Yes, it is alive; sadly failing in keeping the handful of friends who read my drivel updated, but alive at least.
I'm currently in an Inn outside of Niagra Falls (we flew out here for the wedding of a friend) and now that the festivities have slowed down, I've been able to get a slooooow dial up connection.
Things have been busy as you might imagine; in fact, the last few weeks have been a blur of packing boxes, endless highways, and precious little sleep. In fact, I've driven the road between Salt Lake City and our little Colorado mountain town no less than 5 times in the past four weeks (500+ miles one way). This trip for the wedding was a welcome diversion, but I have so much to do back in CO that I'm having a hard time enjoying it.
The wedding was very nice; and seeing the bridal party in mess dress and then the bride and groom exiting under a saber arch on Armed Forces day reminded me of how out of place I feel these days. My uniform is packed away for good, my mustache and hair way beyond the allowable limits, and my gut a little bigger than it should be; yet in my heart, I want to wear the uniform and be a part of the team once again. I know it isn't possible, but damn I miss it.
Oh, and the house plans I paid a goodly sum for to build our new house? Yeah, they can't be used, so I have a new designer working on the new ones which of course will cost another chunk of change. Here's a safety tip for any of you kiddies building a new house... Hire a professional and get a signed contract! Stay away from "friends" even if they're fully qualified to do the job. Yeah, I should have known better. So, bottom line is our construction of the new homestead is about 6 weeks behind and it's not even started yet.
Oh well, live and learn. I hope all of you have a wee bit better luck than Im having. Oh, and to the newlywed J and K; Long and happy life together, and thanks for allowing us to be a part of it!
I have some really good stuff to write about as soon as I get time. I think the first will be on Hi-Tech Cowboys... Ponder that :)
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Quick Update
Hey everyone, I just popped in to let you know that things are good so far. The move is going good, though slow. We haven't started on the house yet since my builder and I keep missing each other. Grrrr.
I've forgotten how much I love this area and am so excited to be back. It always has felt like home (cause it is I guess!)
I don't know when Ill have internet access, thank God there is one business here in the 21st century and opened a hispeed internet cafe. I get down here about once a week since they're only open a few hours a day. At least it's something.
Thanks to you all for your kind words and encouragement; it means a lot. I miss all of you and hope to be around to everyones blogs soon.
MN Girl, I haven't forgotten about the tag, I'll do it as soon as possible!
Cheers all, blessings to each of you!
Rude1 out
I've forgotten how much I love this area and am so excited to be back. It always has felt like home (cause it is I guess!)
I don't know when Ill have internet access, thank God there is one business here in the 21st century and opened a hispeed internet cafe. I get down here about once a week since they're only open a few hours a day. At least it's something.
Thanks to you all for your kind words and encouragement; it means a lot. I miss all of you and hope to be around to everyones blogs soon.
MN Girl, I haven't forgotten about the tag, I'll do it as soon as possible!
Cheers all, blessings to each of you!
Rude1 out
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Still alive, but going nuts
Hey all, Just a quick note to let you know Im still kickin! One final left, 1/2 the house left to laid in the truck, then drive for 10+ hours only to have to unload it in a storage unit since the new house isn't under construction yet!
Yep, me, the princess bride, and our two goofy dogs get to live in our RV while the house is being built... Am I nuts or what?
Talk to you all soon; I am popping in as I get the chance. Blessings to all of you, see you soon!
Yep, me, the princess bride, and our two goofy dogs get to live in our RV while the house is being built... Am I nuts or what?
Talk to you all soon; I am popping in as I get the chance. Blessings to all of you, see you soon!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
MIA or AWOL, I can't decide
Hey folks, I know it's been a while and although I'm sort of a hit and run, or hit or miss poster, I thought I'd give a quick update to the 3 or 4 folks who happen to stumble over here.
Things are greatly in flux out here in the land-O-Rude. I've quit my high paying, low challenging job, sold my house, and am trying to finish my last semester of school (the day after my last final I pack up the truck and move). Needless to say, I'ma bit stressed and swamped, so I haven't been posting or visiting my bloggy friends. Soooo....
I just wanted to let you all know that I will be under the radar for a few weeks (not sure what sort of access I'll have) But I'll pop 'round as soon as I get a chance.
Happy BIrthday to my favorite Cowgirl, somebody keep an eye on her and keep her out of trouble!!
Things are greatly in flux out here in the land-O-Rude. I've quit my high paying, low challenging job, sold my house, and am trying to finish my last semester of school (the day after my last final I pack up the truck and move). Needless to say, I'ma bit stressed and swamped, so I haven't been posting or visiting my bloggy friends. Soooo....
I just wanted to let you all know that I will be under the radar for a few weeks (not sure what sort of access I'll have) But I'll pop 'round as soon as I get a chance.
Happy BIrthday to my favorite Cowgirl, somebody keep an eye on her and keep her out of trouble!!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Our Duty to Remember
Shayna recently wrote about Eugene and it got her thinking about how sad it is that we, as a nation, tend to forget or overlook those who gave so much. She wished that they would talk more about their experiences in the hopes that the rest of society would be reminded of what they went through and not to forget them.
I wanted to try in some weak attempt, to explain why that probably won’t ever happen. I agree with her; we should be reminded not to forget those who sacrificed so much and gained so little, but the sad fact is that the majority of combat vets won’t talk about it. At least not to just anyone. They’ll talk at length with other combat vets, or tell some of the funny stories to their families; but most won’t open up about the serious times.
My theory about why is rather simple, yet strangely complicated. I know that most vets are very proud of what they did, of their contribution to history, of being part of something important, something historical. But the difficulty lies in that to be proud of that, in some way the vet must be proud of killing; an act that is taught to us from the earliest stages of our life, to be the ultimate sin. Killing another human being is one of the most reprehensible thing anyone can do. Yet the bottom-line job of the military member is to kill.
We desensitize ourselves by making light of it, or even advertising it. “Our job is to kill people and break things.” “Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out.” “Killing is our business, and business is good.” None of us really feel that way, but we try and convince ourselves that it’s okay. The training and preparation kicks in during battle and instinct and training take over. There is no time to reflect, but deep down, late at night, especially after the battle, and the fog of war starts to dissipate, we look at ourselves in horror. We don’t want anyone to know the horrible sin we’ve committed; the taking of another human life. Forever silencing the voice of someone’s father/brother/son/mother/sister/daughter/friend. You can’t take that back. But it’s what we do. We have to, or else evil will prevail.
So the combat vet stays mute about it except to another combat vet. Someone who’s been there too; someone who understands. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to understand, to sympathize, to help; you can’t. You cannot fathom the guilt/pride conflict raging within. The combat vet doesn’t want to remember the killing, but it is something that can’t ever be forgotten. Even those “lucky” enough to have never actually killed; the sights, sounds, smells, and touch of combat casualties is every bit as traumatic. As a military member, your job is to inflict pain amongst the enemy, but as you see the aftermath, you question how can civilized, sane people do such things to one another. So you shut it down, you don’t talk about it, you hide it away because if you don’t, you run the risk of seeing the looks of revulsion from those you love. You so desperately want to forget, but you can’t.
There are countless stories out there of combat heroes, whose families have no idea of their bravery. Navy and Air Force Cross recipients, Silver Star recipients who put their medals in a dusty box in some basement or attic. People who did extraordinary things while under fire, but hide them away like forgotten trinkets. I remember reading how John Levitow’s wife, also an Air Force member, didn’t know he had been awarded the Medal of Honor until she studied it during a required Air Force history class. She knew he had served in Viet Nam before they met, but had no idea he was the lowest ranking AF member to be awarded the Nation’s highest military honor. Or of Susan Rescorla finding her husband Rick’s military medals only to have him refuse to let her display them. Rick Rescorla not only was a hero of the Ia Drang Valley in Viet Nam, but he was chief of security for Morgan Stanley and lost his life in the WTC on 9/11, but not before ensuring over 3000 of his charges were evacuated safely.
This is the reason why military members are the last people who want to go to war. We make the sacrifices. We run the risk of being killed or wounded. We run the risk of losing our closest friends. We run the risk of having to kill or maim another human. But we do it when needed. Some may think we rush into wars, but believe me, the vast overall majority of military leaders will only advise military action if all other avenues have failed.
It is not the job f the combat vet to remind society of what they did, it is the responsibility of society to remember the sacrifices of the combat vets and to honor them. The combat vet doesn’t want sympathy. All he wants is acceptance and possibly a thank you. It’s societies job to HONOR them, and to never forget. Don’t pity these heroes, for most of them would do it again even knowing the consequences. Don’t pry or try and understand their silence, respect it. Don’t patronize them, but be their friend. Most of all, don’t forget them; they did what they did for you.
I wanted to try in some weak attempt, to explain why that probably won’t ever happen. I agree with her; we should be reminded not to forget those who sacrificed so much and gained so little, but the sad fact is that the majority of combat vets won’t talk about it. At least not to just anyone. They’ll talk at length with other combat vets, or tell some of the funny stories to their families; but most won’t open up about the serious times.
My theory about why is rather simple, yet strangely complicated. I know that most vets are very proud of what they did, of their contribution to history, of being part of something important, something historical. But the difficulty lies in that to be proud of that, in some way the vet must be proud of killing; an act that is taught to us from the earliest stages of our life, to be the ultimate sin. Killing another human being is one of the most reprehensible thing anyone can do. Yet the bottom-line job of the military member is to kill.
We desensitize ourselves by making light of it, or even advertising it. “Our job is to kill people and break things.” “Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out.” “Killing is our business, and business is good.” None of us really feel that way, but we try and convince ourselves that it’s okay. The training and preparation kicks in during battle and instinct and training take over. There is no time to reflect, but deep down, late at night, especially after the battle, and the fog of war starts to dissipate, we look at ourselves in horror. We don’t want anyone to know the horrible sin we’ve committed; the taking of another human life. Forever silencing the voice of someone’s father/brother/son/mother/sister/daughter/friend. You can’t take that back. But it’s what we do. We have to, or else evil will prevail.
So the combat vet stays mute about it except to another combat vet. Someone who’s been there too; someone who understands. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to understand, to sympathize, to help; you can’t. You cannot fathom the guilt/pride conflict raging within. The combat vet doesn’t want to remember the killing, but it is something that can’t ever be forgotten. Even those “lucky” enough to have never actually killed; the sights, sounds, smells, and touch of combat casualties is every bit as traumatic. As a military member, your job is to inflict pain amongst the enemy, but as you see the aftermath, you question how can civilized, sane people do such things to one another. So you shut it down, you don’t talk about it, you hide it away because if you don’t, you run the risk of seeing the looks of revulsion from those you love. You so desperately want to forget, but you can’t.
There are countless stories out there of combat heroes, whose families have no idea of their bravery. Navy and Air Force Cross recipients, Silver Star recipients who put their medals in a dusty box in some basement or attic. People who did extraordinary things while under fire, but hide them away like forgotten trinkets. I remember reading how John Levitow’s wife, also an Air Force member, didn’t know he had been awarded the Medal of Honor until she studied it during a required Air Force history class. She knew he had served in Viet Nam before they met, but had no idea he was the lowest ranking AF member to be awarded the Nation’s highest military honor. Or of Susan Rescorla finding her husband Rick’s military medals only to have him refuse to let her display them. Rick Rescorla not only was a hero of the Ia Drang Valley in Viet Nam, but he was chief of security for Morgan Stanley and lost his life in the WTC on 9/11, but not before ensuring over 3000 of his charges were evacuated safely.
This is the reason why military members are the last people who want to go to war. We make the sacrifices. We run the risk of being killed or wounded. We run the risk of losing our closest friends. We run the risk of having to kill or maim another human. But we do it when needed. Some may think we rush into wars, but believe me, the vast overall majority of military leaders will only advise military action if all other avenues have failed.
It is not the job f the combat vet to remind society of what they did, it is the responsibility of society to remember the sacrifices of the combat vets and to honor them. The combat vet doesn’t want sympathy. All he wants is acceptance and possibly a thank you. It’s societies job to HONOR them, and to never forget. Don’t pity these heroes, for most of them would do it again even knowing the consequences. Don’t pry or try and understand their silence, respect it. Don’t patronize them, but be their friend. Most of all, don’t forget them; they did what they did for you.
Tagged
So the lovely Trouble gave me my first tag; I don’t know whether to be happy or embarrassed LOL. Any way, Six Weird Habits might take a while (not because I have to think of them, but rather I have to narrow it down to six!). Anyway, here goes…
1) I still carry my squadron Ram coin everywhere I go; just in case.
2) I count paces when I walk, not all the time, but whenever I’m by myself. 4,596 paces from my quarters to work the last time I was stationed in Korea…
3) I stroke my mustache; been doing it for 24 years (I shaved it off in basic, last time I think!)
4) I collect die cast airplanes and corvettes. I have an entire bookcase at work with nothing but these toys. Oh, and an Aviator Barbie and G.W. Bush Top Gun are also there (long story, thanks Capt. G and Lt. K)
5) I have a photographic memory; most of my family and friends refuse to play Trivial Pursuit or similar games with me.
6) I can quote most of the movie “Better Off Dead”
There you go, six of the not-so-weird things about me; I know some of them are not habits per se, but... I’ll keep the really weird stuff to myself thank you!
So, Cowgirl, Desult, and Barn Goddess; You’re officially tagged, so tell me some weird things about you…
1) I still carry my squadron Ram coin everywhere I go; just in case.
2) I count paces when I walk, not all the time, but whenever I’m by myself. 4,596 paces from my quarters to work the last time I was stationed in Korea…
3) I stroke my mustache; been doing it for 24 years (I shaved it off in basic, last time I think!)
4) I collect die cast airplanes and corvettes. I have an entire bookcase at work with nothing but these toys. Oh, and an Aviator Barbie and G.W. Bush Top Gun are also there (long story, thanks Capt. G and Lt. K)
5) I have a photographic memory; most of my family and friends refuse to play Trivial Pursuit or similar games with me.
6) I can quote most of the movie “Better Off Dead”
There you go, six of the not-so-weird things about me; I know some of them are not habits per se, but... I’ll keep the really weird stuff to myself thank you!
So, Cowgirl, Desult, and Barn Goddess; You’re officially tagged, so tell me some weird things about you…
Friday, April 14, 2006
Let Us Never Forget
Paul Ray Smith. A name that few really know, but one that all of us should remember. It's been a little over three years since he was killed protecting his men in Baghdad. His actions that day earned him the Medal of Honor. Go read the citation if you haven't already. SFC Paul Ray Smith was the epitome of leadership under fire. He was a strict NCO knowing that his troops needed to be highly trained to survive in combat.
SFC Smith embodies the honor and selflessness of our warriors serving today. The majority of those serving today would have done the same thing he did were they in his boots. All of those who have served, and those still serving, deserve our respect, thanks, and most importantly, our rememberance.
God Bless and protect them all.
Thanks to Sgt Hook for his post "Would You Know My Name" who made me remember.
SFC Smith embodies the honor and selflessness of our warriors serving today. The majority of those serving today would have done the same thing he did were they in his boots. All of those who have served, and those still serving, deserve our respect, thanks, and most importantly, our rememberance.
God Bless and protect them all.
Thanks to Sgt Hook for his post "Would You Know My Name" who made me remember.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Ben Stein
I've tried several times to write a post about Ben Stein and what he means to me, but I can never get it right. I'm one of those folks who think that most of the Hollywood crowd is a joke, but I respect and enjoy what they do. (when they stay within their area of expertise as I wrote about here) Anyway, Ben is different. He understands what meaning is. I just want to thank him. I want to thank him for making me laugh in "Ferris Beuller's Day Off", and on his show "Win Ben Stein's Money". I want to thank him for his support of the US military. I want to thank him for his service to our country during the Nixon years. Ben, if you're listening, Thank You. You're support, and the support of all who believe, helps keep us going. We can't do it alone.
Ben's article made me think about my life since I've retired from the military. I've often told my wife since that day that I miss being a part of something important, of making a difference in the world. Ben reminded me that I miss my life having meaning. I know there are a lot ways to get that meaning back. I just need to do it. It was easy to have meaning while in uniform; everyday held the pursuit of the greater good. Now, I struggle to find the niche where I can once again contribute. I support the Soldiers/Sailors/Airmen/Marines/Coast Guard; I send packages and volunteer to help deployed spouses keep up with home/landscape duties. I try and pass a little wisdom to the young troops whenever I can. I try and help educate those with no military knowledge. In short, I'm trying to honor those who still serve, and those who've served before us, but honestly, sometimes I need a reminder to do more. It's easy to get caught up in the daily BS of life and lose track of what's really important.
Thanks again Ben, for reminding me to keep on helping where I can.
Ben's article made me think about my life since I've retired from the military. I've often told my wife since that day that I miss being a part of something important, of making a difference in the world. Ben reminded me that I miss my life having meaning. I know there are a lot ways to get that meaning back. I just need to do it. It was easy to have meaning while in uniform; everyday held the pursuit of the greater good. Now, I struggle to find the niche where I can once again contribute. I support the Soldiers/Sailors/Airmen/Marines/Coast Guard; I send packages and volunteer to help deployed spouses keep up with home/landscape duties. I try and pass a little wisdom to the young troops whenever I can. I try and help educate those with no military knowledge. In short, I'm trying to honor those who still serve, and those who've served before us, but honestly, sometimes I need a reminder to do more. It's easy to get caught up in the daily BS of life and lose track of what's really important.
Thanks again Ben, for reminding me to keep on helping where I can.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
She's Back!
For those that ever had the pleasure of reading Right Thinking Girl, you know what a wonderful and talented writer she is. Personally, when she quit blogging, it left a void, a blackhole in my day. I wrote a little about why I liked her writing so much here. I have a pretty good idea why she quit for a while, and like so many others, prayed that things would get better for her. I'm glad she's been able to move forward, but I'll still keep her in my prayers.
I was able to catch a few of her guest articles over at RWN, but it never seemed to be enough to sate my appetite. There's just something about her writing that speaks to me; I can't really explain it. I'm just glad she's back. I always thought she would be back; she's a WRITER, it's as much a part of her as breathing. I'm a reader and I'm glad I'll be able to lose myself in her words yet again.
Welcome home RTG.
I was able to catch a few of her guest articles over at RWN, but it never seemed to be enough to sate my appetite. There's just something about her writing that speaks to me; I can't really explain it. I'm just glad she's back. I always thought she would be back; she's a WRITER, it's as much a part of her as breathing. I'm a reader and I'm glad I'll be able to lose myself in her words yet again.
Welcome home RTG.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Slainte na Gaidheil!
Tomorrow is Tartan Day where all Americans of Scottish descent show off their heritage. I do it every year, getting a little more into it than the last. I started out wearing a tie made from my families Tartan, then added a blazer with my family crest. Is this the year I cause havok at the office by wearing a full kilt? I don't know yet...
Here's a wee bit o my families Scottish history, summarized by the folks at scotclans.com.
The (name withheld to protect the innocent) claim to be descended from Crinan, Lord of Atholl, from whom sprang the royal house of Duncan I, the King of the Scots. The (name withheld to protect the innocent) clan is more properly called 'Clan Donnachaidh' from their ancestor Duncan, who was a staunch supporter of Robert the Bruce, and who led the Clan at the Battle of Bannockburn.
The general surname of the clan (name withheld to protect the innocent) was taken from Robert Riach (Grizzled Robert) the clan chief, who was known for his intense loyalty to the Stewarts. Riach was responsible for capturing the murderers of King James I, and was rewarded by the crown for this act by having his lands at Struan erected into a Barony.
The clan was also granted a symbolic memorial by additions to their coat of arms - subsequently the chief of clan (name withheld to protect the innocent) bore as his crest a hand holding an imperial royal crown, and underneath a man in chains, representing the regicide. About a century later, the (name withheld to protect the innocent) family lost the lands of Struan to the Earl of Atholl but the family regained them in 1606.
However in the seventeenth century, after the final defeat of James VII, all (name withheld to protect the innocent) estates were forfeited and the chief of the (name withheld to protect the innocent) clan joined the exiled court in France. To this day the chiefs of the clan (name withheld to protect the innocent) still have the right and privilege of interment in the family burial ground at Struan
Well, I'm sure anyone with a little effort can figure out my last name, but hey, you gotta work for it if you really want to know!
I hope you all have a great Tartan Day tomorrow!
Monday, April 03, 2006
Rock on Fellas!
I got a kick out of this video. Pretty good tune I must say! You can check out their site here.
H/T to Timmer over at Sgt Stryker's
H/T to Timmer over at Sgt Stryker's
Must Read
Sarah over at Trying to Grok has a link to this article that is a must read. I like the way he thinks...
Thursday, March 30, 2006
You Go Girl!!!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Saying What I Think...
Sgt Mom has done it again; putting the jumbled thoughts bouncing around my skull into eloquent and comprehensive words. I don't know how she does it, but darn glad she does. Go read.
But on another note, this just, well I just don't know what to think. I'm so very happy these men were saved and I regret the death of their companion. However, those "illegal occupiers" of Iraq are the ones who rescued them; I shudder to think about their fate if those "occupiers" weren't there. Would a simple thank you have been so hard to say WITHOUT the anti-war spin? I just don't understand some people.
HT to Drudge.
But on another note, this just, well I just don't know what to think. I'm so very happy these men were saved and I regret the death of their companion. However, those "illegal occupiers" of Iraq are the ones who rescued them; I shudder to think about their fate if those "occupiers" weren't there. Would a simple thank you have been so hard to say WITHOUT the anti-war spin? I just don't understand some people.
HT to Drudge.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Dog Days
Sgt Mom has written her adventures with the Lesser Weevil here, here, here, and here, and some of her comments got me thinking about my two “boys” and how they make me laugh. The Blue Eyed Infidel also would post about her dogs and I really enjoyed reading them, so I figured WTH, I’ll try and convey some of the adventures my two dogs have had and the joy (and occasional frustration) they bring to my wife and I.
Our oldest is a pure chocolate lab that my wife got while I was deployed to Korea the last time back in 1999. In some ways, he’s a typical lab; he LOVES the water, and has a very “soft mouth”. However, he doesn’t enjoy fetch like other labs. In fact, after about 2 retrievals, he’ll look at the stick/ball/Frisbee then me, then the stick/ball/Frisbee, back to me with a look like, WTF? I just BROUGHT that damn thing to you, why are you throwing it away again? Then go lie in the grass and chew on some grass. Now if I throw the stick/ball/Frisbee into a lake, he’ll keep playing till he drowns…
The younger one we got a year after the first to keep him company while we were at work. He is a black lab/blue heeler mix and is one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever seen. In fact, he’s too smart for his own good and I’ll often call him Einstein. When he was a puppy, my wife’s shoes (not mine, or anything else) were getting chewed up. We never caught the culprit, but assumed it was the older dog, being jealous of the pup and acting out since we ALWAYS found the shoe remnants either in his bed or near where he was laying and the puppy was at least all the way across the room. Well, one day I snuck in the house to see if I could catch the monster in the act. I heard the tell tale sounds of something (I assumed it was yet another shoe) meeting its demise. As I snuck up the stairs, I could see the big dog lying on the floor looking the other way. About that time, the stair creaked and I saw a small furry black streak dragging a Teva up to the big dog, drop it between his outstretched paws, and continued like a shot clear across the room and jumped into his bed, tail wagging a mile a minute. I had to laugh; he was deliberately placing evidence to frame the older dog for his misdeeds, and then look on with his innocent little face while the older dog was like what? I’m just laying here dude!
Our lab is not the most graceful dog on the planet; in fact, I affectionately call him lumber for the way he runs. It’s sort of like a bull in a china shop. Last night I laughed out loud at him as he played with his tug-o-war rope by himself. This rope has a loop on either end and is about 2 feet long. He had the rope in his mouth at the center and was jumping around and shaking his head trying to get me interested enough to play with him. At one point, he had gotten each of his front paws in the loops, sort of like a hobble for a horse. He couldn’t quite figure out what to do, but continued to pull and shake the rope, tripping himself over and over.
When we first brought the little one home, he would stalk Lumber and pounce on him (still does in fact) trying to incite him to play. Lumber outweighed him by about 60 ponds then and would let him do what ever he wanted. Very tolerant that one! In fact, Einstein started sitting on Lumber, either his head or his back, whenever Lumber was lying down. Einstein will walk across the room, sit on Lumber’s head, and then look over at us as is to say, “That’s right, I’m king of this here castle.” Lumber just accepts it. For a long time I thought Einstein was the Alpha, and Lumber was a big old baby, but my neighbor mentioned something to me once after they had ‘babysat’ for us. I think he may be right. We now think Lumber is definitely the alpha, but lets Einstein act all tough; much like a big brother does with his bratty sibling. I’ve seen the few occasions where Einstein goes too far and Lumber quickly puts him in his place. Einstein immediately acquiesces and slinks off till big brother has forgiven him.
These two guys are a constant source of laughter and companionship for us, they are our boys and I really don’t know how we could live without them. Since we’ve not been able to have children, we sometimes treat them as such (NOT to the point where we treat them like kids) but we have some of the same feelings and concerns.
Not long ago, while my wife was deployed, Einstein got really sick one night. I mean really. Sick. He made it to the back door and threw up on the floor mat. I let him out for some fresh air as I cleaned up the mess (this was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had to do. It. Was. Awful.) and threw the mat away. Anyway, I let him back in the house, made sure he had fresh water, and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. In that short time, he got sick again, this time in his bed. It was so awful I simply threw it away as well. When I came back in from dumping the hazardous waste in the dumpster, he had lost it once more by the back door (I had no idea a 60lb dog could hold that much) on the tile floor. He looked up at me with a look that said, “Dude, I’m so sorry, but I’m so sick right now…” I cleaned it up yet again (by this time I was ready to throw up too) and then sat there and rubbed his head and made sure he kept drinking water. He lay there looking at me with his tail flicking, letting me know how much he appreciated my efforts. I figured that if he was still sick in the morning, we’d run down to see the vet. Luckily, the next morning he was fine and running around like the little imp he is, tormenting Lumber with a renewed vigor, as if to make up for those few hours he couldn’t find the energy to.
These guys drive me nuts sometimes, but not a day goes by that they don’t make me laugh out loud and that is priceless.
The Future is Secure
Stories like this one on Fox News just re-afirm my faith in the youth of America. Youth of America? Did I say that? I guess I'm officially old now, but never mind that, these kids make me proud!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
My View
The other day I made some comments about some college students parroting what is reported in the media instead of thinking critically and making decision for themselves. This of course triggered some spirited comments, and one in particular that I need to address and expand my position on. In particular, I used the example of students asking "isn’t it true that there were no WMDs in Iraq and that Bush lied just to get us in the war?" The point I want to make about this particular statement and how it applies to critical thinking is that the absence of WMDs is only part of the story.
To get to the crux of the argument is that Bush lied about WMDs to get us into the war in Iraq. Forget about the reasons why he supposedly wanted to get into the war, I want to focus on the argument that he lied about WMDs to get us there.
To understand this, you need to know a little bit about the intelligence available at the time, and how it’s interpreted. We had lots of intel, in fact, we ALWAYS have lots of intel. So much in fact that on average, the amount of intel gathered on a daily basis, is so large that it would one person 18 years to go through it, analyze it, interpret it and make a recommendation. Eighteen years; that’s 37,440 man-hours (40 hrs a week x 52 weeks x 18 years). Granted, we don’t have a single person doing this, but you can figure that even if you had a team of 100 people, it would take 47 days to process ONE days worth of intel, and intel gathering continues 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It’s a wonder we’re able to do as well as we do.
Add to the equation that intel analysis is not an exact science. Recommendations are basically guesses on the part of the analyst. Guesses made by experts in their fields, based on past experience, political climate, and a myriad of other factors, but it boils down to and educated guess. In the military community, we jokingly refer to it as a SWAG or Scientific Wild A$$ Guess.
So, there is a good chance the intel was flawed. However, there’s a reasonable chance it was correct and the WMDs did exist and were either hidden or moved. I tend to think that these explanations are more plausible than they didn’t exist at all. I can hear you now; "but we haven’t found any, so how could they have been over looked for so long, they couldn’t have existed. Well, the best way to explain this is with an example.
Not long ago, there was a horrible murder out where I live where a pregnant woman was killed by her husband while she slept. He disposed of the bodies in a dumpster. He confessed to the crime within days and the police conducted a full out search of the landfill that dumpster load was taken to. It took over two and a half months to find her body. My point is this; the police KNEW where she was and it took over two months to find her in an area less than 10 square miles. Iraq is about 7,000 square miles larger than California with the majority of it being vast expanses of open, desolate desert. We have found complete military aircraft buried in the desert, to hide them from inspectors. Whole, complete military aircraft. Keep in mind that Iraq gathered intel as well and probably had a good idea of when we were getting ready to go in. They had plenty of time to hide or move their WMDs before OIF kicked off.
There are those who also say that since there were no WMDs (found), then we need to get out of Iraq. Again, I’ll use an example of why we shouldn’t cut and run since the WMDs were not found. Imagine the police get a tip that a house is being used to manufacture and sell drugs. They get a warrant based on probable cause and raid the home. Turns out, there are no drugs, no paraphernalia, no evidence at all of drug activity. Their intel was flawed. But what if they find evidence of a homicide, or find a kidnap victim tied up in the basement? Should they pack up and leave? What if they find evidence of a serial killer or child molester? What should they do?
So, back to my original point; why is parroting the stance of no WMDs being ill-informed? Technically yes, there were no WMDs found so far. They may not have even existed, but that doesn’t mean the President lied. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be in Iraq. Was the intel flawed? Possibly or probably depending on how you look at it. Were mistakes made? Absolutely. Do we cut and run because of them? In my opinion, no; I think it’s better to learn from them and make corrections, and continue to do what is necessary.
My original comments were based on a conversation about how some of the college students I’ve talked to in class don’t take the time to hear the other side, or sometimes a third or forth side of a story. They don’t make the effort to get the details, weigh them, and form their own opinion. This applies to those on both sides of an issue. What I try to instill is these young people is to look at things from all angles, get as much information from different sources (not just the ones that support their particular view) and base a position on complete information. If they do that, they’re opinions have weight. To blindly follow a party line or support a candidate because of dislike for another, is not only irresponsible, it’s dangerous. To base your position on well informed thought is how our system is designed to work.
I know there are plenty out there that will still disagree with me, and that’s fine. I enjoy disagreement. I like to hear well thought out arguments contrary to my views. It makes me better informed. I have even changed my views on some issues because of it. Like I said in my profile, I can’t stand blind allegiance to either side; but I respect the hell out of firm allegiance based on personal thought. I might not agree, but if your argument is based on complete information, I’ll lay down my life defending your right to your beliefs.
To get to the crux of the argument is that Bush lied about WMDs to get us into the war in Iraq. Forget about the reasons why he supposedly wanted to get into the war, I want to focus on the argument that he lied about WMDs to get us there.
To understand this, you need to know a little bit about the intelligence available at the time, and how it’s interpreted. We had lots of intel, in fact, we ALWAYS have lots of intel. So much in fact that on average, the amount of intel gathered on a daily basis, is so large that it would one person 18 years to go through it, analyze it, interpret it and make a recommendation. Eighteen years; that’s 37,440 man-hours (40 hrs a week x 52 weeks x 18 years). Granted, we don’t have a single person doing this, but you can figure that even if you had a team of 100 people, it would take 47 days to process ONE days worth of intel, and intel gathering continues 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It’s a wonder we’re able to do as well as we do.
Add to the equation that intel analysis is not an exact science. Recommendations are basically guesses on the part of the analyst. Guesses made by experts in their fields, based on past experience, political climate, and a myriad of other factors, but it boils down to and educated guess. In the military community, we jokingly refer to it as a SWAG or Scientific Wild A$$ Guess.
So, there is a good chance the intel was flawed. However, there’s a reasonable chance it was correct and the WMDs did exist and were either hidden or moved. I tend to think that these explanations are more plausible than they didn’t exist at all. I can hear you now; "but we haven’t found any, so how could they have been over looked for so long, they couldn’t have existed. Well, the best way to explain this is with an example.
Not long ago, there was a horrible murder out where I live where a pregnant woman was killed by her husband while she slept. He disposed of the bodies in a dumpster. He confessed to the crime within days and the police conducted a full out search of the landfill that dumpster load was taken to. It took over two and a half months to find her body. My point is this; the police KNEW where she was and it took over two months to find her in an area less than 10 square miles. Iraq is about 7,000 square miles larger than California with the majority of it being vast expanses of open, desolate desert. We have found complete military aircraft buried in the desert, to hide them from inspectors. Whole, complete military aircraft. Keep in mind that Iraq gathered intel as well and probably had a good idea of when we were getting ready to go in. They had plenty of time to hide or move their WMDs before OIF kicked off.
There are those who also say that since there were no WMDs (found), then we need to get out of Iraq. Again, I’ll use an example of why we shouldn’t cut and run since the WMDs were not found. Imagine the police get a tip that a house is being used to manufacture and sell drugs. They get a warrant based on probable cause and raid the home. Turns out, there are no drugs, no paraphernalia, no evidence at all of drug activity. Their intel was flawed. But what if they find evidence of a homicide, or find a kidnap victim tied up in the basement? Should they pack up and leave? What if they find evidence of a serial killer or child molester? What should they do?
So, back to my original point; why is parroting the stance of no WMDs being ill-informed? Technically yes, there were no WMDs found so far. They may not have even existed, but that doesn’t mean the President lied. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be in Iraq. Was the intel flawed? Possibly or probably depending on how you look at it. Were mistakes made? Absolutely. Do we cut and run because of them? In my opinion, no; I think it’s better to learn from them and make corrections, and continue to do what is necessary.
My original comments were based on a conversation about how some of the college students I’ve talked to in class don’t take the time to hear the other side, or sometimes a third or forth side of a story. They don’t make the effort to get the details, weigh them, and form their own opinion. This applies to those on both sides of an issue. What I try to instill is these young people is to look at things from all angles, get as much information from different sources (not just the ones that support their particular view) and base a position on complete information. If they do that, they’re opinions have weight. To blindly follow a party line or support a candidate because of dislike for another, is not only irresponsible, it’s dangerous. To base your position on well informed thought is how our system is designed to work.
I know there are plenty out there that will still disagree with me, and that’s fine. I enjoy disagreement. I like to hear well thought out arguments contrary to my views. It makes me better informed. I have even changed my views on some issues because of it. Like I said in my profile, I can’t stand blind allegiance to either side; but I respect the hell out of firm allegiance based on personal thought. I might not agree, but if your argument is based on complete information, I’ll lay down my life defending your right to your beliefs.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The first Rampage for the Rampage
Okay kiddies, time for a full on rage against the machine rant from yours truly. Now I have had more than my fair share of injustices during my 23 years on active duty, but this isn’t about me. This is about some of our warriors sitting in HARMS WAY (mortar and rocket attacks) and not getting hostile fire pay. Not. Getting. HOSTILE. FIRE. Pay. These folks are assigned to units in country, receiving hostile fire, and not getting paid for it. Why?
Here’s what I know, and I’ll admit I haven’t researched much so far, but I do know it’s affecting my family personally. Evidently, you have to been in the combat zone for 30 consecutive days to receive hostile fire pay. Sounds like someone somewhere put this rule in place to prevent REMFs* from popping into the zone for a day and receiving HFP. Good idea. But, and this is a big but, what about those that live and work in the zone, but duties require them to leave for a day or two then return? Or what about some brave trooper who gets wounded and evac’d out of the AOR? Don’t they deserve the HFP for putting their asses on the line?
We have Air Evac teams in country whose job is to take the wounded, injured or KIA out of the AOR to treatment centers in Germany, we all know that. What we don’t know is that as soon as one of these missions of mercy takes off, those crew members and possibly their charges have just lost their chance for HFP. Am I the only one who is outraged by this? I mean, c’mon, all that is required to get the tax free exemption for a month of pay is to enter the combat zone! This includes aircraft that fly through the airspace, but never land in, the combat zone. WTF?
Some people VERY close to me just returned from a tour where the longest consecutive time spent in the zone was 27 days. The good news is that there are fewer mission (due to fewer casualties) than the last deployment they were on, but the bad news is they sacrifice just as much as any other member deployed there and encounter the same risks without the small compensation of HFP. Never mind that one such mission was flown ONLY because some visiting members of Congress refused to wear their seat belts and were in a car accident! They weren’t attacked; their driver lost control and these guys wound up injured through their own arrogance. I wonder what sort of allowance or entitlement they got for their few days in the zone? It just seems wrong that those that work, live, and sometimes die in a combat zone, don’t get this small compensation because of some arbitrary number thought up by some bean counter who probably couldn’t find the combat zone on a map.
*Rear Echelon Mother F^@!$r
Here’s what I know, and I’ll admit I haven’t researched much so far, but I do know it’s affecting my family personally. Evidently, you have to been in the combat zone for 30 consecutive days to receive hostile fire pay. Sounds like someone somewhere put this rule in place to prevent REMFs* from popping into the zone for a day and receiving HFP. Good idea. But, and this is a big but, what about those that live and work in the zone, but duties require them to leave for a day or two then return? Or what about some brave trooper who gets wounded and evac’d out of the AOR? Don’t they deserve the HFP for putting their asses on the line?
We have Air Evac teams in country whose job is to take the wounded, injured or KIA out of the AOR to treatment centers in Germany, we all know that. What we don’t know is that as soon as one of these missions of mercy takes off, those crew members and possibly their charges have just lost their chance for HFP. Am I the only one who is outraged by this? I mean, c’mon, all that is required to get the tax free exemption for a month of pay is to enter the combat zone! This includes aircraft that fly through the airspace, but never land in, the combat zone. WTF?
Some people VERY close to me just returned from a tour where the longest consecutive time spent in the zone was 27 days. The good news is that there are fewer mission (due to fewer casualties) than the last deployment they were on, but the bad news is they sacrifice just as much as any other member deployed there and encounter the same risks without the small compensation of HFP. Never mind that one such mission was flown ONLY because some visiting members of Congress refused to wear their seat belts and were in a car accident! They weren’t attacked; their driver lost control and these guys wound up injured through their own arrogance. I wonder what sort of allowance or entitlement they got for their few days in the zone? It just seems wrong that those that work, live, and sometimes die in a combat zone, don’t get this small compensation because of some arbitrary number thought up by some bean counter who probably couldn’t find the combat zone on a map.
*Rear Echelon Mother F^@!$r
Friday, February 24, 2006
Grandpa pt 1
I started writing my memories of my Grandpa a few weeks before my Grandma passed away and had hoped to show them to her, but she decided she had been away from him far too long before I had a chance. Yet another regret I have, but I'm still glad I started writing these things down. I have about 10 pages just about Grandpa, so I'll post a bit at a time. This story always made me laugh when I heard it. So, Grandma and Grandpa, I hope you're having fun and don't worry about us, we'll see you soon enough. I love you both very much.
Over the years I’ve learned a lot about my Grandpa, the man. The more I learn about him, the more in awe I am. He was born in Belgium and during WWI he and one of his brothers lived in an orphanage since his father had left for America before the war started and was going to send for them when he was able. The way I understand it, they were living with an Aunt, and when the war broke out she couldn’t provide for them and sent them to a Catholic orphanage. After the war ended, my Grandpa, at 16 years old, made his way to America with no money and unable to read, write or speak English. He was able to get from Belgium to Iowa and eventually locate his father. Quite a feat when you think about America in the early 20th century; very few phones, travel either by horse or on foot, and he had no idea where Iowa even was; just a general idea of the direction he needed to travel. That in itself is another story.
The only story I remember hearing about during his time at the orphanage was the time he was almost killed by an unexploded bomb. I hope I have it right, I haven’t heard the story in over 15 years, but it goes like this; the Nuns who ran the orphanage were very strict and so grandpa and his brother (I think it was Oscar, but maybe it was Morris) were always afraid of getting caught doing what young boys do (getting dirty, playing when they should have been reading etc). Anyway, one day they noticed something very shiny at the bottom of the river that ran behind the orphanage. The water was too deep for them to get it, so they kept trying everyday for quite a while. Finally, the spring waters had gone down enough for them to get it out of the river and try and figure out what it was.
Now picture two young boys hiding in the back grounds of a catholic orphanage, playing with an unknown treasure they had just pulled from the river while brilliant white sheets fluttered in the summer sun on a clothes line nearby. Grandpa’s brother (on lookout) suddenly and urgently whispers to him “the Nun is coming!!!!” and grandpa, not wanting to get in trouble, tosses the thing over the low stone wall to hide it until the coast is clear. BOOOOOOOOM! This thing they were playing with turns out to be an unexploded bomb! The resulting blast SHREDS the nearest sheets and turns them black and smoldering in the breeze! The Nun drops her laundry and hightails it with her long black habit pulled up to her knees for the safety of the building, thinking the Germans were attacking. Grandpa, with his ears ringing like bansees, feels the back of his head which feels like hamburger and looks at his bloodied hands in disbelief. His younger brother starts wailing “DEILA, YOUR BRAINS ARE FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!” and runs sobbing to the building.
In a panic, Grandpa, takes off running down the road and is finally picked up a mile or so later by some American soldiers that are bivouacked near the orphanage. They take him to the Army Dr. who stitches him up and then finally drives him back to the orphanage. The ride back to the orphanage was terrifying for him; he just KNEW he was in trouble with a capital T. Luckily, the Nuns still thought they had been attacked by the Germans. They RAN out to welcome him home, smothering him with hugs and heaping praise on him for his bravery in running to the American camp while under fire, to try and help defend his home! He never did tell them the truth!
He's been gone almost 21 years and I still miss him.
Over the years I’ve learned a lot about my Grandpa, the man. The more I learn about him, the more in awe I am. He was born in Belgium and during WWI he and one of his brothers lived in an orphanage since his father had left for America before the war started and was going to send for them when he was able. The way I understand it, they were living with an Aunt, and when the war broke out she couldn’t provide for them and sent them to a Catholic orphanage. After the war ended, my Grandpa, at 16 years old, made his way to America with no money and unable to read, write or speak English. He was able to get from Belgium to Iowa and eventually locate his father. Quite a feat when you think about America in the early 20th century; very few phones, travel either by horse or on foot, and he had no idea where Iowa even was; just a general idea of the direction he needed to travel. That in itself is another story.
The only story I remember hearing about during his time at the orphanage was the time he was almost killed by an unexploded bomb. I hope I have it right, I haven’t heard the story in over 15 years, but it goes like this; the Nuns who ran the orphanage were very strict and so grandpa and his brother (I think it was Oscar, but maybe it was Morris) were always afraid of getting caught doing what young boys do (getting dirty, playing when they should have been reading etc). Anyway, one day they noticed something very shiny at the bottom of the river that ran behind the orphanage. The water was too deep for them to get it, so they kept trying everyday for quite a while. Finally, the spring waters had gone down enough for them to get it out of the river and try and figure out what it was.
Now picture two young boys hiding in the back grounds of a catholic orphanage, playing with an unknown treasure they had just pulled from the river while brilliant white sheets fluttered in the summer sun on a clothes line nearby. Grandpa’s brother (on lookout) suddenly and urgently whispers to him “the Nun is coming!!!!” and grandpa, not wanting to get in trouble, tosses the thing over the low stone wall to hide it until the coast is clear. BOOOOOOOOM! This thing they were playing with turns out to be an unexploded bomb! The resulting blast SHREDS the nearest sheets and turns them black and smoldering in the breeze! The Nun drops her laundry and hightails it with her long black habit pulled up to her knees for the safety of the building, thinking the Germans were attacking. Grandpa, with his ears ringing like bansees, feels the back of his head which feels like hamburger and looks at his bloodied hands in disbelief. His younger brother starts wailing “DEILA, YOUR BRAINS ARE FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!” and runs sobbing to the building.
In a panic, Grandpa, takes off running down the road and is finally picked up a mile or so later by some American soldiers that are bivouacked near the orphanage. They take him to the Army Dr. who stitches him up and then finally drives him back to the orphanage. The ride back to the orphanage was terrifying for him; he just KNEW he was in trouble with a capital T. Luckily, the Nuns still thought they had been attacked by the Germans. They RAN out to welcome him home, smothering him with hugs and heaping praise on him for his bravery in running to the American camp while under fire, to try and help defend his home! He never did tell them the truth!
He's been gone almost 21 years and I still miss him.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Cindy's back... WHY?!
Hmmm, first I’ve heard of this. Well done to the “protestors”; she needs to be reminded that freedom of speech goes both ways. I did find it funny that she told the crowd “. . . if you support this war and President Bush, march to your recruiter's office and sign up." Something her son Casey did. Matt at Blackfive has the details of Casey’s valor. HE is a hero and deserves to be remembered but unfortunately, SHE is cashing in on his ultimate sacrifice for something HE believed in. Go away Cindy and let you son rest in the peace he’s earned.
Oh, and by the way, poor quality body armor?, not true. Our troops have the very best available. Rotten food? She’s full of BS; the dining facilities serve good, healthy meals and MREs may not be the most enjoyable, but they’re decent and healthy meals. No treatment for PTSD? The treatment is there, unfortunately, some refuse to take it. Some feel ashamed of not being able to cope on their own and refuse to get treatment; Sad, but true. Every returning military member is given the opportunity to get treatment. The DoD is spending millions to ensure this treatment is available to it’s members.
I’m sorry she lost her son, but I just wish she would HONOR him instead of using him. My advice to Cindy is to go to church. Find peace, solace and forgiveness. Honor your son and be grateful for the time you shared. Be proud of the man you raised; be proud of his commitment, his faith, and his compassion. Stop blaming others for his choice to serve, and promoting your own selfish agenda.
Oh, and by the way, poor quality body armor?, not true. Our troops have the very best available. Rotten food? She’s full of BS; the dining facilities serve good, healthy meals and MREs may not be the most enjoyable, but they’re decent and healthy meals. No treatment for PTSD? The treatment is there, unfortunately, some refuse to take it. Some feel ashamed of not being able to cope on their own and refuse to get treatment; Sad, but true. Every returning military member is given the opportunity to get treatment. The DoD is spending millions to ensure this treatment is available to it’s members.
I’m sorry she lost her son, but I just wish she would HONOR him instead of using him. My advice to Cindy is to go to church. Find peace, solace and forgiveness. Honor your son and be grateful for the time you shared. Be proud of the man you raised; be proud of his commitment, his faith, and his compassion. Stop blaming others for his choice to serve, and promoting your own selfish agenda.
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