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Sunday, December 28, 2008

What Matters this Year

A friend once told me that what makes the New Year so great is that its new. In the span of a night, and a lot of bad booze, you can become a new you. It doesn't matter what you said or did the day, hell the year, before. That was then and this is now. You are new and so is the world. I used to believe it.



Sorry Virginia - there isn't a Santa Claus. There are no do overs and the big blue marble still spins at twenty six thousand miles an hour. We cannot stop and we cannot get off. Now, before you roll your eyes and dread the coming storm - its not coming!



We have had a hard few years since my BBG got medevac'd out of Iraq - I've told you all about it but what the hell, the juice has been worth the squeeze.



My wife and I have had adventures that most can never imagine (between you and I, you don't really want to). My daughters know that a woman can do anything - including combat. They know to never surrender, to never give up and that sometimes life hits you with an IED, RPG, or other unpleasant projectile. They know to stand up and be counted. My son knows the Marine Corps Hymn by heart and knows that honor is more than a word.



My children will grow up as Americans. They will know and honor the sacrifices made by those who came before and by those who will surely follow. I pray that don't choose that road but I know the way this works. Soldiers breed soldiers. It is a life of friendship and hardship and it seeps into your bones. It is a part of you.



besides



My oldest daughter wants to fly Hawks like her old man and my son wants to go West Point. Thank god the youngest just wants to be a cheerleader, a vet, and a princess.



Back to my point:



Its been a rough year - OK, four rough years. We are however alive and a little better than we were last year and there are many other young men and women and their families w ho need your help much more than we. This year, I am going to try and tell more of their stories and less of mine.



I hope you'll come back to read them. These young men and women have given so much and despite the thank you's that they hear in airports or the random books and letters that show up on their racks in Iraq and Afghanistan- many of them (many of their families) feel very alone. America's eyes and ears are on a failing economy. They are not on section sixty-one in Arlington. They are not on a friend of mine who can't seem to get his VA claim completed. They are not on the son of a friend who was rushed through the Army Physical Disability Evaluation System (PDES) and discharged with a check for four grand and no benefits.



The New Year is upon us and we're still spinning at twenty-four thousand miles an hour. The market's a mess, jobs are disappearing every day but none of that matters. Young men and women are standing in harms way. They are being blown up by IEDs, RPGs and other shitty things. They are dying.



That matters and this year is for them.



TIA



Earl

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Reading and Writing

Its been a rough month (ok - a rough four years) so you'll have to excuse me if I throw a couple out there that have nothing to do with the familia or Iraq.

You start to get tired

You may have noticed by my goals section to the right that I am a writer. I also happen to be a voracious reader. I probably read five books a week in addition to writing about 5,000 words. For me, the great escape, is a quiet house in the wee hours and good music and great writing or reading. I read it all from history to Steven King to Nicholas Sparks and everything in between.

On that thought - I thought I'd share something with you.




TIA

Earl

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Pink Better than Scarlet Jo and Jello

Sorry SJ - you're still in the top two but sex appeal, a smokin voice and the video did you in. The video says it all




TIA

Earl

Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
(Dylan Thomas)

BBG is alive, the kids are safely tucked into their dreams, and we have hopefully buried the last comrade, friend, son, father, other mothers brother or other - someones other someone and I am tired. Do you suppose its over yet or will I wave at my children as they off to this war we fight - away from the cares of the rest of America?

I knew I should have stayed away from the meth

yeah right

TIA

Earl

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Landshark

Brian Hart lost his son John to a roadside ambush near Kirkuk Iraq in 2003. John and his commander were killed when their unarmored humvee was struck by a roadside bomb. Brian Channeled this loss into proof that we can accomplish anything. The link below is his legacy to his son - The Landshark!

I am saddened by his loss and uplifted by his service to our soldiers. He and John's Uncle have prototyped an unguided ground vehicle (UGV) built for IED detection and destruction, sniper range and ID, as well as perimeter security. It costs less than a third of the large defense industry competitor.

Check it out





You sir are a credit to your son and to your nation.

Thanks

Earl

Saturday, December 13, 2008

A Light in the Darkness

I think the only thing harder being a soldier is being a husband

or a father.

Either way, you invest in the lives of those you love. It doesn't matter if its a friend in a hole in a hole in the wall on a mountain top in a valley twelve thousand miles away or the boy with your name. They are a part of you forever and regardless ,you are better for them. Their triumph and sorrow are shared.

The boy with my name has had a very rough year. He has suffered through things that I cannot imagine and certainly he has been exposed to the things I only began to know and understand when I was much older. A lot has happened this year and in these years since my wife came home and as we make our way through this dark night I have begun to see the light.

My little boy you see

made a friend.

Day after day, he came from his new school, did his homework, went to hockey practice and quietly said; "I have no friends". A whisper at the end of a long day.

As a father, none of this has had as profound an effect on me as the pain of my children. My wife and I are adults and soldiers and these things we have been through are to be expected. It is different for the kids. They never signed the contract, fate just sent them our way.

Just a few weeks ago, I picked up my son from school. I asked the usual questions: How was school? Do you have homework? How was your day? His face lit up and he smiled at me - all teeth and shine. "I met this kid - Logan. We ate lunch together. He'd like to hang out sometime. He plays football on Scottie's team and gets box seats to the Rockies Games!" Months of heartache and four years of sorrow washed away by an eighth grade boy who had the grace to say hello to my heartsick son. My son's grades shot up, the principle e-mailed about how well he was doing and from somewhere came the light that has been gone for so long.

My son wanted to hang out with Logan last weekend but he was still on restriction and had an early hockey game. He knew not to ask. Next weekend I promised and despite the bad news he smiled at me. "Cool - thanks dad!" We had a good weekend and a winning game. Monday morning, he texted me at work:

Logan's dead

Logan Bauman was hit by a car, while crossing the road by his home, Saturday evening December 6, 2008 in Parker Colorado. He was transported to Parker Adventist Hospital and airlifted to Denver Children's Hospital. He died that night surrounded by those who loved him.

We, along with what must have been a thousand others, went to the funeral Thursday. I watched as my son wandered among the crowd, an outlier among the masses - lost and small. His friend gone.

That night I cried silently as my son fall asleep in my arms. One lost boy saved by a new friend I will never have the pleasure of knowing.

I will never meet Logan's parents and I'm sorry for that. They must be wonderful people to have raised this extraordinary young man who recognized that my son needed a friend. For the time Logan gave to me, for the light he turned back on in my son, I am eternally grateful. I can never thank him or his family for giving me back, in a few short weeks, what I could not seem to get on my own.


My son



TIA

Earl