The Next Chapter

written on 27 August 2020 

I decided last October (2019) that it was time for me to do something different. Looking back now, 10 months later, I realize I probably wasn't quite in the right head space after only a bare three months onboard a new ship with an entirely new leadership team trying simultaneously to rip off the bandaid of a new command vision and not completely disenfranchise the crew along the way. Every day was a slog of self-inflicted doubt and second guessing, uncertainty about how we were going to get through the next evolution safely, and oh yeah, day after endless day of shitty weather off the central Atlantic coast. 

Somewhere along that treacherous path, I realized there were quite a few mistakes in my past that I haven't yet forgiven myself for, and that I likely wouldn't be able to give important areas of my life that needed love and care the attention they deserved until I was no longer tied to active duty. I convinced myself I wasn't running away from things, but running towards a new vision for my life (I am still convinced that's true, 10 months down the road, even if I had many follow-on moments of doubt). 

We eventually returned home safely from that first patrol, all a little wiser about each other. Took me another three weeks to get on my boss' calendar to be able to tell him my intentions in person before my retirement request showed up in his email inbox. Seemed only fair. 

So now, I'm going to write about the road to retirement, and plan to publish it later. I want to honestly share my thoughts and feelings, without having to worry about what my crew thinks upon reading it. I don't need to share my doubts and worries in a forum that they need to wonder if my head is still enough in the game to do my job, which is to make sure they keep coming home safely, full of sea stories and successful operations. 

I also want a place to daydream about all the ideas I have for post-retirement ways to keep myself busy. I think the count so far is at least four viable concepts. 

Call It What It Is

Failure. I failed. I set an ambitious goal, and I failed to meet it. I was physically incapable of achieving what I set out to do. And I'm ok with that. I tried. 

In explanation -- the first planned event in my Epic Summer Adventure didn't work out as expected. Greg and I were going to stand up paddleboard (SUP) the Intracoastal Waterway from Norfolk to Manteo, NC, and then I intended to keep going solo as far south as I could get by mid-September. 

We lasted three day trips and one overnight camping and made it about one mile over the NC border. An old waterman in Rodanthe, NC warned me about the strong and steady southwest winds prevalent in July when I went to pick up my new SUP. It wasn't that I didn't believe him -- of course I did. Guess it was just one of those things I needed to experience for myself. And I thought maybe the winds would back off overnight, so I could just paddle early in the day, even before dawn if I needed to. 

It took us nearly three hours to go barely three miles on Monday afternoon from Pungo Ferry Landing Park to Sandy Point Campground on Knott's Island. And it was not easy paddling. I paddled pretty much as hard as I could without being able to take a break for an hour and 45 minutes during a two mile stretch that didn't have any protection from those punishing southwest winds. I started standing up, but quickly lowered to my knees when I realized how much sail area my body was creating. Then when my knees got sore, I sat down. Every time I switched position, I lost a little ground, ended up beam to the one-to-two-foot chop, and then had to struggle work my nose back into the wind. 

My shoulders ached and burned. My knees screamed at me. My ankles protested. My thighs cramped up. I think maybe my hair didn't hurt, but it was the only part of me that didn't. 

We made it to the pretty little campground, at which point our attitude about the winds changed. The breeze kept the bugs away. But they also stayed fairly steady at about 10 knots all night long. Didn't do much to help the Sound to settle down for another long day of paddling on Tuesday. When I got up in the morning to the heavy chop, I simply couldn't face the prospect of another day of contesting those winds. We called Greg's parents, who very kindly came to pick us up and take us back to Virginia Beach so we could adjust our plans so they didn't include 10 to 12 miles on a SUP each day. 

My Very Best Friend said, "Not a failure! Just a change of plan." I very much appreciate her positivity and support. And I'm still gonna call it what it is...failure. 

Calling it a failure doesn't mean it's a judgment on my self-worth or my moral character. It is an honest assessment of my physical capabilities and mental fortitude, which -- sure, doesn't feel great to know neither is as strong as I was hoping when I planned the trip. Now I know. 

I would rather plan and try and fail a thousand times (ok, that might get to be a drag...how about 10 times) than never dream and never plan and never try just because I'm afraid to fail. It's a Winston Churchill's man in the arena approach. It also goes along with my ability to be ok, if not comfortable with being uncomfortable. Growth happens when I take myself out of my comfort zone, and there is the goodness, the sweetness of life in that growth. 

So I'm taking from this failure a re-affirmation of my self-commitment to trying hard things, to dreaming big, to continually pushing myself into discomfort so that I can fully appreciate this one single life I have to live.

And, it's not like the adventure is over. This change of plans allows me to join up with my Aunt and Uncle on a 30-foot sail boat on a trip from Massachusetts to as far as we get south in the three weeks I'll be with them. Gonna learn me something about blow-boats!

Remarks

It's done and in the books. I have no more responsibilities in the Coast Guard, and am now unmoored from most of what I've known for the last 22 years. More to follow on the experience...For now, though, here is what I said at the ceremonies on Tuesday, 22 June 2021 -- or most of what I said. There were lots of pauses and some commentary on how hard different bits of it were to get said. Hard to take in air to speak when my throat was closing over on me.

Change of Command Ceremony Remarks

Distinguished guests, fellow COs, VIGOROUS crew, family members and friends – it is wonderful to see you all at today’s ceremony. And for those joining online – I wish you were here in person, but am so grateful you’re taking the time to be with us virtually.

Nearly two years ago at a ceremony eerily similar to this one but with a few key differences, I shared one of my favorite quotes attributed to Helen Keller. She said, “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” This tour definitely offered that daring adventure – and so much more – and I am so grateful I got to share it with this crew!

We’ve put up with a lot. Even before the first 96 hours of our first patrol – which still brings shivers of dread when mentioned – Hurricane Dorian churned up a lot of chaos when we got kicked out of JEB Little Creek for storm avoidance in the middle of our first top end overhaul. It was super hectic then and I don’t think the pace of things has ever really slowed down.

I am continually impressed, even awed by your individual and collective ability to persevere through the gnarliest of challenges. The 20-foot head on seas on our way to Mayport for AVSTAN in January 2020 (before COVID was anything but a small story buried in the international news) – I still have a hard time picturing how the cooks manage to make meals for nearly 80 people in conditions like that – but they do it, and do it well. He’s not here right now – busy getting the shrimp cocktail ready for the reception – but I will miss CS3 Ferrer’s beans and rice topped with roast pork and a side of fried plantains. That and Taco Tuesdays always made my days a good bit brighter.

The sewage vent clog that backed up seriously gross nastiness into the Chiefs and Lower O heads while we were in AVSTAN. I probably shouldn’t go from talking about delicious food to sewage – but maybe it makes sense after all. EO, for all my word nerdiness, I am not sure I can adequately convey my thanks for all the heart and soul, time, energy, blood, sweat, and (well probably not tears – even though you admit to being sensitive but not as sensitive as our sewage system…) you put into your job. Your leadership, technical expertise, project management skills, ability to simplify your complex understanding of each and every engineering system to the crayon drawings I could understand, and bluntness were undeniably critical to VIGOROUS’ operational success and went a long ways to making the ship able to last the next decade she’ll need to stick around. You absolutely earned that VADM Perry Award for Engineer of the Year Afloat! I’m so glad the Service acknowledged the value of your contributions.

I suspect your response to all that is to deflect the accolades to your engineers. Engineers throughout the Coast Guard are well known for their ability to get sh-tuff done. And VIGOROUS’ engineers are no exception. I can’t count the number of hours our engineers spent making repairs, doing required maintenance, refueling, chasing gremlins, offloading oily waste, long after the rest of the crew had gone on liberty. And the gremlins – this ship sure did have more than her fair share of them. Yet, you engineers never gave up. Every time one popped out their aggravating head, you knocked it off and kept on cruising to the next project. The anchors are no longer known as “cantankerous” (get it – can’t anchor us) and “port-snickety” because of the Auxiliary Division’s efforts. DCs – how many times did you have to go digging after a steam line leak, in addition to your planned worklist? EMs, how much wrecked wiring did y’all trace out and replace after the water-jetting at drydock? And also working with Main Prop when we started having our generators’ issues (that’s both generators – VIGOROUS has a canny knack for letting us know when she’s done with patrol). I am impressed by your teamwork and rejection of the concept of giving up on something because it’s hard. And of course I could not forget to mention the engine room flooding response. I love the story I was told of then-MK3 Groll plugging the leak with his finger until someone showed up with the patching and plugging kit. 300 gallons of sea water in the bilge and a leaky synthoglass patch later, we were safely headed back into port to get it fixed.

I could go on and on about the engineers’ ability to come up with creative and ingenious fixes to the craziest problems VIGOROUS’ gremlins could come up with. Thank you, Engineers, for keeping the spinny things spinning and the lights (mostly) on. All the rest of what we do isn’t possible without your efforts.

One of the other accomplishments I’m most proud of is the impact we had on moving the entire cutter fleet into the 21st…or, hmm, at least the 20th century, with paperless navigation. I remember reporting to my first ship in 2000 – BOUTWELL had the old Vega laptop system installed, and the senior Quartermasters were, at best, skeptical of it. After learning that’s how most commercial ships navigated all the time, I simply couldn’t understand what was taking the Coast Guard so long to adopt a similar system.

So when the stars aligned – or rather CDR Pecora and ET1 Dunn brainstormed them into alignment after hours of nugging through practical applications of the new Commandant’s Navigation Standards, I jumped feet first into trying to get -751’s approval to take on the challenge. And now, four more classes of ships are authorized for paperless navigation, and 210s have blanket authorization from -751.

Thanks to ET1 Dunn’s technical expertise, LT Sohn’s hard work and practical approach to every challenge, CDR Pecora’s vision, and lots and lots of effort and attention to detail by the entire Navigation and ET divisions, we proved we could navigate without paper charts…and do it fantastically well. Some of my fondest memories on the bridge are of hearing “sweet fix” or “best fix” sung out from the plot team after laying down an especially accurate manual fix. I admit to some dark moments of stark doubt, like when we couldn’t get the emergency circuits, including the ones supplying power to all the navigation equipment, back from the emergency generator – I had crazy plans in my head of launching the small boat to guide us into GTMO with their installed SINS-II. I think that’s kinda right though – there should always be a contingency plan, no matter how crazy it sounds. Thank you, Operations Department for your willingness and dedicated work to move the Coast Guard forward a few leaps and bounds. And especially, OPS, for putting the 10 days you spent isolated in your cell – ahem – stateroom – enroute to Tampa for drydock to good use on the paperless navigation policy prototype report. I’ve had two COs from different classes of ships reach out to me in the last couple of days referencing that report, impressed with how detailed it was.

And Support Department – I’ve already mentioned how hard the cooks work, and their conditions. For the SKs and YN2, your patience with trying to do your jobs on underway connectivity is so very admirable. Especially when we were able to righteously spend $40,000 in 24 hours at the end of last fiscal year.

And to wrap up how awesome and amazing this crew is, I'd like to share what the last few days of our last patrol was like, ya know... after we got back underway once repairs from the major flooding in the engine room were complete.

We started out with 21 boardings in two days, taking full advantage of some absolutely beautiful weather about 120 miles east of Cape Cod in the scallop fleet. Both boats out, each with their own boarding team, doing drills back on the ship, and CIC continually updating their targeting list to vector the boarding teams to the best boardings. We even shook out a couple of violations from a very heavily regulated and monitored fleet. After two days of that, we exhausted good boarding opportunities, and headed west to duck into Long Island Sound to wait out some crap weather that was blowing in from the south and west.
OPS found us a cherry spot -- outside of three nautical miles from shore, not in a restricted area, but still offering some good protection from the wind and seas and swells. We expected to spend maybe a day or so there, and then come out to head west for a super cool transit up the Hudson River, visiting Lady Liberty and Manhattan.

We spent less than 12 hours in that super sweet spot. OPS called me at 5 am the next morning, Captain, I have some bad news. Yep, sure 'nuff, someone broke down back out where we had just come from, and we had a 220 mile transit to get back to them. Thankfully, they weren't taking on water, just broke down and in crap weather. We did the best we could getting out to them, surfing downswell in 12 to 15 footers. Knowing we'd get on scene after dark, we decided that we'd wait to take them in tow until the next day when it was light and the seas were predicted to settle a bit.

Seas were about 13 feet when we got on scene just before midnight, and thankfully abated to about 10-12 feet by first light, as we were setting up for the tow.

Ya know how, sometimes during shipboard evolutions, angels sing and everything goes exactly right? That’s what happened for us that morning…to the point that we even had a pod of curious humpback whales keeping an eye on things. I mean that literally – as we pulled up, one of the whales stuck their snout (?) straight up into the air enough to get their eyes out of the water and looked around like, “Hey guys, whatcha doing? Everything ok up there? You’re here to help, right?” They stayed with us for an hour or so, through about the first mile of the tow as we settled out on our long trackline back towards shore.

A number of our crew told me later that they really enjoyed and got a lot of satisfaction out of the tow, even though it wrecked our plans to transit the Hudson River and see the NYC sights. They took pride in how smoothly it went, how much everyone learned on deck from doing it in pretty bad conditions, and how we were the ones there to help the fishermen who ran into trouble. As OPS said, it was a pretty salty last SAR case. The F/V finally did get their engines back on line after about 20 hours of being dragged behind us. Watching how they were riding – just uck. We escorted them back to off of Martha’s Vineyard, and then turned south to the Chesapeake Bay.

This will likely forever and always be one of my favorite sea stories because of the absolute magic of the experience that being a part of this crew offered me.

For the families that make this all possible, thank you. It is your love and support, your keeping the household going, your sending emails and waiting patiently for that phone call when we sporadically get cell service, your welcome home, that keeps us going. You should be unspeakably proud of your VIGOROUS crew member. They are true professionals that do hard things well in a dangerous and demanding environment, and somehow make it look like just another day on the job.

And I’d like to especially recognize our Ombudsmen, Jen Matthews and Kate Atkins. Unfortunately, Jen isn’t able to join us today, but Kate, will you please join us on stage...

Kate, the Coast Guard would like to recognize you with a certificate of appreciation and give you a token of thanks for all the support you have given to your ship during your time aboard.

(XO reads citation)

It was a crazy year for most families, and knowing loved ones back home had y’all standing by ready to help gave me some comfort that we were doing what we could to support crewmember families.

A couple of shout outs to particular break outs of the crew.

-- First Class Mess: thank you for your leadership, your drive to make the hard work happen, and get sh-stuff done.

-- Chiefs Mess, and I’m going to include MPA in this group also for his wisdom and perspective: thank you for the robust discussions and for being honest with me. I absolutely value the fact that our conversations made me a better leader and helped me make better decisions for the entire ship.

-- the Junior Officers: y'all made the wardroom fun. Thanks for your positivity, energy, and dedication. I am so impressed with how far you've each come in your time onboard. You've turned your boundless enthusiasm for doing good things into so many actual good things done, learned, and shared. Thank you for being willing to learn, even when you didn't enjoy the lessons. ENS Frazer and ENS Domingo -- thanks for being such detail-oriented project officers, and doing all the hard work to make this ceremony today possible.

-- OPS and EO: I've said it before, and I'll say it always -- I won the Department Head jackpot with you two. Your expertise, your organization, your innate drive to do things the right way instead of the easy way, your friendship, your maturity, your fishing stories – though not the snake stories, and your willingness to both push back when needed, and use very small words and even crayon drawings for me to understand equipment casualties...VIGOROUS would not be where she is today...heck, the Coast Guard fleet wouldn't be where it is today without the efforts of you two gentlemen. Thank you.

-- To LCDR Tim Boettner and LCDR Chris Wildhagen -- thanks for all your hard work during our short times together. You both stepped into a tough situation and did so much more than keeping the train on the rails. Chris, thanks for jumping in the deep end feet first and making so much headway in learning all about VIGOROUS before this Change of Command. I know the ship, the crew, and CDR Waters are in good hands.

-- To Piero, if you're watching. I saw your sandstorm pictures a few days ago, and don't envy you that gritty, sweaty transit to Building 2. Thank you for all your hard work to carry out my ideas and for regularly playing devil's advocate. We made so much progress on the ship, and I'm grateful for your counsel and friendship through some incredibly challenging times.

-- Ryan, you've got a great crew. I know every outgoing CO everywhere says that, but it really is true here. They work hard, know how to have fun, and have given more to their jobs than I could have ever hoped for. I hope you can give them the awesome port calls and drug busts that I never was able to manage.

We didn’t do all we did by ourselves, of course. I’d like to thank LANT Area, LANT-37 and Cutter Forces for your support and guidance through some trying times. Tom Lowry, Jim Healy, and your team at the MEC Product Line were always there to take EO’s and my phone calls – even when you didn’t want to when our end of drydock coincided with the end of last fiscal year, and I nagged you mercilessly for money to keep the crew in hotel rooms for the last two weeks of the extension. Thanks so much to you and your team for keeping us operational and helping restore our materiel condition. Thanks to C5ISC for keeping the twidget stuff energized, and for being their every step of the way through our paperless nav prototype. CAPT Dash, your efforts to modernize the -6 world of work is paying big dividends for the fleet. Thanks very much to Base Portsmouth for your wonderful hospitality. You have always made us feel welcome. Thanks to my fellow COs – your advice and camaraderie were key in getting me through some of the darkest COVID days.

And to my family, thank you. More for y’all on Friday – for two reasons really. First today is about this wonderful crew, and second because I wanted to get through this without going through every tissue on the podium. Hugs to all of you.

And now, the inevitable...I have to read my orders...

BT

Retirement Ceremony Remarks

Rusty, CAPT Dash, thank you so much for your kind words today, your friendship over the years, and the great leadership you shared with me all those years ago on WASHINGTON. I am so grateful you were willing to take on making these remarks today, especially given how busy you are making amazing progress on C5I service throughout the Coast Guard. Danielle, it’s wonderful to have you here today also!

I had hoped by now I'd know what to say. How do I wrap up almost 22 years of service, 11 1/2 years at sea on seven ships in a reasonable amount of time so we don't have to sweat through our whites any more than absolutely necessary...and before the heavens open up and drench us.

There's so much ground to cover, so many sea stories, at least a couple of staff tour accomplishments that may leave a lasting impression, so many people to thank, so many shipmates to remember, so much goodness from my Community of Cutter(wo)men that I didn't even know was possible, so many family members and friends to choke out a thanks to when they can only marginally appreciate what their love and support meant to me through the years -- knowing that if I try to cover all this, I'll inevitably leave out someone, some very important memory, some major epicness. In light of all that, I offer this reflection in celebration of my career:

I am so grateful for all the time I was able to soak in that inexplicable alchemy of being part of something greater than myself, working with an ever-changing team doing a hard job in a demanding, dangerous, mind-blowingly beautiful environment that will rock your world while simultaneously offering a balm to the soul. We all talk about the amazing sunrises and sunsets, the sparkle of the Milky Way against that darkest of nights, the wonder of marine life, and all the physical beauty of the ocean. We talk about the wonderful people we meet and work with and the bond barely scratched by the term "shipmate." We talk about the meaningfulness of the mission, of rescuing mariners at sea, and being the responders where few people ever even get to go. We talk about the power of teams to get those dangerous missions done, the power of facing challenges with other dedicated professionals that help us all achieve more than we could alone.

When you mix all those ingredients in the bowl of a Coast Guard ship, the resultant experience is so much more than the individual parts. It becomes an experience beyond words, a quicksilver resonance that defies encapsulation in mere human expression, and vibrates in my bones making me feel indisputably alive and incandescent. Without it I will once again be a mere dirt-bound mortal.

Thanks, everyone, for coming out to share the day with VIGOROUS, her crew, and me. It means the absolute world to me. Now, let’s go eat shrimp cocktail and cake!

 

My Sea Going Addiction

On the recommendation of my Coach, I started reading Brene Brown's The Gift of Imperfection. I just got to the part where she talks about addiction. 

I've frequently said (only sort of joking) going to sea is an addiction for me. My definition of addition has been  knowing something is bad for me, and doing it anyway. And yes, I recognize that going to sea is not a healthy choice...I don't eat well underway (hello, carb fest! and ten days out of a port call, fresh fruits and veggies start getting very scarce, while there always seems to be a box of cake mix to unearth from dry stores...); I sleep in fits and starts, mostly...except when I don't, which is frequent when we're busy with operations; it is Stressful; I don't exercise the way I do ashore; and I'm away from many things, like friends and family, that I rely on for emotional support. That's a long list of healthy stuff I lose underway.

However, if I look at an addiction as Brown defines it, as letting numbing get in the way of my authenticity, then I think going to sea is the exact opposite, and may, actually, be a source of great resilience for me. While being underway is a great excuse for me to use overworking and perfectionism to avoid unpleasant things and feelings, the very nature of being underway forces me to deal with uncertainty and vulnerability regularly, and supports me with being a part of something greater than myself. 

As Dr Brown says, "...I'm convinced that we all numb and take the edge off. The question is, does our ________ (eating, drinking, spending, gambling, saving the world, incessant gossiping, perfectionism, sixty-hour workweek [or 168-hour workweek underway]) get in the way of our authenticity? Does it stop us from being emotionally honest and setting boundaries and feeling like we're enough? Does it keep us from staying out of judgment and from feeling connected? Are we using _________ to hide or escape from the reality of our lives?"

There is nothing quite like being underway to make me face uncertainty and vulnerability square on. One of the first sea stories I added to my personal anthology (I think I've told it before...once or twice) was in April 2000, when BOUTWELL was up in the Bering Sea, and the F/V ARCTIC ROSE sank with all 15 hands onboard tragically perishing. We were kept on-scene for search and rescue efforts for about two days, if I remember correctly. A spring storm swept through the area before we could run for cover. For about 12 hours, I wasn't sure if BOUTWELL herself would survive. The QMOW logged 75 knot winds (which anywhere else would be a hurricane) and 45 foot seas. I remember being on the bridge for about two and a half hours on the mid-watch with BOSN, standing at a height of eye of 55 feet, and looking up at the tops of waves...which means there were a few waves that were over 60 feet tall. We kept our bow into the seas at a 1/3 bell, powering up some of the steeper walls of water with the quick push of a 2/3 bell, hung at the crest of the wave for a few torturous seconds before plummeting down the backside of the wave to thunderingly crash in the trough before climbing up the next one. It was the most terrified I have been in my life. I prayed that night...something I hadn't done in years, and haven't done since. I had no control, I was full of uncertainty, and felt about as vulnerable as a human being can. Hard to hide from that reality.

More recently, DILIGENCE was leaving Colon, Panama, after pulling in for a brief stop for logistics during my first year onboard, I think because our helicopter was broken, and had to do a pier-side op test before being ok to use again (oh, that's right...I remember now...a hard landing torqued out the helo's limits and they had to reset them...or something like that). It was after sunset when we were finally ready to go. We had to spin around in a narrow channel to get headed the right direction to be outbound. The wind was blowing on the dock at 30-plus knots. Did I mention the narrow channel? And I think we were on a flood current, which would also force us back against the pier. I didn't want to coach because I wasn't sure my shiphandling skills were up to the task...which lead me to a dark place of questioning my abilities, questioning my fitness as a cutterman and a leader, questioning my career choice and my worth to the organization. OPS drove us safely out that night with finesse and skill, and I was jealous and felt weak and worthless...not because he had done such a great job, but because he did it with confidence and self-assuredness. I sulked and stewed for a couple of days. I eventually brought it up to my CO, combined with some other doubts I had about my abilities to be the kind of leader I want to be. 

I can think of at least two occasions on DILIGENCE where I used the experience of my care-taking my mother in the few months before her death to help crewmembers through their own family tragedies. I'm pretty sure I cried during both of those encounters, and didn't really care that they saw my vulnerabilities. That's what you do for shipmates. That's my authenticity. 

I think my pro dev sessions come from a place of vulnerability. I try to stick to topics I wish I had known when I was a junior JO. Things I learned the hard way. 

Last night I reread some of my posts from DILIGENCE. Posts about the heart-breaking beauty of the open water, the soul-nourishing sunrises, thunderstorms, sunsets, and star-choked night skies, the inspiration that comes from being part of a greater whole. It's not all uncertainty and vulnerability and terror and discomfort. Being underway offers an accessible approach to the divine. 

The one question I probably struggle with the most is "Does it stop us from being emotionally honest and setting boundaries and feeling like we're enough?" If I had one criticism for myself choosing to go underway, it's that setting boundaries while underway is hard for me. There's always work to be done. And even if, somehow, all the crises are at bay, there are still rules and policies and expectations about how I can act and be...because it's still work, even if we live there. I understand the need for those rules and policies and expectations, and struggle with how they confine my authenticity. Hello, uniforms...and going to bed with wet hair from washing it at night, and hoping it dries before I have to put it back up in a knot seven hours later. 

Ha! I was just thinking yesterday, as I was getting my weekly massage (reference my last post about massive gratitude for the amazing abundance my financial situation allows me to enjoy...), about how I miss being intentionally touched. I miss hugs from my friends. I miss sitting shoulder to shoulder with my sister, physically leaning in to her comforting presence. I miss the casual pats on the shoulder in passing by affectionate cousins, the hair ruffling my aunt can't seem to help, the standing arm in arm with a cherished loved one. Handshakes when meeting someone aren't enough. And here's some more vulnerability: I'm nervous about sharing this miss of touch...it feels like it could be easily misinterpreted. But it's important to me, so sharing away...

But isn't that the point? To see the challenges for what they are, see how they affect me, and decide if the trade off is worth it, and if I decide it is, to be okay with it. To find the strength to see myself through, and occasionally come back to see if that's still my truth. That's where the fullest expression of living my best life comes in..from fully experiencing, almost wallowing in the good, the uncomfortable, the sublime, the joy and the pain, the terror and uncertainty as much as the beauty and blessings. 

This quote from Theodore Roosevelt usually brings tears to my eyes and fullness to my soul, same as the Helen Keller quote on my blog page:

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

And reading this quote, I understand why one of Brene Brown's books is titled, Daring Greatly.

Two in one weekend...I'm on a roll!

My First FI Post

As the title says, this is my first FI post. What is FI you might ask? Financial independence. Sometimes it's combined with RE for "FIRE" which is financially independent, retire early. There is this massive online presence for FI/FIRE (oh hell, this is an absolutely *ridiculous* moment for my "f" key to start getting sticky...harumph! but there is a good FI lesson in that bit of ridiculousness...I bought this laptop in 2010 for grad school -- definitely getting my money's worth from it, especially since my uncle so generously rebuilt it for me before I came out to Bahrain -- it's working Great!, Uncle Heathen).

My sister (as usual...I get my best ideas from her) turned me on to Mr Money Mustache a few years ago. I had been reading Get Rich Slowly for years before that (got disgusted with the site after JD sold it, and am now absolutely THRILLED that he has it back and continues to do great things with it). And then I recently found Rockstar Finance, and Cait Flanders and Choose FI, and all the other super supportive, incredibly creative, amazingly brave and courageous explorers of mindful living. I'm a little shy online, and do more lurking than commenting, but the stories these people tell of their own experiences are inspiring, terrifying, jealous-making, and bring me new ideas about how to approach my own life.

So all that to say, I'm dipping my toe in with this post.

Today is the day I got my first paycheck in the Coast Guard, 19 years ago. I don't remember the exact circumstances...I was in boot camp, and the money probably just showed up in my North Carolina State Employee Credit Union checking account and I didn't even realize it because I was worried about making sure my locker was locked, my boots were shined, and I didn't have any Irish pennants on my uniform so I wouldn't get yelled at by the mean and scary Company Commanders. But if I do the math, I went into boot camp on 24 August 1999, so my first paycheck should have been 31 August 1999 (...which now that I actually think about it, is really highly unlikely because (pre-Direct Access JUMPS, aka Old School) paycut would have been about 21 Aug, so I probably didn't get a paycheck on 31 Aug...however -- never let the truth spoil a good myth. Also...I have the time to write this post right now, and likely won't come 15 September.)

Anyway!!...

My first CG paycheck wasn't much...only like $150 mostly likely because they took out money for uniforms and other accession expenses. But it was steady; I knew it was going to come twice a month and it was going to be enough to pay my bills...especially since free health care came with it.

I was nearly two years past getting my first Masters degree, in Horticulture. I had been living paycheck to paycheck at jobs that weren't going anywhere. I had about $3,000 in credit card debt that I had no idea how I was going to pay down. I would pay a little more than the minimum payment each month, but just kept seeing the balance getting bigger and never going down. I didn't have any student loans, mostly because Berea College, where I got my undergrad degree doesn't charge tuition...or they do, but they offset it with full scholarships for every student because every student works at least 10 hours a week doing campus jobs. And I worked hard during grad school with a second job for most of the time, while still being a teaching or research assistant...and my Mom helped out with making sure I had a place to live when she gave me a $15,000 loan to buy my mobile home. Lot rent was $250 a month.

I was sick of not having a safety net. I wanted financial stability. I wanted health care, so I didn't have to figure out how to pay $100 for a Planned Parenthood visit to get birth control and still have money for the electric bill or rent. 

So a steady paycheck, with the opportunity for advancement, and guaranteed health care seemed like a dream. Sign me up!

Fast forward through 10 PCS moves, buying five houses, and selling three, two year-long tours in a tax free zone, maxing out my sea pay on my last ship, two command tours, countless deployments and even more port calls, and I have a seven-figure net worth, as of this month.

I grew up on food stamps and subsidized school lunches, hand-me-down clothes and church-sponsored Christmas presents.

Seven figures is a little surreal.

My Mom did her very, very best to make ends meet, and raise us with boundless love. I could ask her for help, and if it was in her power to do it, she would give me, or any of the three of us kids everything she had. It's not an easy thing for me to admit her generosity...she and I had a difficult relationship. But she taught me to be frugal, how to distinguish between wants and needs, the importance of paying off my credit cards every month, how to write checks and balance a checkbook (back when I still wrote things in my checkbook ledger), and about being a responsible adult. I'm coming to accept that we could have a difficult relationship, and know that she loved me and taught me many, many things. All those things can be true at the same time.

I know she would be thrilled, absolutely, but not overly surprised at my ((to me) stunning and completely unexpected) financial abundance. She always believed in me, usually more than I did in myself.

And for me, now, I think I do a decent job of recognizing the amazing financial abundance that I enjoy, and being thoroughly grateful for the options that gives me. I also recognize my situation is...not typical. I don't have kids, so no college to save for; and if I want more college, I have my GI Bill still to use (yes, I contributed the extra $1,200 back in the day for the $5,400 additional funding...I know a good return when I see one). I own my retirement home outright. No mortgage. I paid cash for it with money my Mom left me (there's another story there about how we were all a little surprised that she had money to leave any of us...not because she didn't save, but because she never made very much). I've had massive luck in the real estate market...and recognize it as luck. I didn't know I was buying a house on the North Shore of Oahu right as the market took off in 2003. I've always just bought what I liked, and somehow, that's worked out for me -- though I know others do not have the same experience.

My options (when it comes to FI and FIRE) are:
-- I can retire from active duty next 1 September, if I choose. I don't *need* to stay any longer on active duty than I actually *want* to, just to fund my future lifestyle.
-- I don't have to get a job when I retire, if I don't want to, because my pension will cover my basic living expenses and then some, which means...
-- I can ask for one more command afloat tour because I love the people, the challenge, the cohesion and being underway, and not because it's good for continuing my career, and...
-- I can spend my time after active duty doing and exploring things I love or feel like I might love; I can find new adventures, challenges, and (oh my gawd, I'm not sure I can handle this part...) let things be easy for a while (which may be the greatest challenge of all...).
-- Only bounded by my imagination and the limits of my courage.

So, while I'm not RE yet, I'm definitely FI. I can drop a retirement letter any day I choose now, even if I'm still one year out from it taking effect. Which is ok...I still have a few things I want to accomplish to round out my Coast Guard career. I'm thinking of this as my Warning Order. Action Order pends finding out what ship I'm going to next...

Great Leaps

I'm doing my very best hermit impression this weekend. It has been a super busy last two weeks, and I feel the need for some quiet reflection to process the constant movement I've been doing. I wrote a long email to my coach just as the busy-ness was kicking off (when I didn't fully realize the intensity of the busy-ness), because I had what felt like a complete epiphany. Looking back, I haven't been able to spend as much time as I wanted in the mental space I describe below. I guess that's what August's challenge will be for. I'm excited about it.

Here's the email:

"I took a walk to run a quick errand [as we were waiting for more information on the crisis of the day...on Friday, which is not an official workday, but I usually go in for a few hours to catch up and prioritize for the next week. I was at work when the crisis hit...thankfully. Also, crisis is over, just dealing with the fallout from it now]. 

On that walk, I realized (big epiphany here [I really feel like that is an understatement, and I have a hard time describing how big a shock this realization was to me]) that I have crazy high expectations for myself. 

I don't know what finally made that make sense to me. I think it may be this latest challenge. It's the Whole Life Challenge (www.wholelifechallenge.com) this month, where there are seven ways to keep points each day: nutrition, fitness, mobility (stretching), sleep, hydration, a weekly "wellness" challenge (this week's was no electronics during meals to better be in the moment with what you're eating) and a daily reflection. We're about half way through it, and yesterday, in particular, I was feeling very dragged down by it. I lost my wellness points because I ate lunch at my computer because I was trying to get stuff done (at least it was a healthy lunch). I lost all my nutrition and wellness points the day before because I ate an entire bag of caramel popcorn mindlessly as I was working (at my computer). I didn't get a workout in yesterday, and by the time I got home, I didn't want to stretch either. 

And the realization of what I was doing to myself came crashing down on me as I walked around base...the standard to which I hold myself is very, very high. I expect myself to do a thousand things, and do them all well. I was thinking about not getting a workout in, and chastising myself for not having the energy to do it once I got home (after an eight-hour day on my sixth day (most of which were 10-hr days) at work in a row). I realized my expectations were very high, and immediately started trying to figure out how to get my workout in before my workday starts so that I have the energy to do it. And it took me a minute to realize that was just rearranging obligations, not actually getting at the root of the expectation.

Which, as the evening wore on, and as I've thought more about it today, is what I feel like I really need to do. I was going to track all my cash spending next month, but instead, I've decided on a "no expectations" challenge for next month. I need a freaking break from them! 

Which then led me to consider what do I mean by "no expectations." And what I came up with is, every time I find myself saying, "I should do...," "I need to...," or "I have to...," I will gently ask where that comes from. Is it something I actually *want* to do?...because those don't feel like expectations...they feel like me being authentically me, doing things I value. Or is it something I feel like I should be doing?...because someone else expects it, or I read somewhere I should, or it's something I've picked up along the way and haven't actually thought about why I'm doing it.

And the things I *want* to do...those might be long term wants supported by daily choices. I want to be healthy...which means that I really want to snack on blueberries instead of caramel popcorn [or not eat a box of Girl Scout Samoas for dinner...which I did last night]. I want to set clear expectations for people who work for me to help them succeed...which means I do want to send that last clarifying email before my day ends so it's waiting for them when they get in. So, "wanting" to do something isn't just, I want to sit on my couch and read my book today or I want that piece of pie (but it might be). It's looking at why I'm doing the things I'm doing, and asking myself if that's really how I want to spend my time, energy, whatever.

This idea of no expectations feels like a reprieve. An opportunity to test what I really want. And how that gets put into action every day. I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want, workout when I want or not, drink whatever/whenever I want. No stringent personal rules to guide how I chose to get through my day...which is kinda an amazing concept to me. Somehow, I think there may be another aspect to this one too...maybe something about finding my own truths...the things I feel in my bones are true about me that I can stop questioning so doggedly. Which reminds me of what you've been trying to get across to me, that there are certain lines I won't let myself cross."

So that was the end of the email to my coach. Interestingly, the message about "my truths" was reinforced from another email this morning from my financial adviser. I sold my house in Hawaii recently and asked her about the possibility of putting some of the money into a separate account that I could designate for travel.

Her response was, "...first, you are clearly a saver and investor (whether real estate or stocks) and I would be very surprised if you were at risk of ‘spending away’ your travel funds..." and "...I truly believe you will weigh how and when you spend your money every time you would need to get out your checkbook, whether for a plane trip, future primary home, investment property or stock purchase. There are people who are either not disciplined enough not to spend away money they intend to use for something specific, or they cannot grasp the concept of ‘fungibility’ and must have it set for a specific purpose. I do not think that applies to you..."

How do other people see my truths while I remain so completely blind to them? 

Another related story, which makes me smile every time I think of it. Two days into last week, during which I felt like a circus ring master with the music on 98 rpms, juggling two groups of visitors to PATFOR involving most of the entire crew, including the cutters, I didn't sleep a damn. There I was, staring up into the ceiling at 10 pm, my mind racing a thousand miles an hour about everything that was going on. OPM was one of our visitors, so of course I was thinking about my e-resume, and how the hell I was supposed to rank order the cutters that are open for transfer next summer. 

Because I couldn't sleep, I posted the following on Facebook,"If you had to pick one of the following words to best describe me, which would it be? Options in alphabetical order: dauntless, steadfast, venturous, vigilant, vigorous. For those that recognize the words, don't cheat, or spoil the fun."

Of course, all my Coastie friends got it. Despite my admonition, some still cheated and picked the words based on their own preferences for where the so-named cutters are homeported. Others added their own words, mostly forms of "diligence." 

If I was hoping for a clear answer to help me craft my e-resume, I certainly didn't get it. Top three candidates were dauntless, steadfast, and venturous..which if I had to pick words that people felt best describe me, I'll happily take any one of those three :) 

As for what I'm putting on my e-resume...guh! I wish I knew!

Random Thoughts

Random Thought #1:
I survived, even thrived, through Change of Command. It was a flurry of events once the incoming Commodore arrived at work on Sunday morning, ramping up to a whole 'nother level of intensity when the Admiral came in three days later. It all went amazingly smoothly. I pretty much just hung on for the ride, enjoying the fruits of the preparation we had done prior to it all kicking off. I credit the event's success to the attention to detail of the three (yes, three: one for the ceremony, one for the relief week schedule, and one for the distinguished visitor visit) Project Officers that worked completely seamlessly together, kept me well informed, and maybe a smidge to my tight grip of worry and constant attention to making sure things stayed on schedule (Control Freak Tendencies were at full throttle for about 48 hours). There were a few hiccups, a handful of last minute changes, and at least one moment of abject fear.

There I was, on stage in front of nearly 200 people. I had just introduced the presiding official, and happened to glance at the next few lines of the script, so I knew when I needed to check back in (not that I wasn't paying attention to the Admiral's remarks...I just needed a moment or two to regroup). And realized the next part that required anything from me was reading the outgoing Commodore's award citation. Oh, holy mother of heavens...the award citation!! Where the blazes was it?!? I had been told it was being hand carried in, but I hadn't actually put eyes on it. I frantically looked around the room, and found someone whose phone number I had in my phone (which I am still amazed I actually had on me; working in a secure space means I don't always take it with me these days when I leave my office) standing next to the Change of Command Project Officer. I texted him frantically. Then texted him again. And again. I'm pretty sure one of the texts was simply, "Help!" The multiple texts got his attention, and he checked his phone. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him showing the screen to the Project Officer, who then calmly walked around the back of the room over to the Admiral's Aide (who was standing off-stage, out of my sight, so I had no idea he was there) to verify he had the award. He did, thank my lucky stars! And when the time came, he calmly carried the citation and medal box up to the stage and handed it to the Admiral for presentation. Thankfully I already had a copy of the citation in my script, so it looked as if we had planned it that way.

When I chatted briefly with the Aide after the ceremony, he assured me he had it under control the whole time, and told me to trust him. I shot back, "Trust, yes, absolutely, but verify. Trust, but verify." We both laughed.

And the cakes were delicious. I liked the chocolate one a tad bit better.

Random Thought #2:
I have eight days left in my second month-long challenge. At last count, I have said 28 cusswords in the last 22 days, and have had seven days where I said no cusswords at all.

Uh, I just looked up what the 28th number in the sequence is, and almost choked. I am going to have to change my rules somehow. The 28th number in the Fibonacci sequence is 371,811. I really want to say a cussword right now. But that definitely defeats the purpose. Because the 29th number is 514,229. I'm laughing now, which is good. Ok, new rule: for every cuss-free day, I can take one number off my tally. So for now, with seven cuss-free days, I can reduce 28 to 21, which is still $10,946...but with some self control and awareness, I can work down to 14, which is only $377. Talk about effective motivation...

So that was really just part A of RT#2.

B. I'm getting things I didn't expect to get out of these two challenges I've done so far. With the letter writing, it was how easy it was to fill barely three sides of a note card to people I care about. And how, just when my enthusiasm for it was flagging, I started receiving word back that people were getting my letters and enjoying them, which reinvigorated the fun in it.

This time, instead of feeling constrained by the limitations like I thought I would, I'm learning to slow down and pay attention to what I say before it comes out of my mouth. Which is a lesson I desperately have needed to learn for a very long time. I get a sense just before I say something, based on the thought I'm trying to communicate, that my default expression would be a cuss word. I've learned to pay attention to that sense so I can modify the words before I say them. It's much more profound than this description here is making it out to be. Maybe it's the **Intention of Observation** that I'm actually cultivating. Because that's something I can apply throughout my life, personally and professionally, and not just to not cussing for a month.

Funny story about not cussing. At the Eagles and Anchors (Officers and Chiefs) event the evening after the Change of Command, I was standing around chatting with a couple of the Chiefs. I have no idea of what we were talking about, and I was about half-way through my cup of white wine, so I was starting to get a little um...expansive in my communication style (more arm waving and emphasis on Very Important Points). Whatever I was saying required an f-bomb. I got the F and U out, before I realized what I was doing, and was able to stop myself before the C and K were uttered. It came out a little choked, and I apologized for garbling things. The Chiefs thought I was apologizing for almost saying the f-word (as if!), so I explained to them what had actually happened. They asked a few polite questions about my year of challenges, including what I expected my hardest challenge to be. And laughed understandingly when I said it was February's...where I am challenging myself to use the stairs to or from my flat at least once a day...no easy feat when I live on the 19th floor...

But back to the intention of observation. Because that really has been a fundamental shift for me. If I can observe what I'm feeling, and explore that, instead of simply reacting to it, I keep myself much more grounded in a sense of personal/emotional space that I want to be in. I can notice myself being upset, recognize I'm upset, and adjust my external reaction based on knowing I'm upset. It doesn't work perfectly every time, of course. I still say stupid things, and react poorly in some situations. But that's happening slightly less frequently...which is absolutely better than every single time.

Random Thought #3:
I passed my two-month mark in country. I was wondering why I was feeling a little antsy, and realized I haven't been in one probably eight-mile radius for this long in...jeesh, I'm not sure I can remember. Back stateside, I was always taking off on the weekends, or traveling for work, or using every excuse I could find to get out of the city, or before DC, getting underway and sailing off to new places. For the last two months and one week, my radius of existence has shrunk. Furthest afield I have been is probably the one trip to Bahrain Defense Force Hospital, which is 8.1 miles away from where I'm sitting in my flat right now. And one trip to the Harley Davidson dealership (ooh, good story there!! maybe relevant to the next Random Thought...). And one trip yesterday out to the not-quite-open-yet Ikea store. It's not bad, one way or the other. Just different. Not what I'm used to.

In some ways, I really like that probably more than 95% of my time is spent in a less than two mile radius, that I either walk or bike around. It feels much more personal. I'm starting to recognize the potholes in the roads I bike; the car washers who are working so hard when I pass them on my way in to work in the morning; the gate guards at the Indonesian Embassy; the neighbors tending their sun-beaten landscaping. I'm watching a house be built, seeing progress every day, from digging the holes for the footers, to filling in the trenches, to the walls going up...and that's as far as they've gotten. But before long, I'm sure I'll see furniture moving in, and maybe people living there. There is an intimacy with details that comes with living in a close space.

And an expanded excitement that comes with moving out of that space on the few occasions I do. Everything is new to look at, and slightly different from the things I've been seeing constantly. That may be why I was so tickled by the donkey I saw in the back of a truck yesterday. Just riding along, ears twitching and muscles shifting as they turned corners, didn't seem perturbed by much of anything that was going on around him...made me laugh at the absurdity of things.

Random Thought #4:
I've added a goal to my list for this year. I want to enter a Story Slam. Maybe The Moth, but maybe another after I do some more research. It's another venue for telling my stories. I'm fairly comfortable talking in front of crowds...I've been doing it a lot lately. I have good stories to tell, sometimes even complete with profound lessons...or at least profound to me.

Two first steps I can see I need to start with: pick a story and pick a slam.

Picking a story is harder than it seems at first blush. Many of my stories are sea stories, which require some fundamental understanding of life on a Coast Guard cutter...or lots of time to explain how things are and why they are that way...and story slams have a time limit. So maybe the cross-country motorcycle trip? But what part of that? I started telling the cadets some of that story, and realized there are lots and lots of tendrils to it, lots of side roads to travel down, if you will. Or the story about the deformed o-ring I wear as a necklace?...which is a sea story and requires a visual of the o-ring, which might not work from a slam stage. Or the trip to the Harley shop here in Bahrain which started out very frustratingly, but ended up with camel's milk and plants in my house and office? Not sure that one is actually long enough.

Picking a slam requires some research. And some knowledge of my future schedule. I get overwhelmed with too many options, so I'm not sure which is really the harder part of this piece.

But there it is. On public record with a new goal. More to follow.