Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Uncle Ernie


[During a family dinner, my husband’s uncle Ernie told us his story of survival. I had to write it down and share it.]


Ernie was a Forward Officer in Vietnam.

During an operation to lead his platoon into the jungles, he and two radiomen scouted ahead of the group. That day, they were met with an ambush. His two radiomen were killed in the ensuing attack, leaving him unable to communicate back to the rest of the platoon about the ambush. He fought off the enemy until his platoon arrived to fight with him. By the time the platoon came upon him, he’d killed more than a dozen of the enemy attackers and held off the rest.

It wasn’t long after that heroic jungle day that he was taken as a prisoner of war. He was kept imprisoned for nine days, his legs and arms bound tightly behind him while he lay on the floor in a dark, damp hole. His feet were beaten with sticks to prevent his escape. He was made to defecate and urinate on himself. Food was a handful of rice, thrown with accuracy on the dirty, piss-covered floor. He had to move to the rice, lick it up with his tongue.

He was starving.

The physical damage was minimal compared to the lasting, destructive psychological trauma he endured each day. He didn’t know where he was, how long he would be kept a prisoner, or what would become of him after that. Every minute of every day was spent in agony, in dread of the next minute. His fear of death gave way to a fear of life in the dark cell.

But, no matter what they did to him, no matter the beatings and starvation, he wouldn’t talk. There was nothing his enemy could do to make him tell them what they most wanted to know. They would have to kill him. He would give them nothing.

Nine days he spent in this mental limbo. Nine days, in hindsight, was a short time to spend as a POW. But nine days, when he lay on the floor of his cell at the fifth day, and the sixth day, may as well have been a lifetime. The pain came with not knowing when it would end. He had no way of knowing, while imprisoned, whether he would be there for nine days or for one hundred; whether or not he would die there. The paranoia of the unknown is what drove some POWs to madness.

On the ninth day, he was released. He returned to the United States, a recipient of the Bronze Star for his heroism and endurance.

Before the war, Ernie had been offered a football scholarship to Marshall University. His dream of football stardom was dashed when he received his papers to serve in Vietnam. After the war, with his new accolades and experience, he was again offered a place on Marshall’s football team. This time, he was still unable to accept because his POW foot injuries were too extensive for his athleticism to overcome. He had to turn down the scholarship for a second time.

He was bitter and angry. His dream again thwarted by his own bad luck in life. He brooded about it. Lament and regret threatened to topple any sanity he may have salvaged from war….

Until November 14, 1970, the night that the Marshall University football team went down in an airplane crash that killed everyone on board.

Ernie then understood that he had been spared. Although he had horrible memories of his nine POW days, at least he had memories.

He would have been on that Marshall football team. He would have been on that plane.

Had it not been for his call to war, he would be dead.

Ironic.

Vietnam saved his life.


Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Summer Taycation


Summer is my favorite season.

Sure, it’s hot, really hot some days, but I just love the sunny sun and warm rain, flip-flops and sunscreen, beach trips and bathing suits, and the slow-rolling weeks from May to September.

This summer was especially fun with our daughter, Taylor. She’s two and a half, which means that she is constantly learning new things and amusing us with her emerging personality. But she also has “terrible twos” tantrums and practices selective listening and makes us repeat ourselves to get the point across and makes us repeat ourselves to get the point across and makes us repeat ourselves – oh, wait, sorry – you get the point.

Whether we were playing with Taylor or scolding her, we were all about Taylor this summer.

We had a lovely summer Taycation.

Here are the highlights…

Little pool parties in the front yard with two blow-up pools, hose flowing, music mixes, popsicles and snacks, and folding chairs for adults (usually me and Gigi and Sarah, but also the Wolfsons one day – yay!).

Ten day beach trips to Isle of Palms (in May and August): giant drip castles and homemade tide pools; playful dolphins waving tail flukes and swimming close to shore; shell-collecting in the cool shade of dusk; endless wave-jumping; Taylor’s first (pretend) surfing with her feet on the kick board while we held her up and skimmed the board across the waves and sang the “Wipe Out” tune; fun beach days with Gigi, Nana, and Kassi; favorite meals at The Wreck, The Boathouse, Dunleavy’s, and Andolini’s; chai at Kudu, French-Asian fusion at Fish, and late lunch at Magnolia’s – all with dear friends; long beach walks; and rainbows.

Fish fountain fun at The Green uptown with Taylor and one especially fun day with Anna, Emma, and Will Johnson.

Sunny afternoons at OP kiddie pool with Taylor’s turtle float and swimmy suit, a random gathering of shared pool toys, and time to watch Taylor gain confidence in the water.

Discovery Place days, where we crossed the rope bridge over the rainforest, stared into aquarium microcosms of vibrant undersea life, pet a skink, and saw a 3D sea turtle movie - twice (Taylor’s first movie with 3D glasses!).

Strolling to Starbucks for scones and chai and vanilla milk and apple juice, a place to cool off, relaxing music, a small collection of children’s books, and good friends Brooke and Adam! 

Taylor’s first bike ride around the block on her big wheel bike, pedaling (as she would say) “All by my big self”.

Dancing and singing and playing in the house when it was just too hot to be outside.

Day trips to Columbia to visit Gigi, Dale, and Kerri; and an afternoon swim with Uncle Dale in Gigi’s pool.

Fourth of July - with Nana and Pete and Andrew and Sarah - watching uptown fireworks from the park.

Overnight Atlanta trip to see amazing tennis (a Taylor-free trip), and almost-close-enough-to-touch-the-stage standing room at the Jack Johnson concert with Sarah (also Taylor-free).

Slide n’ Seek game: driving around town in search of slides and stopping to try each one.

Gigi slumber parties, Suzie lunches, Tuesdays with aunt Ashley, Sunday brunches at Terrace CafĂ© for “whooped” cream, and weekend visits with Nana and Pete.

After such a fun-filled summer Taycation, I can’t believe September is only a week away.

Pool days will soon become school days…

So, let the autumn adventures begin!

Friday, August 13, 2010

Nikon Envy


Thomas Jefferson Memorial, Washington, DC. Friday, July 2, 2010.

[What is Nikon Envy? Click here to find out]

Friday, August 6, 2010

Poetry Snack

The rust moon rose.
A chocolate gown in my bitter garden.
From raw trip to honey spring road,
I love for power.
Sweet.
Bare.
Still.
Rob life of time.
Recall pink light like shadow vision.
Part over death.

[P.S. I made this poem entirely from Magnetic Poetry word magnets]

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Overzealous Fan and Toddler Man



Dear Saturday Night Live,

I have two new characters for you.

Meet Overzealous Fan.

She’s an average, forty-something woman who loves tennis. What she loves even more than the action on the court is getting into the action from the stands. Yes, she is the one who yells words of encouragement between the first and second serves. She is the one who coaches her favorite of the two players through the tough points. Not only does she cheer, but she’s on a first name basis. In fact, if you didn’t know her, you might assume she actually knows the player to whom she calls with such intensity, such excessive enthusiasm.

As you probably know, tennis is a relatively quiet sport when it comes to fans and cheering. There is a rhythm to each point within each game. There is appropriate space for loud cheering and moments when the crowd is asked to be still and silent. Overzealous Fan is oblivious to tennis etiquette. When the rest of the crown begins to hush, she shouts, “Bring it, Andy!” She stands up for almost the whole match and claps hard to rally her favorite player. “That’s all right, Andy. You’ll get the next one. Come on. Next point. This one’s all yours, Andy.”

Andy somehow ignores her.

I guess part of the price of tennis fame is putting up with an Overzealous Fan.

Meet Toddler Man.

He’s a full grown adult version of your typical two-year-old. When you’re with him, he won’t let you speak a word to another person. Not face-to-face, not even on the phone. He wants all of your attention. And when you try to speak to someone else, he makes it impossible to carry on a conversation. He yells, screams, makes noise, repeats your name over and over and over and over and over again until you say, “What!”, and, if all verbal accosting fails, he clings to your legs or throws himself on the floor in fits and tantrums.

Ah, yes, this is my daughter’s two-year-old behavior in a nutshell. She made a decision that I am not allowed to converse with another adult while she is in the room. In her mind, that seems perfectly acceptable. Why should I have any problem with it? We have fun together. We play. But, to say the least, it can be frustrating at times. We’re working on manners and “Excuse me”; however, she now repeats “Excuse me” – very loudly - to regain my attention.

Sigh.

I’m just glad she’ll outgrow it.

She will.

Right?

So, those are a couple characters inspired by my real life experiences this summer – the first by actual events, the second by my daughter’s recent behavior.

Feel free to use them in your upcoming skits.

Maybe you’ve met them before, but – for your sake - I hope you haven’t.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Bluesday Tip #6: If It's Yellow, Let It Mellow


Today is Bluesday!

Bluesday is the first Tuesday of the month. Each Bluesday, I share a tip for How To Be Blue. Being blue is about caring for the ocean -- what we put into it, and what we take out of it.

This month's Bluesday tip: If It’s Yellow, Let It Mellow.

You may have heard this one before. It tends to provoke strong reactions for and against. The whole saying is well known among treehuggers and conservationists: “If it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it down.”

And – yes – it refers to selective toilet flushing.

I know, I know, I probably just lost some of you right there.

Gross!

I’m hoping a few of you are still reading – out of sheer curiosity if nothing more.

No matter your reaction to the idea of thinking before you flush, it really is an effective and simple water conservation method once you get into the habit of it. And you don’t have to do it all the time – like, for example, it probably goes without saying that this method should not be used in public restrooms.

But, in the privacy of your own home, this water-saving technique works.

Basically, it means what it says. Look at the color before you flush. If it’s yellow, leave it there until the next time the toilet is used. Don’t waste a flush. It will add up to a lot of water saved in the long run.

I recommend yellow-mellow toilets in your private, master bathroom only. Keep on flushing any other toilets used by guests or by other household members who aren’t cool with this whole idea.

And while we’re on the topic of colors… although I still think that blue is a better color for the conservation movement than green - because our planet is mostly blue ocean, and we can’t live without the ocean – in this case, yellow and being blue do make green.

So, let the yellow mellow and be blue!

Water conservation is one of the best ways to help protect the ocean. So, even if your roommate or boyfriend or spouse or partner or anyone else sharing your bathroom resists the idea of selective flushing, be bold and caring enough not to waste a flush on just pee.

It’s just pee.

The ocean and its millions of beautiful creatures will thank you.

May you turn a deeper shade of blue with each passing month!

Monday, August 2, 2010

Nikon Envy

I love taking pictures.

Through the lens of my camera, I’m forced to live in the moment in order to capture it.

My closet shelves are packed with rows of photo albums and stacks of prints, all documenting three decades of camera use – from old school Polaroids to random Canons to my first “real” camera, a Canon SLR Rebel EOS 35mm (which was amazing!), to my first pocket-sized digital.

Want to know a secret?

I have Nikon envy.

Well, I should say I had Nikon envy. Even while I had other great cameras, I really, really wanted a Nikon. Until - after a very Happy Mother’s Day gift from my wonderful, generous husband - I finally have a Nikon to call my own.

*content sigh*

It’s as good as I imagined.

I realize that a camera alone does not a photographer make, but having a digital Nikon SLR camera certainly helps to make my photos look more professional (and compensates for my lack of talent).

I can’t contain my Nikon excitement!

So, every now and then, to share my excitement, I’m going to post a photo I took with my Nikon to demonstrate why (if you don’t have a Nikon already) you should have Nikon envy…

Enjoy!
 

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