Classes start tomorrow. I think I'm ready for it. I've had plenny time off...especially now that I'm back on the frigid east coast. I need something to take my mind off how freaking cold it is outside.
But one of the best things about having time off like I've just had is that I got to read...lots of books of my own choosing. Nothing for school, no required reading, and no pressure. Here's a review of the books:
--Love My Rifle More Than You, by Kayla Williams: Ms Williams was an Army Specialist and spent a deployment in Iraq. She writes very candidly about her experiences spending so much time with a bunch of guys under some pretty stressful circumstances. I found a lot of common ground with what she had to say, mostly with her reactions to being one of very few women surrounded by men and the camaraderie that develops in operational units. The tedium of standing the watch. What it feels like to walk into a D-FAC. I don't think it's the end-all, be-all statement of women in the military, but it is a good, honest portrayal of one woman's experiences.
--Deadliest Sea: The Untold Story Behind the Greatest Rescue in Coast Guard History, by Kalee Thompson: This is the story of the rescue of 42 of the 47 people onboard F/V ALASKA RANGER in the Bering Sea in March, 2008. The vessel lost a rudder and sank within a few hours, about 120 miles west of Dutch Harbor. The Coast Guard units involved in the rescue include USCGC MUNRO, D17 Command Center, and multiple aircraft from Air Station Kodiak. It was a well-written book, full of accounts from the crew of the fishing vessel as well as responders. And it's always fun to recognize people in books...LT Jimmy Terrell and CAPT Lloyd from MUNRO and Liam Larue from NTSB.
--A Captain's Duty: Somali Pirates, Navy SEALS and Dangerous Days at Sea, by Richard Phillips: I was in Bahrain when the MAERSK ALABAMA was attacked, which I think is the same time zone as Somalia. We were all abuzz about it when it happened, so it was really cool to read the back story. And it was interesting to hear about the life of merchant marines. I've boarded a ton of commercial vessels, but never really took the time to ask about how the ship runs on a daily basis. I also think that piracy is an area that we, the CG, are uniquely positioned to combat...ya know...WPBs, which are a great platform for chasing pirates, that are looking for work in that area of the globe. Anyway, I enjoyed this book for a number of reasons: Mr Phillips talking about the duties of being a Captain, the mental preparations he made for underway trips, and the insights into how the merchant ships run. The casual brutality of the pirates, as well as the deaths, were not part of what I enjoyed, but were definitely integral to the story.
--Third World America, by Arianna Huffington: The first few chapters of this book are ungodly depressing, mostly about how America is falling apart as a country. How the poor are getting poorer while the rich sit in their ivory towers eating gold-plated caviar, how our education and health care systems are in crisis, how our infrastructure is crumbling and desperately needs investment. But Ms Huffington does offer a few niblets of encouragement, practical suggestions that everyday people can take to help shore up the American dream. Mostly bleeding heart liberal spin on the current state of affairs, but not all gloom and doom.
--Read My Pins: Stories from a Diplomat's Jewelry Box, by Madeleine Albright: I heard Madame Albright speak at the end of last semester. She was on campus for the Sadat Lecture for Peace and spoke about the potential for peace in the Middle East. She was a brilliant speaker, engaging, cogent and well, funny. I enjoyed this book also, with its beautiful pictures of so many different pins. But I really want to read Madame Secretary: A Memoir.
--Uncommon Valor: The Medal of Honor and the Six Warriors Who Earned It in Afghanistan and Iraq, by Dwight Jon Zimmerman and John D. Gresham: What a powerful book. It tells about six servicemen who earned the Medal of Honor, all awarded posthumously. I think it came out before Staff Sergeant Salvatore Giunta was recognized in November, 2010 with his Medal of Honor. The book also gives a nice history of the medal and its recipients. The most frustrating story was about Joe Foss, a WWII Medal of Honor recipient who traveled with his medal in January, 2002. He was stopped by airport security for "suspicious objects" in his jacket. He missed his flight after being detained and questioned as a possible terrorist suspect for carrying something that looked like a Japanese throwing star. The airport security screeners didn't recognize it...it was his Medal of Honor. The stories about the more recent recipients were powerful stories of men who recognized their duty and unhesitatingly made decisions that were devastating to themselves, but saved the lives of those soldiers and sailors around them.
--The Long Walk, by Slavomir Rawicz: There is controversy about whether this is a true story. Records prove that Slavomir Rawicz was not one of the group that escaped from the Siberian prison camp in 1941. Regardless, it's still a good read about the power of perseverance.
And even though classes start tomorrow, I'm in the middle of two books right now: The Trumpet of Conscience, by Martin Luther King, Jr and Fannie's Last Supper: Re-creating One Amazing Meal from Fannie Farmer's 1896 Cookbook, by Chris Kimball. Hopefully I'll get to finish them both before things get too crazy with school work.
Just so you don't think that all I read is hard-core non-fiction, I'll come clean and admit I also read some fiction including Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, by Seth Grahame-Smith and The Sleeping Beauty, by Mercedes Lackey.
And of course, there's a few books that I still want to read:
--Mark Twain's Autobiography...He wouldn't let it be published until 100 years after his death...should be good.
--Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption, by Laura Hillenbrand...recommended by a friend.
--Hero: The Life and Legend of Lawrence of Arabia, by Michael Korda...I heard about it on NPR and it sounds interesting.
Anybody got any other recommendations?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
I (Heart) Waialua
All three (woohoo...I still have three readers!!) respondents said they'd like to see the I <3 Waialua photoessay. Don't know why I couldn't get the <3 in the title, but there ya go.
And really, this is more than just Waialua, 'cause some of the photos are from Haleiwa, too. But they're right next door to each other, easy biking distance, and when I think of Waialua, I can't really separate out Haleiwa in my mind.
I've lived in Waialua on and off since 2002, when I was stationed on USCGC WASHINGTON (WPB 1331) when she was still homeported in Honolulu. I bought my first house there and then sold my first house there. But I bought another one at the same time, and have owned it since 2005. I haven't lived there very much. I got my orders to USCGC HAMILTON (WHEC 715) five months after moving onto Ka'amo'oloa Rd. Which is a damn shame, because it's a really sweet little house, in a wonderful neighborhood. My mom lives there now, so I'm lucky enough to get to visit. Which is what I did for the last month.
This is the road into Waialua, Kaukonahua Rd, also known as Mountain Rd or Snake Rd, because, well, it comes down the mountain, and it's really windy. But I really love that first view you get of the town from the hill, with the ocean in the background. You can usually see from pretty far away what the ocean conditions are like, if it's flat calm or the waves are big or if it's windy white-cap crap.
This is Mt Ka'ala, which is the highest peak on Oahu, and part of the Waianae mountain range dividing the North Shore from the West side. Mt Ka'ala has many moods, sometimes with low-hanging clouds skirting her foothills, and other times crispy clear, like this one.
And this is in the old cane fields right close to my house. The sugar cane mill shut down in 1989, I think (or was it 1986?), and now small scale, local farmers lease the land and grow diversified vegetables and fruits, mostly for sale to Chinatown. I don't know what the structure is in the picture, some sort of old chimney or something.
One day, riding my back from yoga class through the cane haul roads that weave through the area, I came across this sculpture. I have no *idea* who made it or why it's just sitting there behind the ruins of some cane equipment, but I love that it's there, guarded by stalwart Norfolk pines. It's kinda a good reminder to appreciate beauty wherever you see it, not just where you expect to find it.
Sticking with the current scenic theme, this is the view from the road up to Peacock Flats. Which, I guess technically is in Mokuleia, but heck, Waialua, Haleiwa, Mokuleia all blend together for me. Anyway, this is just past mile marker 2.5 I think. The first mile of the trail is pretty flat, and then the rest of the 3.5 mile trail is straight up the foothills of Mt Kaala. The views are beautiful; you can look west towards Kaena Point, or east (like this one) back towards Waialua and Haleiwa.
And then when you get to the top, there's a lovely clearing with picnic tables, and some camping spots. I've never camped up here, but people do. It must be so peaceful and quiet. The clearing is ringed by eucalyptus trees and Norfolk pines, and a conservation group is trying to reestablish some native species as well.
But Aweoweo is not necessarily the nicest beach around. That would probably by Kaiaka Beach, which technically is in Haleiwa, if anyone's being picky.This is looking west towards Kaena Point. Just around the sandy point in the photo is where the Waialua River meets the ocean. When it rains lots and lots, the river dumps plenny chocolate water into the ocean.
Kaiaka is such a nice spot because, unlike lots of other beaches in the area, it has a nice sandy bottom, instead of coral or rock. The big waves break pretty far out on the outside reef, and usually just send in little ankle-slappers to shore. One main reason I <3 Waialua...this photo below was taken on New Year's Eve day. I love that any day can be a beach day!
And then there's the folks you share the beach with. Mom and I had gone to Kaiaka, just the two of us. So I had to ask the very handsome, in shape gentleman who was hanging out a couple of yards away to take our picture. Darn.
Back at the homestead, Mom found this little, itty-bitty gecko in her room. He's no more than an inch long, and about as thick as a dime. So very cute!
And can you see the two lizards in this photo? There's one each on the center and right-hand rock. There's a native shrub, pohinahina planted by the front steps, that I swear the lizards use as a condo, there's so many of them living in it. But they are very territorial, and I think these two were about to brawl.
And one more, where's the lizard? This one's a pretty good sized one, maybe 5 inches from tip to tail. You can see the yellow/white stripe running all the way down his back. Oh, and that's the pohinahina I just mentioned.
These last two photos are of the same place, different days. The first one is when Molly (center), Marissa (right) and I took a biking booze cruze through Haleiwa. Molly and I picked up Marissa at her house, then pedaled on the bike path to Haleiwa Joe's. We enjoyed some fruity umbrella drinks and some pupus there, then got on our bicycles and trundled off to Luibueno's. Molly had to bail on us to go pick up her husband at the airport, home from Iraq for R&R, but Marissa's friend Michelle joined up with us. Some drinks, chips and salsa at Luibueno's and then we were off to Cholo's. Enroute Cholo's, we passed Bonsai Sushi, and heard live music, so once we were done being treated like tourists at Cholo's, we ended the evening with sake and sushi at Bonzai. So yummy and fun. I learned how to check in to places on Facebook that evening :)
And then the evening I left, we stopped at Haleiwa Joe's again for pupus. In the photo are: my mom, Karen (sorry about the picture, Mom...I don't know if I caught you with your mouth full or what); my cousin Karen (Elizabeth) and her beau, George visiting from West Virginia; Uncle Terry and Auntie Jane; and Travis (who doesn't usually look that much like a vampire) and Marissa (who always takes a great photo!). Along with being my last night there, it was Uncle Terry's birthday. I heard some crazy number over 66 being thrown out there for his age, but I don't believe he's a day older than 55!
And really, this is more than just Waialua, 'cause some of the photos are from Haleiwa, too. But they're right next door to each other, easy biking distance, and when I think of Waialua, I can't really separate out Haleiwa in my mind.
I've lived in Waialua on and off since 2002, when I was stationed on USCGC WASHINGTON (WPB 1331) when she was still homeported in Honolulu. I bought my first house there and then sold my first house there. But I bought another one at the same time, and have owned it since 2005. I haven't lived there very much. I got my orders to USCGC HAMILTON (WHEC 715) five months after moving onto Ka'amo'oloa Rd. Which is a damn shame, because it's a really sweet little house, in a wonderful neighborhood. My mom lives there now, so I'm lucky enough to get to visit. Which is what I did for the last month.
This is the road into Waialua, Kaukonahua Rd, also known as Mountain Rd or Snake Rd, because, well, it comes down the mountain, and it's really windy. But I really love that first view you get of the town from the hill, with the ocean in the background. You can usually see from pretty far away what the ocean conditions are like, if it's flat calm or the waves are big or if it's windy white-cap crap.
And this is in the old cane fields right close to my house. The sugar cane mill shut down in 1989, I think (or was it 1986?), and now small scale, local farmers lease the land and grow diversified vegetables and fruits, mostly for sale to Chinatown. I don't know what the structure is in the picture, some sort of old chimney or something.
One day, riding my back from yoga class through the cane haul roads that weave through the area, I came across this sculpture. I have no *idea* who made it or why it's just sitting there behind the ruins of some cane equipment, but I love that it's there, guarded by stalwart Norfolk pines. It's kinda a good reminder to appreciate beauty wherever you see it, not just where you expect to find it.
Sticking with the current scenic theme, this is the view from the road up to Peacock Flats. Which, I guess technically is in Mokuleia, but heck, Waialua, Haleiwa, Mokuleia all blend together for me. Anyway, this is just past mile marker 2.5 I think. The first mile of the trail is pretty flat, and then the rest of the 3.5 mile trail is straight up the foothills of Mt Kaala. The views are beautiful; you can look west towards Kaena Point, or east (like this one) back towards Waialua and Haleiwa.
And then when you get to the top, there's a lovely clearing with picnic tables, and some camping spots. I've never camped up here, but people do. It must be so peaceful and quiet. The clearing is ringed by eucalyptus trees and Norfolk pines, and a conservation group is trying to reestablish some native species as well.
Once the hike up the mountain is done, though, it's time for the beach. This is at Aweoweo Park, or Cement City, and was one of my favorite places to run this last month. I could run the 3.25 miles there, do some push ups, pull ups and sit ups on the jungle gym, take a dip, rinse off, and then run home. And the water in the water fountain is really good. Except when I turned it on full blast and it shot straight up my nose. Phthwwaa.
But Aweoweo is not necessarily the nicest beach around. That would probably by Kaiaka Beach, which technically is in Haleiwa, if anyone's being picky.This is looking west towards Kaena Point. Just around the sandy point in the photo is where the Waialua River meets the ocean. When it rains lots and lots, the river dumps plenny chocolate water into the ocean.
And then there's the folks you share the beach with. Mom and I had gone to Kaiaka, just the two of us. So I had to ask the very handsome, in shape gentleman who was hanging out a couple of yards away to take our picture. Darn.
Back at the homestead, Mom found this little, itty-bitty gecko in her room. He's no more than an inch long, and about as thick as a dime. So very cute!
And can you see the two lizards in this photo? There's one each on the center and right-hand rock. There's a native shrub, pohinahina planted by the front steps, that I swear the lizards use as a condo, there's so many of them living in it. But they are very territorial, and I think these two were about to brawl.
And one more, where's the lizard? This one's a pretty good sized one, maybe 5 inches from tip to tail. You can see the yellow/white stripe running all the way down his back. Oh, and that's the pohinahina I just mentioned.
So where are all the people? I save the best for last! Our 'hood is fantabulous. Such wonderfully great people (not even gonna *mention* the exception), in such a beautiful location. This was New Year's Eve. Mom hosted a potluck down at her end of the street, under the driveway tarp. The Adams' brought down a bunch of fireworks and we had a go at them in the street. Our little branch of Ka'amo'oloa Rd is bordered on one side by the Pa'alakai neighborhood and on the other by larger, more homestead-like lots. Who all LOVE fireworks!! We could see full aerials going up in three different directions. So super cool! The noise and light show lasted until about 1 am.
These last two photos are of the same place, different days. The first one is when Molly (center), Marissa (right) and I took a biking booze cruze through Haleiwa. Molly and I picked up Marissa at her house, then pedaled on the bike path to Haleiwa Joe's. We enjoyed some fruity umbrella drinks and some pupus there, then got on our bicycles and trundled off to Luibueno's. Molly had to bail on us to go pick up her husband at the airport, home from Iraq for R&R, but Marissa's friend Michelle joined up with us. Some drinks, chips and salsa at Luibueno's and then we were off to Cholo's. Enroute Cholo's, we passed Bonsai Sushi, and heard live music, so once we were done being treated like tourists at Cholo's, we ended the evening with sake and sushi at Bonzai. So yummy and fun. I learned how to check in to places on Facebook that evening :)
And then the evening I left, we stopped at Haleiwa Joe's again for pupus. In the photo are: my mom, Karen (sorry about the picture, Mom...I don't know if I caught you with your mouth full or what); my cousin Karen (Elizabeth) and her beau, George visiting from West Virginia; Uncle Terry and Auntie Jane; and Travis (who doesn't usually look that much like a vampire) and Marissa (who always takes a great photo!). Along with being my last night there, it was Uncle Terry's birthday. I heard some crazy number over 66 being thrown out there for his age, but I don't believe he's a day older than 55!
One last thing I <3 about Waialua, besides the scenery, the beach, the neighborhood and the people...I <3 the sunlight. It doesn't show up very well in this picture, but it's as close as I could come. I love the way the light falls through the foliage, the sharp edges of the palm fronds' shadows on the grass, and how the golden light accentuates the green leaves and the bright blue sky. It's so crisp and clear. It gives me hope and helps me to breathe.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Mish Mash
Dear Blog,
I'm so sorry I've neglected you these last few weeks. I could try to use the excuse of holiday chaos, but it's been pretty low key here in Waialua. Or it was once I got that last take-home exam turned in on day two of being here. The only thing I can attribute my lack of attention to you is plain old laziness.You are still very important to me, and I think about you lots and lots, but I just don't know what to write about right now. Grad school, especially between semesters at grad school, does not offer the rich fare of stories and ponderances that shipboard life supports.
I have a few ideas for posts:
--an exploration of solitude versus loneliness. It may turn out to be an exercise in semantics, but I think there really might be something there, even if it is pretty intensely personal.
--why the phrase "structural integrity" is so important to me. I found myself using it in a totally new context just yesterday, and kinda surprised myself with the general applicability for my worldview.
--an "I <3 Waialua" photoessay. Need to take more pictures if I'm gonna do this one.
--the Lazy Girl's post: excerpts from a paper I wrote for my Moral Dimensions class last semester on the ethics of women in combat. Totally cliched, but there were some good points for exploration, especially within the context of how the CG approaches job-related gender concerns.
--Book reviews: I've read a bunch of good books lately (now that I have time to read *and* digest them, instead of just plowing through a reading assignment on to move quickly onto the next one...note to self: five classes with heavy reading loads was too much; totally different mentality from 15 hours a day on the bridge).
So, readers, what do you think? I'll try to get my next post up within a week or ten days. What should I write about?
--Just a Girl
I'm so sorry I've neglected you these last few weeks. I could try to use the excuse of holiday chaos, but it's been pretty low key here in Waialua. Or it was once I got that last take-home exam turned in on day two of being here. The only thing I can attribute my lack of attention to you is plain old laziness.You are still very important to me, and I think about you lots and lots, but I just don't know what to write about right now. Grad school, especially between semesters at grad school, does not offer the rich fare of stories and ponderances that shipboard life supports.
I have a few ideas for posts:
--an exploration of solitude versus loneliness. It may turn out to be an exercise in semantics, but I think there really might be something there, even if it is pretty intensely personal.
--why the phrase "structural integrity" is so important to me. I found myself using it in a totally new context just yesterday, and kinda surprised myself with the general applicability for my worldview.
--an "I <3 Waialua" photoessay. Need to take more pictures if I'm gonna do this one.
--the Lazy Girl's post: excerpts from a paper I wrote for my Moral Dimensions class last semester on the ethics of women in combat. Totally cliched, but there were some good points for exploration, especially within the context of how the CG approaches job-related gender concerns.
--Book reviews: I've read a bunch of good books lately (now that I have time to read *and* digest them, instead of just plowing through a reading assignment on to move quickly onto the next one...note to self: five classes with heavy reading loads was too much; totally different mentality from 15 hours a day on the bridge).
So, readers, what do you think? I'll try to get my next post up within a week or ten days. What should I write about?
--Just a Girl
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Thanksgiving: My Family
OMG, how did a whole month pass? I fully intended to post this the Sunday after Thanksgiving, so it had some hope of being timely. But it took me 9 hours to get home from North Carolina, eating up my entire Sunday evening. And then it was two weeks before finals, and I had three memos, a 20-page paper, two finals and a take home to get through. And now it's a month later, and I escaped frigid DC for tropical Waialua, Hawaii. And I *absolutely* am thankful for that!
But this post is about my family. I don't know how the heck they put up with me. For the past ten years, the first question most of them ask me when they talk to me on the phone is, "where are you?" And they don't mean it as in, are you at home or at school or at work or the grocery story or the library? No, it's more like, what continent are you on? Because sometimes I've been in South America, sometimes in Southwest Asia, sometimes on the East Coast of the US and sometimes in Hawaii. It is kinda fun to keep 'em guessing though :)
I'll never forget telling my brother that I had taken the ASVAB in preparation for joining the Coast Guard nearly twelve years ago. He was into his second decade in the Air Force, and I think I didn't talk to him for a year or two when I was a young, thoughtless pissant in high school because I was upset about his participation in the military industrial complex that was such a major stumbling block to the peaceful, sensible, rightful way that the world *should* work. So, needless to say, he was a little bit surprised to hear that I was pursuing a military career ten years later. I think it took him about 30 seconds to pick his lower jaw up off the floor from where it had dropped when he heard I was enlisting. And then he proceeded to give me very useful advice...stay operational. Well, Jay, I did (finally) take some of your advice, and you were SO right! We've had some great conversations since then about the military, leadership, current world news and life in general. Thanks, bro, for sticking it out with me while I pulled my head out of lalaland.
And my brother has a wonderful family who I had the chance to see for a couple of hours Thanksgiving weekend. His wife, Susan, is a great mother to their three kids, homeschooling them and teaching them to be thoughtful people. In Africa. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention...Jay is a bush pilot in Africa for a missionary group, doing lots of medevacs and transporting medicine, people, supplies and probably a chicken or two in his planes all throughout eastern Africa, Kenya, Uganda, Sudan...dangerous places where the runways sometimes have doglegs in the middle of them, guards with AKs and never mind the cows and giraffes blocking the way. So, Susan doesn't necessarily have all the conveniences of a regular suburban housewife. But she does an amazing job, keeping a bountiful garden and making beautiful quilts. Their kids are really sweet, but growing up so very, very fast. Alex is now taller than I am, and is starting to give his dad a run for his money in wrestling matches. Beth is beautiful, and will likely be completely stunning in a few years, never mind smart and talented. She crocheted me the coolest beanie for Christmas...awesome colors and it fits perfectly. And Sam is such a pixie, so impish and curious. I miss seeing them on a regular basis, but know they are growing up in an amazing place that will make them really cool people to get to know when (if) we ever live in close(r) proximity.
My dad and his wife visited on their way through Maryland enroute North Carolina to see my brother and his family the week before Thanksgiving. They were so patient with the kitchen under construction and other idiosyncrasies of my old house. I usually get to see Dad and Sandee on the Coast Guard's dime about every year or two. They live a couple hours from New London, CT, so I get to visit them whenever I go to a C school at the Academy. But I hadn't seen them since I got back from Bahrain, so it was really great to be able to host them for the night. They ran into some traffic and bad advice from their GPS that shortened the visit a little bit, but we got to chat over dinner, and they got to see where I live, for the first time since I left the east coast ten years ago.
Thanksgiving itself was a wonderful day...exactly what the day is supposed to be. Tons of good food, a warm, crowded kitchen, great people and a fun time. I road-tripped down to my friend Amy's house in North Carolina to hang with her and her 9-year-old daughter, Ally. Her mom came over, and my Uncle Steve and his partner, Aunt Jan came in from Rockingham County for dinner.
Amy and I have been friends for nearly 20 years. I haven't kept in continuous touch with anybody else that I've known for that long, except for other family members, so I feel like I have every right to call her and Ally family. She has been there for me through all my stupid human tricks, ready to laugh at me, with me, for me and around me. We met in a political science class my first year at Berea College. In retrospect, I'm really surprised we never got kicked out of class. We laughed the entire semester...poor professor (he kinda looked like Ichabod Crane, which didn't help at all). And I don't know that the college farm was ever the same after we worked there for a summer. Work briefings took at least ten minutes longer but were so much more enjoyable for everybody because we joked around so much. Best line *EVER*: what happens if you don't wash sheep in cold water with Woolite? Do they look like this? (put palms on either side of your face by your ears and pull backwards so your face stretches tight). We tried to ask our boss that with straight faces, but could only get it about halfway out before we couldn't say any more words through the hilarity. She didn't think it was so funny. And meringue...that stuff kinda hurts coming out the nose. Just saying.
I don't know why Ally puts up with me...I'm kinda mean, pouring cold water over her in the shower after she threw some 'tude at me, and tickling her relentlessly. But she's known me as Crazy Aunt Charley for her whole life, and I hope to be there for her like her mom has been there for me. One of my favorite things about being back on the east coast is being closer to some of the people I love that I haven't seen enough of recently.
Mom always told us that family does anything they can for family. I took it for granted for a long time, but Uncle Steve has done so very, very much for me over the years that it's hard not to be thankful for my family. He put me, my dog and three cats up in his spare room while I looked for a place to live before my first stint in grad school...for two months. He pretty much single-handedly renovated the kitchen in my new house. And he's just a cool guy. We're both the youngest in our generations, and along with my cousin Cameron (also the youngest), we keep the rest of the family on their toes. We're our own flock of black sheep :) Just make sure to wash us in Woolite.
I'm staying with my Mom over Christmas and into the New Year. We've had our difficulties over the years. We're both really stubborn, alike in some ways, and different in ones that make it tough for us to get along sometimes. Well, difficult for me to get along with her sometimes...I admit, I'm not the easiest person to get along with. Too many years in charge I think: I don't like it when things don't go my way. But she's always been proud of me (embarrassingly so sometimes...you know moms). One of Mom and my sister's favorite stories about me is the time we were in the grocery store in Ellicott City, MD, getting some last minute supplies for dinner. Vicki and I were both home from college. The store was crowded, and we were walking in a little bit of a gaggle, politely making way for people and generally being conscious of the fact that we were not the only people in the store trying to finish errands. But there was this snooty woman with her grocery cart that pretty much plowed through us like we were invisible peasants in her own personal kingdom. Well, I don't mind being ignored...but for god's sake, don't disrespect me. I pushed my nose up in the air with my finger (not my middle one...my mom was there for heaven's sake) and snorted like a pig...loudly. The woman looked around, slightly mortified.
I'm glad that Mom's enjoying her retirement. And even though I'm still a punk sometimes, I love her a lot.
I've got a bunch more family members to be thankful for...Aunt Linda and Uncle Adam, cousins Karen, Jennie and Roy and family, Cameron, Nancy and Jim, Robin and Blaine and family, and Jane and Eddie. I don't talk to many of them often, and see them even less. But I know they care about me and support me.
I haven't mentioned my sister yet, though. She's joined conversations on the blog before, usually with insightful words of advice or thoughtful comments from a completely different perspective. The funny thing is that we used to *hate* each other. And that really is not too strong a word. When we were in grade school, and on into high school, I couldn't stand being around her. She was always such a damn goodie-two-shoes. She tattled on me for trying to learn how to spit when I was ten. She was way smarter than me (still is), and just complicated things unbearably. She kept her room neat, made her bed, had better handwriting (still does), didn't throw a fit about going to church, dated nice boys, and didn't wear holey jeans.
Aunt Linda told us both sometime, maybe about 20 years ago, that we'd end up really good friends once we got older. We both thought she was delusional. I was a snotty little punk, out to piss off the world, and Vicki made it clear she was so very, very far superior to me. In every way.
It's amazing the clarity gained from those 20 years. And thank goodness for it. Vicki was the first person I called during that kerfuffle over the Endangered Species Act last fall. And the first person I called when my boyfriend broke up with me. And the first person I called when I found out I was going to take command of a ship...in Bahrain. She edited my college application essay for me. She is always, always willing to listen and offer encouragement. I love the fact that she knew me as a punk kid, and saw me grow out most, but not all, of it. And I am so truly happy that she is happy.
So I am so very, very thankful for my family. All of them.
But this post is about my family. I don't know how the heck they put up with me. For the past ten years, the first question most of them ask me when they talk to me on the phone is, "where are you?" And they don't mean it as in, are you at home or at school or at work or the grocery story or the library? No, it's more like, what continent are you on? Because sometimes I've been in South America, sometimes in Southwest Asia, sometimes on the East Coast of the US and sometimes in Hawaii. It is kinda fun to keep 'em guessing though :)
I'll never forget telling my brother that I had taken the ASVAB in preparation for joining the Coast Guard nearly twelve years ago. He was into his second decade in the Air Force, and I think I didn't talk to him for a year or two when I was a young, thoughtless pissant in high school because I was upset about his participation in the military industrial complex that was such a major stumbling block to the peaceful, sensible, rightful way that the world *should* work. So, needless to say, he was a little bit surprised to hear that I was pursuing a military career ten years later. I think it took him about 30 seconds to pick his lower jaw up off the floor from where it had dropped when he heard I was enlisting. And then he proceeded to give me very useful advice...stay operational. Well, Jay, I did (finally) take some of your advice, and you were SO right! We've had some great conversations since then about the military, leadership, current world news and life in general. Thanks, bro, for sticking it out with me while I pulled my head out of lalaland.
And my brother has a wonderful family who I had the chance to see for a couple of hours Thanksgiving weekend. His wife, Susan, is a great mother to their three kids, homeschooling them and teaching them to be thoughtful people. In Africa. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention...Jay is a bush pilot in Africa for a missionary group, doing lots of medevacs and transporting medicine, people, supplies and probably a chicken or two in his planes all throughout eastern Africa, Kenya, Uganda, Sudan...dangerous places where the runways sometimes have doglegs in the middle of them, guards with AKs and never mind the cows and giraffes blocking the way. So, Susan doesn't necessarily have all the conveniences of a regular suburban housewife. But she does an amazing job, keeping a bountiful garden and making beautiful quilts. Their kids are really sweet, but growing up so very, very fast. Alex is now taller than I am, and is starting to give his dad a run for his money in wrestling matches. Beth is beautiful, and will likely be completely stunning in a few years, never mind smart and talented. She crocheted me the coolest beanie for Christmas...awesome colors and it fits perfectly. And Sam is such a pixie, so impish and curious. I miss seeing them on a regular basis, but know they are growing up in an amazing place that will make them really cool people to get to know when (if) we ever live in close(r) proximity.
My dad and his wife visited on their way through Maryland enroute North Carolina to see my brother and his family the week before Thanksgiving. They were so patient with the kitchen under construction and other idiosyncrasies of my old house. I usually get to see Dad and Sandee on the Coast Guard's dime about every year or two. They live a couple hours from New London, CT, so I get to visit them whenever I go to a C school at the Academy. But I hadn't seen them since I got back from Bahrain, so it was really great to be able to host them for the night. They ran into some traffic and bad advice from their GPS that shortened the visit a little bit, but we got to chat over dinner, and they got to see where I live, for the first time since I left the east coast ten years ago.
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| Uncle Steve, Aunt Jan, Ally, Amy's mom Susan, and Amy |
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| Acrobat Ally and Jan, waiting her turn on the trampoline |
I don't know why Ally puts up with me...I'm kinda mean, pouring cold water over her in the shower after she threw some 'tude at me, and tickling her relentlessly. But she's known me as Crazy Aunt Charley for her whole life, and I hope to be there for her like her mom has been there for me. One of my favorite things about being back on the east coast is being closer to some of the people I love that I haven't seen enough of recently.
Mom always told us that family does anything they can for family. I took it for granted for a long time, but Uncle Steve has done so very, very much for me over the years that it's hard not to be thankful for my family. He put me, my dog and three cats up in his spare room while I looked for a place to live before my first stint in grad school...for two months. He pretty much single-handedly renovated the kitchen in my new house. And he's just a cool guy. We're both the youngest in our generations, and along with my cousin Cameron (also the youngest), we keep the rest of the family on their toes. We're our own flock of black sheep :) Just make sure to wash us in Woolite.
I'm staying with my Mom over Christmas and into the New Year. We've had our difficulties over the years. We're both really stubborn, alike in some ways, and different in ones that make it tough for us to get along sometimes. Well, difficult for me to get along with her sometimes...I admit, I'm not the easiest person to get along with. Too many years in charge I think: I don't like it when things don't go my way. But she's always been proud of me (embarrassingly so sometimes...you know moms). One of Mom and my sister's favorite stories about me is the time we were in the grocery store in Ellicott City, MD, getting some last minute supplies for dinner. Vicki and I were both home from college. The store was crowded, and we were walking in a little bit of a gaggle, politely making way for people and generally being conscious of the fact that we were not the only people in the store trying to finish errands. But there was this snooty woman with her grocery cart that pretty much plowed through us like we were invisible peasants in her own personal kingdom. Well, I don't mind being ignored...but for god's sake, don't disrespect me. I pushed my nose up in the air with my finger (not my middle one...my mom was there for heaven's sake) and snorted like a pig...loudly. The woman looked around, slightly mortified.
I'm glad that Mom's enjoying her retirement. And even though I'm still a punk sometimes, I love her a lot.
I've got a bunch more family members to be thankful for...Aunt Linda and Uncle Adam, cousins Karen, Jennie and Roy and family, Cameron, Nancy and Jim, Robin and Blaine and family, and Jane and Eddie. I don't talk to many of them often, and see them even less. But I know they care about me and support me.
I haven't mentioned my sister yet, though. She's joined conversations on the blog before, usually with insightful words of advice or thoughtful comments from a completely different perspective. The funny thing is that we used to *hate* each other. And that really is not too strong a word. When we were in grade school, and on into high school, I couldn't stand being around her. She was always such a damn goodie-two-shoes. She tattled on me for trying to learn how to spit when I was ten. She was way smarter than me (still is), and just complicated things unbearably. She kept her room neat, made her bed, had better handwriting (still does), didn't throw a fit about going to church, dated nice boys, and didn't wear holey jeans.
Aunt Linda told us both sometime, maybe about 20 years ago, that we'd end up really good friends once we got older. We both thought she was delusional. I was a snotty little punk, out to piss off the world, and Vicki made it clear she was so very, very far superior to me. In every way.
It's amazing the clarity gained from those 20 years. And thank goodness for it. Vicki was the first person I called during that kerfuffle over the Endangered Species Act last fall. And the first person I called when my boyfriend broke up with me. And the first person I called when I found out I was going to take command of a ship...in Bahrain. She edited my college application essay for me. She is always, always willing to listen and offer encouragement. I love the fact that she knew me as a punk kid, and saw me grow out most, but not all, of it. And I am so truly happy that she is happy.
So I am so very, very thankful for my family. All of them.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Thanksgiving; My House
One of the other students at school asked me how things were going a couple of weeks ago. It was three days after I had popped myself in the lip with a pry bar, putting a hole through and through (does it count as iron intake if you're swallowing your own blood?), trying to get a piece of molding down in the kitchen. My lip was still swollen and hurt, and I was a little embarrassed by the glaring scab on my face. So I made some mention of being busy with kitchen renovations in my new house. He commented disparagingly about owning a house and settling down not being his "bag" so he really couldn't understand what I was talking about. Even though I know he thinks I'm off my rocker, I felt a little sorry for him. Home is a special place.
I'm settling into my new house. Nick-knacks are up on the shelves, and while I haven't hung any pictures yet, I know where they're going to go (need to get more anchors). The china cabinets are finally out of the dining room. Though now I've got unfinished spots on the floor that need to be sanded down and polyurethaned and gaping holes in the baseboards. But I'm slowly filling in the holes in the wall...slowly because it takes some willingness to get dirty to mix up the plaster of paris for patching said holes.
And the kitchen, whoa the kitchen! The kitchen used to have about eight square feet of poorly designed counter space. But with the exceedingly generous help of my uncle, I have a brand new kitchen with just a few more touch ups needed. This weekend we got all but the last cabinet installed...including a microwave! Gotta move a gas line for the stove to get the very last cabinet in (yes, I'll be calling a plumber for that job), granite countertops need to be installed, and a tile backsplash and a coat of paint will finish the job. I'll have more than 30 square feet of counter space!! Whooo hooo! For right now, I don't even *care* that I've got contact paper-covered plywood for counters.
I should also have a working fireplace soon. I don't really want to go into the details of the ordeal that it's been to get it working again, but the chimney company has already sent out three crews, on four different occasions, and I've got at least one more visit from the owner of the company to look forward to before I can enjoy a crackling blaze behind the glass doors of the fireplace.
Every room needs to be painted, the drains for the shower and kitchen sink are slow to the point of frustration, the grass needs mowing (and has for the last two months), I've got at least one outlet that blows a circuit breaker if I use it, about half the windows need some sort of work and probably leak heat like they're open, and I still haven't seen into the crawl space because I can't get the access door open.
But I am thankful for my little house. It's comfortable. I won't say it's home yet, but I think it will be in another couple of months.
I've whined before about how much I've moved around in recent years. I know I'll be here for about four or five years, which is long enough to take my time with the needed improvements. So I'm not really stressed about the totality of the project before me, even if I get frustrated and overwhelmed sometimes by the details of any one portion of the overall task.
I can separate my satisfaction with my current situation into two parts, really. The first is just that I get to be in one place long enough to see more than one turn of the seasons here. I'm a big believer in a Wendell Berry-esque outlook that knowledge of a place is a good thing; knowing when the first leaves bud out on the trees in the yard, or when that particular window starts getting sun exposure, is important. It helps ground us, locate us on the planet, guide us when we're lost and give us perspective on things greater and lesser than our own individual outlook.
The second part is that I just really like the house. It's nothing very special, built in the 1930s and still standing. But with hardwood floors that finished up beautifully; a fireplace painted red; roses and peonies and a grape vine in the yard; radiators in each room; and a sun room that reminds me (very vaguely) of my grandparents' house. I don't know much about the last family that lived here, just that it was an elderly woman that must have passed away because her son was the executor that handled the sale. I've found random school pictures of relatives, maybe, tucked away forgotten in the back corners of closet shelves, and they left the coolest box-full of odds and ends, screws, nails, washers, hooks, pins, cords, just stuff, that have come in super-handy in the midst of so many projects. All the things they left for me was like a generous welcome into their home.
I've got grand plans for a garden and other yard projects, including lining the front walk with blueberry bushes, using the stump out back for growing culinary mushrooms, and pruning the grape vine to increase its productivity. I've already got pansies in the planter under the old Japanese maple in the front yard, rain barrels under each gutter, and a small herb garden outside the back door. Maybe, just maybe, I'll get an outdoor shower put in next summer. And my uncle just brought back my granddad's old push mower (thanks, Jan, for being willing to give it up). So when I do get around to mowing the yard, it'll be with a piece of equipment that's been around for a while and doesn't use anything but my own energy to make it work. I like that. And I'm thankful for it.
I'm settling into my new house. Nick-knacks are up on the shelves, and while I haven't hung any pictures yet, I know where they're going to go (need to get more anchors). The china cabinets are finally out of the dining room. Though now I've got unfinished spots on the floor that need to be sanded down and polyurethaned and gaping holes in the baseboards. But I'm slowly filling in the holes in the wall...slowly because it takes some willingness to get dirty to mix up the plaster of paris for patching said holes.
And the kitchen, whoa the kitchen! The kitchen used to have about eight square feet of poorly designed counter space. But with the exceedingly generous help of my uncle, I have a brand new kitchen with just a few more touch ups needed. This weekend we got all but the last cabinet installed...including a microwave! Gotta move a gas line for the stove to get the very last cabinet in (yes, I'll be calling a plumber for that job), granite countertops need to be installed, and a tile backsplash and a coat of paint will finish the job. I'll have more than 30 square feet of counter space!! Whooo hooo! For right now, I don't even *care* that I've got contact paper-covered plywood for counters.
I should also have a working fireplace soon. I don't really want to go into the details of the ordeal that it's been to get it working again, but the chimney company has already sent out three crews, on four different occasions, and I've got at least one more visit from the owner of the company to look forward to before I can enjoy a crackling blaze behind the glass doors of the fireplace.
Every room needs to be painted, the drains for the shower and kitchen sink are slow to the point of frustration, the grass needs mowing (and has for the last two months), I've got at least one outlet that blows a circuit breaker if I use it, about half the windows need some sort of work and probably leak heat like they're open, and I still haven't seen into the crawl space because I can't get the access door open.
But I am thankful for my little house. It's comfortable. I won't say it's home yet, but I think it will be in another couple of months.
I've whined before about how much I've moved around in recent years. I know I'll be here for about four or five years, which is long enough to take my time with the needed improvements. So I'm not really stressed about the totality of the project before me, even if I get frustrated and overwhelmed sometimes by the details of any one portion of the overall task.
I can separate my satisfaction with my current situation into two parts, really. The first is just that I get to be in one place long enough to see more than one turn of the seasons here. I'm a big believer in a Wendell Berry-esque outlook that knowledge of a place is a good thing; knowing when the first leaves bud out on the trees in the yard, or when that particular window starts getting sun exposure, is important. It helps ground us, locate us on the planet, guide us when we're lost and give us perspective on things greater and lesser than our own individual outlook.
The second part is that I just really like the house. It's nothing very special, built in the 1930s and still standing. But with hardwood floors that finished up beautifully; a fireplace painted red; roses and peonies and a grape vine in the yard; radiators in each room; and a sun room that reminds me (very vaguely) of my grandparents' house. I don't know much about the last family that lived here, just that it was an elderly woman that must have passed away because her son was the executor that handled the sale. I've found random school pictures of relatives, maybe, tucked away forgotten in the back corners of closet shelves, and they left the coolest box-full of odds and ends, screws, nails, washers, hooks, pins, cords, just stuff, that have come in super-handy in the midst of so many projects. All the things they left for me was like a generous welcome into their home.
I've got grand plans for a garden and other yard projects, including lining the front walk with blueberry bushes, using the stump out back for growing culinary mushrooms, and pruning the grape vine to increase its productivity. I've already got pansies in the planter under the old Japanese maple in the front yard, rain barrels under each gutter, and a small herb garden outside the back door. Maybe, just maybe, I'll get an outdoor shower put in next summer. And my uncle just brought back my granddad's old push mower (thanks, Jan, for being willing to give it up). So when I do get around to mowing the yard, it'll be with a piece of equipment that's been around for a while and doesn't use anything but my own energy to make it work. I like that. And I'm thankful for it.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Thanksgiving: My Job
I figured this was an appropriate time to be particularly thankful for my job since this past Thursday was Veterans' Day. I put my uniform on for the first time since 23 Jul, and went to the Brentwood Veterans' Day Celebration that my local little community put on. There's a Veterans' Memorial about three blocks away from my house that the City of Brentwood built a few years ago. About forty people showed up at the ceremony, some coming back in from where they currently live to honor their fathers and brothers who had grown up in Brentwood, and whose names are on the memorial. I talked to a former DC2 who served on the TAMAROA back in the Viet Nam War era. He was proudly wearing a Coast Guard cap, so he was easy to recognize. He was also very proud of his son who is currently a Marine. The ceremony lasted about an hour, and was nicely put on for a community of about 2000 households in a major metropolitan area.
The guest of honor, besides all the politicians that showed up, was a Councilwoman's father. Unfortunately I don't remember his name, but he served in World War II in the 92nd Infantry Division of the US Army. He was a Buffalo Soldier. He talked briefly about growing up in Goldsboro, NC and being in Washington, DC visiting his sister on December 7, 1941. He went home and enlisted in the Army, rather than waiting for his draft number to be called. He was very candid about the racial tensions that dictated the division of the 92nd among three locations for training, and he joked a little about their unit's destination being super-secret, except for the fact that they were all learning Italian. He said, maybe they were going to Ethiopia, since they spoke a little Italian there. But they were in fact deployed to Italy, I think he said in 1942. During his time in the Army, he earned the rank of 2nd Lieutenant, and made it "safely" through the war. He wrapped up his remarks with a powerful message of trust and belief in his country. He said we made it through all those troubled times, reflecting back to the discriminations he faced, and we can see it through these tough economic times as well. Because the United States is such a great nation, made up of great people.
As he was speaking, I was doing some quick math in my head, and realized he was at least 85, and probably closer to 90 years old. The only medal of the four that he proudly wore above his left breast pocket that I recognized was the Purple Heart. I was glad I went to the celebration in my community, but his remarks made it a truly memorable experience.
The next day, I put my uniform on again and set off to CG Headquarters to get weighed-in. I admit, I completely spaced on the fact that I was supposed to do it in October, and ended up getting the nasty-gram from my Program Manager that I needed to come in "as soon as possible" to get it done. Whoops.
It was the first time I've ridden the Metro in uniform. And maybe it's just me, but I felt like people stared a little bit, or at least didn't brush their eyes over me like just another body in the crowd. And maybe it's different for other, bigger people in uniform, but for a 5'2" pip-squeak, that uniform can make me feel more like I'm ten feet tall and bullet proof (to use a favorite Company Commander quote from boot camp). It's hard not to swagger a little when I wear it (I think it might be the steel-toed boots...they require a touch more leg movement so I don't drag my feet 'cause they're kinda heavy). Maybe I'm not only Just a Girl when I'm in uniform. Maybe it reminds me that I'm Just a Girl with sea stories, Just a Girl with shipmates, Just a Girl who's part of something bigger than herself. Just a Girl who can drive a ship. Just a Girl who has battled gremlins. Just a Girl who got pepper-sprayed, can shoot a gun, and knocked a guy on his ass practicing defensive techniques (sorry Cookie, it's just too good a visual image not to use).
I think it was a well-timed reminder that what I'm doing in school is important and will give me more tools to bring back to my service hopefully for the benefit of the Coast Guard. It's hard to remember that sometimes, stuck in statistics or microeconomics.
And, on top of those two experiences, I recently finished reading The Caine Mutiny, by Herman Wouk (Back Bay Books, 2003). My Aunt Linda gave it to me at my Change of Command this summer, and I really enjoyed it. I'm pretty sure the first time I was introduced to The Caine Mutiny was at OCS; but I quickly became more familiar with it since instructors show it at every single CG leadership training I've attended ever since. I always thought that Captain Queegs was the main part of the story, since I've never seen the movie all the way through. The leadership classes always just show the typhoon part, or the strawberry scene. Turns out the story is really about Willie Keith and his growing up.
I felt plenty of sympathy for Willie when he showed up at his ship, not knowing really what was going on, stumbling through figuring out where he belonged and what he was supposed to be doing. And as the realization that dawns on him that Queegs is not the same as his predecessor, Captain De Vriess. One of the truest quotes comes after the verdict has come through on the Court Martial; the current Captain of the CAINE is talking to Willie about the burden of command, "You can't understand command till you've had it. It's the loneliest, most oppressive job in the whole world...You're forever tettering along a tiny path of correct decisions and good luck that meanders through an infinite gloom of possible mistakes." (pg 499) Oh my goodness, how true is that!?
But my favorite parts of the book are at the end, where the last captain of the CAINE is philosophizing about his time aboard:
It should come as no surprise to anyone that I miss being underway. I had a (non-Coast Guard) friend ask me today when I'd be getting back underway. We were talking about my getting a dog. I really want a dog, but I won't get any more pets until I'm out of the Coast Guard, and not deploying anymore. It's not fair to the pets to be shuffled all about when I get underway. I'll foster pets in the meantime, while I'm ashore. But I guess in the course of our conversation, I made it sound like I'd be going back out on a ship sometime in the near future. Imagine my chagrin at having to admit that it was actually going to be about four or five years before I get underway again.
And just so you guys don't think I'm just all about the underway thing...I am thankful for my job for a number of other reasons, many of them financial. The Coast Guard is sending me to school to learn something I probably should have majored in in the first place, back in the day. And I still get my salary. My job allows my mother to take advantage of the numerous and generous benefits of being a military dependent. And eventually I'll put on O4, and have something else to be thankful for. I've been hearing some stories from current CDRs that it took them 22 months to make LCDR from LT. I'm not there yet, but it's looking like it'll be pretty close for me.
And my job has introduced me to a lot of amazing people. One last recent episode: the day I was walking through the Metro in uniform, I happened to separately see two fellow Coasties I had served with previously. Now, it was at L'Enfant Station where the shuttle picks people up from the Metro FFT (for further transport) to the Headquarters Building, so it wasn't totally unusual to have plenny of Coasties wandering around. But, two? In one day? That's kinda cool. One was LT Beau Powers who I haven't seen since I left the D14 Command Center in 2006. We chatted for a few minutes as we walked to our respective trains. He's doing great things in the Command Center world. One more reason to be thankful for my job in the Coast Guard: it's such a small service, you can't help but run into the good people you served with again somewhere.
The guest of honor, besides all the politicians that showed up, was a Councilwoman's father. Unfortunately I don't remember his name, but he served in World War II in the 92nd Infantry Division of the US Army. He was a Buffalo Soldier. He talked briefly about growing up in Goldsboro, NC and being in Washington, DC visiting his sister on December 7, 1941. He went home and enlisted in the Army, rather than waiting for his draft number to be called. He was very candid about the racial tensions that dictated the division of the 92nd among three locations for training, and he joked a little about their unit's destination being super-secret, except for the fact that they were all learning Italian. He said, maybe they were going to Ethiopia, since they spoke a little Italian there. But they were in fact deployed to Italy, I think he said in 1942. During his time in the Army, he earned the rank of 2nd Lieutenant, and made it "safely" through the war. He wrapped up his remarks with a powerful message of trust and belief in his country. He said we made it through all those troubled times, reflecting back to the discriminations he faced, and we can see it through these tough economic times as well. Because the United States is such a great nation, made up of great people.
As he was speaking, I was doing some quick math in my head, and realized he was at least 85, and probably closer to 90 years old. The only medal of the four that he proudly wore above his left breast pocket that I recognized was the Purple Heart. I was glad I went to the celebration in my community, but his remarks made it a truly memorable experience.
The next day, I put my uniform on again and set off to CG Headquarters to get weighed-in. I admit, I completely spaced on the fact that I was supposed to do it in October, and ended up getting the nasty-gram from my Program Manager that I needed to come in "as soon as possible" to get it done. Whoops.
It was the first time I've ridden the Metro in uniform. And maybe it's just me, but I felt like people stared a little bit, or at least didn't brush their eyes over me like just another body in the crowd. And maybe it's different for other, bigger people in uniform, but for a 5'2" pip-squeak, that uniform can make me feel more like I'm ten feet tall and bullet proof (to use a favorite Company Commander quote from boot camp). It's hard not to swagger a little when I wear it (I think it might be the steel-toed boots...they require a touch more leg movement so I don't drag my feet 'cause they're kinda heavy). Maybe I'm not only Just a Girl when I'm in uniform. Maybe it reminds me that I'm Just a Girl with sea stories, Just a Girl with shipmates, Just a Girl who's part of something bigger than herself. Just a Girl who can drive a ship. Just a Girl who has battled gremlins. Just a Girl who got pepper-sprayed, can shoot a gun, and knocked a guy on his ass practicing defensive techniques (sorry Cookie, it's just too good a visual image not to use).
I think it was a well-timed reminder that what I'm doing in school is important and will give me more tools to bring back to my service hopefully for the benefit of the Coast Guard. It's hard to remember that sometimes, stuck in statistics or microeconomics.
And, on top of those two experiences, I recently finished reading The Caine Mutiny, by Herman Wouk (Back Bay Books, 2003). My Aunt Linda gave it to me at my Change of Command this summer, and I really enjoyed it. I'm pretty sure the first time I was introduced to The Caine Mutiny was at OCS; but I quickly became more familiar with it since instructors show it at every single CG leadership training I've attended ever since. I always thought that Captain Queegs was the main part of the story, since I've never seen the movie all the way through. The leadership classes always just show the typhoon part, or the strawberry scene. Turns out the story is really about Willie Keith and his growing up.
I felt plenty of sympathy for Willie when he showed up at his ship, not knowing really what was going on, stumbling through figuring out where he belonged and what he was supposed to be doing. And as the realization that dawns on him that Queegs is not the same as his predecessor, Captain De Vriess. One of the truest quotes comes after the verdict has come through on the Court Martial; the current Captain of the CAINE is talking to Willie about the burden of command, "You can't understand command till you've had it. It's the loneliest, most oppressive job in the whole world...You're forever tettering along a tiny path of correct decisions and good luck that meanders through an infinite gloom of possible mistakes." (pg 499) Oh my goodness, how true is that!?
But my favorite parts of the book are at the end, where the last captain of the CAINE is philosophizing about his time aboard:
"[He] experienced the strange sensations of the first days of a new captain: a shrinking of his personal identity, and a stretching of his nerve ends to all the spaces and machinery of his ship. He was less free than before. He developed the apprehensive listening ears of a young mother; the ears listened on in his sleep; he never quite slept, not the way he had before. He had the sense of being reduced from an individual to a sort of brain of a composite animal, the crew and ship combined. The reward for these disturbing sensations came when he walked the decks. Power seemed to flow out of the plates into his body. The respectful demeanor of the officers and crew thrust him into a loneliness he had never known, but it wasn't a frigid loneliness. Through the transparent barrier of manners came the warming unspoken word that his men liked him and believed in him." (pg 520)And:
"He spent long night hours on the bridge when there was no need of it. The stars and the sea and the ship were slipping from his life...All the patterns fixed in his muscles, like the ability to find the speed indicator buttons in utter blackness, would fade. This very wheelhouse itself, familiar to him as his own body, would soon cease to exist. It was a little death toward which he was steaming." (pg 522)Exactly!
It should come as no surprise to anyone that I miss being underway. I had a (non-Coast Guard) friend ask me today when I'd be getting back underway. We were talking about my getting a dog. I really want a dog, but I won't get any more pets until I'm out of the Coast Guard, and not deploying anymore. It's not fair to the pets to be shuffled all about when I get underway. I'll foster pets in the meantime, while I'm ashore. But I guess in the course of our conversation, I made it sound like I'd be going back out on a ship sometime in the near future. Imagine my chagrin at having to admit that it was actually going to be about four or five years before I get underway again.
And just so you guys don't think I'm just all about the underway thing...I am thankful for my job for a number of other reasons, many of them financial. The Coast Guard is sending me to school to learn something I probably should have majored in in the first place, back in the day. And I still get my salary. My job allows my mother to take advantage of the numerous and generous benefits of being a military dependent. And eventually I'll put on O4, and have something else to be thankful for. I've been hearing some stories from current CDRs that it took them 22 months to make LCDR from LT. I'm not there yet, but it's looking like it'll be pretty close for me.
And my job has introduced me to a lot of amazing people. One last recent episode: the day I was walking through the Metro in uniform, I happened to separately see two fellow Coasties I had served with previously. Now, it was at L'Enfant Station where the shuttle picks people up from the Metro FFT (for further transport) to the Headquarters Building, so it wasn't totally unusual to have plenny of Coasties wandering around. But, two? In one day? That's kinda cool. One was LT Beau Powers who I haven't seen since I left the D14 Command Center in 2006. We chatted for a few minutes as we walked to our respective trains. He's doing great things in the Command Center world. One more reason to be thankful for my job in the Coast Guard: it's such a small service, you can't help but run into the good people you served with again somewhere.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Thanksgiving: Friends
I run the risk of being ridiculously cheesy with this next series of posts, but it's my blog...I'll be cheesy if I want to.
As we all know, it's coming up on Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I mean, it's All About Food - what's not to love? Turkey, yum; stuffing, used to hate it when I was a kid, but think it's one of the best things about roasted turkey now; mashed potatoes, must have garlic in them; and pies, lots of pies. And cranberries. With walnuts.
Just a few days ago, I was wondering where I was the last couple of Thanksgivings. It's a little thing I do around holidays - think about what's changed since last year and where I was. It's usually kinda a tough little exercise since I move around so much. Last year, KISKA's ombudsman invited everyone over for dinner. Delish! And fun. Year before that...Bahrain, don't remember if we were underway or not.
Holidays are odd underway. Somebody has to stand the watch. Every day. All day. And night. But it's a little sad when it's you standing the watch, hanging out with people you wouldn't necessarily choose to be with on those special days, missing family and the football games and parades and all the little traditions that make holidays something to look forward to. I find this lingering sadness tinged with pride, though. Pride for doing a job that not everyone is willing or able to do, pride for serving in an amazing service for a great nation with a fascinating history, pride for being willing to make sacrifices in order to contribute to a "greater good." I was never so great a patriot before I joined the service and went overseas somehow, but there's more reflection on that than I want to do here. Holidays can suck underway, but I think it's something that helps bond shipmates...you're all suffering together. Though the cooks (and the command) usually try to make sure that "suffering" is tempered with some morale.
Anyway, this post wasn't really supposed to be about holidays underway. It's supposed to be about Thanksgiving. And the cheesy part is that I'm going to write the next few posts on things that I'm thankful for. I've got so much that is going, has gone, and will very likely continue to go well for me that I feel it's somehow necessary to acknowledge that I've got it *really* good.
So, friends...I am thankful for my friends. I don't have a ton of friends, mostly because I'm a pretty introverted person, and I move a lot. I volunteered a few weeks ago at the phone bank for the local public radio station's fund drive, and after the four of us at our table introduced ourselves and talked a little about what we did with our days, one of the women asked me how I dealt with moving around so much? How did I make friends at each new place? Did I already know people here? I hemmed and hawed a little bit because I didn't know how to answer her. Usually I'm so busy with learning my new job that making friends and having a social life is pushed to the side. And I like the people I work with, so it's easy to hang out with them. But one thing about not being able to make friends easily makes me really, really grateful for the ones I *do*have.
Another friend-related anecdote: in Friday's yoga class, the instructor had us do a forearm balance with a partner. It's like a handstand, but with your forearms flat on the deck. I had tried and tried to do these in class on the Big Island and never quite gotten it right. I'd always overpower through kicking up my feet and end up going over the other side, or banging my feet off the wall, if I was using the wall as a support. But this time, with fellow-yogi Jennie supporting one leg while I lifted the other, I was able to find some stability and hang out for a couple minutes. She had a couple of fingers on one of my little toes to remind me that she was there, but wasn't doing anything else to help me.
Naomi, the instructor, gave us the explanation: friends provide that bit of assistance to see us through our weaknesses...just that little bit of extra support and encouragement that we usually need to succeed in a challenge. And they accentuate our strengths.
I immediately thought of my friend Anne. We've got a few things in common, but she's way, way, way smarter than I am and has a lot, A LOT more professional motivation and chance for success (like big picture success) than I do. I truly value her opinion, and have been known to email or text or call her to whine, complain and bitch about whatever triviality has recently vexed me. She always commiserates with just the right amount of sympathy and understanding, and then provides some spot-on insightful recommendation for how to make the most of a bad or frustrating situation.
And she has never complained about my food-nerdiness :) Though she did think I was a little out of my mind to go to all seven grocery stores in the local area looking for different ingredients for a wardroom dinner. Or was it ten stores?
And a shout out to a couple other friends:
Craig, thanks for your patience with listening to my tales of woe when we were all so far away from home. I can't help but remember those card games and smile.
Frank can always, always make me laugh. I usually give him good material to work with ("more work to be done in the kitchen"), but he has a true gift for poking fun at the absurdities that surround us all.
I'm so glad I met Auntie Jane. She's a wonderful woman, so full of love and aloha. I wish so very, very much that her neighborhood was peaceful, and hopes she and husband Terry are able to find the peace and happiness they deserve from being great people and having helped and befriended so many others.
Rickey taught me a lot about myself. He showed me how to slow down and look at things differently.
And Lili is always there for me, even when we don't talk for months and months. We can pick right back up like no time passed at all.
Amy, Vicki, and Steve...I'll deal with you guys in a separate post.
As we all know, it's coming up on Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I mean, it's All About Food - what's not to love? Turkey, yum; stuffing, used to hate it when I was a kid, but think it's one of the best things about roasted turkey now; mashed potatoes, must have garlic in them; and pies, lots of pies. And cranberries. With walnuts.
Just a few days ago, I was wondering where I was the last couple of Thanksgivings. It's a little thing I do around holidays - think about what's changed since last year and where I was. It's usually kinda a tough little exercise since I move around so much. Last year, KISKA's ombudsman invited everyone over for dinner. Delish! And fun. Year before that...Bahrain, don't remember if we were underway or not.
Holidays are odd underway. Somebody has to stand the watch. Every day. All day. And night. But it's a little sad when it's you standing the watch, hanging out with people you wouldn't necessarily choose to be with on those special days, missing family and the football games and parades and all the little traditions that make holidays something to look forward to. I find this lingering sadness tinged with pride, though. Pride for doing a job that not everyone is willing or able to do, pride for serving in an amazing service for a great nation with a fascinating history, pride for being willing to make sacrifices in order to contribute to a "greater good." I was never so great a patriot before I joined the service and went overseas somehow, but there's more reflection on that than I want to do here. Holidays can suck underway, but I think it's something that helps bond shipmates...you're all suffering together. Though the cooks (and the command) usually try to make sure that "suffering" is tempered with some morale.
Anyway, this post wasn't really supposed to be about holidays underway. It's supposed to be about Thanksgiving. And the cheesy part is that I'm going to write the next few posts on things that I'm thankful for. I've got so much that is going, has gone, and will very likely continue to go well for me that I feel it's somehow necessary to acknowledge that I've got it *really* good.
So, friends...I am thankful for my friends. I don't have a ton of friends, mostly because I'm a pretty introverted person, and I move a lot. I volunteered a few weeks ago at the phone bank for the local public radio station's fund drive, and after the four of us at our table introduced ourselves and talked a little about what we did with our days, one of the women asked me how I dealt with moving around so much? How did I make friends at each new place? Did I already know people here? I hemmed and hawed a little bit because I didn't know how to answer her. Usually I'm so busy with learning my new job that making friends and having a social life is pushed to the side. And I like the people I work with, so it's easy to hang out with them. But one thing about not being able to make friends easily makes me really, really grateful for the ones I *do*have.
Another friend-related anecdote: in Friday's yoga class, the instructor had us do a forearm balance with a partner. It's like a handstand, but with your forearms flat on the deck. I had tried and tried to do these in class on the Big Island and never quite gotten it right. I'd always overpower through kicking up my feet and end up going over the other side, or banging my feet off the wall, if I was using the wall as a support. But this time, with fellow-yogi Jennie supporting one leg while I lifted the other, I was able to find some stability and hang out for a couple minutes. She had a couple of fingers on one of my little toes to remind me that she was there, but wasn't doing anything else to help me.
Naomi, the instructor, gave us the explanation: friends provide that bit of assistance to see us through our weaknesses...just that little bit of extra support and encouragement that we usually need to succeed in a challenge. And they accentuate our strengths.
I immediately thought of my friend Anne. We've got a few things in common, but she's way, way, way smarter than I am and has a lot, A LOT more professional motivation and chance for success (like big picture success) than I do. I truly value her opinion, and have been known to email or text or call her to whine, complain and bitch about whatever triviality has recently vexed me. She always commiserates with just the right amount of sympathy and understanding, and then provides some spot-on insightful recommendation for how to make the most of a bad or frustrating situation.
And she has never complained about my food-nerdiness :) Though she did think I was a little out of my mind to go to all seven grocery stores in the local area looking for different ingredients for a wardroom dinner. Or was it ten stores?
And a shout out to a couple other friends:
Craig, thanks for your patience with listening to my tales of woe when we were all so far away from home. I can't help but remember those card games and smile.
Frank can always, always make me laugh. I usually give him good material to work with ("more work to be done in the kitchen"), but he has a true gift for poking fun at the absurdities that surround us all.
I'm so glad I met Auntie Jane. She's a wonderful woman, so full of love and aloha. I wish so very, very much that her neighborhood was peaceful, and hopes she and husband Terry are able to find the peace and happiness they deserve from being great people and having helped and befriended so many others.
Rickey taught me a lot about myself. He showed me how to slow down and look at things differently.
And Lili is always there for me, even when we don't talk for months and months. We can pick right back up like no time passed at all.
Amy, Vicki, and Steve...I'll deal with you guys in a separate post.
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