Time to break down Thearmysdaughter.
Being a daughter is an absolute honor, I regard it as an important core in my life. It's unchanging. I will always be a daughter. I identify with daughter tremendously and on many different levels. Naturally, I steered this endeavor in that direction and ran with it. Sprinted actually, legs and arms flailing, because not only was I born a daughter I was also born lerpy and lanky. But really, my arms stretched out flailing towards this project as if I was trying to scare the crud out of it, before it scared me.
I know who I am, always have.
I'm the product of my parents. At the same time, I am the product of military propaganda. The pro military conditioning has never taken a break, resulting in an effective and even ideal military brat. Hallelujah. I'm cool with that, the part that makes that okay is how soberingly aware I am of it. Even so, I recognize that I choose to love the Army despite it's ups and downs. I've worked through all the nitty gritty, seamlessly arriving to my father's retirement with scarce grumbles (but five hundred thousand headaches). All the while, I believed I was the luckiest that ever lived. Which brings me back to my mom and dad, they are straight up the air that I breathe. No question, think the big huge sigh of relief gust that reminds you how alive you are. That air. Their hand in my life has been vital to my existence. So, I'm their girl through and through.
But.
I'm the Army's too.
You know that saying it takes a village to raise a child? YES.
That's exactly how the Army worked for me. Places and people, units and plane rides, all of it had a significant part in raising me, in addition to my parents. These forces showed me love, taught me something, or supported me one way or another. Unconventional is my normal, people became pseudo aunts, uncles, and grandparents. I also watched my parents embrace and love other Army folk. The idea of community is the most perplexing concept, and I know that my understanding of community is not like many of my peers. I feel like I've overcome something with the people in my military communities, like we have some sort of secret code or private handshake known only within our group.
Being a daughter, to me, means that you participate. You show up to your community functions, you ask people how they are doing, you generate interest and care by being interested and caring. It may seem strange that the woman at the Shoppette could be so important to me, but one of the most inspired lessons I have learned in my life is that everyone has a story, a purpose and something to offer, even if they do just sell you a 79 cent hotdog from the Shoppette a couple times a week.
I'm close knit with my family, but that is not where it begins and ends. I have a widespread range of people I include under that category of family. They're my people, they contributed during my growing years and on. They are my mentors, my maestros, my second moms, etc, and I am more to them than just a student, I know it. I'm their daughter.
The result of this upbringing is a girl who belongs to herself, but acknowledges all the forces that brought her to owning herself. My mom, my dad, my family, and the Army.
This is to pay tribute to people for loving me for free, and to hopefully inspire people to become active in their community, matter to someone. Go to the local football game even if you don't know a single player, get to know the gas station clerk closest to your home. Keep your circle big.
I'm talking about bringing See's candy to the Italian transportation office workers for booking your ticket home, and doing you the huge favor of not making you fly into Paris, France. (My least favorite airport in existence) I'm talking about running in every single 5k that the Morale Family Welfare department puts on. I'm talking about walking the long way to the PX so that you can walk past the salon so that Judy can run out and give you a hug. Show up, be there, let them love you and love them back.
I'm a daughter, I'm my parents daughter, I'm the Army's daughter. Who are you?
Monday, October 20, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
How do you DFAC..
There are two questions I like to ask my fellow military community. One of them is specific to the actual members of the military ( I'll save it for another day, one at a time), the other is free range. It is open to anyone who has ever had a DFAC experience.
How do you DFAC?
Dining Facility
Chow Hall
Mess Hall
Single Soldier Cafeteria
It all boils down to FOOD, we are talking about food.
The DFAC is the dining facility on a military institution. It's heaven. I know some people think mess hall and begin gagging, don't. Why would the military go and refer to somewhere as a mess hall? That's counterproductive if you ask me.
I cherish the mess hall. Most recently, I've frequented the DFAC located in Vicenza, Italy ( the United States has a US Army post in Northern Italy), my dad was stationed in Italy three times in the past ten years. However, I've been familiar with the DFAC all my life. My adolescence was full of DFAC breakfast, and DFAC major holiday meals.
In my household, the question wasn't what grandparents are we spending this holiday with. My dad was always adamant, he expected my family to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas meals there. Why?
1) It was gourmet.
2) Served as a gift to my Momma, who single parented half the time. It meant no grocery shopping, no meal preparations, and most importantly no dishes. This allowed for us to optimize our time together not worrying about the stresses that accompany creating holiday meals.
3) Created a family atmosphere for the soldiers stuck on base for the holidays and far from their own families.
If we ever lived in an area that did not have an established DFAC, or if we didn't attend the holiday meal that didn't matter. I still felt like I was in the DFAC, my parents always opened up our home for the members of the military that were unable to go home. Sometimes it was divorcees, older guys, really young soldiers, entire families preparing to move, or people in town on business.
My mom eventually had to learn how to procure a holiday meal, now that my dad is retired, we are getting ready to celebrate holiday meals in a more traditional way. I'll always miss sitting among hundreds of military men and women shoveling down mashed potatoes, that will be my vision of Thanksgiving.
I want to explain the DFAC thoroughly. One of my friends does it more effectively. This past summer my sister and I DFAC'ed before the gym and one day we met up with a fellow military brat. He graduated from the high school on post and enlisted in the US Air Force. One DFAC morning he arrived before my sister and I did, when we sat down at his table my sister and I exchanged glances. We inspected his tray (rude huh!) and then we asked. How do you DFAC Michael Weston? He smiled huge, we talked about DFAC-ing for hours. Later, on the basketball courts in the gym, we still were talking about the DFAC. We wanted to return, and double dip that day. A two meal DFAC day! (Those were the best kind of days)
A few weeks later Michael returned to his base and prepared to deploy, not before he wrote up a long article. It's more like a long love letter to the DFAC, I bust my gut laughing when I even think about it. This article was inspired by my sister and I's question, I love what transpired.
How to “DFAC”, inspired by true facts and real life experiences!
By: Michael Weston
“How do you “DFAC”?” A question asked to me by two of the best sisters I have ever met. When asked this question I realized I was not the only DFAC lover in this world and there were many more just like me, which made me happy. What is “DFAC” you may be asking? Firstly, if you are asking this question I am not sure how we are even friends but its ok I can explain. “DFAC” is short for Dining Facility AKA Chow Hall AKA Mess Hall. These are all terms that describe the military ran facility that provides three to four meals a day to all military members and civilians if they so desire to eat amongst the troops. This facility is open 365 days out of the year and closes for nothing other than an unsanitary problem that may cause concern for the wellbeing of the troops and all other DFAC customers. The Chow Hall is hated by many, loved by few but accepted by everyone. The question, “What about the DFAC?” is always an acceptable question that warrants just as much consideration as saying, “You guys want to go get khebabs?”
The DFAC is a science really, it can be defined as a food establishment but in reality it’s the driving force that provides energy to troops to operate on and an option for civilians to come and get a bang for their buck. When you think Mess Hall think of the “gas station” for Soldiers, Airmen, Seamen and Marines, they come fill their tanks up and then go fight a war or at least prepare to. It isn’t that simple though, different branches of the military “DFAC” differently (DFAC is now also a verb by the way). The Army puts an overall price on the entire meal; you will pay that price and eat as much as you want. The Air Force itemizes everything and charges you for every little piece of food you get, not so cool, I know. Where in the Army you could feed an Army for $2.25 during breakfast hours in the Air Force that same meal may cost about $8.25, I didn’t make the rules. All Junior Enlisted military members that are not married and live in the barracks or “dorms” (Air Force word of the day) will have an amount of their Basic Allowance for Substance taken away from their pay check so they can eat as much as they want from the Chow Hall every month. The higher military leaders fear that the lower enlisted will not be able to manage their money properly to buy food, this way they know the young troops have a place to eat and there are no questions about it. All other military personnel such as NCOs and Officers or any military member that is married or lives off base will be required to pay for their meal as well as any civilian, contractor or dependent.
Now that you know the basics let me educate you on the standard operating procedures for the DFAC in a non-deployed environment. At “home station” the Chow Hall is not a mandatory place for military members to eat but it is pretty convenient and you will certainly be full once you leave. There are a set of very clear rules outlined at the entrance usually they will state the DFAC’s policies. These rules usually include not wearing a hat inside, washing your hands, not wearing sleeveless shirts or provocative clothing, not coming in sweaty and disgusting, not touching your face or head while in line and the unwritten rule that not many follow, FINISH ALL YOUR FOOD! In an Army Mess Hall you will pay the surcharge at the front desk and then go through the buffet style dining facility. In the Air Force you will pay after you have all the food you want to eat (The Army is better at this DFAC thing obviously). There are usually two lines in every Mess Hall, Fast Food or not Fast Food. The Fast Food line usually consist of a grill, burgers, fries and anything that can give you a quick heart burn, when you are burning 5,000 calories or sweating about a gallon a day you don’t really care how bad it may be. The other line is the “Main Line”, in this line you will have your main dish of the day; pork chops, grilled chicken, veal parmesan, maybe even a steak. Your sides will also be in this line; broccoli, carrots, corn, rice and things of that nature. Then there is the salad bar, in a good DFAC this salad bar will usually have all the things you can imagine to put on the salad, out of the 20 options you usually choose 2 or 3.
Breakfast is usually the best deal on the face of the earth, less than $3.00 for unlimited amounts of food (Army DFAC of course). Breakfast is composed of a grill option usually including omelets or eggs cooked however you want them cooked, they won’t scramble real eggs on the grill for you for some reason…Don’t ask why. Also, the omelets are made out of a liquid egg look-a-like mix that nobody asks questions about either, just eat what you get. A common omelet order is your regular ham and cheese omelet, however, some people may just be exotic or wild and just say omelet with everything. Everything usually means ham, cheese, onions, peppers and tomatoes. Then you have your common weight watchers, they won’t see the pancakes, french toast, bacon, hash browns or cinnamon cakes, these are usually your “cross fit types”. Instead, they will get 2 or 3 hardboiled eggs and some oatmeal with no sugar…So plain but as you can see there are options for everyone. The DFAC in a deployed environment isn’t much different at all other than the fact you don’t have actual plates and everything is paper and plastic. The main thing is that you don’t have anywhere else to eat so enjoy the Chow Hall or just starve, good luck going to a local Afghan village and finding a better meal.
My love for the DFAC is hard to describe but I will try and sum it all up for you. I have eaten over three thousand meals at a Mess Hall all over the world and I don’t even take a second to criticize it. Italy, Germany, Washington, Texas, Oregon, Afghanistan, England, Qatar, field kitchens in the middle of the forest, and I am still in the beginner phase. You have DFAC haters; to those people I say nothing, more food for me. My daily routine includes the word DFAC in it at least 3 times, in which one of the times I eat a meal there and take a meal for after my volleyball, basketball or track time. When I go out for dinner (once or twice a year) I feel like I am getting extremely ripped off by the world by paying over $3.00 for a small breakfast that doesn’t even fill me up. Having to tip a waitress or waiter for bringing me my food when I was good and ready to go get my own food and get up again to go get seconds if I feel I need them. When I am on vacation I look for military installations where I could possibly get my DFAC on. If I am in a location where there is no DFAC sometimes an MRE will do but other times I just need to conform to the ways of society and buy an overpriced sandwich. In the unlikely event of the Chow Hall being closed I will be looking for a commissary, where you can get a sandwich that is double the size of a Subway foot long for half the price.
I hope to have educated a group of my friends that lack the basic knowledge of the DFAC ways. To my DFAC lovers, thank you for being alive and being able to grasp the gravity and full meaning of this thing we call DFAC. To my DFAC haters, I have no words for you other than the words I just used to say I have no words for you. Time to go eat.
This photo shows Michael at the DFAC with his grandfather. I've never gone to the DFAC in Vicenza and not seen his grandfather there. He eats there everyday. I assure you he is my DFAC hero.
How do you DFAC?
Dining Facility
Chow Hall
Mess Hall
Single Soldier Cafeteria
It all boils down to FOOD, we are talking about food.
The DFAC is the dining facility on a military institution. It's heaven. I know some people think mess hall and begin gagging, don't. Why would the military go and refer to somewhere as a mess hall? That's counterproductive if you ask me.
I cherish the mess hall. Most recently, I've frequented the DFAC located in Vicenza, Italy ( the United States has a US Army post in Northern Italy), my dad was stationed in Italy three times in the past ten years. However, I've been familiar with the DFAC all my life. My adolescence was full of DFAC breakfast, and DFAC major holiday meals.
In my household, the question wasn't what grandparents are we spending this holiday with. My dad was always adamant, he expected my family to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas meals there. Why?
1) It was gourmet.
2) Served as a gift to my Momma, who single parented half the time. It meant no grocery shopping, no meal preparations, and most importantly no dishes. This allowed for us to optimize our time together not worrying about the stresses that accompany creating holiday meals.
3) Created a family atmosphere for the soldiers stuck on base for the holidays and far from their own families.
If we ever lived in an area that did not have an established DFAC, or if we didn't attend the holiday meal that didn't matter. I still felt like I was in the DFAC, my parents always opened up our home for the members of the military that were unable to go home. Sometimes it was divorcees, older guys, really young soldiers, entire families preparing to move, or people in town on business.
My mom eventually had to learn how to procure a holiday meal, now that my dad is retired, we are getting ready to celebrate holiday meals in a more traditional way. I'll always miss sitting among hundreds of military men and women shoveling down mashed potatoes, that will be my vision of Thanksgiving.
I want to explain the DFAC thoroughly. One of my friends does it more effectively. This past summer my sister and I DFAC'ed before the gym and one day we met up with a fellow military brat. He graduated from the high school on post and enlisted in the US Air Force. One DFAC morning he arrived before my sister and I did, when we sat down at his table my sister and I exchanged glances. We inspected his tray (rude huh!) and then we asked. How do you DFAC Michael Weston? He smiled huge, we talked about DFAC-ing for hours. Later, on the basketball courts in the gym, we still were talking about the DFAC. We wanted to return, and double dip that day. A two meal DFAC day! (Those were the best kind of days)
A few weeks later Michael returned to his base and prepared to deploy, not before he wrote up a long article. It's more like a long love letter to the DFAC, I bust my gut laughing when I even think about it. This article was inspired by my sister and I's question, I love what transpired.
How to “DFAC”, inspired by true facts and real life experiences!
By: Michael Weston
“How do you “DFAC”?” A question asked to me by two of the best sisters I have ever met. When asked this question I realized I was not the only DFAC lover in this world and there were many more just like me, which made me happy. What is “DFAC” you may be asking? Firstly, if you are asking this question I am not sure how we are even friends but its ok I can explain. “DFAC” is short for Dining Facility AKA Chow Hall AKA Mess Hall. These are all terms that describe the military ran facility that provides three to four meals a day to all military members and civilians if they so desire to eat amongst the troops. This facility is open 365 days out of the year and closes for nothing other than an unsanitary problem that may cause concern for the wellbeing of the troops and all other DFAC customers. The Chow Hall is hated by many, loved by few but accepted by everyone. The question, “What about the DFAC?” is always an acceptable question that warrants just as much consideration as saying, “You guys want to go get khebabs?”
The DFAC is a science really, it can be defined as a food establishment but in reality it’s the driving force that provides energy to troops to operate on and an option for civilians to come and get a bang for their buck. When you think Mess Hall think of the “gas station” for Soldiers, Airmen, Seamen and Marines, they come fill their tanks up and then go fight a war or at least prepare to. It isn’t that simple though, different branches of the military “DFAC” differently (DFAC is now also a verb by the way). The Army puts an overall price on the entire meal; you will pay that price and eat as much as you want. The Air Force itemizes everything and charges you for every little piece of food you get, not so cool, I know. Where in the Army you could feed an Army for $2.25 during breakfast hours in the Air Force that same meal may cost about $8.25, I didn’t make the rules. All Junior Enlisted military members that are not married and live in the barracks or “dorms” (Air Force word of the day) will have an amount of their Basic Allowance for Substance taken away from their pay check so they can eat as much as they want from the Chow Hall every month. The higher military leaders fear that the lower enlisted will not be able to manage their money properly to buy food, this way they know the young troops have a place to eat and there are no questions about it. All other military personnel such as NCOs and Officers or any military member that is married or lives off base will be required to pay for their meal as well as any civilian, contractor or dependent.
Now that you know the basics let me educate you on the standard operating procedures for the DFAC in a non-deployed environment. At “home station” the Chow Hall is not a mandatory place for military members to eat but it is pretty convenient and you will certainly be full once you leave. There are a set of very clear rules outlined at the entrance usually they will state the DFAC’s policies. These rules usually include not wearing a hat inside, washing your hands, not wearing sleeveless shirts or provocative clothing, not coming in sweaty and disgusting, not touching your face or head while in line and the unwritten rule that not many follow, FINISH ALL YOUR FOOD! In an Army Mess Hall you will pay the surcharge at the front desk and then go through the buffet style dining facility. In the Air Force you will pay after you have all the food you want to eat (The Army is better at this DFAC thing obviously). There are usually two lines in every Mess Hall, Fast Food or not Fast Food. The Fast Food line usually consist of a grill, burgers, fries and anything that can give you a quick heart burn, when you are burning 5,000 calories or sweating about a gallon a day you don’t really care how bad it may be. The other line is the “Main Line”, in this line you will have your main dish of the day; pork chops, grilled chicken, veal parmesan, maybe even a steak. Your sides will also be in this line; broccoli, carrots, corn, rice and things of that nature. Then there is the salad bar, in a good DFAC this salad bar will usually have all the things you can imagine to put on the salad, out of the 20 options you usually choose 2 or 3.
Breakfast is usually the best deal on the face of the earth, less than $3.00 for unlimited amounts of food (Army DFAC of course). Breakfast is composed of a grill option usually including omelets or eggs cooked however you want them cooked, they won’t scramble real eggs on the grill for you for some reason…Don’t ask why. Also, the omelets are made out of a liquid egg look-a-like mix that nobody asks questions about either, just eat what you get. A common omelet order is your regular ham and cheese omelet, however, some people may just be exotic or wild and just say omelet with everything. Everything usually means ham, cheese, onions, peppers and tomatoes. Then you have your common weight watchers, they won’t see the pancakes, french toast, bacon, hash browns or cinnamon cakes, these are usually your “cross fit types”. Instead, they will get 2 or 3 hardboiled eggs and some oatmeal with no sugar…So plain but as you can see there are options for everyone. The DFAC in a deployed environment isn’t much different at all other than the fact you don’t have actual plates and everything is paper and plastic. The main thing is that you don’t have anywhere else to eat so enjoy the Chow Hall or just starve, good luck going to a local Afghan village and finding a better meal.
My love for the DFAC is hard to describe but I will try and sum it all up for you. I have eaten over three thousand meals at a Mess Hall all over the world and I don’t even take a second to criticize it. Italy, Germany, Washington, Texas, Oregon, Afghanistan, England, Qatar, field kitchens in the middle of the forest, and I am still in the beginner phase. You have DFAC haters; to those people I say nothing, more food for me. My daily routine includes the word DFAC in it at least 3 times, in which one of the times I eat a meal there and take a meal for after my volleyball, basketball or track time. When I go out for dinner (once or twice a year) I feel like I am getting extremely ripped off by the world by paying over $3.00 for a small breakfast that doesn’t even fill me up. Having to tip a waitress or waiter for bringing me my food when I was good and ready to go get my own food and get up again to go get seconds if I feel I need them. When I am on vacation I look for military installations where I could possibly get my DFAC on. If I am in a location where there is no DFAC sometimes an MRE will do but other times I just need to conform to the ways of society and buy an overpriced sandwich. In the unlikely event of the Chow Hall being closed I will be looking for a commissary, where you can get a sandwich that is double the size of a Subway foot long for half the price.
I hope to have educated a group of my friends that lack the basic knowledge of the DFAC ways. To my DFAC lovers, thank you for being alive and being able to grasp the gravity and full meaning of this thing we call DFAC. To my DFAC haters, I have no words for you other than the words I just used to say I have no words for you. Time to go eat.
This photo shows Michael at the DFAC with his grandfather. I've never gone to the DFAC in Vicenza and not seen his grandfather there. He eats there everyday. I assure you he is my DFAC hero.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
And the Army....
The ceremony is complete, the retirement dinners all have been attended.
The officiant said over the microphone, my father's full name followed by the echoing
RETIRED
eery, but also relieving.
The folded flag has been placed in my dad's hands, followed by handshakes and well wishes.
And gratitude.
He hasn't put on a uniform in weeks.
It has already felt final.
I mean I've seen my dad for several weeks in a row? Weird. No early morning PT runs (oh wait, he still does that) He hasn't bolted off in full uniform to run off somewhere, I say somewhere because I never really knew where "OPSEC" (Operations Security).
So.. it's felt final. But on paper, it wasn't. My dad had leave saved up, a lot of leave saved up because he doesn't take days off. Tomorrow that leave is all used up.
Tomorrow is the day that my father officially becomes a retiree. The paperwork official date is tomorrow.
The feeling is indescribable.
Does hollow but proud make any sense?
I'm going to disregard how he feels about it, I cannot go there. I haven't ever known my dad without the Army.
But me? How do I feel about it?
I'm in denial.
I'm already anticipating my wedding day, it's an excuse for my dad to wear his uniform. Which is how I'll always remember him. I'm always going to believe the Army needs my dad.
I'm keeping this post short and sweet so I don't boo hoo.
Guys, I'd love to rewind and do it all again. That is even more validation, Army.. I'm not through with you yet.
March along, sing our song, with the Army of the free.
Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory.
We're the Army and proud of our name!
We're the Army and we proudly proclaim:
First to fight for the right,
And to build the Nation's might,
And the Army Goes Rolling Along.
Proud of all we have done,
Fighting till the battle's won,
And the Army Goes Rolling Along.
Then it's Hi! Hi! Hey!
The Army's on it's way.
Count off the cadence loud and strong;
For where'er we go,
You will always know
That the Army goes rolling along......
The officiant said over the microphone, my father's full name followed by the echoing
RETIRED
eery, but also relieving.
The folded flag has been placed in my dad's hands, followed by handshakes and well wishes.
And gratitude.
He hasn't put on a uniform in weeks.
It has already felt final.
I mean I've seen my dad for several weeks in a row? Weird. No early morning PT runs (oh wait, he still does that) He hasn't bolted off in full uniform to run off somewhere, I say somewhere because I never really knew where "OPSEC" (Operations Security).
So.. it's felt final. But on paper, it wasn't. My dad had leave saved up, a lot of leave saved up because he doesn't take days off. Tomorrow that leave is all used up.
Tomorrow is the day that my father officially becomes a retiree. The paperwork official date is tomorrow.
The feeling is indescribable.
Does hollow but proud make any sense?
I'm going to disregard how he feels about it, I cannot go there. I haven't ever known my dad without the Army.
But me? How do I feel about it?
I'm in denial.
I'm already anticipating my wedding day, it's an excuse for my dad to wear his uniform. Which is how I'll always remember him. I'm always going to believe the Army needs my dad.
I'm keeping this post short and sweet so I don't boo hoo.
Guys, I'd love to rewind and do it all again. That is even more validation, Army.. I'm not through with you yet.
March along, sing our song, with the Army of the free.
Count the brave, count the true, who have fought to victory.
We're the Army and proud of our name!
We're the Army and we proudly proclaim:
First to fight for the right,
And to build the Nation's might,
And the Army Goes Rolling Along.
Proud of all we have done,
Fighting till the battle's won,
And the Army Goes Rolling Along.
Then it's Hi! Hi! Hey!
The Army's on it's way.
Count off the cadence loud and strong;
For where'er we go,
You will always know
That the Army goes rolling along......
Monday, September 29, 2014
Poetic
I am a Military Brat
Author Unknown
I find this beautiful. It's as moving as a priceless painting.
Every line of this, reminds me of a story I could tell. That is something I appreciate, because everytime I remember a place, person, or experience, I feel like I'm winning. Or better yet, I feel like I'm doing the Army justice. It becomes difficult to keep things straight, there's always new information flowing into my brain, when I reflect on the past, it feels worth it. Comes full circle for me. I love this poem for jogging my memory every time I read it.
My favorite line is "Yet, even in sorrow comes strength and ability to face tomorrow with anticipation", I firmly believe in finding the good in a situation. That simple concept helps me face my trials, it helps remind me to live positively. I love Andy Worhol's quote, "You have to be willing to be happy about nothing", as bad as the news gets, the possibility of more war, messy politics, remind yourself to reflect on the good even if it seems trivial compared to those complicated topics^.
Secondly, I love the part that mentions establishing roots and when the author says, "absorbing all an area offers, and hopefully, giving enrichment in return." Made me nostalgic for Italia today.
" My hometown is nowhere, my friends are everywhere. I grew up with the knowledge that home is where the heart is and the family...
Mobility is my way of life. Some would wonder about roots, yet they are as deep and strong as the mighty oak. I sink them quickly, absorbing all an area offers and hopefully, giving enrichment in return.
Travel has taught me to be open. Shaking hands with the universe, I find brotherhood in all men. Farewells are never easy.Yet, even in sorrow comes strength and ability to face tomorrow with anticipation...if when we leave one place, I feel that half my world is left behind. I also know that the other half is waiting to be met.
Friendships are formed in hours and kept for decades. I will never grow up with someone, but I will mature with many. Be it inevitable that paths part, there is constant hope that they will meet again.
Love of country, respect and pride fill my being when Old Glory passes in review. When I stand to honor that flag, so also do I stand in honor of all soldiers, and most especially, to the parents whose life created mine. Because of this, I have shared in the rich heritage of Military life."
Author Unknown
I find this beautiful. It's as moving as a priceless painting.
Every line of this, reminds me of a story I could tell. That is something I appreciate, because everytime I remember a place, person, or experience, I feel like I'm winning. Or better yet, I feel like I'm doing the Army justice. It becomes difficult to keep things straight, there's always new information flowing into my brain, when I reflect on the past, it feels worth it. Comes full circle for me. I love this poem for jogging my memory every time I read it.
My favorite line is "Yet, even in sorrow comes strength and ability to face tomorrow with anticipation", I firmly believe in finding the good in a situation. That simple concept helps me face my trials, it helps remind me to live positively. I love Andy Worhol's quote, "You have to be willing to be happy about nothing", as bad as the news gets, the possibility of more war, messy politics, remind yourself to reflect on the good even if it seems trivial compared to those complicated topics^.
Secondly, I love the part that mentions establishing roots and when the author says, "absorbing all an area offers, and hopefully, giving enrichment in return." Made me nostalgic for Italia today.
Arreviderci!
Sunday, September 28, 2014
"Well she was an American girl..."
Here's some validity.
I should write legitimacy but I cannot stand when people say legit.
So no, my vocabulary ditches that word at all costs. Lemme just tell, I'm the real deal ya'll.
Two Preschools
Three Elementary Schools
Two Middle Schools
FIVE High Schools
And two universities because I just don't know how to stay put.
The five up there wasn't a typo, swear. Five High Schools in four years.
In case someone somewhere thought I was one of those two move military brats. It's hard for me to believe they exist, but they do. I'm not one of them. I wouldn't even know what that would be like. I'm saying this partly because I want everyone to know that the military has chewed me up and spit me out alittle. It does that to all of us.
BUT, thanks for the chewing and spitting. I would never want to imagine my life any other way, or without any of those moves. I needed the lessons, I needed the bravery.
I'm also bringing this all up because I want people to know more about me, and because I helped my sister move last weekend. It was like my brain was replaying ghosts of past moves. Ironically relevant considering October is upon us, a move is a guaranteed way to spook me. Moving was on my brain this week, I figured now would be a good time to say, " I've moved, a lot."
So for this post, the facts are..
A) I've moved a crap ton, I'm basically an expert military brat. Which is something they give you an actual award for. See!
(another way to exhibit some validity, and also let me show off my certificate that I'm tons fond of, anxious to hang this certificate on my wall like a proud kindergartener) My dad frames photographs and certificates, diplomas too, if you ask nicely. I'm looking forward to having him frame this to hang proudly in my home.
B) My sister moved last weekend, I can pretend I'm pro mover, capable of removing the bitter sting of being left (since this ain't my first rodeo)..but no. Moving is suck and I miss her already. Doesn't get easier, ugh.. but (siiiiiiigh) I guesssss I'm estatically pumped for her. ( see that positive note I ended with, that there is the military curse.... push on and do it with a grin )
To wrap this up, I proved my military-ness in this post and I whined some.
Anybody else a Texas-Alaska-North Carolina-New Mexico-Florida-Italy-Utah- IAN?
Or anybody else got me beat in the multiple schools attended? If so, I want to buy you a diamond house. There's not a word to explain how rough it is. Even one move, for anyonnne, warrants a billion trophies in my eyes.
I should write legitimacy but I cannot stand when people say legit.
So no, my vocabulary ditches that word at all costs. Lemme just tell, I'm the real deal ya'll.
Two Preschools
Three Elementary Schools
Two Middle Schools
FIVE High Schools
And two universities because I just don't know how to stay put.
The five up there wasn't a typo, swear. Five High Schools in four years.
In case someone somewhere thought I was one of those two move military brats. It's hard for me to believe they exist, but they do. I'm not one of them. I wouldn't even know what that would be like. I'm saying this partly because I want everyone to know that the military has chewed me up and spit me out alittle. It does that to all of us.
BUT, thanks for the chewing and spitting. I would never want to imagine my life any other way, or without any of those moves. I needed the lessons, I needed the bravery.
I'm also bringing this all up because I want people to know more about me, and because I helped my sister move last weekend. It was like my brain was replaying ghosts of past moves. Ironically relevant considering October is upon us, a move is a guaranteed way to spook me. Moving was on my brain this week, I figured now would be a good time to say, " I've moved, a lot."
So for this post, the facts are..
A) I've moved a crap ton, I'm basically an expert military brat. Which is something they give you an actual award for. See!
(another way to exhibit some validity, and also let me show off my certificate that I'm tons fond of, anxious to hang this certificate on my wall like a proud kindergartener) My dad frames photographs and certificates, diplomas too, if you ask nicely. I'm looking forward to having him frame this to hang proudly in my home.
B) My sister moved last weekend, I can pretend I'm pro mover, capable of removing the bitter sting of being left (since this ain't my first rodeo)..but no. Moving is suck and I miss her already. Doesn't get easier, ugh.. but (siiiiiiigh) I guesssss I'm estatically pumped for her. ( see that positive note I ended with, that there is the military curse.... push on and do it with a grin )
To wrap this up, I proved my military-ness in this post and I whined some.
Anybody else a Texas-Alaska-North Carolina-New Mexico-Florida-Italy-Utah- IAN?
Or anybody else got me beat in the multiple schools attended? If so, I want to buy you a diamond house. There's not a word to explain how rough it is. Even one move, for anyonnne, warrants a billion trophies in my eyes.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Feedback
Lemme explain.
I wanna believe in self worth, confidence, high self esteem and all that jazz. But, in reality, I'm nothing without the people in my life. My inspiration and driving force is largely because of the wonderful, and not so wonderful folks I interact/ed with. So that brings me back to feedback, a large part of this blog is based on what I'm getting behind the scenes. Emails ya'll. And texts, and smiles, and encouragement (the ladder 'cause sometimes they can tell I really do need it, I'm human- sue me). No, but really I wanna thank the kindest lady who came up to me and told me how excited she was about this blog, and then explained her reasoning. I just kind of stared. I stumbled out a thank you..
I wanted to hug her.
I had been asked some questions about this blog that I wasn't prepared for, still I'm not. She gave me positive reinforcement that I didn't acknowledge properly.
THANK YOU.
So then I decided that I was just a little too eager to post my previous post, and I didn't talk about the friend who sent the email enough. My DCM (initials cause even if the writer swore I could post, I wasn't ready to divulge the identity of the emailer) Okay, okay, have ya'll guessed? It's a female.
So lemme just throw out a bit more lovin's for that pep talk cheerleader.....
when has she not been my pep talk cheerleader..?
DCM
was my pal before a lot of people at my new school warmed up to me. She listened automatically on day two, when I spilled my guts about the girl who had tried to pummel me on day one (original right, pick on the new girl) She planted herself by my side instantly, always making it clear that she would have my back. It was an inner-city school, I needed someone to have my back. DCM always tugged on my ponytail during class. When we had english assignments due, she would create me a rubric and a calendar, and always volunteered to tape things for me ( I have a tape/sticker OCD that grosses me out huge). When one of our other friends had a birthday, she would go all out for them and then also bring me a small present so I wouldn't feel left out. One of my favorite things about her..
her whale song! ( don't ask, sometimes the goofy lighthearted stuff was just what the doc ordered)
..my real favorite thing about her.. hold your britches ya'll cause it's on the narcissistic side..
She noticed that I chew gum with my front teeth.
What? Okay, what did I just say?
Yeah, instead of chewing with my back molars I like to chew it with my front guys. How on earth did she notice this? She was right though. It wasn't like she was saying, " Hey b, cute pants..", that's a different kind of notice. She recognized one of my quirky habits, she had paid attention. And I hate to say it but when your dad is gone, and your mom is doing her best, having someone notice and point something out about you, it's special. Or it can be. For me, it was special. When you're a military kid sometimes it's hard to imagine friends investing time in you, and even worse you try and prevent investing in others. You start to think that'll make leaving easier. You learn, nothing makes leaving easier. You ditch the idea of surface level friendships and try and build something that lasts.
Once she had told me that little fact, I knew she was special. I knew the Army had done me right.
This isn't even close to highlighting her good and virtuous heart, I could write a library about her benevolence, but I hope you understand what I mean. A friend can go a long way. Has anyone else had a friend that did more than their fair share of friending? Do you remember when someone just ultimate treated you like a queen, or a unicorn or something super rare? Tell me.
Bear with me, it's a cell phone quality photo from early two thousand. But here is DCM and I ( the end two on the right) in all our teenage awkwardness. Thanks for the email DCM, but thanks truly for always being a quality friend.
I wanna believe in self worth, confidence, high self esteem and all that jazz. But, in reality, I'm nothing without the people in my life. My inspiration and driving force is largely because of the wonderful, and not so wonderful folks I interact/ed with. So that brings me back to feedback, a large part of this blog is based on what I'm getting behind the scenes. Emails ya'll. And texts, and smiles, and encouragement (the ladder 'cause sometimes they can tell I really do need it, I'm human- sue me). No, but really I wanna thank the kindest lady who came up to me and told me how excited she was about this blog, and then explained her reasoning. I just kind of stared. I stumbled out a thank you..
I wanted to hug her.
I had been asked some questions about this blog that I wasn't prepared for, still I'm not. She gave me positive reinforcement that I didn't acknowledge properly.
THANK YOU.
So then I decided that I was just a little too eager to post my previous post, and I didn't talk about the friend who sent the email enough. My DCM (initials cause even if the writer swore I could post, I wasn't ready to divulge the identity of the emailer) Okay, okay, have ya'll guessed? It's a female.
So lemme just throw out a bit more lovin's for that pep talk cheerleader.....
when has she not been my pep talk cheerleader..?
DCM
was my pal before a lot of people at my new school warmed up to me. She listened automatically on day two, when I spilled my guts about the girl who had tried to pummel me on day one (original right, pick on the new girl) She planted herself by my side instantly, always making it clear that she would have my back. It was an inner-city school, I needed someone to have my back. DCM always tugged on my ponytail during class. When we had english assignments due, she would create me a rubric and a calendar, and always volunteered to tape things for me ( I have a tape/sticker OCD that grosses me out huge). When one of our other friends had a birthday, she would go all out for them and then also bring me a small present so I wouldn't feel left out. One of my favorite things about her..
her whale song! ( don't ask, sometimes the goofy lighthearted stuff was just what the doc ordered)
..my real favorite thing about her.. hold your britches ya'll cause it's on the narcissistic side..
She noticed that I chew gum with my front teeth.
What? Okay, what did I just say?
Yeah, instead of chewing with my back molars I like to chew it with my front guys. How on earth did she notice this? She was right though. It wasn't like she was saying, " Hey b, cute pants..", that's a different kind of notice. She recognized one of my quirky habits, she had paid attention. And I hate to say it but when your dad is gone, and your mom is doing her best, having someone notice and point something out about you, it's special. Or it can be. For me, it was special. When you're a military kid sometimes it's hard to imagine friends investing time in you, and even worse you try and prevent investing in others. You start to think that'll make leaving easier. You learn, nothing makes leaving easier. You ditch the idea of surface level friendships and try and build something that lasts.
Once she had told me that little fact, I knew she was special. I knew the Army had done me right.
This isn't even close to highlighting her good and virtuous heart, I could write a library about her benevolence, but I hope you understand what I mean. A friend can go a long way. Has anyone else had a friend that did more than their fair share of friending? Do you remember when someone just ultimate treated you like a queen, or a unicorn or something super rare? Tell me.
Bear with me, it's a cell phone quality photo from early two thousand. But here is DCM and I ( the end two on the right) in all our teenage awkwardness. Thanks for the email DCM, but thanks truly for always being a quality friend.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
D.C.M
The people along the way.
The unsung heroes who have held my hand step by step.
I struggled for a bit on whether or not I wanted to do this. I even counseled one of my professors, which may have resulted in tears. (like at least 1o seconds worth) AH. He asked why, why....WHY. I kind of got weepy, and I just thought. It's not a secret that I'm intimidated by this endeavor, it's hugely personal. But it's more than personal, its a passion. I think it's important to share your passions, that's how they grow best (in my opinion).
It's for me, and the you, and the us..for the we. I may want to unload these feelings selfishly, but unselfishly as well. It's not just about me or my dad or my momma, its about the whole armload, truckload, and mountain load of people that were a part of this, who ARE a part of this ( this being the whole scope of military and every piece it reaches and touches). It's about the friend in my brand new school that sat behind me in health class and smiled at me every single day that my dad was gone. Without fail.
That friend, with the warm smile...she emailed me this week. She gave me permission to share the email. The personal, touching email that I cherished after reading the first sentence.
"Well, it's 11 pm on a warm September Tuesday and I've found myself reminiscing over happy times I've had in my life. God knows I've had a lot, I've been blessed with a lot, I've been given countless do-overs and opportunities for growth. But there is one thing that I am beyond grateful for. And that my dear is you. When mama told me that we were moving to Canada I was piping mad and sad and pretty defeated. But I tried to keep in mind that someone I really cared about moved all the time, and she did it with a smile on her face and so maybe I could too. And I knew it was going to suck for a while and it sure did, but I got through. I always tried to look to you, look at how you moved around constantly and kept that head high. You've been a role model to me B, and I hope you know it. I'm not sure I believe in soulmates or destiny or fate, but what I do believe in, is 'meant to be'. I believe that my mama was meant to be my mama so that she could learn patience with the brat firecracker that I am. And I believe that I was meant to be her daughter so that I could learn kindness beyond compare and humility in all that I do. Maybe my dad being a jerk is here to teach me that people disappoint but it is important to just-keep-going. I also believe that certain people come into your life and that relationship you hold with them, is meant to be. I'm happy we got to meet in 7th grade. It's funny, it's not like you ever know when you meet someone what your friendship will be like in 10/20/30 years. But I'm very happy to say that after ten years, I still hold you in the highest regards. I know I've said it before and I'll say it again; I admire the relationships you have with your family. Back in the Wilson days, I remember thinking that you were the luckiest girl to have a mother who put you all 1st, all the time. That she was always there, always, to be your advocate in any and every situation. And looking back on that now, as a grade 7/8 young girl, it is pretty remarkable that I was able to make that ascertain. But that's how wonderfully obvious it was. Your mama loved(loves) you a lot a lot a lottttt. And that made(makes) me so happy. And now with the career I have working with foster kids, I appreciate seeing loving happy families all the more. Your quick wit and wise words never cease to put a smile on my face. But...Bottom line, you, YOU Bette Pauling humble me. And I can't say many people do. And that's sad. It's sad that maybe my heart is a little hardened. But the point is, who you are is greatness. It shines out of you. It's contagious. And I am really grateful for that, for you. Basically what I'm trying to say, is that I'm glad you're you and I'm me and I'm glad that for whatever reason, we had the wonderful opportunity to meet. love you today and always. "
Guys, it's not like I didn't believe in humility before( I did), but after this I was exploding with it. Heaping piles of humility were just surrounding me. I intend to carry that humility around with me. I need to, because I'm grateful. ...for this ^ and much more.
I'm still trying to explain this blog with perfect clarity, I don't know what it is. I just have hope of what it could be. And with people voicing things like this, I get steps and inches closer to that goal.
By the way I've been told that blog posts tend to stay in the 700 word margin, dangit and shoot. I'm gonna surpass that by a thousand every time. Whoops.
The unsung heroes who have held my hand step by step.
I struggled for a bit on whether or not I wanted to do this. I even counseled one of my professors, which may have resulted in tears. (like at least 1o seconds worth) AH. He asked why, why....WHY. I kind of got weepy, and I just thought. It's not a secret that I'm intimidated by this endeavor, it's hugely personal. But it's more than personal, its a passion. I think it's important to share your passions, that's how they grow best (in my opinion).
It's for me, and the you, and the us..for the we. I may want to unload these feelings selfishly, but unselfishly as well. It's not just about me or my dad or my momma, its about the whole armload, truckload, and mountain load of people that were a part of this, who ARE a part of this ( this being the whole scope of military and every piece it reaches and touches). It's about the friend in my brand new school that sat behind me in health class and smiled at me every single day that my dad was gone. Without fail.
That friend, with the warm smile...she emailed me this week. She gave me permission to share the email. The personal, touching email that I cherished after reading the first sentence.
"Well, it's 11 pm on a warm September Tuesday and I've found myself reminiscing over happy times I've had in my life. God knows I've had a lot, I've been blessed with a lot, I've been given countless do-overs and opportunities for growth. But there is one thing that I am beyond grateful for. And that my dear is you. When mama told me that we were moving to Canada I was piping mad and sad and pretty defeated. But I tried to keep in mind that someone I really cared about moved all the time, and she did it with a smile on her face and so maybe I could too. And I knew it was going to suck for a while and it sure did, but I got through. I always tried to look to you, look at how you moved around constantly and kept that head high. You've been a role model to me B, and I hope you know it. I'm not sure I believe in soulmates or destiny or fate, but what I do believe in, is 'meant to be'. I believe that my mama was meant to be my mama so that she could learn patience with the brat firecracker that I am. And I believe that I was meant to be her daughter so that I could learn kindness beyond compare and humility in all that I do. Maybe my dad being a jerk is here to teach me that people disappoint but it is important to just-keep-going. I also believe that certain people come into your life and that relationship you hold with them, is meant to be. I'm happy we got to meet in 7th grade. It's funny, it's not like you ever know when you meet someone what your friendship will be like in 10/20/30 years. But I'm very happy to say that after ten years, I still hold you in the highest regards. I know I've said it before and I'll say it again; I admire the relationships you have with your family. Back in the Wilson days, I remember thinking that you were the luckiest girl to have a mother who put you all 1st, all the time. That she was always there, always, to be your advocate in any and every situation. And looking back on that now, as a grade 7/8 young girl, it is pretty remarkable that I was able to make that ascertain. But that's how wonderfully obvious it was. Your mama loved(loves) you a lot a lot a lottttt. And that made(makes) me so happy. And now with the career I have working with foster kids, I appreciate seeing loving happy families all the more. Your quick wit and wise words never cease to put a smile on my face. But...Bottom line, you, YOU Bette Pauling humble me. And I can't say many people do. And that's sad. It's sad that maybe my heart is a little hardened. But the point is, who you are is greatness. It shines out of you. It's contagious. And I am really grateful for that, for you. Basically what I'm trying to say, is that I'm glad you're you and I'm me and I'm glad that for whatever reason, we had the wonderful opportunity to meet. love you today and always. "
Guys, it's not like I didn't believe in humility before( I did), but after this I was exploding with it. Heaping piles of humility were just surrounding me. I intend to carry that humility around with me. I need to, because I'm grateful. ...for this ^ and much more.
I'm still trying to explain this blog with perfect clarity, I don't know what it is. I just have hope of what it could be. And with people voicing things like this, I get steps and inches closer to that goal.
By the way I've been told that blog posts tend to stay in the 700 word margin, dangit and shoot. I'm gonna surpass that by a thousand every time. Whoops.
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