Atlas, schmatlas!
I have decided all on my own that unless Atlas was a military spouse and/or parent, he had it easy. ‘Nuff said.
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"Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends."
~~Richard Bach
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Feeling Inspired
I was feeling inspired by a certain Butterfly, and so I picked up some things for a little care package for a certain soldier who is trapped in H.H.C. (a.k.a. TraDoc Purgatory.) So, to make his weekend go by a little more quickly I sent the following items:
2 Hershey’s Cacao Reserve 65% dark chocolate bars (I usually get him Black and Orange, but I couldn’t find it at Target.)
1 Bag of Apricot Trail Mix
1 Box of Apricot and Yogurt Drizzled granola bars
1 bag of Sweet and Spicy mix
A book on the Vietnam War and a Civil War magazine.
Do you remember?
I was chatting with a friend when an analogy came to my mind about how I would feel when I see Mike for the first time after 7 months of deployment. I told my friend that the emotions, feelings, and anticipations are a lot like when you are in the delivery room at the hospital. Remember all of those firsts?
Moms and dads, do you remember?
Remember when you heard that first little cry that signaled to you that your baby was doing well and was strong and healthy? Remember when you held your baby for the first time? You had never met this little person face to face, but he fit snug in your arms as if your arms were created solely to hold him. I can remember knowing him the first time I saw him, and knowing that I loved him beyond words and earthly measure. I remember leaving the hospital with him and then having to face that first fever, first cut, scrape, bruise, break, bloody nose and stitches. I remember it all.
I also remember that strange urge that over came me the day he was born. This silly urge that so many parents relate to. I remember counting his fingers and toes. I needed to see that he was alright. It had nothing to do with the measure of love I had. He could have been born with too many or too few — I would not have, could not have, loved him any more or any less. I just needed to see that he was OK, and I needed to know if he had anything evident that would indicate a challenging path ahead for him.
I am already dreaming about the airport terminal when he comes home. I can hear his laughter, I can hear his voice, and when I hug him he fits in my arms in a way that feels as if they were fashioned solely to hug him and welcome him home. I remember his first cut on the battlefield. I know I will need to “count his fingers and toes” in a symbolic way. It’s not a matter of a measurement of my love for him. I love him the best way I know how… I can not love him more and will not love him less. I just want to touch his face, hug his neck and see him eat and watch him rest. I will remember, in the not so far off future, all of the new “firsts” we will face with this life changing experience called war.
Our first copy
When Mr. Hooah! was home for convalescent leave we got a hard copy (not hard cover yet) of the first book cover he did the art work for. He has 2 others coming out and the publisher was chomping at the bit to get him to work on a couple of more. Some of her authors are now requesting him by name.
So, he’s a soldier and an artist. He’s a papa and a chemical science headed guy. He’s a pretty darned incredible somebody if you ask me!
Taken from Twilight Times books:
In the summer of 1926, jazz lovers from all over the Midwest go where the weather is hot and the music hotter — the Blue Lantern Inn on Hudson Lake, a rural Indiana dance hall where the season’s resident jazz band features a young cornet player named Bix Beiderbecke.Available now at
Amazon; Amazon.co.uk; Bamm.com; Barnes & Noble; Borders; Indy Bookstores or mail a check.
A new "boots on the ground" site on my blog roll
Take a peek and visit “Bill and Bob’s Excellent Afghan Adventure” when you get a moment. I owe a heart felt “hat tip” to reader Lynnis for pointing me to this great blog. Most of the blogs I link to are focused on Iraq, so I am very excited to read a blogger from Afghanistan. Enjoy, and thanks again Lynnis!
Dear Son, I support your mission!
Dear Mike,
I think about you everyday, but some days I think about you in the present and others more so in the past. Today I was thinking about you in a way that paralleled both worlds where my thoughts and memories of you are treasured and contained. I really do have so many tender memories of when you were little. You were such a bright and curious guy, well you still are, but just in different ways now. The memories of you bring a lot of joy to me, and they remind me of how much I miss seeing you and hearing your voice in person.
I guess what sparked this thinking was a conversation I have been reading going on between people about whether or not you can support the troops without supporting their mission. There has been a lot of good points raised by many people, and I have to say that I tried to think of how I could support you in a tangible and legitimate way if I did not support anything you were sacrificing your days as a young man for. I came up blank, son. I just can’t think of how that is possible. I can’t find the logic in it for the life of me. I guess I have never been on the side of anyone who would do something that I could not support.
You know when you were very little you used to love to color with your crayons. I can not think of one time when you sat down to color (even when all you were able to do was scribble) and I would say to you “I support you, but your coloring is horrible and I can’t support it!” I loved you and what you were doing. I can’t fathom ever coming to one of your concerts for show chorus when you were in middle school and saying “I support you, but your singing is something I can’t support.” I guess then, like now, I simply can not separate what you are doing with who you are. I raised you to be a man with awareness, and so I simply can not find a way to extract the essence of “you” from what “you” do. I know you understand that, but I guess I am trying to figure out this line of reasoning.
I remember when you started running Cross Country. Oh, wow! I was (and still am) very proud of you for the way you tackled that! You put your whole body and soul into it. I remember your coach always telling me “He’s a big guy and shouldn’t be able to run the way he runs — he’s got a heart for it!” You were built more like a football player than a long distance runner, but by gosh you showed them that you could be a runner if you put your mind to it! How could I have ever said to you then “Mike, I support you, but your running just has to stop because I can’t support it!” If I could not support what you were doing with your whole mind and body, then how could I support you?
I know the truth son. I remember. I know that you are not someone who does the hard things in life half-heartedly. You embrace it fully, pursue passionately, and you do it to the best of your ability. So, with that said I want you to know that today, as always and forever, I support you, and I support your mission. I support what you are doing every day in Iraq, and what you are sacrificing. I wish you could be home with us every day that you are gone, but I understand. I also know that this race is one that has and will continue to put you to the test. I have no doubt that you will pass just fine, and cross that finish line when you are redeployed home to your family who loves you and who are waiting for you.
With much love,
Mom
Iraqi Army raises funds to aid fire victims in California!
This is an absolutely incredible article that I found at Tanker Bros. about the Iraqi Army and their incredibly kind and generous work at raising $1000 to aid fire victims in California. I hope you enjoy the article and Brat’s write up called “He ain’t heavy…” . I know I was very blessed to read it!
What kind of sick, sick person?
What kind of sick person am I? Don’t answer that so quickly!
I am making Pumpkin Butter and every time I go to my huge crock pot full of delicious pumpkin, spices and such and stir it I hear the voice of the tortured pumpkin. That’s bad enough, but it makes me giggle and that is why I feel very bad!
One other quick confession — I was stirring the butter when Emma walked in and asked what I was doing. I was talking to Bryan at the time too. The conversation went like this:
Emma: Mama, what are you doing?
Mama: I am stirring this yummy pumpkin butter!
Emma: Hey, where’s my pumpkin go, mama?
Mama: Look Emma, I found your magic wand! Yeah!
Emma: Where’s pumpkin?
Mama: Look Emma, looney toons are on! yeah!!
Emma: Yeah!
She grabbed her cup of Ovaltine and ran for the cartoons! Thank God I had put that DVD in when I did — Oh, and Mr. Hooah! was just laughing on the other line and calling me a pumpkin-naper. Thanks for your support!
Oh and one final thought. I wanted to tell you all that when I bought the Pirate that little magic wand she kept pointing it at me, saying “bippity-boppity-boo!” She said that several times, and then she looked down the “barrel” of the wand and with a perplexed look she states “Hey! This thing is broken!” I don’t know what she was trying to turn me into! I am glad that thing wasn’t loaded!