts it well:

“Calling for an end to violence onstage does not solve the world’s suffering: It merely sweeps it the rug, turning theater — in the words of this very play — into ‘creamy bon-bons’ under instead of ‘solid fare’ for a thinking, feeling audience,” she said...

What in the world could the dean have possibly been thinking?! And despite the quote above, it's not violence that has been banned from the plays; as one student points out, things like hanging are still allowed. Rather, it's specific instruments of violence that have been banned.

Plays (whether fantasy or reality-based) are almost always about being human. Whether it's a light romp like a musical or a deep exploration of human failings like Macbeth, theatre is a reflection of who we are. To ban realistic depictions of weaponry from a production is to deny their reality in life, and to ignore the awful ends to which they are all-to-often put.

I struggle to explain myself here because this Dean's stupidity is almost beyond words. She's an embarrassment to every true intellectual, regardless of politics. There is just no logic here.

I keep trying to "get inside" her head to understand what was going on in her mind when she made this decision. Her concern can't be the depiction of violence because she banned certain weapons, not violent acts. The only thing that makes any sense in it all is that she is genuinely afraid of the weapons themselves. I'll admit a certain amount of rational fear around weapons, for I know what can happen in the wrong hands. But one has to wonder what she thinks of police, personal security guards, and soldiers, etc., who carry such weapons.

Scratch that last bit. I think I know...

Update: Powerline says, "That has to be some kind of a new low in the avoidance of reality." Mark Steyn also has some thoughts about it, entitled "Let's be Realistic About Reality."

Update II: Over at the Castle, John (who was early on this story) thinks it's the "because something must be done" syndrome [scroll down].

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Out of Place

Saw the strangest thing in a local restaurant two evenings ago... a man in a flight suit.

Well it wasn't the flight suit that was strange, it was the fact that it was topped off with an Air Force "soft cover" in this decidedly Navy-USMC town. As far as I know, I live quite a distance from the nearest Air Force installation.

He was accompanied by his wife, and two children whom I estimated to be maybe 9 and 6 years old. The line of restaurant patrons stretched outside the door and I had plenty of time to observe them in front of me, but he was too far away for me to see his patches clearly (one seemed to have a B-2 outline on it). However, I could see his wings and watch the family dynamics. His wife's face displayed a strange combination of relief and anxiety, and his children spent most of their time grinning, an expression which was returned everytime they caught their father's eyes.

Of course, my mind strove to explain this odd appearance; what would an Airman in uniform be doing with his family here? I managed to fashion a scenario: surely he must be just-now returned from deployment and his family had arranged to meet him here for a vacation in Sunny SoCal. I like to think my hypothesis was confirmed when he walked past me and the calf-level pockets on his flight suit were still bulging with their contents. Talk about being "just off the plane..."

As much as my curiosity was piqued and I wanted to walk up and ask what an Airman was doing in these parts (and perhaps welcome him home), I figured that if I was right, the last thing I wanted to do was interrupt. So I behaved myself... and nearly expired from the curiosity of it all!

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More Tech Advice?

In my last bleg for advice, I mentioned a problem with my laptop screen--as a stop-gap it's now hooked up to a desktop monitor. After finding out what it would cost to repair if it was just a loose connection, I tried to fix it myself. I was unsuccessful, and may have damaged the laptop screen itself in the process (if it wasn't damaged already) .

After having a professional look at it, I've been told both the LCD screen and the connecting cable need to be replaced. I have the know-how to replace the screen and can get a brand new one for under $200. I don't know how much the cable itself would cost, but the repair technician said they would charge $200 to replace it (I can't figure out how to take apart the bottom of the laptop, which would be required if replacing the cable myself).

So, here's the question for the techies out there: I have a 15-month-old Compaq Presario V5101US (not upgraded) that needs at least $400 worth of work. In a steal of a deal, I paid $550 for it at a time that it was selling for about $750. Is it worth investing $400 in it (not that I know exactly how I'd come up with that kind of money anyway, haha!)?

Heh. Looks like I will be attending the MilBlog Conference without a laptop. How messed up is that?

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First

For the first time in my life, I wrote to the Senate Majority Leader...

Dear Senator Reid,

The "surge" is at only 60% strength, with only 3 of the 5 Battalions in place at this moment. Your characterization of it and the entire war as a failure (over one day's events) when it has not even been fully implemented is ignorant at best. I could also describe it as willfully obtuse, lacking in logic, politics at its worst, or even treasonous... but I'll leave that to those
more expert in politics and law.

I know the position of Majority Leader is primarily political these days, but we deserve better from someone who should be speaking for more than just his party and political future.

Shame on you!

I could have said volumes more (about things like his apparent ignorance of strategy, tactics, PR in modern warfare, etc.), but I decided short, to the point, and as respectful as I could manage it would be better "heard."

I'm in agreement with others who have explained why what Reid said is so appalling:

Greyhawk
Americans in Iraq (via Michelle Malkin)
Neptunus Lex

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Armed and Dangerous?

During the workweek there is usually at least one point every day that I feel a twinge of something akin to fear. It happens when I arrive for work during the "busy time" and end up in a modest (usually rolling) line of cars waiting to get on base. I can never encounter that line without wondering how hard/easy it would be for someone with American murders on his mind to wreak havoc.

But not this morning.

I spent my commute listening to news/talk about the shooting at VA-Tech. I didn't realize it at the time, but as I drove a knot of tension and anxiety was building in my stomach. I think that I was subconsciously reminded that none of us are really safe from someone who wants to hurt a lot of people in a public place.

But then I slowed down as the road turned toward the base. I looked up to see the MP standing guard in my lane. He snapped a textbook salute toward the vehicle ahead of me, and my eyes fell on the sidearm tucked into the holster on his hip. My gaze then darted to the "guard shack" on my right that I knew contained other tools of his trade that helped assure my security and that of every other occupant of the base.

The knot in my stomach that until then I hadn't noticed instantly dissolved. I held my ID out the window and received the customary "Have a good day, Ma'am" from a familiar face as I tapped the gas and rolled onto a very special piece of real estate--a place of peace, calm, and security... one of the most heavily-armed and profoundly safe pieces of real estate in the metropolitan area.

And the problem at VA-Tech was too many weapons...?

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Sacrifice on the Homefront

I just discovered that a longtime commenter around the Milblogs--Cannoneer #4--has been deployed and has his own blog. His wife blogs with him and in reading his archives, I was reminded of the burdens warfighters' loved ones bear for us. "Cannoneette" describes what happens when her husband's unit gets attacked while they are talking on the phone:

The phone goes dead! God! I’m so scared! What do I do? I prayed, that was the first thing I did. I lit candles, that was the second thing I did. Third I collapsed on a chair and tried very hard to keep the ” bad” things from running rampant in my head, no use there here, is he dead? Is he hurt? God? What do I do if my baby dies?

...This is the 4th time I have gone through this hell! And each time I worry like crazy, then minutes, hours or even weeks later I hear from him. The first time this happened it took almost a week for him to call me back.... After about 30 minutes I calm down and go take a shower to wash all the badness off me. That’s how I cleanse myself of all the bad things I have to deal with from time to time. Each day I light candles and pray for my husband and my sons who are in harms way.

But the amazing part is the parallel she draws--what comforts her when she must repeatedly bear this burden and why she does it willingly.

Go, read another example of sacrifice. Not all the heroics of this war occur on the battlefield.

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