For God and Country

Senior Airman Andrew Guy Weber, USAF, Tennessee Air National Guard, currently completing Boom Operator School at Altus AFB, Altus, Oklahoma, texted me recently to ask whether I would be willing to write on this blog about two subjects.

I said I certainly would, since it was my son who did the asking.

One of the two topics was my feelings about the United States Military, and about my own status as a Blue Star Mother.

My son assured me that none of the post had to be about him.

I will make every attempt to keep this simple and straightforward. Which does not necessarily mean short.

In the proverbial nutshell, aside from my own children and grandchildren there exists no group of people, living or dead, on the face of this Earth that can instantly stir more emotion in my heart and mind than the American soldier.

In fact, the briefest meditation on what soldiers have endured and still endure to secure my freedom has the ability to reduce me to tears.

When I was a child, every night on the Huntley-Brinkley Report there were grainy black and white film images of soldiers with leaves on their helmets, carrying big guns, fighting a terrible war in the jungles of Southeast Asia.

In the background could be heard the deadly chatter of machine-gun fire and the dull mutter of helicopters.

Our parents taught us that the soldiers in Vietnam were there to hold back the evil forces of Communism that threatened to take over the world.

The next-door neighbors from whom we rented our house had a beautiful daughter whose boyfriend was drafted and went to Vietnam.

It is anyone's guess whether he survived and is a veteran today, or if his name, never known to me, is on that wall.

But I remember seeing the two of them walking down our street holding hands, and having the knowledge that that young skinny boy could soon be one of the soldiers on the Huntley-Brinkley Report.

And that he could very well come home in a casket.

If he came home alive, chances are he was booed and spat upon by anti-war protesters who lacked the courage to serve their country, whether voluntarily or by government decree.

There is no draft today. All soldiers sign up of their own free will. They volunteer. It is difficult to overestimate the enormity of that.

They don't have to put themselves in harm's way. Thanks to other soldiers, past and present, they are free. Free to do anything they like.

But they sign up anyway.

Yesterday at church we had Veterans Appreciation Day. Our speaker was a preacher of the Gospel who also happens to be a highly decorated Marine, a veteran of the Vietnam War.

As he rose to address our congregation, we rose too, and honored this American hero with a standing ovation.

It was a privilege for me to be in his presence. No; I don't worship man. But I know the debt I owe to many.

That's why I was angry when, two or three rows ahead of where TG and I sat, two young teenaged boys stayed rooted to their pew while everyone else stood.

They looked at one another and I thought I saw a smirk pass between them as they made the decision not to get on their feet to honor an old soldier.

I believe these boys claim to be Christians -- their parents certainly do -- but honoring veterans has nothing to do with being a Christian.

It has to do with being a patriotic American, and a person who recognizes -- having been taught -- how good they've got it because of how dreadful many hundreds of thousands of others had it and still have it.

Being disrespectful to a veteran is un-American and, as such, is about three frog-freckles above blasphemy.

For the American, like it or not, God and Country are inextricably linked. Bound together like guts to glory.

If anyone calling me Mother -- Blue Star or no -- even contemplated disrespecting a veteran, they'd have no choice but to stand because I would make it very painful for them to sit down.

Veterans Day is about honoring not those who gave their lives for their country in wars around the world. That holiday is Memorial Day.

Today is about honoring those who served and survived. Those who, having proved themselves willing to die for us, came home to live among us.

And it is no less about honoring those who served in peacetime.

These Americans deserve the utmost respect and gratitude it is possible for us to demonstrate.

They deserve better than a president who wholeheartedly despises both our military and the country it is sworn to protect.

They deserve better than Barack Obama and his cabal of uber-liberal America-hating ingrates who would decimate our military until we are a mere adumbration of the superpower we once were.

I am a Blue Star Mother. My son signed up and he serves with honor. His father and I are proud of him. We are thankful for him. 

And yes, I fear for him. I am no better than the hundreds of thousands of mothers who have lain their children in the ground in the full flower of their youth, having lost them to war. It could happen.

But I believe someday he will be a veteran and as such, worthy of the thanks and respect of his fellow countrymen.

As he is now.

Thank you, Andrew, for your service.

Thank you all for your service.

May God bless and keep you, each and every one.

And may God bless the United States of America, and strengthen the resolve of her citizens, and preserve her freedoms.

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Happy Monday ~ Happy Veterans Day ~ Happy Week

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Photos taken at William Jennings Bryan Dorn VA Medical Center

Columbia, South Carolina

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Skywatch Friday: God appears and God is light

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.

Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.

Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.

We are led to believe a lie
When we see not thro' the eye,
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

~From Auguries of Innocence by William Blake (1757-1827)~

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Happy Friday ~ Happy Weekend

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Wordless Wednesday: Rabbie

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Happy Wednesday

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Just another day in pair-adise

So this week I am in Knoxville, visiting Audrey.

And because of that, I also have a chance to visit Meghan, Andrew's lovely girlfriend.

In fact, Audrey and I are staying with Meghan. 

There's plenty of room in her beautiful house, which happens to be very close to Audrey's work.

And she has Rambo.

As in, Andrew's dog is lodging with Meghan while Andrew is away training to be a boom operator.

Meghan has a fenced backyard and lots of room for Rambo.

And Abbie.

Abbie is Meghan's labrador retriever. She and Rambo are like bookends.

The pair of dogs look and act so much alike, I think of them collectively as Rabbie.

And two more relentlessly demanding canines you never met.

Of course, they're perfectly adorable and very obedient, which helps a lot.

They just like to be up in your face, all wagging tails and beseeching looks, begging for attention.

Rambo slept at the foot of my bed last night.

At two fifteen in the morning I was being given moist kisses by a great big cupcake of a dog who apparently "needed" to go outside.

And as soon as I opened the bedroom door, Abbie darted out of Meghan's room and "needed" to join in the fun.

When they came back in from checking their messages, both the big babies "needed" a treat.

It was a long night.

But they're delightful and I love them to pieces so no complaints here.

And that is all for now. It's a gorgeous day and I hear an unexplored cemetery calling my name.

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Happy Monday ~ Happy Week

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Nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from the dishwasher

Andrew is ensconced at Altus Air Force Base in Altus, Oklahoma, for the next four months.

You may recall he is training to be a boom operator. Which involves in-flight refueling of fighter jets.

Anyway he drove to Altus from San Antonio a few weeks ago and there was a lag between his arrival and the actual start of classes.

Which was a good thing because he was dreadful sick with a truly awful cold.

We texted back and forth -- he likes to send me pictures of the food he prepares for himself in his kitchen -- and I advised him to slather Vicks Vapo-Rub on his chest.

But in due time he got well and the day came for him to be outfitted for his upcoming training.

So it was that I got a text earlier this week.

"Christmas has come to Altus!" my son exulted.

Which meant, he'd been issued a fancy headset and a brand-new iPad (his class was the first to get them, he said) dedicated to his checklists and whatnot for his time of learning in the simulators.

The text was accompanied by photos of said wondrous gear.

Then I got a picture of the simulators themselves, which look like ginormous marshmallows held aloft by industrial-strength scissor lifts housed in hangars the size of small cities.

And during the time all that was going on, lo and behold, Christmas came to Columbia. In the form of appliances for me.

No, I didn't get early Christmas presents consisting of devices of domestic drudgery.

I'll still receive romantic gifts like jewelry and perfume and books of poetry on December twenty-fifth.

But you may remember I have been without a working oven for several years.

That's because my oven is a wall unit and when it broke, we assumed it was a thousand-dollar fix and we didn't want to spend that kind of money on an oven.

Crock pots work very well for just about anything, including baking your Thanksgiving turkey and even making cakes.

You just have to think outside the box. I hate that expression and I cannot believe I just used it. But I digress.

So I was sitting up on the porch a few weeks ago, reading one of those texts from Andrew, when our mailman chugged up and stopped the truck and got out and commenced to walk across our lawn and up the steps to the porch to hand me some mail that would not fit inside the box.

He's like an old friend so we got to chatting and in due course he reminded me that he thoroughly enjoyed the banana-nut bread I gave him one Christmas some years back.

"It took me back to my grandmother's when I was a kid," he claimed. 

"Oh, I'd almost forgotten that," I said.

Then he said, reminiscing further, or maybe just playing me for more banana bread: "You were so nice."

Meaning me. I who am known much more for being ornery than for being nice. Booyah.

"Well my friend," said I. "I don't have a working oven and have not had for some time, but I promise you that this year, I shall make you some more banana bread. I'll figure out a way to make it happen."

He was so happy, he trotted down the steps and floated away in his little truck.

So I told TG about it and we chuckled and that was the end of that, leaving me wondering how I'd keep my word.

Until about a week later when TG asked if I'd like to take a ride with him to a certain home improvement store.

"They have ovens displayed in the front and they're all on clearance," he explained.

So I got my tape measure and determined the size of my oven and away we went.

We approached the area TG had mentioned and there were several ovens needing homes. I immediately drew a bead on the one I wanted.

It was shiny black and it would fit. Everything added up.

Only, it was marked several hundred dollars more than we wanted to pay.

A salesman approached. Really nice guy, not ornery in the least. Probably likes banana bread. Name of Tony.

"I will not refuse any reasonable offer for that oven," Tony said.

I thought for a moment and then I mentioned a figure, and asked if he considered it reasonable.

"Very reasonable," he said. "Sold, if you want it."

I wanted it.

"But you need to walk back to the back and take a look at a few more clearance ovens," he counseled.

So we did, and that turned out to be a waste of time.

Except, on the way I met a dishwasher. Sitting out in an aisle to better attract attention, and also on clearance.

Now, I already had a dishwasher, and it worked. As in, you could load up your dishes and put soap in and spin the dial and slam it shut, and it cleaned everything.

However.

There was the issue of occasional water leakage -- a recent development -- resulting in my sometimes finding a puddle on my kitchen floor.

Hence the rolled-up towel kept shoved along its base. So attractive.

And then there was the fact that a few months ago, the door became extra-heavy and began crashing to the floor when you pulled out the bottom rack.

We had taken to putting a canister of whey protein under the door to support its weight.

Which worked fine. But still. I'm not particularly possession-proud but that was a trifle too hillbilly for my domestic sensibilities.

I may not be ultra-refined but I do have my standards.

We flagged Tony down and asked if he could knock any more off the price of the already-reduced dishwasher.

He said he just couldn't.

So I said, well, if we take the dishwasher, can we have the oven for $_____ (a lower price than the one on which we'd agreed)?

"Yes," Tony said. Then, three beats later: "No."

And before we could react, he mentioned an even lower price than the lower price I had mentioned. For the oven, I mean. If we took the dishwasher too.

I looked at TG, who has a tendency to indulge me, and from his expression I knew I had a new dishwasher.

So I did a touchdown-type thing with my arms. Tony and TG went up front to settle up.

I know you don't really beat the house but hey. We got both a new oven and a new dishwasher for less than we originally thought we'd have to spend on an oven alone.

That should be the end of it, but it isn't. Get you some more popcorn.

When I got home, I looked up both my new oven and my new dishwasher on the store's website.

I wanted to read reviews of their performance by folks who'd bought and used them.

And I was less than thrilled with what consumers had to say about my new dishwasher.

According to several reviewers, the soap cup won't open if silverware is too near it.

Several more claimed that while the dishes get clean, no matter what you do or how long you wait, they'll be sopping wet.

Still more said your silverware will never be dry again. Also the cycle is too long.

Blah, whine, blah, complain, blah, gripe, blah.

But I was terrified. To the point that I was convinced we should renege on the purchase of the dishwasher.

And that made me feel guilty because the reduced price of our oven had been contingent on our buying the dishwasher too.

But the devil you know beats the devil you don't; right? Whey protein canister and rolled-up towel notwithstanding, I had a working dishwasher.

However I reckon because I'm greedy, in the end I decided to keep the shiny new dishwasher. With a stainless steel interior.

A few nights ago, TG and a friend installed my new appliances.

Erica baked a pizza for the maiden voyage of the bakey-thing. Success.

And with great trepidation I loaded in my first haul of dishes for the trial run of the poorly-reviewed dishwasher.

And I found, the soap cup slides up flush with the door, rather than popping out, and the silverware does not interfere with it at all.

The cycle is not too long. When I start the dishwasher and walk away, I don't really care how long the cycle is anyway.

The dishes come out not only sparkling clean, but bone dry as well.

I guess I'm lucky because when it comes to kitchen appliances, I do not require bells and whistles.

I only demand bells and whistles when it comes to cars, computers, and cameras. That however is another blog for another day.

But if the oven heats up and cooks stuff, I'm happy.

And if the dishwasher splashes hot water and soap onto my dishes and then rinses and dries them, I'm ecstatic.

They don't have to sing and dance for me too, or do origami, or quote Shakespeare.

And I think my mailman, his belly soon to be full of delicious home-baked banana-nut bread, would agree.

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Happy Weekend ~ Happy November

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