One of Grandma's favorite sayings was "these are people who like to eat", a statement she would make as conversations would dwindle and food would be consumed with great gusto.
Another of her quotes, and one of my personal favorites, was "she said she wasn't hungry...and this is what she ate." She would never list what "she" ate..but she would always insinuate that "she" consumed enormous amounts of food.
Our 36 hour pass reminded me of Mable...a woman known far and wide for her talents, her wonderful sense of humor...and her love of good food.
The travel went well. John, Emily and I flew down late on Thursday, drove over 100 miles in the Georgia darkness and checked into our hotel shortly after midnight, tired and hungry...but ready for an exciting morning and our first look at our new Soldier.
Morning came about ten minutes after we hit our pillows. Exhuasted and supercharged, we hit the road.
Despite near constant nervousness and nonstop "what iffing", our entry onto Fort Benning went as smooth as the backside of a wet hippo. Straining our eyes at every figure seen in military garb, we gaped in awe at the enormous hope of being the first to see "him".
The first highlight of the day began long before the DS's arrival as I was blessed to meet some of the folks that have become rapid friends via the Fort Benning Facebook pages. We hugged, chatted and wondered at the commonality we shared with our boys as they are transformed, so far from home and family. How could we have so much in common coming from different backgrounds and lives?
We tarried there awaiting our introduction to the w/e's rules. Oh my goodness....not to be seen out of uniform in any way, shape or form. No alcohol, no driving, no leaving the immediate area. Pool time is ok as long as in PT clothing and restaurants are ok...but no bars.
Alrighty then.
Intensity rose as the moment we had all been waiting for drew near...time to see our soldiers.
Transfixed we filed out and began to walk towards the marching field where our men were set to display their newest "moves"...in the form of a March and Drill competition, one platoon against another. As we hiked there, we passed a large group of Soldiers in their camo clothes. We were forced by the desire to get to the bleachers promptly not to delay our first glance by so much as a second. Yet with the same intense desire to search every face, seeking recognition. Nope..not yet.
Filing onto the bleachers, conversations were hushed and no one looked at anyone, just eyes peeled and moving side to side along the far edge of the field, where many dozens of uniformed soldiers were lined up and waiting.
Which one?
Which one?
Do you see him yet?
Can you pick him out of the crowd?
The beat began as soldiers marched in perfect unison lined up on the field. Knowing that we sought the first platoon gave us hope as we only had 55 guys to study, rather than the 220 in the entire unit. Eyes peeled for recognition, we leaned in close and studied details in the faces before us.
Emily and I saw him at the same time, passing on excited whispers of hope and thrills.
He looks good! Did you see how good he looks? Wow....look at how good he looks!
I was snapping pictures as fast as I could without losing sight of the display in front of us. Hoping that there might be a useable shot or two to use in our displays and frames upon our return home.
Then it was over...and they marched away, leaving us in the dust as they filed away towards the barracks, out of sight over the distant hill. Numbly, we listened to the instructions to move the cars and wait on top of the hill for our beloved Soldier.
Families lined up and waiting quietly in the hot sun as one by one and sometimes in small groups young Soldiers came around the bend and up the long hill towards us. Whispers of hopeful recognition once again.
Time slowed to a crawl as we paced, sat, stood and wondered how long and when we would finally see and hold our long missed and loved young man.
Long awaited, a group of young Soldiers began an ascent...and then the long awaited eye contact.
"Hi Mom!" hugs, tears and love poured out in touch and contact.
Proud moments and love poured out. Meals together at favorite restaurants, former soldiers shaking hands and thanking Michael for his service. Movies and couches and pillows of down comfort enjoyed.
Long walks from Georgia to Alabama across the Chattahoochee River front.
And every possible calorie consumed with gusto and wild abandon.
Hours passed like minutes as we shared, cared, laughed and stared. How could this be over so very quickly?
But it was.
Georgia nightfall on a clear Saturday night. Back at base, walking along the darkened street, filling the last moments time with tears and hanging on. And we let him go back down that long hill towards the barracks.
Five more weeks we wait, til we travel again. Praying for his safety in the intense last weeks, the culmination of 14 weeks of training.
And like Mable said...he said he wasn't hungry...and this is what he ate.....
The long list consumed and absorbed.
Love displayed in every bite.
Grandma Mable would have been proud.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Raw steak and twinkies
The lists continue to arrive.
Now we not only have a list of what to bring to eat...but clothing too.
A favorite shirt or two, comfy socks, a bathing suit.and a pair of jeans.
But wait...there's more!
Not only is there a long list of clothes he would like, but the second half of the list is comprised of the items he wants "ready to eat" in the car. It's hilarious. Not only is it separated by food group...but it's grown to more than 8 lines of things to have ready to open and consume as soon as he is in the car vs. what he would like to have on hand for our free time in the hotel. Good thing we have a suite!
Oh...and the food groups?
All things hostess....twinkies, ho ho's, cupcakes, donetts and king don's.
Meat...and lots of it. Chicken, steak and every edible animal on the planet, along with Montreal Steak seasoning.
Cold cuts...ala Subway
Fast food via Taco Bell, Wendy's, Cinnabon, Sonic and McDonald's
Buffalo Wild Wings...a class all by itself
Beverages....Monster (I can only imagine what will happen here...with someone who has had Zero caffeine for nearly 3 months), Mountain Dew and chocolate milk, which by the way, he says is great with Cheerios...
"You should try it Mom!..and have Emily over so she can try it too!"
And lots and lots of great movies to watch, some games to play and a spot to just chill, chat and chomp.
Sounds like a great time, doesn't it?
Yeah, I thought so too.
27 days to go.
Now for the latest news on the basic training front....
We've learned how the unit is split up for the 220 guys.
There are 4 barracks with 55 Soldiers in each one. Each unit is numbered. And each Soldier is numbered.
Michael is number 26, in the first unit, therefore his number is 126.
Red phase, the initial and hardest of the phases has finally completed and the units have fully moved now into the next phase, the white phase. This did not happen right on schedule as hoped as "lots and lots" of the guys did not pass the testing for red phase. And someone snuck cigarettes into barracks 3 and 4, causing the guys to get "smoked" and having their barracks searched. Thankfully, the first barrack was found clean.
Whew.
He says they have the toughest DS (drill sergeant) and though initially thought to be bad news...this is really working well for them. When tested out of red, he missed one question...not realizing til then that his DS was the Master, or Head, or Chief...or something like that.
Whoops.
Red includes multi mile marches hauling 60 pound packs. If the guys fall behind, they are given orders to hang onto the Soldier in front of them...and Michael found himself doing just that at one point...causing him no amount of difficulty as the guys behind him dragged and the guy in front of him kept insisting he let go....the end result was that my Soldier had to haul the 10 guys behind him for the final miles of the march...and leaving him livid with anger.
Yup, I'm still thinking of heading down there and straightening them all out.
Move over Mr.Drill Sergeant...I'm a mom and I have something to say.
So there is great relief in the air as they leave red behind and go to white. No more 5 minute meals..with no choices, no time and Drill Sergeants hovering over every hurried bite.
Eat what you are served Soldier!
Consume it and move it Soldier!
White gives freedom....of sorts.
The Soldiers are now allowed to walk themselves to the meals..allowed to choose their own food items and even allowed free time after their dinner meal. The are "strongly" encouraged to continue P.T. in the evening.
I surmise that strongly means "do it".
The training is now focused in more ways than one....but the most important is the focus of your weapon. As many may know, my Soldier is no stranger to target shooting. So it came as no surprise to read that he did great on the closest targets..and even did well with the next distance.
What blew me away was when he said that the furthest target was too far away to see clearly.
Huh?
He hit it 2 out of 5 shots into a target hundreds of feet away.
My goodness...I can't find a parking space in hundreds of feet, how can he hit a target with one tiny little bullet?
The Soldiers did well though and within days the entire platoon passes, earning a phone call home this w/e.
And that is where we stand today. Happy to hear the voice of a great distance away. The voice of a young man with the hopes and dreams of becoming a Soldier in the U.S. Army.
Dreams do come true and we live, pray and hold onto each little tidbit of news.
Waiting for 27 days to pass and flights to soar across the miles separating us.
Holding each breath in anticipation.
Reminiscing about the voice of a boy turned man so many miles away.
Now we not only have a list of what to bring to eat...but clothing too.
A favorite shirt or two, comfy socks, a bathing suit.and a pair of jeans.
But wait...there's more!
Not only is there a long list of clothes he would like, but the second half of the list is comprised of the items he wants "ready to eat" in the car. It's hilarious. Not only is it separated by food group...but it's grown to more than 8 lines of things to have ready to open and consume as soon as he is in the car vs. what he would like to have on hand for our free time in the hotel. Good thing we have a suite!
Oh...and the food groups?
All things hostess....twinkies, ho ho's, cupcakes, donetts and king don's.
Meat...and lots of it. Chicken, steak and every edible animal on the planet, along with Montreal Steak seasoning.
Cold cuts...ala Subway
Fast food via Taco Bell, Wendy's, Cinnabon, Sonic and McDonald's
Buffalo Wild Wings...a class all by itself
Beverages....Monster (I can only imagine what will happen here...with someone who has had Zero caffeine for nearly 3 months), Mountain Dew and chocolate milk, which by the way, he says is great with Cheerios...
"You should try it Mom!..and have Emily over so she can try it too!"
And lots and lots of great movies to watch, some games to play and a spot to just chill, chat and chomp.
Sounds like a great time, doesn't it?
Yeah, I thought so too.
27 days to go.
Now for the latest news on the basic training front....
We've learned how the unit is split up for the 220 guys.
There are 4 barracks with 55 Soldiers in each one. Each unit is numbered. And each Soldier is numbered.
Michael is number 26, in the first unit, therefore his number is 126.
Red phase, the initial and hardest of the phases has finally completed and the units have fully moved now into the next phase, the white phase. This did not happen right on schedule as hoped as "lots and lots" of the guys did not pass the testing for red phase. And someone snuck cigarettes into barracks 3 and 4, causing the guys to get "smoked" and having their barracks searched. Thankfully, the first barrack was found clean.
Whew.
He says they have the toughest DS (drill sergeant) and though initially thought to be bad news...this is really working well for them. When tested out of red, he missed one question...not realizing til then that his DS was the Master, or Head, or Chief...or something like that.
Whoops.
Red includes multi mile marches hauling 60 pound packs. If the guys fall behind, they are given orders to hang onto the Soldier in front of them...and Michael found himself doing just that at one point...causing him no amount of difficulty as the guys behind him dragged and the guy in front of him kept insisting he let go....the end result was that my Soldier had to haul the 10 guys behind him for the final miles of the march...and leaving him livid with anger.
Yup, I'm still thinking of heading down there and straightening them all out.
Move over Mr.Drill Sergeant...I'm a mom and I have something to say.
So there is great relief in the air as they leave red behind and go to white. No more 5 minute meals..with no choices, no time and Drill Sergeants hovering over every hurried bite.
Eat what you are served Soldier!
Consume it and move it Soldier!
White gives freedom....of sorts.
The Soldiers are now allowed to walk themselves to the meals..allowed to choose their own food items and even allowed free time after their dinner meal. The are "strongly" encouraged to continue P.T. in the evening.
I surmise that strongly means "do it".
The training is now focused in more ways than one....but the most important is the focus of your weapon. As many may know, my Soldier is no stranger to target shooting. So it came as no surprise to read that he did great on the closest targets..and even did well with the next distance.
What blew me away was when he said that the furthest target was too far away to see clearly.
Huh?
He hit it 2 out of 5 shots into a target hundreds of feet away.
My goodness...I can't find a parking space in hundreds of feet, how can he hit a target with one tiny little bullet?
The Soldiers did well though and within days the entire platoon passes, earning a phone call home this w/e.
And that is where we stand today. Happy to hear the voice of a great distance away. The voice of a young man with the hopes and dreams of becoming a Soldier in the U.S. Army.
Dreams do come true and we live, pray and hold onto each little tidbit of news.
Waiting for 27 days to pass and flights to soar across the miles separating us.
Holding each breath in anticipation.
Reminiscing about the voice of a boy turned man so many miles away.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The busier I am the faster time flies....
It's been three weeks and a lifetime of hanging out the upstairs window watching the mail truck move along the nearby blocks in town. Pondering the possibility of the US Postal Service forgetting our address, I played with the idea of standing outside with a megaphone announcing my presence....but that was apparently not needed as the mailman has started waving at me as he passes on the other side of the block What is really cool is that he no longer carries a taser when he walks up the step. We've settled into a safe routine of permanent committment.
He may even like me..he thanked me when I told him last week that I had been not only praying for letters and news...but also had prayed for snow (long story....). Can you imagine....a mailman thanked me for the snow!
Stalking has proven worthy as we've had three letters plopped into the box in the past couple of weeks. One was a brief explanation of how to address letters...with a sad caveat about the condition of the handwriting...
"been doing pushups in frozen sand, so fingers are frozen".
Do you suppose his drill sargeant would mind moving over while I bring him some hand warmers?
Mealtimes are FIVE minutes from beginning to end. Do you know what I can do in five minutes?
Absolutely nothing. Good grief, it's taken me longer to write this paragraph than that!
Breakfast is ok, eggs, pancakes and french toast.
Lunch and dinner leave much to be desired....once eaten tuna pasta...oh my.
After I boot the drill sargeant out of the way, I'll be heading for the kitchen.
We've learned about a 36 hour "local" pass he'll be granted in April. Hotel is reserved as all he wants is a comfortable bed, and food....and to be sure we got the picture, he listed the food he would like us to have prepared and ready....
Are you ready for this?
Steak, Subway Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich, Wendy's Baconator, pizza, McDonald's Double Cheeseburgers, Monster, Mountain Dew, chocolate cake, fudge and reese's.
Good gravy! The food budget will be bigger than the cost of our flights down and my cholesterol levels rise by the moment.
It's hard to read about gas chambers and multi mile marches, pushups in the snow and night time chores that steal sleep all but 1 out of 4 nights.
Should I mail him his favorite pillow?
Hand deliver wool socks?
Abscond with the drill sergeant's alarm clock?
There has been a virus taking many of them down, so in lieu of church last Sunday they were granted an hour off in the barracks. Michael chose that time to write some letters home. He says he is reading his bible every night before sleep, and he really wanted to send information home. Hey Mikie! You remember us!
I'll have to remember to take antibioitics and some Nyquil with me too.
Oh...and his blanket. A set of warm fuzzy slippers.
Or maybe I'll just stay here and wait. Breathless and busy. Staying in touch with each day, writing letters and hoping for news. Hesitant calm of a fretful parent.
I'll put his pillow in the truck just in case....
Trusting that the next 6 weeks will soar past in both Georgia and Michigan.
Loving from afar with the prayerful passing of time.
It's been three weeks and a lifetime of hanging out the upstairs window watching the mail truck move along the nearby blocks in town. Pondering the possibility of the US Postal Service forgetting our address, I played with the idea of standing outside with a megaphone announcing my presence....but that was apparently not needed as the mailman has started waving at me as he passes on the other side of the block What is really cool is that he no longer carries a taser when he walks up the step. We've settled into a safe routine of permanent committment.
He may even like me..he thanked me when I told him last week that I had been not only praying for letters and news...but also had prayed for snow (long story....). Can you imagine....a mailman thanked me for the snow!
Stalking has proven worthy as we've had three letters plopped into the box in the past couple of weeks. One was a brief explanation of how to address letters...with a sad caveat about the condition of the handwriting...
"been doing pushups in frozen sand, so fingers are frozen".
Do you suppose his drill sargeant would mind moving over while I bring him some hand warmers?
Mealtimes are FIVE minutes from beginning to end. Do you know what I can do in five minutes?
Absolutely nothing. Good grief, it's taken me longer to write this paragraph than that!
Breakfast is ok, eggs, pancakes and french toast.
Lunch and dinner leave much to be desired....once eaten tuna pasta...oh my.
After I boot the drill sargeant out of the way, I'll be heading for the kitchen.
We've learned about a 36 hour "local" pass he'll be granted in April. Hotel is reserved as all he wants is a comfortable bed, and food....and to be sure we got the picture, he listed the food he would like us to have prepared and ready....
Are you ready for this?
Steak, Subway Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich, Wendy's Baconator, pizza, McDonald's Double Cheeseburgers, Monster, Mountain Dew, chocolate cake, fudge and reese's.
Good gravy! The food budget will be bigger than the cost of our flights down and my cholesterol levels rise by the moment.
It's hard to read about gas chambers and multi mile marches, pushups in the snow and night time chores that steal sleep all but 1 out of 4 nights.
Should I mail him his favorite pillow?
Hand deliver wool socks?
Abscond with the drill sergeant's alarm clock?
There has been a virus taking many of them down, so in lieu of church last Sunday they were granted an hour off in the barracks. Michael chose that time to write some letters home. He says he is reading his bible every night before sleep, and he really wanted to send information home. Hey Mikie! You remember us!
I'll have to remember to take antibioitics and some Nyquil with me too.
Oh...and his blanket. A set of warm fuzzy slippers.
Or maybe I'll just stay here and wait. Breathless and busy. Staying in touch with each day, writing letters and hoping for news. Hesitant calm of a fretful parent.
I'll put his pillow in the truck just in case....
Trusting that the next 6 weeks will soar past in both Georgia and Michigan.
Loving from afar with the prayerful passing of time.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The postman delivers and the phone company forgives....
2 weeks into our 227 weeks of wondering, waiting and praying for news.
With the call from the Reception Batallion, all our hearts settled down and life settled into a level pace of normalcy. Back to work, home and the gym, finding peace in the gift of a daily routine.
The mailman has either decided to ignore my nose on the window, or is used to it by now, or perhaps is too frightened to address it.
I'm grateful that the phone does not have video output. Both the cell and the house phone are within reach no matter where I go...the kitchen, the bedroom, the office and yup.....you guessed it, the shower. I've got it down to a science...I can turn off water, mute the radio and say hello in 2 seconds flat. Were there Olympic Gold for such behavior, I'd be standing on the top of the podium glistening in gold.
No coach needed, neurosis needs no tutor.
We've now received two letters. The first took 5 days to arrive from the date written, so it was hard to guess how much may have changed since it was penned. He says he is still doing well, has been bunked with a fellow he really likes..and who "takes it pretty seriously, which is nice because a lot of guys don't". Threw up after all the vaccinations, as did many of the guys. (At this point I wonder if the army needs my help down there taking care of those poor guys). Holding my breath with every word, I wonder if each letter and small scrap of news will cause my now familiar sensation of gasping for air.
There's a smattering of .initialed mumbo jumbo like ACU, BCT and at least one I recognize, the PX. I have no idea what those things mean, so off to google I go.
It's reassuring to read the comfort in the words written. A settled peace in each sentence.
On Thursday, he called briefly one more time, this time with the news of his pending move "downrange". The real world of Army basic training.
And blessed with one more split second of a call to tell us that the address he sent is not correct..and that we should wait until we get a new one before we send letters.
So it's back to stalking that poor mailman and bathing with the phone.
Praying, waiting and gasping for air.
Clinging with all I have, the peace that transcends all.
With the call from the Reception Batallion, all our hearts settled down and life settled into a level pace of normalcy. Back to work, home and the gym, finding peace in the gift of a daily routine.
The mailman has either decided to ignore my nose on the window, or is used to it by now, or perhaps is too frightened to address it.
I'm grateful that the phone does not have video output. Both the cell and the house phone are within reach no matter where I go...the kitchen, the bedroom, the office and yup.....you guessed it, the shower. I've got it down to a science...I can turn off water, mute the radio and say hello in 2 seconds flat. Were there Olympic Gold for such behavior, I'd be standing on the top of the podium glistening in gold.
No coach needed, neurosis needs no tutor.
We've now received two letters. The first took 5 days to arrive from the date written, so it was hard to guess how much may have changed since it was penned. He says he is still doing well, has been bunked with a fellow he really likes..and who "takes it pretty seriously, which is nice because a lot of guys don't". Threw up after all the vaccinations, as did many of the guys. (At this point I wonder if the army needs my help down there taking care of those poor guys). Holding my breath with every word, I wonder if each letter and small scrap of news will cause my now familiar sensation of gasping for air.
There's a smattering of .initialed mumbo jumbo like ACU, BCT and at least one I recognize, the PX. I have no idea what those things mean, so off to google I go.
It's reassuring to read the comfort in the words written. A settled peace in each sentence.
On Thursday, he called briefly one more time, this time with the news of his pending move "downrange". The real world of Army basic training.
And blessed with one more split second of a call to tell us that the address he sent is not correct..and that we should wait until we get a new one before we send letters.
So it's back to stalking that poor mailman and bathing with the phone.
Praying, waiting and gasping for air.
Clinging with all I have, the peace that transcends all.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Stalking the mailman
I've become one of those slightly nutty ladies peering from behind the curtain as the mailman approaches. Hopefully he has not noticed that I've become obsessed with his timing and each step as he carries news to each doorstep. . Watching his every move as he works his way around to our house, at the very end of his lap around the block.
We'd read that the new soldiers were strongly "encouraged" to contact family sometime in the first 48 hours after arriving at base. 36 hours after watching Michael move out of our sight...we're waiting.
I'm terrified that our phones will all die. Worried sick that our mailbox will fade from view and we'll miss "the call" or "the letter".
Heading to work is a real dilemma...what if the call comes while my phone is in my locker. What's Michael going to think if there's only voice mail to hear him?
I trust God..but I'm not so sure about Sprint and the US Postal service.
Dragging my sleep deprived self to work on Friday morning I am discouraged, convinced that I going to miss the first call from our family soldier. Disappointed at having to leave my post behind the curtain.
My coworkers had put up with and supported my tears yesterday, but I was ill prepared for their greeting today...."do you want to go home?". Well, duh! My feet never touched the ground as I race out the door.
Fifteen minutes late my phone rings.
Time stopped as I heard the first news. He's fine, has had no sleep, has no hair left and is full of holes from all the vaccinations he got yesterday. Food is "not bad at all", and uniforms come tomorrow. His voice is light and he sounds genuinely happy. We part with I love you's and we're praying. Wow.
In seconds it's over.
Now it's back to stalking the mailman. Waiting and watching behind the curtain.
Living life as normally as possible, pretending not to notice the empty space in the house.
And finding joy in each precious day.
We'd read that the new soldiers were strongly "encouraged" to contact family sometime in the first 48 hours after arriving at base. 36 hours after watching Michael move out of our sight...we're waiting.
I'm terrified that our phones will all die. Worried sick that our mailbox will fade from view and we'll miss "the call" or "the letter".
Heading to work is a real dilemma...what if the call comes while my phone is in my locker. What's Michael going to think if there's only voice mail to hear him?
I trust God..but I'm not so sure about Sprint and the US Postal service.
Dragging my sleep deprived self to work on Friday morning I am discouraged, convinced that I going to miss the first call from our family soldier. Disappointed at having to leave my post behind the curtain.
My coworkers had put up with and supported my tears yesterday, but I was ill prepared for their greeting today...."do you want to go home?". Well, duh! My feet never touched the ground as I race out the door.
Fifteen minutes late my phone rings.
Time stopped as I heard the first news. He's fine, has had no sleep, has no hair left and is full of holes from all the vaccinations he got yesterday. Food is "not bad at all", and uniforms come tomorrow. His voice is light and he sounds genuinely happy. We part with I love you's and we're praying. Wow.
In seconds it's over.
Now it's back to stalking the mailman. Waiting and watching behind the curtain.
Living life as normally as possible, pretending not to notice the empty space in the house.
And finding joy in each precious day.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Life is like a waterslide
Early last week, Michael, Emily, my dear friend Anne and I drove down to Kalahari waterpark, one of Michael's "last requests". We roared down waterslides, relaxed in the hot tubs and frolicked in the wave pool without a care in the world. My favorite slide of all is the "toilet" one. The four of us piled into a round raft, plopped our butts into the separate spots provided and pretzeled our legs into the middle. We were a whirlwind of motion as we struggled to be the one on top, but when all was said and done, Michael's knees ended up on top of all of ours...sticking out at an awkward angle. We hung on, got pushed into the tube and were instantly screaming with fear in total darkness. Swirling wildly in different and unseen directions we roared with laughter as we hung on in anticipation of each twist and wild turn. When we reached the next "level" there is a swirling bowl of water....yup, just like a toilet bowl. We slowed very quickly, pitching me forward onto Michael's outstretched knee. The color is faded now, but I had a great shiner to show from having been flushed down a toilet with my family and friends. We ended with one more flush and were shot into a big pool, laughing our fool heads off.
Life is like that. You have an idea of where you are headed, but you are not the least bit aware of what lies ahead. Twists and turns bring about surprises, hurts and perhaps even a scar or two. You have no real control, but sometimes the best choice is just to go with the flow. The end may come as a surprise, but the memories never completely disappear.
On Tuesday, four of us piled into the truck for the drive to Lansing. Michael, Emily, John and I were trying to stay positive, but it was not easy. As much as you can prepare for such change, there are still unexpected moments. Our room was the very last one in the hotel and was enormous. The largest suite in the entire place with a master suite, a heart shaped jacuzzi, 2 enormous TV's and mutiple couches and chairs...and a dining room. Heavens to mergatroyd! Settled in with takeout steak dinners (yup...Michael was really living it up!), we settled in for the night and spent the evening relaxed, enjoying each others company and hanging on dearly to every moment. Personally I was dreading the moment when Michael would leave for his room, but we managed to make it ok...and with huge clinging hugs we said good night. Goodbye number 1.
None of us slept well.
At 0445 the door opened and Michael walked in to say goodbye once more. He left shortly after for the MEPS. Goodbye number 2.
We ate a quick breakfast and headed out for MEPS and the complete unknown.
The rest of the day is best described as "hurry up and wait". We were able to spend time together between physicals (he gained 9 lbs!), lunch and multiple other odds and ends. We got serious and the emotions started swirling at the Swearing in Ceremony. Families are allowed to stand against the wall in the room, facing the "shippers" as they hold up their hands in an oath to the United States of America in solitude and solidarity.
Thankfully the soldier in charge added humor and some smiles to the service, which gave me what I needed to maintain my fragile composure.
Afterward there is a "mock ceremony" for the families present to take pictures and have one last tiny chance to witness the transformation of a man. (Pending my technical abilities...you may get to see some of this.)
Moments later we lined up near the door of the building applauding and cheering as "America's newest heroes" silently march past us as they exit the building. Goodbye number 3.
Following the bus to the airport was a race for each light as we managed to hit every single light for 6 miles..and that stupid bus got every green. Thank goodness for Garmin...we managed and got there just as they pulled in.
Goodbye number 4 came all too quickly as he headed away from us just an hour later. We stood mesmerized as he took off his shoes, and passed the security check.
He rode an escalator up and in an instant we lost sight of him.
Gone from sight, I felt a moment of complete breathlessness....and finally the tears began.
We hugged and headed home.
Exhausted and shell shocked.
And so it goes....a beginning of a new adventure. Fears, smiles, hope and prayers.
God be with you my son. We are home praying and waiting for you.
Life is like that. You have an idea of where you are headed, but you are not the least bit aware of what lies ahead. Twists and turns bring about surprises, hurts and perhaps even a scar or two. You have no real control, but sometimes the best choice is just to go with the flow. The end may come as a surprise, but the memories never completely disappear.
On Tuesday, four of us piled into the truck for the drive to Lansing. Michael, Emily, John and I were trying to stay positive, but it was not easy. As much as you can prepare for such change, there are still unexpected moments. Our room was the very last one in the hotel and was enormous. The largest suite in the entire place with a master suite, a heart shaped jacuzzi, 2 enormous TV's and mutiple couches and chairs...and a dining room. Heavens to mergatroyd! Settled in with takeout steak dinners (yup...Michael was really living it up!), we settled in for the night and spent the evening relaxed, enjoying each others company and hanging on dearly to every moment. Personally I was dreading the moment when Michael would leave for his room, but we managed to make it ok...and with huge clinging hugs we said good night. Goodbye number 1.
None of us slept well.
At 0445 the door opened and Michael walked in to say goodbye once more. He left shortly after for the MEPS. Goodbye number 2.
We ate a quick breakfast and headed out for MEPS and the complete unknown.
The rest of the day is best described as "hurry up and wait". We were able to spend time together between physicals (he gained 9 lbs!), lunch and multiple other odds and ends. We got serious and the emotions started swirling at the Swearing in Ceremony. Families are allowed to stand against the wall in the room, facing the "shippers" as they hold up their hands in an oath to the United States of America in solitude and solidarity.
Thankfully the soldier in charge added humor and some smiles to the service, which gave me what I needed to maintain my fragile composure.
Afterward there is a "mock ceremony" for the families present to take pictures and have one last tiny chance to witness the transformation of a man. (Pending my technical abilities...you may get to see some of this.)
Moments later we lined up near the door of the building applauding and cheering as "America's newest heroes" silently march past us as they exit the building. Goodbye number 3.
Following the bus to the airport was a race for each light as we managed to hit every single light for 6 miles..and that stupid bus got every green. Thank goodness for Garmin...we managed and got there just as they pulled in.
Goodbye number 4 came all too quickly as he headed away from us just an hour later. We stood mesmerized as he took off his shoes, and passed the security check.
He rode an escalator up and in an instant we lost sight of him.
Gone from sight, I felt a moment of complete breathlessness....and finally the tears began.
We hugged and headed home.
Exhausted and shell shocked.
And so it goes....a beginning of a new adventure. Fears, smiles, hope and prayers.
God be with you my son. We are home praying and waiting for you.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Precious minutes of time
January rains with cold damp air outside. Inside the house it's warm and cozy...for those of us wearing sweaters and flannel. Michael is fast asleep and is completely at rest. It defies my imagination that it could only be 24 hours before we have to leave for Lansing and he's sleeping while I try to stay calm. Today is part fun and some work getting last minute details worked out. I can't believe that I have to sign a power of attorney for my son today. How could that be?
Michael's favorite cinnamon rolls are in the oven. Dinner will be a steak dinner at his brothers house where the three kids will run around like pinballs causing absolute chaos and the adults will hang dearly onto every minute and every laugh. I hope like crazy that his niece and nephews remember him in the years he is away. They are nearly 5, nearly 2 and 7 months old, perhaps a pipe dream, but I worry.
Pasting a smile on my face and heading to the kitchen in my flannel jammies.....
anne
Michael's favorite cinnamon rolls are in the oven. Dinner will be a steak dinner at his brothers house where the three kids will run around like pinballs causing absolute chaos and the adults will hang dearly onto every minute and every laugh. I hope like crazy that his niece and nephews remember him in the years he is away. They are nearly 5, nearly 2 and 7 months old, perhaps a pipe dream, but I worry.
Pasting a smile on my face and heading to the kitchen in my flannel jammies.....
anne
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