Things tend to take on a life of their own.
So, I am moving my WP blogs over here.
The Time Of His Life
14 years ago
Showing posts with label west point. Show all posts
Showing posts with label west point. Show all posts
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
This? Or That?
Outside of the de rigeur academics and military science and sports, the life of a West Point cadet is full of opportunity. To name a few of the bigger deals in his one year there so far: M has gotten a New York state and a national EMT certification; he has traveled to Israel as a guest of the IDF; he has debated (and won!) against Harvard and Yale and others of their ilk. He has had occasion to shake the hand of the president (Bush, not N/Obama); and he has marched in the presidential inaugural parade (alas, N/Obama's). He has learned how to hack computers; he has driven a tank, coordinating a platoon (Is that the right military technology?) of tanks and hummers. He has even dislocated a jaw (his) and broken a nose (also his), courtesy of the evil boxing class required of all male West Point cadets.
This year is shaping up to be equally fascinating. He is on the debate team again, as well as MUN (Is that a team?), both of which offer the possibility of a trip to Oxford. As in England. And he is running for Class President. Nothing else occurs to me at the moment, but the year is young...
Well, a few days ago he called with a dilemma: "I could easily major in English," he said, "or history, IR, language, comp sci, or geography, or management, or philosophy. I would love to branch infantry, aviation, finance, transpo, MP, or JAG. I would love to skip the Army, be a SEAL, or work in the CIA, or be a stay-at-home dad, or a teacher, or a cop, but at some point it all has to narrow down..." :-( And that's the thing. You have to choose. Each is different from the others; none is necessarily better, or worse, than the rest. They can each be done well, or they can be done ill. But they can't be done all.
So this whole conversation, like too many other things I get involved in, got me to thinking. One can know a lot about a few things, or a little about a lot of things. One can be a master of one thing, or perhaps two, or even three, but one cannot be a master of them all.
And that whole line of thinking sent me off on another wonder: Once upon a time, people used to graduate from the 8th grade knowing pretty much everything there was to know. Now people go to 12th grade, college, masters, and beyond, and still don't know anything much. The more we learn, the less we know, because every time we find an answer, it opens up another ? or two, or three. AAAGGGHHHH!!!!!
Every time we say *yes* to something, we say *no* to something else. But, we have to say yes to something. Otherwise, we say yes to nothing.
Life is full of possibilities. At least it starts out that way. But "possibilities" is all most of them ever are, because . . . well . . . because there just isn't enough *us* to go around, and as things go along, things change. The changes are subtle, though, so much so that they generally go unnoticed, until one day....!!! Just like that!
All of a sudden, life is full of improbabilities.
This year is shaping up to be equally fascinating. He is on the debate team again, as well as MUN (Is that a team?), both of which offer the possibility of a trip to Oxford. As in England. And he is running for Class President. Nothing else occurs to me at the moment, but the year is young...
Well, a few days ago he called with a dilemma: "I could easily major in English," he said, "or history, IR, language, comp sci, or geography, or management, or philosophy. I would love to branch infantry, aviation, finance, transpo, MP, or JAG. I would love to skip the Army, be a SEAL, or work in the CIA, or be a stay-at-home dad, or a teacher, or a cop, but at some point it all has to narrow down..." :-( And that's the thing. You have to choose. Each is different from the others; none is necessarily better, or worse, than the rest. They can each be done well, or they can be done ill. But they can't be done all.
So this whole conversation, like too many other things I get involved in, got me to thinking. One can know a lot about a few things, or a little about a lot of things. One can be a master of one thing, or perhaps two, or even three, but one cannot be a master of them all.
And that whole line of thinking sent me off on another wonder: Once upon a time, people used to graduate from the 8th grade knowing pretty much everything there was to know. Now people go to 12th grade, college, masters, and beyond, and still don't know anything much. The more we learn, the less we know, because every time we find an answer, it opens up another ? or two, or three. AAAGGGHHHH!!!!!
Every time we say *yes* to something, we say *no* to something else. But, we have to say yes to something. Otherwise, we say yes to nothing.
Life is full of possibilities. At least it starts out that way. But "possibilities" is all most of them ever are, because . . . well . . . because there just isn't enough *us* to go around, and as things go along, things change. The changes are subtle, though, so much so that they generally go unnoticed, until one day....!!! Just like that!
All of a sudden, life is full of improbabilities.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Surprise!
Yesterday the Unknown Caller phoned. I am always just a little bit afraid of answering, but since M's # shows up that way, and chances to talk to him are few and far between, I am always afraid not to answer as well. You never know what you're going to get...always a surprise, but not always a good surprise. Well, this time it was...in the voice of Cadet A at West Point. That in and of itself is surprise enough. But even moreso...!
M was granted grad leave! Several months ago, when he realized accepting the opportunity-of-a-lifetime, too-good-to-turn-down, all-expenses-paid trip to Israel would mean little to no leave at home this summer, he applied for grad leave. Having heard nothing since, we reasonably concluded that it was denied and went to Plan B: four days between Graduation and Israel. So, yesterday, at the very last minute, he got the good word: Grad leave approved! This means not only that he is authorized to miss marching in the Graduation Day parade, but he gets to come home for almost two whole weeks. This, as the currently hot saying goes, is huge, calling for a huge change of plans all around, but we're up for it.
All M had to do, after his final TEE ("final" in civilian) was finished this morning, was get his typhoid shot for Israel, pack up and move out of his room, sell his books back to the bookstore, change his airline ticket, and arrange a ride to the train. If he seriously put himself in turbo, he could have made the 5 o'clock plane tonight, but that allowed only for everything to go smoothly, and things don't generally happen that perfectly in our world. In any case, this way he gets to go to a show on Broadway with his friends tonight and then sleep a few hours at the Soldiers', Sailors', Coast Guard & Airmen's Club, Inc for only $25, unless, of course he checks out early. He plans on catching the 3 a.m. bus to the airport for his 7:30-ish flight, so I'm pretty sure that qualifies. That puts the cost down to $10 for the night, and if he notifies them ahead of time, well then it goes down to $5. One more cadet perk, and you just can't beat that!
All I had to do around here is cram into one day what I had planned to do in the next almost-two weeks. Dust, vac, tidy M's room, put fresh sheets on the bed, and the same in the guest room for D and the Princess and the Gingerbread Cookie, who will be here for a week in honor of M. M and a couple of the little kidlets have birthdays in this time frame, so there is that to plan for, not to mention, speaking of HUGE, daily rations for a big boy who is tired of dining hall food. And speaking of even more HUGE....I have been re-arranging some furniture the last couple of days, and one room in particular is a disaster, but oh, well.
If we have learned anything from this year, we have learned that in order to get along with West Point, you have to be two things:
Welcome home, M!
M was granted grad leave! Several months ago, when he realized accepting the opportunity-of-a-lifetime, too-good-to-turn-down, all-expenses-paid trip to Israel would mean little to no leave at home this summer, he applied for grad leave. Having heard nothing since, we reasonably concluded that it was denied and went to Plan B: four days between Graduation and Israel. So, yesterday, at the very last minute, he got the good word: Grad leave approved! This means not only that he is authorized to miss marching in the Graduation Day parade, but he gets to come home for almost two whole weeks. This, as the currently hot saying goes, is huge, calling for a huge change of plans all around, but we're up for it.
All M had to do, after his final TEE ("final" in civilian) was finished this morning, was get his typhoid shot for Israel, pack up and move out of his room, sell his books back to the bookstore, change his airline ticket, and arrange a ride to the train. If he seriously put himself in turbo, he could have made the 5 o'clock plane tonight, but that allowed only for everything to go smoothly, and things don't generally happen that perfectly in our world. In any case, this way he gets to go to a show on Broadway with his friends tonight and then sleep a few hours at the Soldiers', Sailors', Coast Guard & Airmen's Club, Inc for only $25, unless, of course he checks out early. He plans on catching the 3 a.m. bus to the airport for his 7:30-ish flight, so I'm pretty sure that qualifies. That puts the cost down to $10 for the night, and if he notifies them ahead of time, well then it goes down to $5. One more cadet perk, and you just can't beat that!
All I had to do around here is cram into one day what I had planned to do in the next almost-two weeks. Dust, vac, tidy M's room, put fresh sheets on the bed, and the same in the guest room for D and the Princess and the Gingerbread Cookie, who will be here for a week in honor of M. M and a couple of the little kidlets have birthdays in this time frame, so there is that to plan for, not to mention, speaking of HUGE, daily rations for a big boy who is tired of dining hall food. And speaking of even more HUGE....I have been re-arranging some furniture the last couple of days, and one room in particular is a disaster, but oh, well.
If we have learned anything from this year, we have learned that in order to get along with West Point, you have to be two things:
- Extremely structured. Things are planned to the nanosecond more than a year ahead of time, and you better be ready to hurry up and wait; and
- Extremely flexible. It's all about the last minute, and you better be ready to jump at every eleventh hour opportunity.
Welcome home, M!
Friday, May 8, 2009
The End of an Era
Provided, of course, that they pass, the plebes at West Point had their last class as plebes today. Tomorrow begin the TEE's, "Term End Exams" by the Army's fondness for acronyms, commonly known in the civilian world as "finals." And just like that, M and his classmates will be through 1/4 of their career as West Point cadets.
Impossible! Well, it sure seems that way. It is the tritest and tiredest of cliches to say that time flies, but, as cliches are wont to be, oh, how true. Actually, if there were something faster than flying, that is what time would do...At least from my point of view. M suggests that the year went a lot faster for me than it did for him. ;-)
I've been remembering and reminiscing with myself about this time last year. The countdown chain, which once draped around three sides of the room and ended in a puddle of colored paper links on the floor in the corner, was down to barely stretching along one wall, and we were frantically trying to keep up.
Admission papers, medical forms, shot records, parking passes, reporting instructions, bus schedules, packing lists, hotel reservations, plane tickets, rental car information, google maps, snacks for the airplane, a ride to the airport.... Did I forget anything? Maybe not, because everything went smoothly. Well, there were a few quirks and glitches along the way, but overall the trip was uneventful, and when it was over, we were all present and accounted for.
I remember, and thank God for, the hot and heavy e-traffic on the candidate-net where the newbie parents were huddled together in a fog, and friendly moderators had the answer to every question. Now we are seasoned veterans of a year of plebe-net, where a whole day can actually go by without an emergency or even an inquiry or comment.
So now it's someone else's turn. Right now, there are approximately 1,300 cadet candidates all over the country stressing out about things that we are now taking in stride. And if there are that many cadet candidates out there, there are twice that many parents ~ and more, in this age of step families when pairents no longer necessarily come in pairs ~ freaking out about turning their children over to Uncle Sam and their own personal Trail of Tears that will follow.
By this time, all of us, plebes and parents, have come to terms with some of the basic changes in our lives. We have become resigned to the fact that USMA now has first claim on them. Our plebes remain our kidlets, but we have been relieved of responsibility and authority. Oddly, I have a bittersweet feeling about the whole thing.
The bitter part is easy: no more M coming home every night; he will still come to visit, but the time of him actually living at home is getting shorter and shorter. Already his shouldabeen three-week leave of this summer has been abbreviated to four days, and we wouldn't even have that if not for the kindness and generosity of an airline employee who graciously offered M a buddy pass for the trip home.
The sweet part is harder. What is there that's sweet about the end of our family life? Well...mainly that it is as it should be. No matter that we might not like or want it, there is rightness in kidlets growing up and leaving home. This past year, we have all learned a lot about ourselves and about each other. And of course, memories.
After next week, M and the Class of 2012 will be rising yuks, going on to bigger things, and the misery of Beast Barracks will fall to the hapless candidates of 2013. So here's a toast to the end of plebedom, with a hope and a prayer for the new yuks. ;-) Only 36 months to go!
What a difference a year makes.
Impossible! Well, it sure seems that way. It is the tritest and tiredest of cliches to say that time flies, but, as cliches are wont to be, oh, how true. Actually, if there were something faster than flying, that is what time would do...At least from my point of view. M suggests that the year went a lot faster for me than it did for him. ;-)
I've been remembering and reminiscing with myself about this time last year. The countdown chain, which once draped around three sides of the room and ended in a puddle of colored paper links on the floor in the corner, was down to barely stretching along one wall, and we were frantically trying to keep up.
Admission papers, medical forms, shot records, parking passes, reporting instructions, bus schedules, packing lists, hotel reservations, plane tickets, rental car information, google maps, snacks for the airplane, a ride to the airport.... Did I forget anything? Maybe not, because everything went smoothly. Well, there were a few quirks and glitches along the way, but overall the trip was uneventful, and when it was over, we were all present and accounted for.
I remember, and thank God for, the hot and heavy e-traffic on the candidate-net where the newbie parents were huddled together in a fog, and friendly moderators had the answer to every question. Now we are seasoned veterans of a year of plebe-net, where a whole day can actually go by without an emergency or even an inquiry or comment.
So now it's someone else's turn. Right now, there are approximately 1,300 cadet candidates all over the country stressing out about things that we are now taking in stride. And if there are that many cadet candidates out there, there are twice that many parents ~ and more, in this age of step families when pairents no longer necessarily come in pairs ~ freaking out about turning their children over to Uncle Sam and their own personal Trail of Tears that will follow.
By this time, all of us, plebes and parents, have come to terms with some of the basic changes in our lives. We have become resigned to the fact that USMA now has first claim on them. Our plebes remain our kidlets, but we have been relieved of responsibility and authority. Oddly, I have a bittersweet feeling about the whole thing.
The bitter part is easy: no more M coming home every night; he will still come to visit, but the time of him actually living at home is getting shorter and shorter. Already his shouldabeen three-week leave of this summer has been abbreviated to four days, and we wouldn't even have that if not for the kindness and generosity of an airline employee who graciously offered M a buddy pass for the trip home.
The sweet part is harder. What is there that's sweet about the end of our family life? Well...mainly that it is as it should be. No matter that we might not like or want it, there is rightness in kidlets growing up and leaving home. This past year, we have all learned a lot about ourselves and about each other. And of course, memories.
After next week, M and the Class of 2012 will be rising yuks, going on to bigger things, and the misery of Beast Barracks will fall to the hapless candidates of 2013. So here's a toast to the end of plebedom, with a hope and a prayer for the new yuks. ;-) Only 36 months to go!
What a difference a year makes.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inaugural Parade
I am disappointed that M was marching in Obama's parade today, but I am thrilled that he was marching in the President's parade. In true West Point tradition, the cadets were thoroughly drilled and practiced, sub-freezing temperatures and any other problems be hanged, so I pretty much gave the activities of my day over to tv-watching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Corps of Cadets. It was a colossal waste of a day. Well, except for collecting some fodder for this blog. ;-)
After slogging through endless pre-inaugural and inaugural and post-inaugural hoopla, we were more than ready for the parade, which, "due to circumstances beyond our control," was an hour and a half late in starting. We did not know that the West Point Corps of Cadets would be at the very front of the parade, though we knew they would be close to the front, and we mistakenly perceived this as an advantage. We could not have been wrong-er.
Obama's arrival was "fashionably late," while the parade outside languished in the freezing weather. By the time it actually started, a goodly portion of the parade goers had simply given up and gone home, and rumor has it that some of the participants in the parade were suffering from hypothermia by then. All this while Obama, the man of the people, took his leisure getting settled into his front-row seat in his climate-controlled reviewing stand.
Well, ok, we ourselves can't really complain. Other than the wasted time, we were comfortable enough in front of our tv set in our own living room, ready for "America's parade," as it was described by the press. America's Parade? Cool! Bring it on!
Due to Obama's lateness in arriving in the reviewing stand, the parade had already begun to file past when he got there, and he completely missed the first set of flags that went by. We were able to catch a glimpse of the very tips of the flag poles looking over Obama's shoulder through the window, and then the camera showed a head-on shot of the approaching Army band followed by West Point. We were all set for a good parade.
Only a funny thing happened on the way to America's Parade. Instead of showing us the parade, we were shown one shot after another of Obama watching the parade. Or, more accurately, of Obama not watching the parade. The new Commander-in-Chief was far too busy glad-handing the people around him to be able to review his troops passing before him, with the first military unit not to get his attention being none other than the Corps of Cadets of West Point, traditionally the very first unit to march under arms for a new president.
The press did treat us to one very short glimpse of the cadets, mistakenly announced as "The United States Military." M had told us where he would be standing, so we knew where to look: second from the right, as they marched forward, with Obama not reviewing them on the left. Hmmm...M on the right, Obama on the left...Yes, that would be right...or "accurate," I guess I should say ;-) Well, it was good that we knew where to find him, because all we got was a nanosecond of a look before we were back watching Obama (not) watching.
And that was the parade. I hope that it isn't an omen of things to come to the military from the hand of their new Commander-in-Chief. Now we can only pray.
And so, good, bad, or ugly, I'm off to remove the "NObama" sticker from the back of my van...
After slogging through endless pre-inaugural and inaugural and post-inaugural hoopla, we were more than ready for the parade, which, "due to circumstances beyond our control," was an hour and a half late in starting. We did not know that the West Point Corps of Cadets would be at the very front of the parade, though we knew they would be close to the front, and we mistakenly perceived this as an advantage. We could not have been wrong-er.
Obama's arrival was "fashionably late," while the parade outside languished in the freezing weather. By the time it actually started, a goodly portion of the parade goers had simply given up and gone home, and rumor has it that some of the participants in the parade were suffering from hypothermia by then. All this while Obama, the man of the people, took his leisure getting settled into his front-row seat in his climate-controlled reviewing stand.
Well, ok, we ourselves can't really complain. Other than the wasted time, we were comfortable enough in front of our tv set in our own living room, ready for "America's parade," as it was described by the press. America's Parade? Cool! Bring it on!
Due to Obama's lateness in arriving in the reviewing stand, the parade had already begun to file past when he got there, and he completely missed the first set of flags that went by. We were able to catch a glimpse of the very tips of the flag poles looking over Obama's shoulder through the window, and then the camera showed a head-on shot of the approaching Army band followed by West Point. We were all set for a good parade.
Only a funny thing happened on the way to America's Parade. Instead of showing us the parade, we were shown one shot after another of Obama watching the parade. Or, more accurately, of Obama not watching the parade. The new Commander-in-Chief was far too busy glad-handing the people around him to be able to review his troops passing before him, with the first military unit not to get his attention being none other than the Corps of Cadets of West Point, traditionally the very first unit to march under arms for a new president.
The press did treat us to one very short glimpse of the cadets, mistakenly announced as "The United States Military." M had told us where he would be standing, so we knew where to look: second from the right, as they marched forward, with Obama not reviewing them on the left. Hmmm...M on the right, Obama on the left...Yes, that would be right...or "accurate," I guess I should say ;-) Well, it was good that we knew where to find him, because all we got was a nanosecond of a look before we were back watching Obama (not) watching.
And that was the parade. I hope that it isn't an omen of things to come to the military from the hand of their new Commander-in-Chief. Now we can only pray.
And so, good, bad, or ugly, I'm off to remove the "NObama" sticker from the back of my van...
Saturday, January 3, 2009
The Last Day
Well, just a couple of hours in the car in the dark, not really a day at all, at least not on this end.
M and I left the house today at 4:20. AM. to catch the first flight of his trip, leaving at 7. He didn't actually have to be back at West Point until tomorrow, but as much as we would have enjoyed one more day with him, it was going to cost $500 to change his ticket, and as it develops, even outside of the $ factor, there are some definite advantages to giving yourself some margin. It definitely cuts down on the stress when
M and I left the house today at 4:20. AM. to catch the first flight of his trip, leaving at 7. He didn't actually have to be back at West Point until tomorrow, but as much as we would have enjoyed one more day with him, it was going to cost $500 to change his ticket, and as it develops, even outside of the $ factor, there are some definite advantages to giving yourself some margin. It definitely cuts down on the stress when
- you just commented on the great traveling conditions: good weather, good road, bare minimum of traffic, and suddenly you have to slam on the brakes when you come upon a sea of red lights on the road in front of you, and a whole herd of 18-wheelers and assorted other vehicles bring you to a complete standstill, with the only movement on the scene coming from one emergency vehicle after another screeching its way to somewhere down the road ahead of you, and you end up creating your own ramp to escape the interstate. Adventure driving at its finest. Just as you pull up to the feeder road, two more ambulances whiz by barely giving you time to stop, and then as you cruise down the access road toward the stoplight, you get a look at the cause of all the commotion: a dead 18-wheeler flat on its back, bellowing smoke into the night, sprawled across all southbound lanes of the interstate, attended by a host of ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks. And then just for good measure, the stop light holds you up for a good half hour. Ok, maybe not that long, but at least long enough to convince you to "run" the light. Or when
- you make it the airport with still enough time to make your flight (unlike the hapless wannabe passengers at the kiosk next to you who are firmly informed by the friendly computer that "It is too late to check in for your flight."), but then you run into an ignorant, overly-zealous security guard whose disdain for the military is blatantly obvious, causing him to direct you into a safe little glass cubicle where he abandons you until he gets good and ready to make an example of you to the airport at large, waving his little magic wand up and down your body, and then patting you vigorously up the front and down the back, making sure you stay put by holding your shoes hostage, and letting you go with barely enough time to make the "last call" for your flight, thus ensuring that you will not have time to file a complaint against him. And then
- you make it back to West Point a day ahead of your roommates, allowing you to choose your bed and your desk, register your phone, set up your computer, grab a laundry cart (uncontested) so you can move all of your stuff in one trip, no hurries, no worries; and the next day when the rest of the corps, suffering delayed flights and missed connections and other travel perils comes dragging in, you have a nice, leisurely day on your agenda, while theirs is overloaded with anxiety and stress, and they still have to move in and unpack.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
A Good Day!
We got up this morning to rain and rain and more rain ~ shaping up to be a great day! Except for two dark heavy clouds hanging over us. Oh, wait, bad metaphor. I love clouds...
#1 seriously big bad brain-consuming event coming up this morning: M's last two minutes of hell. Well, boxing hell at any rate. M was scheduled for his last graded bout of the course this morning at 11. He was on profile for his broken nose, so he would be boxing with a cage on his face. The nose and the cheeks are natural shock absorbers that protect the brain from a blow, so the bad thing about boxing in a cage is that, ironically, to protect the face is to expose the brain.
We spent the morning with one eye on the clock, waiting to hear the all-clear from our boy. We were in MoreMart when we got a text message: "I'm alive." YES!!! We figured if he had gotten knocked out he wouldn't have been able to text, so...we'll take it. He told us later that he will get a good, strong B for the course.
#2 "cloud" of the day was my dentist appointment which has been hanging over my head for weeks. It was just for a cleaning, but...I have had some teeth *issues* and I was afraid of some kind of dental nightmare on the horizon. It was my first visit to this dentist, and the first time I have had my teeth cleaned by the big guy himself; no hygienist in that office. Dr. S was sorta talkative. I never know if I should try to respond when a dentist talks to me. Am I rude if I don't? Anyway. The good news is everything is perfect in my mouth. My teeth are as perfect as my eyes. The other news is that there is no explanation for all those things going on in my mouth. I'm guessing it's all in my head.
So: good end to boxing; good report from the dentist; and, of course, rain, rain, rain. All is well and very well in my empty-nested world.
All in all, a good day!
#1 seriously big bad brain-consuming event coming up this morning: M's last two minutes of hell. Well, boxing hell at any rate. M was scheduled for his last graded bout of the course this morning at 11. He was on profile for his broken nose, so he would be boxing with a cage on his face. The nose and the cheeks are natural shock absorbers that protect the brain from a blow, so the bad thing about boxing in a cage is that, ironically, to protect the face is to expose the brain.
We spent the morning with one eye on the clock, waiting to hear the all-clear from our boy. We were in MoreMart when we got a text message: "I'm alive." YES!!! We figured if he had gotten knocked out he wouldn't have been able to text, so...we'll take it. He told us later that he will get a good, strong B for the course.
#2 "cloud" of the day was my dentist appointment which has been hanging over my head for weeks. It was just for a cleaning, but...I have had some teeth *issues* and I was afraid of some kind of dental nightmare on the horizon. It was my first visit to this dentist, and the first time I have had my teeth cleaned by the big guy himself; no hygienist in that office. Dr. S was sorta talkative. I never know if I should try to respond when a dentist talks to me. Am I rude if I don't? Anyway. The good news is everything is perfect in my mouth. My teeth are as perfect as my eyes. The other news is that there is no explanation for all those things going on in my mouth. I'm guessing it's all in my head.
So: good end to boxing; good report from the dentist; and, of course, rain, rain, rain. All is well and very well in my empty-nested world.
All in all, a good day!
Monday, October 13, 2008
M Transformed?
Not really.
We had been warned over and over to expect changes in our boy the first time we saw him. Good changes. He'll be more grown up, more confident, more mature, we were told. So when he surprised us on our doorstep two weeks ago, we really weren't sure what to expect. The first thing we noticed was that he was taller. Really? We finally decided that was due mainly to his uniform: the gig line and the stripe down the outside of the leg and the high waistline. And maybe he did stand just a wee bit taller in his handsome uniform. But different...?
I wish we could have talked more, but time was short, friends and family were many, and there was only the one M to share, but it was more than we had expected, so...can't complain.
It was enough time to interrogate him~in a friendly way~about his new life: Do you like it? Is it what you expected? Do you "fit in" there? Do you feel comfortable there? "At home"? Are you learning anything? What are you learning? How do you feel about what you are learning? It was a good conversation.
It was enough to be sure, in case I didn't already know, that M has what it takes. He is learning a lot. Some things are being taught, some caught. Some direct teaching, some not so direct. Some things good, some bad. He is well-grounded and confident. But he was already that way before he went. He knows how to take the lesson and spit out the bones, and he will take advantage of every opportunity.
It was enough to hear about life in the Army: platoon leaders, sergeants, TAC's, formations, battalions, companies, classes, projects, section trips, authos, knowledge, SAMI's and WAMI's, duties, TEE's....
It was enough to hear how reality measures up to anticipation and expectation.
Of the three days M was here, every day was my favorite. He may be packaged a bit differently, but he is still our own M, and not a day goes by that he's not missing from my life.
We had been warned over and over to expect changes in our boy the first time we saw him. Good changes. He'll be more grown up, more confident, more mature, we were told. So when he surprised us on our doorstep two weeks ago, we really weren't sure what to expect. The first thing we noticed was that he was taller. Really? We finally decided that was due mainly to his uniform: the gig line and the stripe down the outside of the leg and the high waistline. And maybe he did stand just a wee bit taller in his handsome uniform. But different...?
I wish we could have talked more, but time was short, friends and family were many, and there was only the one M to share, but it was more than we had expected, so...can't complain.
It was enough time to interrogate him~in a friendly way~about his new life: Do you like it? Is it what you expected? Do you "fit in" there? Do you feel comfortable there? "At home"? Are you learning anything? What are you learning? How do you feel about what you are learning? It was a good conversation.
It was enough to be sure, in case I didn't already know, that M has what it takes. He is learning a lot. Some things are being taught, some caught. Some direct teaching, some not so direct. Some things good, some bad. He is well-grounded and confident. But he was already that way before he went. He knows how to take the lesson and spit out the bones, and he will take advantage of every opportunity.
It was enough to hear about life in the Army: platoon leaders, sergeants, TAC's, formations, battalions, companies, classes, projects, section trips, authos, knowledge, SAMI's and WAMI's, duties, TEE's....
It was enough to hear how reality measures up to anticipation and expectation.
Of the three days M was here, every day was my favorite. He may be packaged a bit differently, but he is still our own M, and not a day goes by that he's not missing from my life.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
It Rains It Pours
I was babysitting and cleaning the kitchen and starting lunch for the little girls when the phone rang. I am always tempted to ignore the phone when the caller ID says "unknown caller," but I have learned that I ignore it at my own peril. Of course, I answer it at my own peril as well. No doubt about it, even in the age of caller ID, answering the phone is a crap shoot. But I digress.
The stove was sizzling, the water was running, the microwave was beeping, the little girls were crying (and I wasn't far from it myself), and suddenly the phone was ringing. I took a chance and answered it, and there was M!
Normally that is cause for sheer delight, but this time... It was the hesitation and the tone of voice and my instant gut feeling, but *something* was wrong. It was another one of those "Mom, I'm OK" calls I got from S not so long ago.
This one said, "Mom I broke my nose. I'm going to the hospital to have it set at 3:00." Oh, no, nooo, NOOOOO, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" I see a disturbing pattern developing here, and I am hating boxing more and more by the minute (Is that even possible?). M was supposed to have had almost a week to recuperate from his not-quite-dislocated jaw before his next graded bout, but today he got pulled to make up the bout he missed while debating at Smith College a couple of weeks ago.
He had a few minutes to talk, and he informed me he is absolutely determined to finish this class, even if it means...well, what more could it mean now? A concussion? I hate to even imagine. But I am with him. Dropping out, or being dropped by the doctor, even at this late date, with only one 2-minute bout to go, would mean he would have to take the whole nine-week class all over again. It would mean his non/dislocated jaw and his broken nose didn't even count, and that just isn't happening if he has any say whatsoever about it. Two more minutes of excruciating pain vs. nine more weeks of misery and agony...well, there's really no contest.
Next stop Keller Hospital. He was in and out of there so fast, my head was spinning. 3:00 appointment and he was calling at 3:40 to say he was already out. The doctor numbed his face a bit (but not enough) and manhandled his nose back into place; then offered him a splint for his nose (?) even while commenting that he didn't think it would help any, so that was easy enough to turn down. After all, he is going to debate at Harvard tomorrow, and how geeky would that look?!
So. Here's the prognosis: "If you can't breathe in three or four months, come back to discuss possible surgery." And meanwhile, the doctor was kind (well, kind-ish) enough to put him on profile, meaning that he will be allowed/ordered to wear a cage for his last two minutes ofhell graded boxing next Tuesday. And that will be that. As far as boxing, that is. Still to come: military movement, close quarters combat , knife-fighting (ACK!!!), unarmed combatives, and who knows what other evil surprises lurking in the shadows.
The hits just keep on coming....
The stove was sizzling, the water was running, the microwave was beeping, the little girls were crying (and I wasn't far from it myself), and suddenly the phone was ringing. I took a chance and answered it, and there was M!
Normally that is cause for sheer delight, but this time... It was the hesitation and the tone of voice and my instant gut feeling, but *something* was wrong. It was another one of those "Mom, I'm OK" calls I got from S not so long ago.
This one said, "Mom I broke my nose. I'm going to the hospital to have it set at 3:00." Oh, no, nooo, NOOOOO, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" I see a disturbing pattern developing here, and I am hating boxing more and more by the minute (Is that even possible?). M was supposed to have had almost a week to recuperate from his not-quite-dislocated jaw before his next graded bout, but today he got pulled to make up the bout he missed while debating at Smith College a couple of weeks ago.
He had a few minutes to talk, and he informed me he is absolutely determined to finish this class, even if it means...well, what more could it mean now? A concussion? I hate to even imagine. But I am with him. Dropping out, or being dropped by the doctor, even at this late date, with only one 2-minute bout to go, would mean he would have to take the whole nine-week class all over again. It would mean his non/dislocated jaw and his broken nose didn't even count, and that just isn't happening if he has any say whatsoever about it. Two more minutes of excruciating pain vs. nine more weeks of misery and agony...well, there's really no contest.
Next stop Keller Hospital. He was in and out of there so fast, my head was spinning. 3:00 appointment and he was calling at 3:40 to say he was already out. The doctor numbed his face a bit (but not enough) and manhandled his nose back into place; then offered him a splint for his nose (?) even while commenting that he didn't think it would help any, so that was easy enough to turn down. After all, he is going to debate at Harvard tomorrow, and how geeky would that look?!
So. Here's the prognosis: "If you can't breathe in three or four months, come back to discuss possible surgery." And meanwhile, the doctor was kind (well, kind-ish) enough to put him on profile, meaning that he will be allowed/ordered to wear a cage for his last two minutes of
The hits just keep on coming....
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
WAAAAAH Burger and French Cries
That's it. Party's over. M needs to come home now. I know, I know...he's a big boy.
It seems that he has dislocated his jaw. From a bout in boxing. And he did not even tell the teacher, but he did take himself to the school nurse's office, where he found that they are not allowed to touch jaws, so instead they referred him to dental sick call or something for early tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, he can't really open his mouth big enough to eat, so he put himself on a diet of canned soup (no soup in the dining hall) and Pringles (has to suck them), and he is limiting his talking.
He will be getting a decent grade in boxing, but, Oh My! I am just happy that it will be over with for him next week.
M detests boxing. Thank goodness. But he did sign up for West Point, and when you sign up for West Point, you sign up for a six-week course in boxing. At least if you are a male you do. I had no idea...
So...what do you think we have here? Nothing other than one more case of Kid's dream = Mom's nightmare.
It seems that he has dislocated his jaw. From a bout in boxing. And he did not even tell the teacher, but he did take himself to the school nurse's office, where he found that they are not allowed to touch jaws, so instead they referred him to dental sick call or something for early tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, he can't really open his mouth big enough to eat, so he put himself on a diet of canned soup (no soup in the dining hall) and Pringles (has to suck them), and he is limiting his talking.
He will be getting a decent grade in boxing, but, Oh My! I am just happy that it will be over with for him next week.
M detests boxing. Thank goodness. But he did sign up for West Point, and when you sign up for West Point, you sign up for a six-week course in boxing. At least if you are a male you do. I had no idea...
So...what do you think we have here? Nothing other than one more case of Kid's dream = Mom's nightmare.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
TAMU Coming Up!
All set for our first look at our boy since R-Day! M was one of the *selected* to attend the Army/Texas A&M football game right here in TEXAS, only two hours (or so) away!!! So, Lucky Us!!! (Just imagine ~ $60 a ticket...They'd have to pay me a lot more than that!)
What an ordeal...but finally we are all ready to go. Well, besides the packing and loading. But that part's the easy part. It's figuring out what to pack and where to go that takes up all the brain power: hotel shopping and schedule coordinating, with only the scarcest bit of information...
We are learning that when it comes to planning, it's all about the last minute. Maybe that's part of the grand scheme of teaching cadets to be flexible and think on their feet ~ all well and good for them, but I didn't join up. On second thought, maybe I did... When I signed on to be the mom those oh-so-many years ago, it appears that I was also, unknowingly, signing up for a great many things I never even heard of before, and every now and then another new one pops up to haunt me. But, as they say today, "It's all good." And it really is.
We booked this Patel hotel sight unseen, so I can't really vouch for the place. According to the online reviews, it is a "good, basic hotel, and clean, with a MoreMart next door and a McD's down the street." So far so good.
But you know what? I don't care if it's the Black Hole of Calcutta or if it looks like that purple hotel where we once-upon-a-time stayed in San Antonio. I don't care if it's good enough for Edgar Allen Poe. All of our kidlets will be there, including the one we have not seen in almost three months. What more could we possibly want?
What an ordeal...but finally we are all ready to go. Well, besides the packing and loading. But that part's the easy part. It's figuring out what to pack and where to go that takes up all the brain power: hotel shopping and schedule coordinating, with only the scarcest bit of information...
We are learning that when it comes to planning, it's all about the last minute. Maybe that's part of the grand scheme of teaching cadets to be flexible and think on their feet ~ all well and good for them, but I didn't join up. On second thought, maybe I did... When I signed on to be the mom those oh-so-many years ago, it appears that I was also, unknowingly, signing up for a great many things I never even heard of before, and every now and then another new one pops up to haunt me. But, as they say today, "It's all good." And it really is.
We booked this Patel hotel sight unseen, so I can't really vouch for the place. According to the online reviews, it is a "good, basic hotel, and clean, with a MoreMart next door and a McD's down the street." So far so good.
But you know what? I don't care if it's the Black Hole of Calcutta or if it looks like that purple hotel where we once-upon-a-time stayed in San Antonio. I don't care if it's good enough for Edgar Allen Poe. All of our kidlets will be there, including the one we have not seen in almost three months. What more could we possibly want?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
West Point Makes the Grade
Earlier this month The Princeton Review placed West Point in the Top Ten of all American colleges in the areas of "most accessible professors," "best classroom experience" (whatever that means), and "most to do on campus " (not that anyone actually has time to do it). Other accolades include: small class size (10-19 students), Honor Code system, great academic and athletic facilities, safe campus environment, and great career services.
A week or so later Forbes joined in, ranking West Point as the sixth best college and best public college in the nation, citing quality of education and achievement of students.
West Point: ". . . the finest. . .educational experience in America." Imagine that!
A week or so later Forbes joined in, ranking West Point as the sixth best college and best public college in the nation, citing quality of education and achievement of students.
West Point: ". . . the finest. . .educational experience in America." Imagine that!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
A Day
CBT is officially over and the cadoodles are officially cadets. I am so proud of my boy. My only regret is that I didn't get to see it.
I checked the USMA website in hopes that there would be a live stream of the parade, but no such luck. Or maybe I am not tech-y enough to find it. That's a definite possibility. In any event, I will soon be back to haunting Plebe Net for pictures and videos from the families that were able to go, and *Where's Waldo?* should be in full swing again before long.
D called this morning, and just as we were about to hang up, the other phone started to ring. When I saw M's picture on the caller id I grabbed it right up~ Hello, hello, HELLO? No one was there! WAAAAAHH!!!! I immediately called him back, but no answer. So much for Verizon's good reception at West Point... But a little bit later I was checking gmail, and there was my boy!!! So, all is well in my empty-nested world.
After IM-ing with him for a bit, I am thinking that maybe it is just as well we didn't get to go. He was planning on hitting a couple of the many picnics/events he/we was/were invited to, and then taking a nap, a heretofore barely-contemplated luxury. And of course he will have "ESP" tomorrow: Evening Study Period (not, as I surmised, the well known sports channel ). Had we been there, he almost surely would have missed his nap, and I think he sorely needs one.
So... Happy Napping, M! It may be your last one for another while. The race is on!
I checked the USMA website in hopes that there would be a live stream of the parade, but no such luck. Or maybe I am not tech-y enough to find it. That's a definite possibility. In any event, I will soon be back to haunting Plebe Net for pictures and videos from the families that were able to go, and *Where's Waldo?* should be in full swing again before long.
D called this morning, and just as we were about to hang up, the other phone started to ring. When I saw M's picture on the caller id I grabbed it right up~ Hello, hello, HELLO? No one was there! WAAAAAHH!!!! I immediately called him back, but no answer. So much for Verizon's good reception at West Point... But a little bit later I was checking gmail, and there was my boy!!! So, all is well in my empty-nested world.
After IM-ing with him for a bit, I am thinking that maybe it is just as well we didn't get to go. He was planning on hitting a couple of the many picnics/events he/we was/were invited to, and then taking a nap, a heretofore barely-contemplated luxury. And of course he will have "ESP" tomorrow: Evening Study Period (not, as I surmised, the well known sports channel ). Had we been there, he almost surely would have missed his nap, and I think he sorely needs one.
So... Happy Napping, M! It may be your last one for another while. The race is on!
Monday, August 18, 2008
The March Back
They're back, intact! The class of 2012, "For More Than Ourselves."
Today won the prize for the biggest surprise.
I was in MoreMart, on the phone in consult with C about which shoes to get BB3 for his birthday. After the shoe business was concluded, C asked me if we would hear from M today. We have been warned repeatedly that the cadoodles will be busy, busy, busy moving in, standing in line, and generally getting *squared away* for school to start on Thursday, so I told her we should not expect to hear anything until the weekend. And then I hung up.
And immediately the phone rang again. It was M!!!!! Back from Buckner, all in one piece and happy. Tired, exhausted, with a whole crop of new blisters which fortunately did not appear until the very end, but definitely happy. Proud. And accomplished.
When I got home I immediately signed in with Plebe Net to check for new Waldo sightings. "Where's Waldo" has slowed down to almost non-existent the last few weeks, due not to any lack of interest on my part, but rather to the fact that I have studiously inspected every picture on the internet and there are no more Waldos to be found. Now with the passing of the March Back and with the advent of A Day, I expect to be back on full-time duty with the Waldo hunters again soon. I have only had a glance through the new crop of pictures posted so far, and alas, no Waldo has been revealed, but the game is young, and there are many more pictures to come.
One remarkable thing I noticed, though: Among the 100's and 100's of cadoodles coming home to West Point, there are big smiles on many, many, many of the faces. What a striking difference from R Day, when there was only fear and apprehension on every face, including those of the parents and other spectators. What a wondrous change West Point has wrought. In *only* seven weeks of Beast Barracks, a bunch of mostly scared, uncertain new cadets was transformed into a band of confident survivors, and I stand, once again, in total admiration.
So 2008 CBT joins the legends of West Point, and now on to the next challenge.
That officer lady, back in that other reality of R Day, was right: They have what it takes.
Today won the prize for the biggest surprise.
I was in MoreMart, on the phone in consult with C about which shoes to get BB3 for his birthday. After the shoe business was concluded, C asked me if we would hear from M today. We have been warned repeatedly that the cadoodles will be busy, busy, busy moving in, standing in line, and generally getting *squared away* for school to start on Thursday, so I told her we should not expect to hear anything until the weekend. And then I hung up.
And immediately the phone rang again. It was M!!!!! Back from Buckner, all in one piece and happy. Tired, exhausted, with a whole crop of new blisters which fortunately did not appear until the very end, but definitely happy. Proud. And accomplished.
When I got home I immediately signed in with Plebe Net to check for new Waldo sightings. "Where's Waldo" has slowed down to almost non-existent the last few weeks, due not to any lack of interest on my part, but rather to the fact that I have studiously inspected every picture on the internet and there are no more Waldos to be found. Now with the passing of the March Back and with the advent of A Day, I expect to be back on full-time duty with the Waldo hunters again soon. I have only had a glance through the new crop of pictures posted so far, and alas, no Waldo has been revealed, but the game is young, and there are many more pictures to come.
One remarkable thing I noticed, though: Among the 100's and 100's of cadoodles coming home to West Point, there are big smiles on many, many, many of the faces. What a striking difference from R Day, when there was only fear and apprehension on every face, including those of the parents and other spectators. What a wondrous change West Point has wrought. In *only* seven weeks of Beast Barracks, a bunch of mostly scared, uncertain new cadets was transformed into a band of confident survivors, and I stand, once again, in total admiration.
So 2008 CBT joins the legends of West Point, and now on to the next challenge.
That officer lady, back in that other reality of R Day, was right: They have what it takes.
Monday, August 11, 2008
One Last Beastly Phone Call
Saturday was the day we got our highly anticipated last phone call from Beast Barracks after three days on high alert ~ Three days of non-stop phonesitting. Three days carrying the phone in my pocket. Three days not doing anything I could not drop to answer the phone. Three days of sleeping with my phone ~ well, not the sleeping part... But yes to the rest of it. Three full days of waiting and anticipation, but in our new world of empty-nestedness stretching out as far as the eye can see or imagine...what's three days?
Today, the cadoodles are being flown out on helicopters to the last week of Beast Barracks. They have already packed up their old rooms; everything not going with them has been taken to the trunk room to await their return at the conclusion of cadet basic training.
Next week they will march back to post and move into their new rooms to begin the academic year and their new lives as "cadets," "new cadets" no longer.
The end is near. And the beginning.
Today, the cadoodles are being flown out on helicopters to the last week of Beast Barracks. They have already packed up their old rooms; everything not going with them has been taken to the trunk room to await their return at the conclusion of cadet basic training.
Next week they will march back to post and move into their new rooms to begin the academic year and their new lives as "cadets," "new cadets" no longer.
The end is near. And the beginning.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
More Fun @ Beast Barracks
- Don't sign up for the Army, no matter how much they smile.
- Scaling a 75-foot cliff is not easy in boots.
- M knows how to make a one-rope bridge. In case anyone at home needs one.
- Rappelling down a 75-foot wall is too short. They will not let you go again.
- Rappelling in the rain = GREAT!
- The girl from E totally flat-turtled on the cliffs. Like twice.
- Prickly heat on the back is NOT fun.
- Omnipresent and omniworsening shinsplints lead to ibuprofen.
- A hole in your protective gear can sear your neck.
- Tear gas smells like being really close to a huge bottle of clorox. x10 or so.
- We thought a pear was a big deal? M ate a BANANA. TWICE!
- Piano playing is a rare treat.
- Nc's take their new M-16's everywhere.
- M was accepted in the Cadet Chapel Choir.
- There are no picky eaters at Beast.
- M was *referred* to the Glee Club. Wow...referred...Sounds official, doesn't it?
- Near the stairs is not a good place to faint/pass out.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Midway and More
Halfway through Beast Barracks, and the hotly anticipated Ice Cream Social has joined the ranks of West Point memories. But it's actually more than halfway over. Four weeks finished, three weeks to go. It really is going fast, even for M.
Ever since we got on board for West Point we have been looking forward to our phone call from the legendary Ice Cream Social. It had been drilled into us that we would have ten minutes to talk to our nc, if we were lucky: there could be ten other nc's waiting for their turn; there could be one oh-so-homesick nc that might go past his ten minutes into your nc's ten minutes; or your kind-hearted, well-adjusted nc might donate his call altogether to someone that needs it more than he does; or your nc might be the one that is so homesick he is afraid to get on the phone and break down; or, yours could be the one that sleeps the afternoon away and never calls at all. How easy it is to borrow trouble!
But all that worrisome speculation was for naught, because not only did our boy call, his 10-minute call was a 45-minute call! We listened fast, in anticipation of some 'higher' counting down his minutes, but time kept passing and we kept talking. Maybe this was an exchange for the abbreviated 90-second goodbye we didn't get on R-Day...?
We had already been coached to listen much and say little, and we mostly complied, though every now and then I could not help asking him a question, and gentleman that he is, he would stop what he was saying. Then we would waste a few minutes trading a few "go aheads" before we would get back on track. It's a hard thing to cram weeks of missed daily conversations into one phone call, even a 45-minute one, so a lot of things went unasked and unsaid, but before we hung up, M opened the call for questions, of which we had many.
Later we discovered email from him, also written at the Ice Cream Social. How very accommodating of his host/sponsor, and how thankful we are.
Now that The Call is behind us, we have one more ten-minute call to look forward to in two weeks, and then A-Day, after which he will be allowed to rejoin the unlimited world of e-communication.
Meanwhile, things here are oh-so-quiet, except for the days when the Blue-Eyed Boy comes and fills the spaces. This empty nest thing is pretty, well....empty....
Ever since we got on board for West Point we have been looking forward to our phone call from the legendary Ice Cream Social. It had been drilled into us that we would have ten minutes to talk to our nc, if we were lucky: there could be ten other nc's waiting for their turn; there could be one oh-so-homesick nc that might go past his ten minutes into your nc's ten minutes; or your kind-hearted, well-adjusted nc might donate his call altogether to someone that needs it more than he does; or your nc might be the one that is so homesick he is afraid to get on the phone and break down; or, yours could be the one that sleeps the afternoon away and never calls at all. How easy it is to borrow trouble!
But all that worrisome speculation was for naught, because not only did our boy call, his 10-minute call was a 45-minute call! We listened fast, in anticipation of some 'higher' counting down his minutes, but time kept passing and we kept talking. Maybe this was an exchange for the abbreviated 90-second goodbye we didn't get on R-Day...?
We had already been coached to listen much and say little, and we mostly complied, though every now and then I could not help asking him a question, and gentleman that he is, he would stop what he was saying. Then we would waste a few minutes trading a few "go aheads" before we would get back on track. It's a hard thing to cram weeks of missed daily conversations into one phone call, even a 45-minute one, so a lot of things went unasked and unsaid, but before we hung up, M opened the call for questions, of which we had many.
Later we discovered email from him, also written at the Ice Cream Social. How very accommodating of his host/sponsor, and how thankful we are.
Now that The Call is behind us, we have one more ten-minute call to look forward to in two weeks, and then A-Day, after which he will be allowed to rejoin the unlimited world of e-communication.
Meanwhile, things here are oh-so-quiet, except for the days when the Blue-Eyed Boy comes and fills the spaces. This empty nest thing is pretty, well....empty....
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
A Red Letter Day!
Today we hit the Mother Lode: three letters from M! Well, one of them was for someone else, but still. We were completely delighted just seeing his name in the mailbox. After hearing not a word for over a week, any news is good news.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Two Weeks In
M begins his third week as a new cadet at West Point today. We are utterly proud of him, but not a day goes by that we don't miss him. This week, according to the supe's briefing, they have mountaineering, "mask confidence chamber," and "leader reaction course."
I mailed his packages today, in bubble envelopes. Hopefully they will be small/flexible enough to stuff in his mailbox so he won't have to try to figure out how to get to the post office to pick them up during regular hours.
This morning during my "Where's Waldo?" search, I found two possible pictures. When looking at these mystery pictures, it is important to look at the "big picture" along with other features, and not just the face.
The first picture showed a new cadet in the back of a truck wearing a helmet and sunglasses, so only the nose and mouth were visible. It looked a whole lot like S, but then, M looks a whole lot like S, so...? Possible. M has distinctively long fingers, so I checked the hands. What I could see looked promising, but one hand was sorta cupped around the other one, so I couldn't really tell. M also has long feet, so next I checked out the boots. As much as I wanted it to be my boy, the feet didn't look exactly like size 15's, but they were wearing those camel-colored combat boots, and as I am not yet an expert on those, I still couldn't really tell. So...my final call on this picture is: A Definite Maybe.
The second picture was much more straightforward. There is a group of new cadets standing in formation, apparently sipping out of their camel back waterers. Either that or talking on their cell phones, but that doesn't seem likely. My nc possible is, of course, the only one whose face is not clearly visible, but, I must say, the ear and the neck and the back of the head that I can see look like a pretty good bet!
While I can't say with any degree of certainty today, there is always tomorrow; and there is one thing I know for sure: the search will go on.
I mailed his packages today, in bubble envelopes. Hopefully they will be small/flexible enough to stuff in his mailbox so he won't have to try to figure out how to get to the post office to pick them up during regular hours.
This morning during my "Where's Waldo?" search, I found two possible pictures. When looking at these mystery pictures, it is important to look at the "big picture" along with other features, and not just the face.
The first picture showed a new cadet in the back of a truck wearing a helmet and sunglasses, so only the nose and mouth were visible. It looked a whole lot like S, but then, M looks a whole lot like S, so...? Possible. M has distinctively long fingers, so I checked the hands. What I could see looked promising, but one hand was sorta cupped around the other one, so I couldn't really tell. M also has long feet, so next I checked out the boots. As much as I wanted it to be my boy, the feet didn't look exactly like size 15's, but they were wearing those camel-colored combat boots, and as I am not yet an expert on those, I still couldn't really tell. So...my final call on this picture is: A Definite Maybe.
The second picture was much more straightforward. There is a group of new cadets standing in formation, apparently sipping out of their camel back waterers. Either that or talking on their cell phones, but that doesn't seem likely. My nc possible is, of course, the only one whose face is not clearly visible, but, I must say, the ear and the neck and the back of the head that I can see look like a pretty good bet!
While I can't say with any degree of certainty today, there is always tomorrow; and there is one thing I know for sure: the search will go on.
Friday, July 11, 2008
News From The Front
Wednesday we were blessed with a letter! It's what we've all been waiting for! Apparently written over several days, and it may take several more days to decipher, written as it was, on the run in the dark. At least that's what it looks like.
On Thursday C got a letter, and we got a surprise phone call! We were expecting one this weekend, between July 11th and July 13th, according to the supe. I asked M if this was the weekend call, and he had no idea what I was talking about, so I assume it was. But, just in case it wasn't, I will make sure to carry the cell phone with me wherever I go this weekend.
And today another surprise: a video email! The quality wasn't the best, but it was our boy~YES!~complete with what looks like a poke in the eye. But he never mentioned anything like that, so either it's just a shadow or something on the video, or more likely, something he deems not worthy of mention.
Some highlights of life at Beast Barracks:
At home we keep the internet hot playing "Where's Waldo?" daily. Well...hourly, if you want to know, and we actually find him from time to time. We all feel better getting to see him. He really is ok!
Already his 47 months is down to 46 months and 2 weeks. I wonder if it is going as fast for him as it is for us?
Just like that officer lectured on R-Day, just like we expected...He has what it takes...
On Thursday C got a letter, and we got a surprise phone call! We were expecting one this weekend, between July 11th and July 13th, according to the supe. I asked M if this was the weekend call, and he had no idea what I was talking about, so I assume it was. But, just in case it wasn't, I will make sure to carry the cell phone with me wherever I go this weekend.
And today another surprise: a video email! The quality wasn't the best, but it was our boy~YES!~complete with what looks like a poke in the eye. But he never mentioned anything like that, so either it's just a shadow or something on the video, or more likely, something he deems not worthy of mention.
Some highlights of life at Beast Barracks:
- One of his friends from home is in his company. She is doing well, in spite of a burn on her finger;
- His other friend from home is in a different company, but he sees him at Chaplain's Time, and they sit together in church;
- He "lucked out" with his company/platoon/squad, and he likes his roommate;
- He was sooooo hungry he ate a pear! Just the thought brought gales of laughter from all of us!
- He has NO blisters!
- It's tough, but he is proud and happy to be there. Well, happy-ish, but definitely proud;
- He has been able to try out for chapel choir;
- He passed all his physical tests;
- Barbecued chicken (even with bones) for 4th of July.
At home we keep the internet hot playing "Where's Waldo?" daily. Well...hourly, if you want to know, and we actually find him from time to time. We all feel better getting to see him. He really is ok!
Already his 47 months is down to 46 months and 2 weeks. I wonder if it is going as fast for him as it is for us?
Just like that officer lectured on R-Day, just like we expected...He has what it takes...
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