Military Talk

I think I'm going to make up my own homemaking language. I'm going to speak this language to my husband when he comes home from work giving him no prior training in this strange dialect. I'm going to tell him the intricate details of my day in homemakingeeze and assume he understands exactly what I am talking about and completely disregard any glazed and dazed looks he might have.

My language might go something like this: honey buns, this morning I woke up at a bakers dozen and sifted out the snarles from the snares, then the bear cub had a pb & j at the table while we cammed with memaw and pepaw. We dabbled with down dog before the little monkey destroyed my feng shui. At give me five we brought home the baby bumblebee and snapped a shot for a new post and that's pretty much all I got. What do you think about that?

And when he hesitates with a response, I think I'll complain about how he seems uninterested in my conversation then maybe, just maybe I can get him to stop talking military talk at home, as long as I stop talking homemakingeeze :-)

One Moment in History

I have experience a few monumental moments in our country's history first hand. At the age of 16, I ran down the steps of the United States Capitol in an emergency evacuation. It was September 11, 2001. I saw smoke billowing up from the gaping hole in the Pentagon. I was in a joint session of congress where President Bush addressed our nation. These experiences, while monumental, are not the subject of this post. Yesterday I stood on a 100 degree tarmac watching an American soldier's remains being returned to his home country. This dignified transfer is the first one I have ever seen first hand. Dignified transfers have been occurring for years. They, however, have not been viewed publicly until the policy was changed in April 2009. Watching the transfer was one moment in history that I will never forget.

As I stood there waiting and watching I could help but put myself in that wife's shoes. She was an absolutely beautiful girl, only 19 years old. I know that she had probably gone over the moment when she would see her husband again a million times in her head. She thought about what she would wear when he saw her. She imagined how safe she would feel in his arms, and how sweet his kiss would taste. The thoughts of reuniting are what keep us going when we are scared and lonely. They bring us comfort when we grow weary of waiting. I'm sure she never imagined what she actually experienced.

The flightline was eerily quiet. No planes were taxiing or moving, only one small plane landed as I watched the honor guard walking toward the plane. It felt like hours passed by before they were at the plane. When they reached the flag covered transfer case, they honorably moved the fallen soldier from the plane onto a platform, which would then lower him to the ground. There was a brief moment when the case was there all by itself at the end of the platform. It made my whole body feel empty seeing it there. The soldiers looked burdened by the weight that they carried. Not so much physically but emotionally weighed down by carrying one of their comrades home. The fallen soldier was given one last slow solute, after which he was placed into a van and taken to the mortuary.

That was it, that simple, that quick, that honorable. The fallen soldier's family had only 24-48 hours notice to be there to greet their loved one's remains. I could not help feeling how unfair it was that they had traveled so far and so quickly only to see their most loved one from such a distance. How terrible to be so close, but to be out of reach. They will have to wait until their husband/son is returned to his hometown before they will be allowed to see and touch him. The wife was amazing and strong. She did her duty, she meet her husband as soon as he got home, just like she promised. She was there even though it was the hardest thing she has ever done. She has such faith in America and our military that I am awestruck.

It was one moment in history. One soldier who didn't come home the way he promised he would, but he still came home. I am saddened to have seen a soul lost at war, but honored to have seen that America honors those who die for her.


*Update* CNN wrote an article about this soldier that you can read here. My favorite sentence is, "So did Emily."



Video from youtube. This plane was different then the one I witnessed, but still shows the ceremony. There is a movie staring Kevin Bacon that is called "Taking Chance." It is about bringing a fallen marine home. It's very interesting and heart breaking. I watched it while DH was in the desert, which I do NOT recommend.



Image from defense.gov
This plane is similar to the one I saw with the transfer case looking lonely on the platform.

Behind the Uniform

Whenever I drive on base and see a group of soldiers walking down the street I get butterflies in my stomach and think, I am part of that, and I’m proud of it. I may not be in the uniform, but I am behind the uniform, the one cleaning the uniform, feeding the uniform, making sure the uniform feels loved, appreciated, fulfilled.

The moments when I think I’d rather be back home, living in a house a few streets away from the grandparents, I remind myself of the feeling I get when I feel a part of the military family, and then I realize that what I do is important, because if I wasn’t willing to support my soldier by traveling around the world to foreign lands, being a single mom sometimes, or whatever it is, he wouldn’t be the support he needs to be to his Country. And that is the truth!