Arlington National Cemetary

I drove to Arlington National Cemetery to go to a burial of a wonderful person. It was for Frank, my good friend Tami’s step-father. He was a retired lieutenant colonel and also a great supporter of our troops when we were at Fort Irwin, California.

He died a horrible death of pancreatic cancer at age 66. As sad as this was, it was fortunate for him that Tami’s mom was his wife, Sally, an educated nurse and was with him through all of his illness. She was his advocate at the hospital and his caregiver at home. They were a couple who loved each other and lived “to death do us part”.

Frank succumbed on Christmas Day. Beholding to his wishes, Sally arranged the burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Burial there is not quick as there are so many people in the queue that were in front of Frank. Sally was told that the burial would be on February 24th.

I heard about the burial from a few mutual friends that were flying in to be there for Tami and her family. I am less than four hours drive so could not say no. I knew I had to be there.

I drove in and parked and went to the center where we meet up and ran into Angela, our good friend, and former NFL cheerleader, who had met her husband on a USO tour (he’s a doctor and they met when another of the cheerleaders had collapsed while on the tour—that’s another terrific story). Also in attendance was our head dentist at Fort Irwin, now going to work for the Surgeon General in DC. Then there was me and also Jane and Dave, our head chaplain from Fort Irwin. All of us old friends just wanted to hug and touch each other. There is something very special about the bond among old friends.

I rode to the “gathering area” with Frank and Sally’s friends, Cliff and Pat, who we had gotten to know at Fort Irwin. They had come to the 11ACR Welcome Home ceremony, which Frank had contributed a good sum of money to make more successful.

Cliff and Pat told me about Frank’s last months and how strong Sally had been. They told me that after Frank had died and in the weeks where they were waiting to ship his body to Arlington, that Frank had a birthday. The coffin was still at the funeral home because Arlington can only accept the coffins two weeks out. Sally asked the funeral home if she could spend time with Frank (in his coffin) and they agreed. She brought a cupcake and spent hours at the side of the coffin. Upon hearing this, I began to cry. Imagine love this incredible.

The ceremony at Arlington is emotional. First, an Army band plays tributes. Then the coffin is put onto a horse drawn caisson. The soldiers loading the coffin are so strong and solemn. They make our country proud. Then the loved ones walk behind the caisson to the grave.

At the grave, words are said and the bugler plays taps. There is a 21 gun salute. The flag from the coffin is presented to Sally. She clutches it to her chest. The ceremony is over and we are dismissed. But no one moves. We all wait for Sally to lead. She can’t. She does not want to leave her husband. The coordinator tells us to each put a rose on the coffin as we leave. We all do this, but none of us leave, as Sally won’t. Finally, the coordinator tells us to go back to the reception area.

It’s over, the twelfth burial of the day at Arlington.

Moving Sucks

We arrived at Fort Monroe, Virginia last week after an 18 hour drive from Wisconsin. We decided to bring both cars and our walkie-talkies were already packed and shipped, so we bought new ones.

Bob led the way in the Volvo and I followed closely in the Jag, which hasn't been fixed since I hit the deer. It still has a patch of fur caught in the headlight, kind of like a soul patch.

I am not sure whether Bob forgot I was behind him or if he was trying to shake me, but he wound in and out of traffic and I kept getting pinched out. At one point, I was caught in between two cars in a two car lane. I'm sure they were wondering what the Jag with the soul patch was doing, so after that, they stayed far away from me. After that, Bob's voice came over the walkie-talkie, "That sure was a close one." Then he sped off.

Our house here at Monroe is a huge old house built in 1907. It has 4 fireplaces and a maid's quarters on the third floor. The ceilings are 12 feet high. None of my curtains will fit. That's okay, the house is on the water so the view should be unobstructed. It's a beautiful post, too bad it is getting shut down. At least we'll get the opportunity to live in one of the great old houses from the Army's past.

The movers came on Monday and delivered our goods. There was minimal damage, but a couple of gouges to some of the larger pieces. On the inventory slip, every thing we own was marked as scratched, dented, gouged, rubbed, and damaged. It kind of hurts your feelings. Bob told the guy doing the inventory that he'd like to go to his house and inventory his furniture.

One vanity was missing the pieces that hold the mirror on, but the mover called us from back in Wisconsin and said they were on his truck. He mailed them to us.

Then the movers left and we have to unpack and put our stuff away. It takes days as we have 250 boxes to unpack. Many of them were of full of items we don't display, but we keep because they are sentimental. Like the hundred wine glasses from the various military balls we've attended. The huge wooden clock with a tiger figure burned on it that we got after giving up command of Tiger Sqn. We have a plaque with a boars head that weighs 25 pounds. The hundreds of framed pictures of various events. They all get unwrapped, then put into boxes sent to the basement only to be repacked when we move again.

Facebook

In less than 3 months, I have become a Facebook addict.

It all began innocently. I was curious to see what an old friend was up to so did a google search. I found they had a kid with a Facebook account. In order to see the picture, I had to sign in to Facebook. Wella, I was suddenly getting emails from old friends. I became a committed member.

I spent the first day trying to figure it all out. And there were more friends appearing. Then on the right sidebar, I would see pictures of people I knew and all I had to do was click and type in some blurry words and if accepted, they were my friends.

Then I found my neice on there and she had over 300 friends. Now it was a competition --how could Auntie Jill be such a loser with only 30 friends? So I did a friend search and found more.

It has now become an obsession. I can't wait to log on to see what is new with all my friends and what new friends it recommends. There are some photos of "suggested" friends that appear so often, I feel I know them now and want to make them a friend.

I realize that as I look back on my life and the friends I've made, I can input their name into the search feature and find some of them. And that is what makes it so incredible. This week I found friends I haven't seen in 10-15 years and it was great to go to their photos and see how they look, how many kids they've had and well...just get misty-eyed.

Facebook also allows you to look at your friends' friends. Thus, there can be more connections.

I have invited a few close friends to join Facebook and two have and are also addicted. The others have chosen not to. When they email me and ask what's happening, I just want to scream. They would have access to all of that if they would join Facebook.

Gee, this sounds like an ad for Facebook. I'm Jill Cone and I approve this ad.

Mattress

What is up with getting a new mattress? It is so complicated. Why do there have to be 40 pillowtop styles all under one manufacturer? Then there is the plush style or the foam. Do you prefer organic foam? Latex?

I began the quest of choosing a new mattress a few days ago. Holy cow. They all begin to look the same. And the names are like those of champion dogs with six words or so to each mattress...the Simmons Black Beautyrest Margaritaville No Salt...and on and on.

It is recommended you lay on each on for five minutes to see if you like its comfort. When I walk into a furniture store and see a couple lying on the bed, I think they are freaks. It is just so much out of the comfort zone of normal people to lay on their back in a public place. I think it would be a good Candid Camera stunt to have a couple lay on a bed in a store for hours and see what the sales people do.

I laid on a bunch of mattresses (sideways across the bed feet on the floor) and they all felt okay to me. I got online and compared prices and read reviews. I finally settled on one that appealed to me because it had a great price to go along with the 15 inches of foam and latex. The price was slashed because it was a floor model. I think it will be great once I get over the thought that under my sheets and mattress pad could lay other people's dead skin cells.

Nighty-night.

The Talkative Mover

Most of our moving team are quiet hard-working guys. They say very little. This team packs the Green Bay Packers. One of the guys told me I had the most shoes he’s seen. He said one of the Green Bay Packers had almost as many shoes as me, with many of them being athletic shoes of the same brand in different colors. Bob complains that I have too many shoes and every time I buy a new pair he tells me to throw an old pair away. Bob heard the remark, so I’m sure I haven’t heard the last of that.

One of our movers is a chatterbox. He is a brand new employee and is going to be in sales, but was sent to our house to experience the packing first hand. I found him to be very interesting. Here are some of the things he told us about himself:

He used to own his own business, but three of his employees took the trade secrets, left the company, and became competitors. He couldn’t sue them as one of them was a lawyer and knew the ropes. He lost $1.4 million.

He sold his hunting shack, which had no running water or electricity, for $835,000. Paid in cash by the owner of a large Milwaukee welding business. He used that money to help settle his debt from the failed business.

He is 43 and just had his first child last summer. He was a stay at home dad until his savings account dwindled to $3,000.

He raises and trains Labradors.

He rebuilds classic cars.

He competes in extreme sports. Now, this came as a shock to me because he’s pretty fat and looks a bit dumpy.

He was one of the five original people who did the helicopter drop skiing. Three of the others went on to be famous.

He competed in motocross ice races. He also competes in cross country ski races of 50 km.

He took his Ford F350 out on the frozen lake and raced it, beating a real race car and ticking that driver off. As he was attempting to get off the ice, the front end of his truck fell through and he had to be towed out. $1100 damage to the truck.

He finished a ski competition in 1985 in the top ten in the country, so he tried out for the Olympic ski team, but did not make it.

He was a mountain guide for Mount Ranier. He was also on their Search & Rescue squad.

During one Search & Rescue, he brought back a dead body only to meet the widow at the bottom and had to notify her of her husband’s death.

He is a sea and whitewater kayaker. He took an expedition of kayakers to Mexico and hired a Mexican who lived in a hut to watch their vehicles and gear when they were out at sea. The Mexican he hired drank isopropyl alcohol, so they paid him in tequila.

He worked for Jansport and took a hiking expedition to Peru. There he introduced the mountain guides to a backpack with wide straps. The guides were used to strapping their packs using twine, which dug into their skin. They at first put the packs on upside down using the narrow part of the strap until he showed them the proper way to use the backpack. They were very grateful.

With all of his extreme sports, he cracked a disc in his spine and did not realize it until he sneezed one day and lost all sensation in his arms and legs. The disk snapped into his spinal cord. He now has it fused.

As a kid, he used to hang around the Green Bay Packers and would help clean their locker room.

His uncle was the priest that performed the marriage ceremony for Vince Lombardi’s daughter.

His cousin played football for the Green Bay Packers.

His dad used to own 154 Packers season tickets, but has pared down to 50.

He grew up on a 4,000 acre game farm where the Green Bay Packers used to hunt. They were not good shots.

During all this talk, all he got done was the packing of a couple of boxes. I told him he didn’t have to have eye contact when he talked because we’d never get our stuff packed out. When he left, I told Bob how amazing all of his exploits were and asked what he thought of him. Bob replied, “He’s a bullshitter.”