A Girl and Her Gown

Graduation Collage

The Graduate

Going to a small town private school has some advantages. At least in my book. I am not so sure that Ab would say the same, but she’s survived 5 years in that environment and I think she’s got a pretty good education for my money. She graduated last night from the 8th grade; one of 15 students in her class. Now she’s headed to high school and I believe academically she’s well prepared.

At 13, she can type 46 words per minute, which is the highest in her class. She’s had 5 years of Conversational Spanish. I’ve yet to hear her carry on a conversation in Spanish, but I believe she’s had some it rub off on her during that time. She’s also made a machine stitched quilt that now graces her bed, thanks to a dedicated teacher who took the time to share her love of the art with her students.

During the morning ceremony the student body gives a hearty, “Good Morning Teachers, Good Morning Parents!” before saying the Pledge of Allegiance. Each day, the kids recite the weekly standard, such as “Praise the work of others!” and they are expected to try to find ways to exemplify the standard in their work and play. Students are recognized for special achievements and on their birthdays when the entire group sings Happy Birthday in honor of their special day.

Private school kids pray in school. They bow their heads and say the Carden Prayer before shaking hands with the teachers as they file off to their classrooms to begin their day; Father in Heaven to Thee we pray, Asking Thy Help, day by day, In all we say, in all we do, Make us kind and generous, too. Make us eager in our work today, Make us joyous in our play, Help us always to follow Thy rule, Father in Heaven, bless our school. Amen.

It’s okay for the teachers and staff to hug the children. And…it’s done regularly and openly. How cool is that? The teachers also stay in constant contact with the parents as they personally walk each child to Mom or Dad’s awaiting car to see them off at the end of the school day.

Special events are very special, with colorful decorations and personalized table favors, like graduation. Each graduate had a family table set for 10 guests, beautifully covered in a crisp white tablecloth, with candle centerpieces surrounded with multi-colored confetti, snapshots of the graduate through the school year. Special poses were framed as take-home gifts!

Congratulatory cards and messages from fellow students and parents were thoughtfully placed. As Ab opened a card from her principal, I cried when I read…“Of all the graduates, I am most proud of you!” in reference to the difficult times she’s endured in her family life in the past couple of years.

The boys, dressed up in their gawky best, proudly escorted the girl graduates to the stage, where each student was recognized for their achievements. Despite the school’s efforts to change tradition, the girls were dressed in formal dresses and were stunningly beautiful. Ab was turning heads in her black and white gown, and she knew it. It was a needed self-esteem booster for this child who often struggles with the dreaded teenage uncertainty.

Later, they would change into caps and gowns and walk to the musical sounds of a string processional to receive their impressively framed diplomas. Finally, a gift from the school…a book entitled, Writer‘s Inc.

Hugs, tears and family photos and then a celebration at a local Mexican restaurant.

We’re done.

No more yukky uniforms, she says!

It’s summertime!

Monday Photo Shoot-Wish I Was There!

I wish I was there, at the ocean in Smith River.  Because..... I'd be close to my dear Uncle Lee, who looks so much like my Papa and sounds like him too!  He's my closest link to Papa, who I miss terribly.  

Hugs to you Uncle Lee!

This picture has absolutely nothing to do with this entry, other than to say I'd much rather be playing with my photos, than working for a living! 

My first day back, after an 8 week absence was nice, because it's obvious that I was missed, at least by my staff and due to a multitude of staff vacancies, I am desperately needed.  Our managers are being spread way too thin and my absence didn't help the situation. 

I felt somewhat guilty when one of my fellow managers told me he had just come back to work after only 2 weeks off for a hip replacement.  Geez....only 2 weeks and I was off for 8 whole weeks!  But, doctor's orders. 

This man is on crutches, but can actually put 50% of his weight on that side, while walking with the assistance of the crutches.  So, it's a little different than my total non-weight bearing recuperation, but regardless, I am very impressed that he'd come back that quick.  Dedication for sure. 

Had an opportunity to chat with Fly Boy for a few minutes on the Instant Messenger this afternoon.  He said morale's pretty bad since the loss of those two men.  It's difficult for him to sleep and even harder for his roomie, who was one of the survivors in the other helicopter, that didn't crash. 

Fly Boy said his roomate suffers from horrible nightmares from the incident, where his copter took 7 "hits."  Fortunately the two pilots survived, returning to base.  Neither had physical injuries, but are certainly affected emotionally.  The surviving pilots were just grounded for three days, before getting back in the saddle!   Three days.  Can you imagine?  

I asked if the Army supplied them with counseling and he said yes, but he says that they do much better just "being there" as support for their "brothers."  They conducted their own memorial service for the two soldiers who died, and that had to be helpful as well.  But, I can't imagine what they are feeling right now.

Fly Boy sounded very down and I had to ask if he's okay.  He assured me that he's fine.  I told him to give his roomate my love and let him know that they are all in my prayers, then told him to be safe to return home soon to those of us who love him!

Last September, just after Papa passed away, Trish and I took a much needed breather by heading up to visit my Uncle Lee and his wife, in Smith River, California.  My grief was so fresh and raw and the ocean views, smell of the salt water and comfort of my family and best friend, helped me deal with the loss of the most special person in my life. 

Trish took this photo of me as I sat by myself on the rocks.  At the time I probably was wishing I could be swept away to join my father.  I know for sure I was contemplating life, and all it's pain.

Anyway, last night while playing with my new Photoshop Elements, I manipulated it to get this effect.  I am pretty pleased with the way it turned out.

An Exciting Oklahoma Night

I mentioned in an earlier entry that my recent trip to Oklahoma was pretty darn exciting. Yep. Well, there’s more!

Since 1988 after my Grandpa Sarge died, whenever I visited my Grandma, I’d sleep with her in her king size bed. She always had the most comfortable beds, including a dreamy “floatation sleep system” which was a partial waterbed. Oh, yeah, a waterbed. Grandma was always really cool.

Sleeping with my grandma allowed for late night “girly” chats and the opportunity to get to know her better, when she’d spill her secrets and life stories. The rest of the family would say….Grandma just tells you everything.

In the past couple of years, since Grandma’s health has declined and she now lives in an assisted living environment, I’ve stayed with my Aunt Mary instead. Grandma’s little apartment, although very cute and comfy for her, is kept way too warm for me at this stage of my life. Aunt Mary and I love to sleep under a huge fan and crank up the air conditioner, so it’s a perfect match.

So, the tradition continues, and now I sleep in my Aunt Mary’s bed. She doesn’t complain about my snoring and is always prepared to give me a hardy shake if I should forget to inhale, every time I exhale. It’s a comforting feeling. We talk and laugh until the wee hours, or until we pass out from exhaustion.

Sometimes Aunt Mary may have difficulty sleeping as diabetes has taken it’s toll on her feet. Neuropathy causes her to suffer with horrible pain that seems to really kick in when the moon comes up. Walking will often calm it down, so it’s not unusual for her to be up and about in the night.

That night was no different, and I didn’t even hear a peep when she left the room. The next thing I know, it's 4:00 a.m. and Mary is sitting on the side of the bed and I hear this very calm, one-sided telephone conversation.....

“Yes, my name is Mary (last name omitted) and I live at (address omitted) and my neighbor from across the street just called me and said that she saw a prowler put something down in my side yard, then go into my backyard. Could you send an officer over here?”

I am instantly awake and up on one elbow, listening with astonishment.

“Well yes. I just happened to be awake, sitting on the sofa and I heard something on the side of my house. I thought I was imagining things, until my neighbor across the street called. She said there was a light colored car in the driveway of the vacant house to the East of mine. That’s right, the East side. But the house on the West of me is vacant too. In fact there are two houses in a row vacant on that side. Do you suppose he’s burglarizing that house? Okay, I will wait for the officers. Thank you.”

I am thinking how impressive it is that these Okies know their directions as well as they do. East, West….geez. Californians simply say….Right side, left side. That’s why Papa, a pilot, always said I was “Geographically Challenged!“

I am also thinking how fortunate Mary is that she has a neighbor who happens to be awake at that hour, because if it were me, I wouldn’t have heard a thing. The burglar would have more likely had a pleasant, stress free heist, hearing the loud rhythmic snoring rattling the walls, knowing no one in that house is waking up anytime soon!

It was then I noticed that the kitchen blinds, facing the backyard were open. Since the bedroom was just off the kitchen and Mary had a light on beside the bed, our prowler who was still likely to be in the backyard, would be able to see right in there where two plump, middle aged women were sitting terrified in their shorty pajamas!

On second thought, I figured he’d probably throw up his hands and run away in obvious disgust at the sight, but I still told Mary to get over there and close those damn blinds!

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and there stood one of OKC’s finest inquiring about our call. Mary told him the same story as she told the 9-1-1 Operator a few minutes earlier, and pointed out the neighbor’s house, where he could get the details from her.

She told the officer, “I think that’s his light colored car in the driveway next door!” The confused officer said, “That’s not a light colored car, that’s a Taxi!” It was apparent at that point that neither of the aged women had superior eyesight.

Again, a knock at the front door. It was the same officer back with more questions. He’d called in back-up and there was at least 5 cop cars parked in both directions, blocking the street in front of her house. I figured it must have been a slow night in OKC, but I was terribly thankful for their presence and the journal fodder.

As the young officer pressed Mary for details about just where she heard the noises, we heard someone yell “I’ve got him over here!” The young officer nearly fell as he rushed from the porch to help his partners. There was so much commotion, I hollered to Mary, “Close and lock that door!” as I imagined the perp breaking away, running into the house and taking us hostage.

A few minutes later, the officer was back to inform us that he had the suspect in custody after finding him in Mary’s side yard, hiding in the bushes. We breathed a sigh of relief. But, I had to have the rest of the details for an interesting journal entry so I did what any responsible journal writer would do…I got nosy.

I threw on a pair of sweats and opened the front door and stepped into the night air. That’s when I saw something that didn’t quite fit. There was scruffy middle-aged, man with his waist length, graying hair pulled back into a pony-tail. He had a flashlight in hand, shining it around Mary’s yard as the police were grouped up near their cars, beginning their reports and not paying any attention to him.

I couldn’t stand not knowing, so I said, “Okay now…just who are you?”

He said, “I am the Taxi driver! That’s my Taxi!” as he pointed to the vehicle. “That guy stole my taxi from the 7-11 a few blocks away! I had just stopped for gas, went inside to pay and grab a cup of coffee and the next thing I know, this idiot in a TUXEDO has jumped in my Taxi and is driving off! I figured he was after the money, but I had the money on me! Right now I am looking for the keys, because I can’t go anywhere until I find them and it looks like he ditched them and my checkbook somewhere around here where the cops found him!”

I asked him how long ago the taxi had been stolen and he said, “Just 15 minutes!”

“The guy was wearing a TUXEDO?” I said incredulously and gave Aunt Mary a high five, saying she just solved the case of the Tuxedoed Taxi Bandit!

But, I had to wonder out loud why this guy was wearing a tux when he stole the Taxi. My journal entry would just not be complete without “the rest of the story!”

Aunt Mary, a real crime stopper said, “I bet he escaped from one of the local high school proms!”

Well….after all, it was that time of year.

But, when the young cop came to the door for the final time to let us know that they had everything under control and the bad guy was going to jail, I had to ask. “What the hell was that guy doing in a tux, when he decided to steal that Taxi?”

Again, Aunt Mary gives her thoughtful take on the situation, “I think he escaped from a bad date at the prom!”

The friendly cop just laughed and said, “I think he’s a bit old for the prom, but he is pretty drunk. Who knows?”

My guess…………..He’s a runaway groom?

Well…It could happen!

I guess we’ll never know for sure.

Army Memorial Services

Today a Memorial Service was held in Minnesota for CW4 Matt Lourey, a Senior Instructor Pilot in Fly Boy’s unit, who died with his partner; CW2 Josh Scott last week when their Kiowa was shot down by enemy fire in Iraq. Josh’s services are tomorrow in Wisconsin. My heart is so heavy with grief for the families and for those soldiers that they left behind, who must carry on.

CW4 Lourey will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery in the near future. On Memorial Day, my local country music station played a new song by Trace Adkins, entitled Arlington. When I heard the song, I just burst into tears because the lyrics are so touching.

Here they are:

Arlington

I never thought that this is where I’d settle down,

I thought I’d die an old man back in my hometown,

They gave me this plot of land, me and some other men, for a job well done.

 

There's a big white house sits on a hill just up the road,

The man inside he cried the day they brought me home,

They folded up a flag and told my mom and dad, we're proud of your son.

 

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,

I'm on sacred ground and I’m in the best of company,

I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I’ve done,

I can rest in piece, I'm one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington

 

I remember daddy brought me here when I was eight,

We searched all day to find out where my granddad lay,

And when we finally found that cross,

He said, "son this is what it cost, to keep us free"

 

Now here I am, a thousand stones away from him,

He recognized me on the first day I came in,

And it gave me a chill, when he clicked his heels, and saluted me.

 

And I'm proud to be on this peaceful piece of property,

I'm on sacred ground and I’m in the best of company,

I'm thankful for those thankful for the things I’ve done,

I can rest in piece, I'm one of the chosen ones, I made it to Arlington

 

And every time I hear twenty-one guns,

I know they brought another hero home to us.

We're thankful for those thankful for the things we've done,

We can rest in peace, 'cause we are the chosen ones,

We made it to Arlington,

 

Yea dust to dust, don't cry for us,

We made it to Arlington.

 

   Rest in Peace Soldiers!

I'd Rather Be Taking in the View

I had such limited time last week in North Carolina, so we really couldn't do much sight-seeing.  Although we did take a ride to the Atlantic Ocean, which was on my list of must sees.  We headed to Ft. Fisher and oohhh and ahhhed at the new construction of ocean view homes, not knowing if it was an area being rebuilt after some destructive hurricane, or just recently developed.   It was my first time seeing houses on stilts, which I found pretty amazing, considering I live on the San Andreas Fault...and we wouldn't put anything on stilts around here, due to almost daily shakers! 

It made me wonder how a house would survive there on stilts anyway, considering the strength of the winds in an hurricane.  I am sorry, but I am just not going to live that close to the ocean and have to worry about whether the ocean is going to sweep my house away with flooding or gale force winds.  (Said by someone who's living on one of the biggest earthquake faults in the nation!) 

I did manage to get a few photo ops when we took a ferry from Ft. Fisher across the inlet to Southport, NC.  Here's one of a pelican taking in the beautiful sights of his habitat, enhanced with Photoshop Elements 3. 

My at home recuperation period is coming to an end.  In fact, I should have gone back to work today, but geez...it's mid- week, so I begged off until Monday. 

This practicing for retirement is just great!  The countdown to July 1, 2006 begins!  

Grandma and Fly Boy's St. Christopher Medals

It was so hard to leave Fly Boy in North Carolina last Thursday, knowing he'd be heading back to Iraq on Saturday, May 28th.  But, making a connection in Oklahoma City to visit with my sweet Grandma made it somewhat easier. 

While in OKC, we were devastated to learn that two of Fly Boy's fellow Kiowa pilots were killed when shot down by insurgents who fired on the two copters travelling together. One young man was from Fly Boy's C Troop and the other was a Senior Instructor Pilot, who worked closely with all of them.  Fortunately, the other Kiowa pilots safely returned to base. One of the young men in that chopper was my son's room mate. 

I cannot imagine how my son felt when hearing that horrific news. 

With a sense of guilt, I immediately gave thanks to God that my son was not involved in that incident and cried for the family, friends and co-workers of those who lost their lives in a war that I find harder and harder to believe was ever right or necessary.  My son, however, feels differently and I support him fully. 

The awful circumstances surely put a damper on Fly Boy's remaining time with Fall Girl, and he left with heartfelt sadness, returning to his unit to his buddies who dealt with the loss of their brothers first hand while he was home on leave. 

His pending return to Iraq made me ask tearfully..."Can't you just resign?" (He once told me that as an officer he has to resign to end his military assignment)  "I can't stand the thought of you going back again for 6 months?"  He replied...."Mom, they'd put me in jail!"

It was then I wanted to step into what I call my "Mama Monster" role.  It's a no-holds barred, taking care of business and fully in charge and YOU will listen to me Mister persona, and call the Governor, my Senator and Congressman, the President and his Chief of Staff, Fly Boy's Commander and anyone else who'd listen to a deranged mother and say.........."This is CW2 Fly Boy's Mother and I am calling to tell you he won't be back!  That's right.  I will not let him step one foot back there.  He's done.  He's not playing any more....he's taking his flight goggles and staying home!" 

Instead, I just cried and did what my Grandma told me.  She said in her sweet Okie voice...."Now Lisa, you just take this money and go buy him a St. Christopher's medal.  I want you to get one he can put in his pocket and one he can wear!"

That's exactly what I did. 

Here's Grandma holding them in her precious hands. 

Please pray that God and St. Christopher keep their hands cupped safely around Fly Boy.

Thanks.