Well, I'm a soldier now...

Tuesday afternoon at work, I got a phone call from my son. 

"Where are you?" I asked him. 

"Home again."

"Yeah? How'd it go?"

"Well, I'm a soldier now." 

He had just gotten back from an overnight spent with two busloads of other new recruits, out near the airport. During their day and a half together, they sat around, bored, while the officers were getting all kinds of paperwork assembled and filled out. 

Then they had extensive physical check-ups, some basic testing of their physical condition (how fast can they run a mile, how many pushups and situps, etc). 

And then he signed three years of his life over to Uncle Sam, eight years if you count the commitment of inactive reserve status. 

He's going to be a CBRN Specialist. Impressive sounding, eh? Here's what the Army has to say about it:

Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear (CBRN) Specialist (74D)

As a CBRN Specialist you will plan, employ, and coordinate CBRN defense systems in support of joint and combined arms operations including CBRN reconnaissance systems, biological agent detection systems (BIDS), obscurant systems, CBRN decontamination systems, and other CBRN hazard detection and warning systems. In addition, CBRN Specialists coordinate assets and efforts for weapons of mass destruction (WMD) force protection programs, CBRN defense support to civil authorities, CBRN vulnerability analysis, CBRN sensitive site assessment/exploitation, WMD elimination, technical escort operation, CBRN reconnaissance, and CBRN decontamination. The Chemical Branch provides the Army with a highly trained corps of CBRN experts.

My baby's going to be a specialist in chemical weapons.

Lots of people ask me how I'm doing with it. Since it's been a couple of months that he and I have been talking seriously about this possibility, I'm doing much better. Actually, in this whole anxiety producing process, once the decisions were made and action taken, the anxiety lessened considerably. The fear comes with the unknown.

My son let me come with him to the recruiting station when he went to pick out a job. I think he may have regretted that decision when I was was finding yet more questions to ask the officers. But hey, if I'm not going to question things for my son, who is? He doesn't want to appear like too much of an arrogant jerk, but I don't really care what they think of me. I want him to have the best opportunity possible.

And it didn't help when I got to the recruiting office, and all the officers were babies, under 30 themselves. It was much more comforting and helpful for my peace of mind when we were able to spend time with an officer over 40, who had close to 20 years of service.

Another help in this whole process has been being able to email and phone a good friend who can give me her insight and wisdom from the perspective of being an enlisted soldier herself. She's been in the Air Force for some years now, and gave us good advice about things like jobs to check, questions to ask, and things to expect.

So in a few months, I'll be packing up my boy and kissing him goodbye as he leaves for Basic Training. When he's done with that, he'll go to school for 20 weeks to learn how to deal with all kinds of dangerous and hazardous materials. 

Because I'm an external processor, I've been talking everyone's ear off about this whole change of direction in his life. The nice thing is, I've been given tons of support from my friends. And both he and I have been prayed over more in the last couple of weeks than in a long time, I think! 

We are blessed with our friends and our family. Without them, this would be a much more difficult process. 

New Years Tradition

For the first time in years, decades probably, I spent New Year's Day curled up in front of the TV, watching the Tournament of Roses Parade. When I was a kid, I guess I thought that's what everyone did, that's what you were supposed to do on New Year's. We watched lots of parades, it seems. (Maybe that's because there were four channels to choose from, not 250 channels, and a much limited list of programming.)

This year Bob Eubanks was one of the announcers, and was one of several familiar faces, which also included Cloris Leachman and Jack Hannah.

It was fun to watch and listen as an adult, and learn all kinds of interesting facts about the participants in the parade:

• The Tournament of Roses Parade is now 120 years old. The Vally Hunt Club created the parade as a way to advertise Pasadena's great weather, even in winter. I thought it was particularly fitting that the Anchorage, Alaska, Visitors Bureau had a float in the parade!
  
  
• The Rotary Club was started in Chicago, and derived its name from the fact that the men would rotate homes in which the met? (it's true!)
  
  
• The hooves of the horses in the parade are painted with black shoe polish (not sure why, though).
  
  
• John Philip Sousa once played in the USC Marching Band (who participate yearly, I believe)
  
  
• Sons and Daughters of the Old West are a riding club made up of descendants of TV and movie Westerns.
  
  
• The Lions Club reproduced a newly discovered photo of Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan on their float.
  
  
• Andalusian horses get darker as they age.
  
  
• An Essex, England band financed its trip by going on a TV reality show and won 40,000 in either dollars or pounds.
  
  
• Another band traveling a long distance was from Puebla, Mexico - the Aguilas Doradas, Golden Eagles. They win the prize for best headgear, for sure!
  
  
• A number of bands, including the band from Hawaii, are specifically assembled for this parade - which means the musicians only have a couple of days to play together as a group.
  
  
• Bob Eubank's wife traveled with Bob Hope and the USO.
  
  
• Huntington Beach has been known as Surf City since 1925, ever since a legendary surfer from Hawaii moved there, bringing his surfboard and his sport.
  
  
• The word "buccaroo" is originally derived from the Spanish word "vaquero", which means cowboy.
  
  
• June Lockhart's parents were set up by Thomas Edison.
  

Some other highlights for me were seeing the Penn State marching band, football team and cheerleaders.


"We are!" "Penn State!"
"We are!" "Penn State!"








Watching the fabulous band from Prairie View A&M University. They were definitely the most energetic of the bands, in my opinion.

I can imagine walking, even marching, for 5 miles, but dancing!?


My favorite floats, judged on beauty and interest, were The Bollywood float (the photo at the top of this entry, the Vera Bradley float,





the City of Duarte / City of Hope float,










and the Rain Bird Corporation float.







Watching the parade was enjoyable not only because of the nostalgia factor, it was fun and interesting and beautiful all at once. Maybe I'm going to have to revive this tradition!

(All photos from www.marching.com website)

Women's Right to Vote

Yes, I realize I've posted this photo of my grandmother before. I've got it up again because today, Sunday, November 2, celebrates two anniversaries. It is my grandparents' (88th!) wedding anniversary. They were married in 1920.

November 2, 1920 is also the anniversary of the first time women in the United States voted. The Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution was passed August 26th, giving the right to vote to women. The first election this affected was two months later, when Warren G Harding won by a landslide, replacing the by-then unpopular Woodrow Wilson.

Some other interesting dates in US voting history:

February 3, 1870: 15th Amendment passed:

The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race, color, or previous condition of servitude.

August 18, 1920: 19th Amendment passed:

The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex.

August 6, 1965: Voting Rights Act passed.
The Constitution alone apparently not enough to guarantee all citizens the right to vote, this act was passed to outlaw discriminatory practices which prevented many people of color from voting. The odd thing about this, though, is that it is not permanent - it has to get re-ratified every 25 years. The last time it was renewed was July 27, 2006, when G W Bush signed a 25 year extension.

July 1, 1971: 26th Amendment passed: lowered the US voting age to 18.

The right of citizens of the United States, who are eighteen years of age or older, to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of age.

November 4, 2008: The first time a person of color is elected as President of the United States. Okay, so it's positive thinking. See me about it in two days!

In the meantime, my women friends (and men friends, for that matter), if you haven't voted early for the historic election, GET OUT AND VOTE on Tuesday. Women suffered and even died so that we would have this privilege; let's honor their sacrifice, do our civic responsibility, take advantage of our ability to participate in our government.

'My Very Own' first installment...

Today I received my first three meals prepared by My Very Own Chef!! I had my son pick which one he wanted to try. He decided on Ratatouille. I was a little less than completely enthusiastic, because it has eggplant, right? And I'm not enthusiastic about eggplant, but still wanted to try the dish.

Well.

First of all I was starving because I worked late again today, and didn't get home till almost 7:00. So by the time we talked about it, decided what to eat, then cooked it, it was about 8:00. Then bit by bit, the house started getting infused with the most delicious smells.

When the food was ready, I served up our two plates. Son was less than enthusiastic about trying goat cheese, but he decided to be brave.

(Fred Astair song/dance break) "Heaven, I'm in heaven. And my mouth's so full that I can hardly speak! But I seem to find the happiness I seek, when there's ratatouille stuffed inside my cheeks!"

The flavors were so yummy, and so good together. Between the slices of veggie, the sauce it's cooked in, the tang of the goat cheese, and the basic goodness of the couscous, I really did feel like I was in heaven.

My son loved it. He expressed himself weirdly though. Here was our conversation:

Me: So, did you like it?

Him: Yeah, it was okay.

Me: Okay?!!

Him: Yeah, I mean it's not like my normal kind of food I eat every day. But it was delicious. But I wouldn't eat it every day, you know? But I really thought it was delicious!

Me: Um. Okay.

As I'm writing this, he hollered at me from his room, "Hey Mom, is it okay if my girlfriend comes over to try the ratatouille?" There's actually still enough for two servings in the pan. I said yes, but I'll make sure there's still enough for me to have another serving!


ED. Since I posted, the official website for My Very Own Chef has gone live, and the kitchen is definitely open for business!

Maybe you can go home again

When the Town & Country Commission decided to hold their fall meeting this year in Sugar Grove, PA, just 15 minutes from my hometown of Warren, I jumped at the chance to tag along. I get back home so infrequently anymore, and a free trip there was too good to pass up.

The anticipation was building as we drove down from the airport - it's been a year since I was last in Warren. I was going to stay at my sister's house, and it would be nice to see her, but because the meetings would be held in Sugar Grove, I'd also be able to see several cousins there who still live on the land they grew up on.

I had forgotten about the fall colors, and wouldn't have dreamed what strong feelings they would evoke in me. Reflecting on it, I realized it's probably been almost 30 years since I was last in Warren at the height of the autumn brilliance. Turn after turn of the road revealed heartbreakingly beautiful reds, oranges, yellows, greens and browns of deciduous splendor.
I was desperate to stop and capture it on film, but we needed to keep moving, to get to our destination, and I didn't want to scare the passengers in my car with my drive-and-click method of photography (which yields admittedly questionable results). :)

The next unexpected joy was waiting for me at the church. The pastor, Brian, had told me that my carpenter-contractor cousin Bob was working on a construction project in back of the church. This church I have always thought of as a sleepy country church is almost doubling the size of their building! We arrived in time for me to talk with him for a while and catch up a bit, then we were off to his big brother's buffalo farm.

I'd been there last year at the reunion - I knew the buffalo would be cool. But when my cousin John started telling us all about the animals, from breeding to feeding to disease prevention to behavior patterns, and more, I was tremendously impressed with how knowledgeable he is. Things like this: they buy bugs, actually import specialized insects that prey on the kind of flies that plague the buffalo, and can cause eye disease. And how buffalo are so intelligent, that, unlike cattle, they don't hurt themselves by overeating.

I was glad that we'd arrived just in time for me to see cousin Barb and cousin-in-law Sherry, as well!

The whole weekend, although a bit crazy busy, was wonderful! We were able to tour two other local businesses, including a lumber mill (with the biggest, scariest saw I ever wish to see!), and a diesel engine plant where they make two products - a big engine and a bigger engine! (Now who would have thought assembly line work could be so fascinating!??).

Best of all, of course, was the people. Our commission invited four area pastors and their spouses out to a nice dinner on Friday, and all four pastors are friends of mine. It was very special to spend a bit of quality time with them, and hear how their ministries are going.

The reason the commission holds one meeting a year at a town & country church is two-fold: to learn about the individual churches, and to encourage the pastors and congregations. We always pick locations where there will be a cluster of several T&C churches. And while I think we did encourage the pastors by our interest in them and our visit, there's no question in my mind that I was on the receiving end of some big time encouragement by being there.

All of my trip photos are here (as well as explanations as to what they are), but below are several of my favorites from the weekend. Enjoy!

DWLL Victory!

I've heard of (and blogged about, kinda) DWB (driving while Black). DWLL was a new one for me. My son came up with it while he was telling the story of how he lost his license.

He said he got pulled over on the West Side for no good reason. "DWB," I interjected, "you know, driving while Black."

"No, Mom, not on the West Side. Over there, they get me for Driving While Looking Latino. Everyone thinks I'm Puerto Rican," clarified my son.

Back to the story, the cop who pulled him over said nothing about his speed, a burned out light bulb, failure to signal, nothing. Instead, he just looked at my son and said, "you got any sh** on you?"

My son said no, but the cop asked for his registration and insurance. He did have insurance, but not with him, and the cop took his license and gave him a citation. He couldn't get it back because he owed money on parking tickets. But meanwhile, the citation only said that he didn't have insurance - in other words, he was stopped simply because the cops were profiling him.

So today, my brave, strong, sh**less son went downtown and fought to get his license back, based on the cop racially profiling him, and WON!! HA HA!! Take that, you LWR (living while racist) cop!!

(Disclaimer: The photo here is just something I found on the internet - my son says he can't remember what the cop looked like who stopped him, including what race he was. Hooray for my colorblind son!)

County Blues

My son recently hurt his ankle. He couldn't put any weight on it, and he was even having a hard time not crying, the pain was so great. He had a totally useless visit to a physician, who told him to ice it, keep it raised and keep off it (really - not even an Ace Bandage). If the pain was still there after two days, go to the Adult Clinic at County Hospital. Thanks, doc.

So last Wednesday, we set off to Cook County Hospital (I refuse to call it the new name they've given it). We had been told to get there at 7:30; we actually arrived at 8:10 am.

Let's back up a bit. Wanting to be prepared, on Tuesday night, we tried looking up the clinic online, so we'd know right where to go, where I had to drop him off, etc. Right. Trying to get information from their website was about as helpful as the other doctor had been. So right off the bat, I'm pretty annoyed with them.

Okay, forward back to 8:00 Wednesday morning. We got up later than expected, so the day started off badly. Of course I had to stop for coffee, and my car cupholder is not very deep, so one sharp turn started spilling my scalding hot brew on his good leg.

After a stressful drive down to their campus, we were driving around, trying to find where in the world the front door was. The old building is still there, being taken down brick by brick apparently. I dropped Son off at the new main entrance and started circling back around to find the parking. After accidentally trying to go into the employee entrance, I turned the corner to find the visitor entrance, and was greeted by a man who shoved a paper into my hand, saying, "This lot's full - go park down at Juvenile Hall."

I don't think so. Screw it - I decided to park at Rush and not care about the price. As I walk over, Jazz called telling me that he wasn't in the place where I let him off; he was across the street from it, and he gave me the street address of the clinic. And told me he had to turn off his phone because he was inside the hospital building.

You'd think people should know a little about their workplace. Oh, well, you'd think a lot of things that never come true. Anyway, after asking around a while, I finally made it to the place where Son was waiting for me, in Fantus Clinic waiting room. He had already gone to the first counter and given them his name.

This place is way worse than the DMV. Everyone sits there waiting for their name to be hollered or broadcast over the PA. We waited for a while, and they finally called his name - hooray, finally get to see someone. Wrong. They took his temp and blood pressure.

So we wait again. This time, after an incredibly long time, they called his name. This time he came back to the seats with a registration card in his hand, good for one year. We wait... and wait... and wait... way longer than we've waited the first two times. Finally at about 2:30, Son went up to the front to see if he had missed his name being called. They said that, no, the doctor he needed to see wouldn't be at the hospital until 5:00 pm. And if he did want to leave - which they didn't advise - he'd have to be sure to be back by 4:30 at the latest. By now, we decide to just gut it out.

Okay, let's pause this for a second to take a little look around the Clinic. During the entire day I was there, I could count on one hand the number of White people there. That included me, and I wasn't there for services. Two of the other White women were speaking some eastern European language. Everyone else was Black or Hispanic.

The washrooms were just a tad scary. Garbage on the floor, dirty tiles. I had to wash my hands about three or four times just to take this picture while no one else was in there with me.

He got to see the doctor at 4:30, and had to run (hop) across to the main building for X-rays. We didn't make it back in time to be seen before the doc's meeting, so we waited another hour. By this time, the room was really thinning out. There was actually camaraderie building in little groups of people here and there, commiserating at having to wait all day. One man came out saying, "Now that just ain't right. I wait here 12 hours to see the doctor for four minutes. Something's wrong with this equation!"

Finally, Son actually got to see the doctor. He was told he had a second degree strain, and that it would likely be months healing. He was told to ice his ankle, keep it raised, and keep off it. And they gave him crutches. And an Ace Bandage.

We were not the last ones to be waited on. We left there at 7:45 pm.

Son was also told to come back for a check up in a week, but of course no appointment time. This time I left him at the door, it was only a half-day experience, and he was able to take the bus home, as his foot was much better.

During our day there, I couldn't help but think about the thousands and thousands of people (mostly of color) for whom this is a totally ordinary experience. And, God forgive me, I was thankful I was not one of them.

We are FamiLY! I got all my sistas with ME! Hey-hey-HEY!

So my family totally rocks! I know this because... well, they just do! I got a couple of cool emails today. One was from my cousin-in-law, who sent me photos from last year's big 50th family reunion. Very cool, especially since I'd been waiting a year for it. I really love that ALL of my siblings and I, and most of our kids, were able to go. We had at least 90 people there.

And the other cool email just came from my sister, who's down visiting Dad right now, and sent us an update. You never know who/what he'll remember, or what he'll fixate on in conversation. Sometimes he can be really funny, like when he kept exclaiming "Wowiekins!" at points during their visit.

Yep, definitely a cool family - we're talking wowiekins cool! :D

New kid on the block

Chris and Trish are two dog walker friends who live down the block from me. I met them and Max, an adult husky, and their (then) new black lab Dave when I first moved in, and introduced them to my Emily. They sympathized and grieved with me when I lost Emily, then rejoiced when I got Lucy. Last fall, I sympathized and grieved with them when their beloved Max crossed Rainbow Bridge (it's a pet owner thing - don't ask).

A couple of days ago, Chris and Trish introduced me to the newest member of their family - Tank. What a cutie! He's an 11 week old Basset Hound, silkier than satin, and just darn funny. You simply can't keep a straight face when you look at him. They've told me that total strangers look at him and start giggling.

Here he is with big brother Dave and Trish's legs! I understand Dave and Tank (Tanky to his friends) begin wrestling at about 6:00 am daily.

Tank has this funny little waddley way of walking, plus his stretched-out shape that together are so endearing, it's hard not to love him at first sight. Everything he does looks cute. And Lucy actually was getting along with him. I can't wait to hear him bay, although his mommies say they're trying to discourage that by not letting him know how funny he is when he howls.

So here he is. The new kid on the block. Tank. (heeheehee)

Lucy's Haircut (Darth Lucy)

For months, I've been saying I need to cut Lucy's hair. Poor thing, I've neither been brushing her nor taking her to the groomers. But really, there's a point at which her hair gets so matted, they'd charge me an arm and a leg to groom her. Plus they yell at me and make me feel like a terrible mother. I hate that. Enough with the guilt trip, man!

So it's up to me to trim her hair enough that a groomer could take over and only charge me, say, a finger and a toe. And when I say trim her hair, I mean approach her with scissors and great trepidation. She has this thing where she kind of freaks out and tries to bite you, then feels really guilty and gives you the old puppy dog eyes (what other kind, after all?) and sheepish look, wagging her tail to let you know she's not really a tazanian devil, just slightly psychotic.

And do you know how long it takes to trim an entire dog body with just scissors? When the dog isn't actually cooperative? And there are enormous hairmats to cut through in numerous places? Well, in truth, once I got my nerve up, it got done faster than I thought it would take. Oh, yes, and the M word. The last time I got her groomed, they told me that they were going to use a (whispers) muzzle. That psychotic-bitey-guilty thing, after all. With the M-word in place, I was able to work a lot faster, even though my pores were seeping guilt at confining her. And a practical matter: how do you cut the hair under the M-word?

So Lucy is currently sporting a helmet head worthy of Darth Vader. Jazz conveniently pointed that out to me. And her arms and legs kind of look like they've got biker leather fringe or something. It's actually a kind of cute look, if it had been on purpose.

And we ended up with such a huge pile of cut off hair, I feel like I have a whole second dog. I'd donate the proceeds to Locks of Love, if it weren't for those pesky mats in it. Plus the fact that it would be a little creepy sending them dog hair. I always like to think of myself as not very creepy. By the way, the thing hanging on the box o'hair? M-word.

The Franklin Sings!

Well, little movie clips from my camera, anyway. He sang with me a little bit yesterday. Here's a verse of Amazing Grace and the chorus to The Holy City. He made up a little song, too, but I wasn't quick enough with the camera to catch it. It was cute, though!
(Now if I could only figure out how to rotate the image so that I don't have to bend over to view!)

Amazing Grace
The Holy City

Lobster...

...is what I feel like about now (not eating it, being it!), after 5 hours on the beach! Various limbs and other exposed body parts are about as red as one of the lifeguard stations here.

We went to Siesta Key, off the coast of Sarasota, and spent hours just reading, sunbathing, listening to the waves. Great relaxation method.

We took a look at Turtle Beach first, but went on to Siesta Beach because of its beautiful sand...white sand some call sugar sand, because its consistency is like confectioners sugar. It's so soft, so white, kind of sparkly when it's on your skin. That's because it's made from quartz.

Hardly anyone was on the beach when we arrived at about 9:30 this morning. Kids being in school, not prime vacation season, plus the early hour guaranteed us a close parking spot and a choice of locations to park our beach chairs.


We had seen the weather forecasts change from possible rain showers to sunny, so figured it was a good day for the beach.

But after a while the clouds started blowing in. We held our ground though, and after an hour or so of threatening clouds, they blew away and the sky cleared again.

Of course the clouds moved so fast because it was so windy, in fact, perfect kite-flying weather. I don’t know when the last time was that I’ve seen people flying kites. But there were a number of them there, including this cool pelican kite.

There was one shaped like a big barrel, another bird shaped one, one that had some noise-making thing in it, one with a long multi-colored tail, a red, white and blue kite (which later had a flag hoisted up its tail). Finally we saw a kite that had two gliding heads connected to each other that made loop-de-loop shapes with the tail connecting them. Pretty cool.

We stayed out probably an hour to 90 minutes too long. Both my sister and I got burned, me far worse than she. Good thing we had plenty of aloe back at Mom’s house! Hopefully the worst of it will be gone by the time I go home.

One of the most interesting things was all the people watching. This guy was out for quite a while, doing what looked like TM or something. He would put his hands in a receptive posture for a while, then stretch them out, then bring them together in a prayer pose. And he sat there in a lotus position for the longest time.

There were also lots of parents with pre-school kids, some really cute and laughing, one that kept crying (and finally left, to our relief!). Some people had their metal detectors or sand sifters, looking for natural or man-made treasure.

All in all, it was a great, relaxing way to spend a day. It’s probably been 30 years since I’ve just lain out a beach like that, and 10 years since I’ve spent any quality time at any beach (last time being mission trip free day on the other side of the Gulf).

So I think this time the lobster skin is a small price to pay!