Missing Summers Past

Do I have a bunch of other things I should be doing?  Of course.  If I wanted to do them, though, don't you think I would have started on them by now?  Sheesh.  Summer is my time to procrastinate horribly on all things not lazy and summery.

Now that we have that out of the way, I have to tell you why this is the hardest summer, ever!

No, really.

Summers had been my time to play with my kids.  We hung out at the pool, or the lake, or the water park (notice the water related theme?), we watched movies, or we wandered around town looking for fun stuff to do.  We'd flood the backyard and paddle around in it, then watch the dragonflies dance across the makeshift pond.  When they were little, they'd have sleep outs in the tree house up in the cherry tree.  Later, the backyard campouts moved down to a tent in the yard when they got too big for the tree house.  Their friends came over and we had late night bonfires, roasting hot dogs and s'mores while lazily listening to the crickets and the train whistle in the distance while counting stars.  Sweet summertime teen romances flared up only to die down with the start of a new school year.

My summer was full of my kids.

Not so much, anymore.

Helena works full time.  Her boyfriend has relocated to Oregon, so when she's not at work, she's Skyping him.  That is how it should be.  When she has a day off, we spend it together, so I'm not totally alone, but her days off are few and far between.  It's not the same as when we all had summer vacation together.  She has grown up.

Will is gone.  We write letters.  He writes letters.  I had NO IDEA how difficult this would be for me. I think about him constantly.  Correction, I worry about him constantly!  He is doing something so difficult, only made worse by the disgusting heat he has to do it in!  I can't fall asleep at night for worrying about him.  I wake up early worrying about him.  If I could siphon off some of my energy and willpower and send it to him, I would in a heartbeat.

I thought I was prepared for this.  After all, I was an Army Sister, and a Navy Sister-in-Law.  And I was a Marines Step-Mom.  And I did worry about my brothers and my step son.  But not like this!  I can't decide if it is just because he is my youngest, or if it is because we share a special bond that is rare for a teen son and his Mom.  All I know is that I pray for him almost constantly.  I watch the news with extra concern.  It feels like the world is imploding and I want to keep my son safe, but I can't because he is a soldier and that is what he chose.

I have always been a worrier, anyways.  I used to worry about the kids walking home from Elementary School.  I worried when they got their driver's license.  I worried when they went on their first dates.  I worry whenever they have to face something new.

It is amazing I don't have a stomach full of ulcer holes, actually.

So, I wish I could go back in time and relive those summers past.

If you are in the thick of a child filled summer, CHERISH IT!  It will not come again!  Play with them! Swim with them!  Forget about the chores!  Who cares about the house!

Go!

Do stuff WITH the kids!

Make memories and savor every moment.

Always Remember

From a 'Proud American' to a 'Fierce Patriot'

What Older Generations Have Been Trying to Tell Us All Along, but We Were Forced to Learn from Experience

Publish Date: 09/10/2011

I used to 'roll my eyes' whenever older generations talked about how everyone could remember exactly what they were doing when a national tragedy struck. In my grandparents' generation it was the attack on Pearl Harbor that catapulted us into WWII. In my parents' generation is was the Kennedy assassination.
For my generation is was 9/11/2001.

It was a normal day.

I was getting ready for work. The kids were getting ready for school. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until my husband called.

He leaves for work quite early in the mornings, so he was already at work when he called. He said, "Turn on the TV. Now."

I asked him what channel? He said, "It doesn't matter."

I walked into the living room and turned it on.

And found the world changed.

I had just barely begun to process what I was seeing, what they were saying, and what it meant when the south tower collapsed.

Live.

It was so surreal. My mind was thinking, 'that can't be real. It looks just like something you'd see in the movies, or on a planned demolition. How can it go straight down like that?' Simultaneously, my heart was twisting and tearing apart because I knew... I KNEW ... I was witnessing the deaths of thousands.

I remember grabbing the doorjamb for support as I cried out and tears coursed down my face. I kept saying aloud, "Oh please, God! Let them all be out of the building!!! Oh! They can't all have gotten out, yet!!!" My young daughter, only 7 at the time, came in and wanted to know why I was crying. "What's wrong, Mommy?" she asked.

I wasn't sure how to tell her what was wrong, or what it would mean to our country. I just knew I didn't want her seeing what I was seeing. She was so young. So innocent. I remember telling her I was sad that a lot of people had died. I also hugged her tight and told her that everything would be alright and she should go finish getting ready for school. Then I sent her firmly out of the room.

But I kept watching.

At some point I forced myself to turn off the TV and get out the door for work. I am an art teacher, working part time. When we got to the school, I walked around in a daze. The surreal feeling intensified for me because the school was just too quiet. Too normal. My mind was screaming and ripping itself apart over the images that were burned into my brain. How could anything be normal again?

Of course, things weren't normal. All of the teachers knew what had happened and were robotically going about their routines in a state of shock. The administration made the quick decision to not allow live news coverage in the elementary school classrooms. I do think that was for the best. We aren't talking about teenaged students here. These were very young children who couldn't possibly process what was going on. The school library was closed down for the day and the TV there was left running so that the adults in the building could stop in as often as possible and stay informed.

I didn't realize until I got home later that day that my husband was spared the trauma of seeing the buildings collapse live. He was listening on the radio when he called me. Of course, we all watched the events of that morning unfold hundreds of times afterwards, in a never ending loop of pain. But that first moment? Of realizing I was witnessing mass murder AS IT WAS HAPPENING? I can't even begin to describe it. It will never leave me.

I will never forget.

Do you remember how silent the skies were that day? When every flight was grounded? You never realize the background noise of planes on approach to the airport until there are no planes on approach.

Do you remember the pride you felt in the heroes of Flight 93? How brave and terrified they must have been! How they made an impossible choice that changed the tone of everything? They were Americans, fighting back!

Do you remember how much we honored firefighters, police men, and even the thousands of construction workers and volunteers who risked their lives in the aftermath?

Do you remember how our country came together? We were so UNITED! It no longer mattered what your religious or political credo was. We were all American. Every American flag was out, lining the streets, hanging from homes, flying from cars.

Do you remember how full the church congregations were? Everyone turning to their faith to see them through those dark times.

In the weeks and months following that horrific day we became the nation we were meant to be. Strong, caring, compassionate...

... united.

My brothers went to war. Jeff, a Naval officer, served several tours of duty to Iraq and Afghanistan. He came back with amazing stories... and bullet holes in his plane. Peder, an Army Special Forces officer, also served several tours ... including a lot of time on the ground in Baghdad. His stories were also incredible, though it was the stories that he didn't tell that made my heart ache for him. Anyone who is ignorant enough to ask a veteran if he killed anyone in the line of duty should be shunned right out of the conversation. I still don't know the answer to that question, and I'll never ask it.

I was blessed that they both came back home. It is enough for me.

Four years ago, my oldest joined the military. He is a Marine. I have never felt so proud as I did on the day I attended his basic training graduation at MCRD, San Diego. I still have the 'Service Flag' hanging proudly in the front window for him. The 'Service Flag', or 'Blue Star Flag', is a symbol of a family's sacrifice when an immediate family member is in active service during a time of war. If that family member should be killed in the line of duty, a gold star would replace the blue star. The practice of hanging a 'Service Flag' dates back to WWI. I am proud to display it, though I will be glad to take it down when we are officially at peace. 

It is 10 years after the tragic events that we commemorate today. Ten years.

Many have forgotten. Or become complacent. They have gone back to their normal lives. There is bickering. There is dissent. There is arguing and back stabbing and doubt even about what this war is really about. Or that it even was a terrorist attack.

Shame on them.

Always remember what we lost that day.

Never forget what your freedom costs.

How has 9/11 changed me? I will forever be a fierce patriot. I am an American who knows it is the duty of every citizen to stand and defend our sovereign soil. I was proud of my military family before, but I am honored by them now. I stand with previous generations who have faced the refiner's fire...

... and I will never forget.

Traveling to Miramar

On December 27th (my Mom's birthday), Bill and I drove to Miramar Marine Air Station in San Diego, CA to pick Matt up for his 10 day leave. I was so excited to find out that he wanted to spend his entire vacation with us! I hope he doesn't come to regret that. We don't live a very exciting life here.

Anyway, the original plan was to bring the whole family on a little Southern California mini vacation. In the end, Bill and I decided to leave the kids on their own for a few days and go alone. We really needed the alone time. Actually, I really needed it. And the cost of the trip would have been much higher if taking everyone. It was right after Christmas and $ was short. It also meant we didn't have to find a neighbor to take care of the animals while we were away.

I was a little nervous about leaving the kids for 3 days. Only a little. Despite all the frustrations lately, I know that I have really high class kids and that we live in a very safe neighborhood.

On the way south, Bill spotted this neat atmospheric effect and asked me to take a picture of it. He called it a 'sun dog'. The large bright spot is the sun. The smaller one is the 'sun dog' as part of a corona around the sun. It looks like a Hollywood movie effect!

The traffic was great until we reached Las Vegas. That is when the freeway turned into a parking lot! We crawled forward at 5-20 miles per hour until about 15 miles into California! In fact, the traffic was so bad, several people decided to take matters into their own hands and left the freeway! They found an open gate to the power line access road and went buck boarding along at about the same rate as the freeway. I guess off-roading was preferable even if it wasn't much faster.

We had reserved a room at the Miramar Inn; an on base hotel. It didn't cost any less than the off base choices, but the atmosphere was very different! The weather in San Diego is so nice year round that the hotel hallways were actually breezeways! The only secure doors were the room doors. Everything felt very safe, though. The feeling of complete security was something that we would never have found off base. Everyone in the Ready Room (the complimentary breakfast room) was very friendly. We all knew that we had the Marines in common.

This is a picture of Matt at the on base McDonald's.  We ended up eating a couple of meals there.  It was just convenient and cheap.

My Marine is a Lance Corporal!

Yes, I know. You are all dying of envy because I have my own personal Marine! Nothing like having someone on hand who knows 101 ways to kill a man...especially with a teenage daughter at home!

Seriously, though, Matt gave us an update. He has been promoted (ranked up?) to Lance Corporal. He is stationed at Miramar. That is in San Diego and is where the 'Top Gun' school is located. Poor boy! Has to live in San Diego. ;)

He works from 6:30 am to 4:30 pm as an airplane mechanic. He keeps very busy so that he doesn't look like 'that new guy, the slacker'. Apparently an issue with some new to the job.

Those of you who want to write to him... here is his address!

LCPL Matthew Partridge
P.O. Box 454591
San Diego, CA 92145

Our Marine on leave

Matt got 2 weeks of leave during the holidays before reporting for duty at Miramar near San Diego, CA. He spent the first week with us, and will spend the second week with his mom in Idaho. We were so glad to have him, though we didn't do much around here. Bill was sort of, kind of, but not really laid off from work so we felt we couldn't go do anything that cost money. That meant a lot of time at home playing games as a family. I enjoyed it because time at home is relaxing for me. Matt, being a young, adventurous Marine, was very gentlemanly about being bored stiff.
Matt is currently a Private-First Class, but should rank up to a Lance Corporal in January. Also, the scuttlebutt on base is that they will be deployed to Afghanistan in August!

I think he has grown quite handsome. He certainly draws plenty of attention in his uniform! All of the young people stare. Many of the older generations come up to him to shake his hand and thank him for his service. That makes me feel very proud of having such a son.