The Gold Star Mother and My Dirty Little Secret

Veteran's Day on 11/11/11.  Ninety-seven years ago at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month the guns fell silent and World War I was over.  The war to end all wars.

Last night I was out with some of my church buddies when a woman came up to us and wished us a happy Veteran's Day.  She assumed that the septuagenarian in our group had served (and she was right) and must have guessed by the haircut that I was in the military.   She couldn't have been any more than five to seven years older than me.  She was wearing one ID tag, more commonly known as a dog tag; a rounded rectangle imprinted with your name, social security number, blood type, and religious preference.  It is standard issue for anyone in the military. 

I asked her if she had someone in uniform and she said said, "Yes."  I thanked her for her service just as I tell people who thank me to thank my wife instead because the families carry the greatest burden of all when soldiers go off to war.  In reply she said, "I am a Gold Star Mother."  And there it was on her lapel, the noticeable crest of the Gold Star Mothers.  My stomach fell.

Gold Star Mothers area a very unique and very exclusive group of remarkable women.  The price of admission is more than any of them can bear because Gold Star Mothers have lost a child in war, and in some cases, more than one.  When we talk about sacrifice and service to the nation, these women are our touchstone. 

I was both honored and intimidated to be standing with this unassuming woman who told me in a calm and unfaltering voice that her son died last year in Afghanistan on his fifth tour; three in Iraq and two there.  He was an EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) technician and was killed by an IED near a school.  She showed me his picture and went on about how many sons and daughters she has gained as a result of his death.  She now visits wounded warriors and helps them transition from the horrors they have encountered.  Her resiliency and dignity was remarkable but all I wanted to do was scream for her.  Scream the agony that she has felt for almost a year. 

I thanked her again - a futile and almost empty gesture on my part because there are no good words to address her loss.  I drove home shaken by the encounter.

I am a Soldier as was my father and grandfathers before me.  I have come to realize something as I watch programs from Iraq, or look at my pictures from two tours in Iraq; I love it.  Not the country, the heat, the people - but being a Soldier and going into harm's way.  If it were not for my family I would go back.  Today. 

There is no easy way to describe this feeling and only those that have been there can understand it but I have never felt more alive, more in-the-moment than when I am out walking on some Iraqi street or sitting in the open bay door of a Blackhawk flying 800 feet above the ground moving at 110 mph exposed to all of the risk that those moments pose.   I even get that feeling in an airborne operation in the seconds before I exit the door of the aircraft.  At times I wish I were a younger man and could do it over again. 

What the hell is that about?!  I wish I knew. My taste for an adrenaline rush does not exist here in my comfortable life and I am quite content with being boring (no BASE jumping, bungee cord jumping, or alligator wrestling for me).  And yet, as I said, if not for Lisa and the kids, I would trade in the comfort of cable and beer and a big warm bed to be out there in full "battle rattle," head on a swivel, ready to meet and engage the enemy.

Maybe it is not just the danger but the feeling of being a part of something bigger than your paycheck and more valuable than your worldly possessions.  Maybe its putting twenty years of training and experience into real world application and applying it in a place where making a mistake has immediate and long term ramifications.  Maybe it is the challenge of the art and science of war as a profession.

I.  Just.  Don't. Know.

To all my brothers and sisters out there past and present - be safe, God bless, and thank you all.

Halloween 2011

Halloween 2011 was a weekend long event this year filled with zombies, parties, and Grant's first Trick-or-Treat.

Zombies! Run!

The festivities began on Saturday morning when my neighbor, Tom, and I ran in the inaugural Fuquay Varina Strafe Zombie Run; a 5k through streets filled with the undead.  Unlike normal 5ks this one was more of a game where runners were given flag-football flags and began the race.  Along the way the zombies would ambush the runners and try to grab the flags.  For every flag you lost it added seconds to your finish time.  For every flag the zombies got they earned points.  There were "health" flags along the way which took time off your finish.

The Running Dead

The hour before the race witnessed the worst weather of the year.  It rained with temperatures in the forties; cold, wet, and miserable.  In fact 15 minutes before the race it poured and the zombies began to wonder about hiding along the race course and getting soaked.  (Very out of character for a zombie).  Lo and behold, as about 70 of us "survivors" lined up for the start, the rain let up.   However, the showers left behind huge puddles to avoid in addition to the undead.


The race began the first few zombies seemed to just come at us with that foot-drag-undead-shuffle that zombies are famous for.  The running pack was still pretty bunched up when we turned the corner and were set upon by half a dozen zombies sprinting at the crowd!  "Panic" hit the crowd.  Survivors zigged while the undead zagged.  Flags were ripped off and still the race continued.

Running a 5k is relatively easy no matter what shape you are in.  You find your pace, go, and settle in for the course; six minutes, ten minutes, thirteen minutes per mile - eventually you will get across the finish line.  When you add zombies trying to chase you down you then find yourself having to sprint.  Often.  When you least expect it.  All the zombies have to do is stand there and wait for you to come at them - and then they chase you.  It adds a dimension to your race that kicks your butt.

Well, I lost my flags - heck, I could have had ten flags and it wouldn't have made a difference - but I managed to finish third overall in about 22:10.  I am looking forward to next year!

What Costume Party?

BBQ Stains and Mascara

Saturday evening we packed up the boys and dish full of sausage and peppers and headed to the Newton's for a costume party.  Lisa and I waited to the last minute to come up with our costumes and, while in Wal-mart, decided to dress like Wal-mart shoppers or Jerry Springer guests.  I bought a "wife beater" tank top and then proceeded to clean the car engine with it, ripped a hole in an old pair of jeans, and found a hat to complete my look.  Lisa was sporting pink leopard print velour pants, a tank top with her bra straps showing, and a big set of hoop earrings.  Naturally, she ends up looking great and I end up looking like a regular on "COPS".

I love dressing up and poo-poo the folks that don't play pretend just for one night.  Really, get into the spirit and have some fun!  For one night a year you can be funny, scary, sexy, creepy, or just plain wrong (i.e. the pregnant nun get-up). 

Samantha reported in from New York that her Halloween consisted of going to bed early.  I guess 14 year old lack the little kid joy of dressing up and walking around in the dark - too juvenile.  At least she wasn't out egging the neighborhood.


Dragon and Dragon Tamer



Two years ago I made TJ's Halloween costume - the famous firetruck - and since then I have become the default costume maker for the holiday although I have no more creativity than Lisa does.  Our original theme for this year was going to be "The Incredibles" because TJ looks just like Dash with his hair slicked back.  Samantha would have been Violet and Grant Baby Jack-jack.  Unfortunately, we couldn't find red spandex for all of us and the idea withered in the days leading up to the weekend.  The question became, what to do for TJ's costume.  TJ is a fan of "How To Tame Your Dragon" and I was inspired to cut a brown bath mat into a animal skin vest with a shield, axe, and Viking hat from the dollar store and things we had on hand. TJ has a warrior's spirit, so anything with a sword, axe, or gun is absolutely fine with him.   

Not So Fierce Dragon


Grant's costume - well, every Viking needs a dragon to slay, or in this case, tame. Using our imagination and some things around the house we made Grant's dragon suit.  With a little brown duct tape, aluminum foil, and a painted wings we had the perfect little dragon who was less fierce than he was friendly.

It rained on Halloween evening - in fact it poured with temperatures in the fifties - and we were about to give up on going around the neighborhood.  In our family friendly little subdivision only two kids came to the door before 7pm.  What a bust!  Last year the streets were full of kids!  Then our friends rang the bell!  It was TJ's friend from down the road!  It stopped raining!  Lisa packed up the boys and headed out for a walk around our lake, hitting the houses along the way.



Halloween 2011

Somehow the word got out that Trick-or-Treat was on and soon the door bell was ringing all the time.  While the rain kept a lot of people inside our house had it's fair share of cops, witches, and super heroes.  And - our boy(s) managed to fill their bags! 



For the last two years our Halloween decorations have been in storage in New York.  We just haven't found the the room in a vehicle to get three big bins of plastic jack-o-lanterns, tomb stones, decorations and a fog machine down to North Carolina.  Hopefully next year will be the year that the kids walk with trepidation towards our front door as creepy music echoes from the windows and mysterious shadowy figures lurk behind drawn blinds...

Happy Halloween to all you creepy creatures!