Cherry Blossoms

Bob and I were in DC Wednesday, peak time for the cherry blossoms. We drove down to the Tidal Basin area to see them. It was bedlam. People everywhere, horrible traffic, traffic lights weren’t working, and there was not one parking spot to be found. After an hour of driving around, we decided to head back to the hotel. As we entered the highway, I tried to snap a quick picture of the cherry blossoms from the road. I ended up with a close-up of the guard rail.

We ate an early dinner and I was lamenting that the day had such perfect weather and I was disappointed that I didn’t get some pictures of the cherry blossoms. Bob said, “Let’s take the Metro down there. We’ve got over an hour of daylight left.”

It was about a half-mile walk from the hotel to the Metro. We didn’t have a lot of small bills but didn’t want to put a $20 in the Metro ticket machine, because it gives change in those fake looking $1 gold coins. Bob put $5 on his card and I put $2 on mine.

We got on the Metro and asked a lady which stop would get us closest to the Tidal Basin. We got off at that stop and when I put my ticket in the machine to release me from the Metro, it would not take it. I asked the Metro cop why. He said I didn’t have enough money on my ticket. So I put the 85 cents I needed on and we were on our way. (And, yes, on the way home, we ended up with the gold dollar coins.)

Our hour of daylight was quickly evaporating as it took a half hour to get there and about 5 minutes to gather enough change to get out of the Metro station. The first thing we realized it that we had not gotten off at the closest Metro stop. We had to walk about a mile and a half to get to the Tidal Basin. By now we were in a very fast walk.

I wanted to jay walk and cut across grassy areas, but Bob would not cooperate. We had to stay on the sidewalks as the signs told us. We are in a slow jog and I am breathlessly complaining that we would be there by now if we just took my shortcuts. The sun is quickly dropping from the sky.

Bob suddenly stops and takes a picture of a random cherry tree. He explained that this was going to be the best we could do. By the time we got to the Tidal Basin, the sun had set. It was so beautiful but we were unable to capture it with a picture. Guess I’ll just have to buy a postcard

The Advice Giver

Yesterday, I had my hair done at an entirely new salon (for me it's new, but it’s been there 3 years). I told the owner that I liked the colors she chose for the walls, the items for sale, and the personnel (who were very friendly). I also told her she needed to move her awards to the front area of the salon and put her certifications and explanations of such on her website.

The owner of the salon asked me to please return because I brought so many laughs into the salon. (Maybe it was because I asked the man who was getting his hair cut if he used dye.) I found out from another patron that there are good furniture deals if I drive to North Carolina. I kind of broke one candle on display and when the owner said she’d have to mark it down to 50% off, I bought it. I told her I’d be back to break more things and buy them “on sale.” I love that salon.

Today, I went to look at granite for my house in Chesapeake and I met most of the crew and eventually the owners. The owners came into the room we were in because it sounded like a party. It was because we were telling funny stories and I have a loud laugh. Note to self: one day I may be able to get hired out for parties to make it seem like fun because of my laugh.

Once I met the owners, I had to tell them about the granite I liked, how terrific their employees were, what to think about in advertising, and how to reach people like me who do not know their established reputation because I have only lived here a month. I asked them what kind of houses they lived in, what kind of granite they had and why they didn’t hold a party for people like me to see it all.

One of the owners (they were brothers) walked me to my car (the Jag) and I asked him if he knew anyone who could fix it at a good price so my husband wouldn't get electrocuted in his attempt. He laughed, either at my comment or because there was still deer fur embedded in my headlight.

I suppose he could have been rude enough to give me advice like I did to him, but he did not. But I could read his mind…this car has been damaged since Thanksgiving and you still drive around this way?

The Inconsiderate Hostess

We have lived here for a month and we had our third set of houseguests last night. Last night’s guests were friends from Wisconsin. I told mom they were visiting and she said, “Don’t go overboard, but be good to them because their dad will spread it around town.”

Bob was out of town, so I was on my own.

The weather was beautiful so I suggested we go for a walk. After about a mile of walking, I noticed Kelly was limping. I asked her if she was okay and she said she had a bad disk in her back that made her leg go numb. Hmmm, I guess I should have found that out before beginning the walk. I wanted to carry her home, but she was a trooper.

We got back to the house and I opened the beer refrigerator and showed them the selection. Kelly doesn’t drink beer. So, I offered her any mixed drink that used grapefruit juice because that’s all I had.

For dinner I made pork tenderloin. I hadn’t thought to ask if they were vegetarians. Luckily, they weren’t. After dinner, we went out on the porch. We sat out there and talked until Kelly mentioned that she was freezing and could we please go in. I noticed it was already 9:00 so suggested we go to bed.

I got into bed, caught up on my emails, and turned on the tv. Damn, American Idol was on and Kelly and Rod and mentioned they really wanted to watch it. I shouldn’t have sent them to bed. I didn’t even think to tell them to make themselves at home. So, now I want to go and knock on their door and tell them that they can get up and watch American Idol if they want, but I am not sure that is a good idea.

In the morning, they hurried out of here. As they left, they told me what a nice hostess I was. Probably because they thought that if they didn’t, I’d make them write it on a chalkboard 100 times.

I wonder what mom will hear around town…that I force marched them, made weird mixed drinks, froze them out, and sent them to bed by 9:00 with no American Idol?

Props

When I was growing up, I had a mom who was different than my friends’ moms. I wanted her to be like June Cleaver, but that was never the case. At the time, I didn’t realize the terrific things I was learning from her. One of them was to always have a “prop” on hand. When she would travel with her girlfriends they would always bring large purses (to sneak beers into venues with), and a giant jock strap and giant bra (I am talking about 3 feet across). They would hang those in the hotel room (and eventually on the patio or window) to entertain passers by –and themselves.

My siblings and I have learned the art of the unexpected. When we go on a trip or to a game or concert, we always bring props. I think I was the first one to bring the D-Fence sign to Lambeau Field (I had seen it in Kansas City). At every game we attend, Bob rolls his eyes and asks what signs I’ve made or what props are in the bag.

At the Wisconsin State Fair last year, we brought crocheted shorts which I had been given as a gag gift when I left California. We sat down at a table and would call out to people walking by and ask them if they’d like to wear the shorts. These shorts were a huge hit. People wanted to buy them, but we would only allow them to try them on and photograph themselves in them. The fatter the person, the more the holes in the crochet would stretch. The shorts were baby blue with a pink ribbon and it was hilarious to see grown fat men squeezing into them. We became a side show at the Fair. And we were free.

In Vegas, my sisters brought a broom doll. She was posed all over the strip. She was even held up by a bunch of gangsters for a picture. She had her ‘foot’ run over by a taxi. She ended up being passed around the dance floor.

In Mexico, there was a horse I bought that they told me was hand carved wood. It turned out to be made of plaster and everywhere he went, he sustained more chips. We named him Chipper. He was photographed with people all over Mexico and southern Texas and ended up on stage with the live band on 6th Street in Austin. By then, Chipper had only a couple of legs left.

Now it’s Saint Patty’s Day and I have the Irish Nutcracker. He went with me to Williamsburg last week and he would talk to people (using the lever at the back of his head). The funny thing was that they would answer him and look him in the eyes. At times, he would yell at people, or faint, or just sing. Sometimes, he was rude to people.

Tomorrow is his holiday and he is going to go out and have some fun. I will accompany him. I will try to keep him under control, but this is his day so there’s no predicting how it will go.

Thanks, mom, for the great things you taught me.

Army Basic Training

We visited Fort Jackson last week and witnessed Army Basic Training up close. It was just amazing, these kids get there at all times of the day and night and the in-processing is open 24 hours. The Chow Hall is open until 2 am. By the time they go to bed, they already have a PT uniform.

On the first day of training, the new soldiers are taken to learn to rappel and do rope swings and climb rope bridges. There is a small rappel wall and that’s one I could do (I say that while standing safely on the ground). Once they learn that, they have to do the big rappel, which is about three stories high. They are scared, but they cheer each other on and gain confidence as they accomplish these feats. The end of the first day brings exhaustion, conquering mental and physical stress, and understanding the importance of teamwork.

The Drill Sergeants are amazing. They act more like coaches than abusive parents (which is what I was expecting). I asked one why he chose to volunteer to be a drill sergeant and he told me that his drill sergeant had made a huge difference in his life and he wanted to do that for others.

We also witnessed the training of how to put an IV catheter lock into a vein. The recruits partner up (they call each other battle buddies) and they are instructed on how to insert a catheter into a person’s vein. While we watched, the volunteer in the front of the room fainted as they were finding his vein, and one of the recruits mumbled, “This is reassuring.” I watched the recruits performing this task on one another and I could tell they were nervous. All of them said they would rather have it done to them than do it to another. But they don’t get a choice, they have to do both.

Some of the kids look fat, but the drill sergeants say that by the time the 10 weeks of training is done, they will look completely changed. I heard stories of recruits who had GEDs not because they had any intellectual problems, but because they had family hardships where they had to drop out of school to raise siblings or help sick parents. Those kids already know the meaning of sacrifice and the Army is lucky to get them.

At the end of the 10 weeks, there is a huge graduation and the stands are filled with very proud families. They cheer as if they are at a NASCAR race and they wave flags and signs and shout out the names of their soldier. I have been told that you will get goose bumps witnessing graduation.

Our old friends that we were stationed with in the early 90’s in Germany are there and we had dinner with them. First thing Brad says to me is, “Just leave me!” This was something I yelled in Amsterdam 15 years ago as we all sprinted to catch the train. I was the slow one and no one seemed to notice I was way behind or care that I might miss the train. (This included my husband.) So I shouted, “Just leave me!” And they kept running.

We had a great time seeing Brad and Jan again. We had so much to catch up on. Our lives have all changed so much since 9/11 and we have a hard time staying in touch. But the special thing about the military is that you pick right back up where you left off and friendships last a lifetime.

I think many of the recruits I saw at Fort Jackson are learning this already.

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.