We Interrupt This Program...

I don't make a secret of my disgust for what passes as news these days. I am single handedly trying to bring down the Jersey Shore by refusing to click on any links, read any magazine/newspaper articles, or mention the names The Situation or Snooki. Likewise, I will flip the channel if they happen to pop on the screen. I am merely one person, but I like to think my lack of acceptance could help turn the tide. I have been exercising the same restraints in regard to the Charlie Sheen fiasco. This has been harder considering he is literally on every station and I can't control the gym television so I know a little more about the situation than I would care to admit.

So, you can imagine my horror when I logged onto Facebook today and my mother-in-law's status stated this: Charlie Sheen 47, is all over the news because he's a celebrity drug addict while Andrew Wilfahrt 31, Brian Tabada 21, Rudolph Hizon 22, Chauncy May 25, are soldiers who gave their lives this week with no media mention. Please honor them by posting this as your status for a little while. May these heroes rest in peace!

Really, America? This is a disgrace and we should be ashamed. Here is my tribute, so at least my readers and myself will know their names and faces.

Photo Courtesy of Jeff Wilfahrt

Cpl. Andrew Wilfahrt, 31, of Rosemount, Minn., was killed Sunday, Feb. 27, 2011 by a bomb while on patrol in Afghanistan. His mother described him as a gentle soul who was very learned without going to traditional school. He joined the military because he was seeking structure, which was ironic as he had rebelled against structure preferring to do things his own way.

He was kind, he was compassionate, he was loved by his unit, friends, and family. (Source.)

Brian Tabada 21, of Las Vegas; assigned to 1st Battalion, 327th Infantry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault), Fort Campbell, Ky.; died Feb. 27 in Konar province, Afghanistan, of wounds sustained when insurgents attacked his unit using small-arms fire and a rocket-propelled grenade.

He joined the Army in August 2008 and arrived at Fort Campbell in January 2009. He is survived by his father, Muncko Kruize of Honolulu, Hawaii, and Leinette Mahan of Las Vegas.  (Source)

U.S. Army SPC Rudolph R. Hizon was assigned to Task Force Patriot soldiers from 4th Brigade Combat Team, 10th Mountain Division.  Hizon, a 22-year-old Los Angeles native assigned to Company B, 2nd Battalion, 30th Infantry Regiment’s Task Force Storm out of Fort Polk, LA. 

His comrades remember him for his easy smile - the kind of smile that makes everyone else in the room smile, cheerful disposition, and friendly support. (Source)

Spc. Rudolph R. Hizon 22, of Los Angeles, Calif., died Feb. 28, in Logar province, Afghanistan, of wounds suffered when insurgents attacked his unit using an improvised explosive device.  (Source)

Chauncy Mays, a 25-year-old native of Cookville, Texas, was assigned to 63rd EOD Bn, 20th Support Command and attached to 4th Brigade Combat Team, 10th Mountain Division’s Task Force Patriot based at Fort Polk, La.,

He was assigned to 705th Explosive Ordnance Disposal Company in the Tangi area. Mays was working out of Combat Outpost Tangi in support of 2nd Battalion, 4th Infantry Regiment, while deployed in Afghanistan.

Always careful, never fearful, Mays' comrades respected him and state he saved countless lives and the world is a lesser place without him. 

A decorated soldier, Mays died while in the Wardack province, Afghanistan. He is survived by his wife, Katherine, and daughters Chesnee and Kiley.  (Source)

Alongside Chauncy Mays, U.S. Army Spc. Christopher G. Stark, 22, died during an improvised explosive device attack while on a dismounted patrol in the Tangi area. Stark was working out of Combat Outpost Tangi in support of 2nd Battalion, 4th Infantry Regiment, while deployed in Afghanistan.

Several Soldiers said Stark was an outstanding team member and a great EOD technician. Stark’s comrades said he was always willing to help others and made everything he did fun for himself and for those around him. (Source)

A moment of silence and the playing of Taps... 

A Salute to the Silent Ranks

Today is Military Spouse Appreciation Day.  I do not know firsthand what it is to be married to the military. I know what it is to be a daughter of a soldier, a cousin to the Navy, granddaughter to a retired Airman, and sister to a Marine. I don't know that I could do what is often described as the toughest job in the military.

Through my various connections I have had the honor of meeting those known as the Silent Ranks - the wives left behind to man the home front. I have yet to meet one who didn't inspire me with their strength and wisdom. Their lives are interrupted, plans change at the drop of a hat, but they adjust and persevere. 

Below is one of my favorite poems. It is similar to one my parents have  hanging on our "military wall" at home. It is my tribute to all those married to the military. I admire you. 

The Silent Ranks

Author Unknown

I wear no uniforms, no blues or army greens
But I am in the Army in the ranks rarely seen
I have no rank upon my shoulders - salutes I do not give
But the military world is the place where I live
I'm not in the chain of command, orders I do not get
But my husband is the one who does, this I can not forget
I'm not the one who fires the weapon, who puts my life on the line
But my job is just as tough. I'm the one that's left behind
My husband is a patriot, a brave and prideful man
And the call to serve his country not all can understand
Behind the lines I see the things needed to keep this country free
My husband makes the sacrifice, but so do our kids and me
I love the man I married, Soldiering is his life
But I stand among the silent ranks known as the Army Wife.

So today I send a shout out to you who have so inspired me to take life one step at a time, breath, and laugh:  

Karie, who has loved and lost so much. Nikki, who makes me laugh every day and reminds me not to take life so seriously. Becca, who makes classy military-inspired decor. Megan, who is transitioning from an active military life to a retired military life and shares her story. Wife of a Wounded Soldier, who gives insight to the struggles our wounded soldiers face upon coming home, while staying positive and helping others in the same position. And Charity, whose blog I have just recently started reading, but is an amazing wife and mother of three.

You all are so amazing and I feel so blessed to have come across your blogs. Thank you for sharing your stories.

Wearing a yellow ribbon until they all come home.

Once a Marine

I picked up Once a Marine on a whim from my local library. It is not often that I come across a book, much less a memoir, that is so powerfully written or where the author's voice rings through so clearly. Regardless of how you feel about the war in Iraq or the military, Nick Popaditch's story is worth your time. Anyone that has ever believed in a cause or built their life around something only to have it snatched away from them will be able to relate. This is more than a war story, it is a story of courage, perseverance, and adjustment. Nick Popaditch has earned my utmost respect and admiration and is the symbol of so many others that go unrecognized.

Operation Valentine: Oregon Veterans Home

I hate Valentine's Day. I mean, want to crawl under a rock every time the date comes around and not come out until it has passed hate it. As far back as I can remember, something horrific has happened on that date. Most notably, my childhood dog having a seizure and having to be put down the next day, but there have been others just as traumatic, and some even more so. And they always seem to happen on Valentine's Day.

Lest you think I am a bitter old spinster, let me explain my take on relationships, the expression of love, and Valentine's Day. I have been happily married for nearly a year and a half to a man I have been madly in love with for nearly five years. He sends me flowers and cards at random times and when I need them the most. That's how it should be as far as I'm concerned.

My experience and observations show that Valentine's Day is an especially stressful time for men with significant, and not-so-significant, others as our society has conditioned them to believe (and not only them, but the women they are attached to) that their other expressions of love are not as worthy as the diamond necklace, flowers, and chocolates that MUST be bought on Valentine's.

Now, let me insert a disclaimer, if you are not showing your SO that you love and appreciate them day in and day out and make a special effort at least once a month (or even every other month) to demonstrate that in some way, maybe it is important that you at least honor the day set aside for love. My opinion, however, remains that demonstrating love should not be done out of obligation but out of selflessness and a desire to do so. It's just tainted otherwise.

My ramblings aside, I will now get to the point of this post and an explanation of the above picture. A couple weeks ago I received an e-mail saying "Calling all Oregon Angels!" and it was a request from Soldiers' Angels, a nonprofit that I rate as my favorite and consider Patti Patton-Bader my personal hero, to make and deliver Valentines cards to veterans at the Oregon Veterans Home in The Dalles.

I was so delighted to have a mission that in a state of quasi-hypocrisy, I agreed to take part and made 95 Valentines cards and anxiously awaited the day I could deliver them.

This year was quite possibly the best Valentines I've had in a long while. (My husband, who always enjoys giving me a bad time about my detest for Valentines, even though it's to his advantage I feel this way, accompanied me on the trip and was the perfect accomplice. He even folded the enveloped around the cards that didn't quite fit in them. He's such a sport.)

We spent almost three hours visiting with the veterans who live in three of the four wings (the Delta Wing is reserved for the Alzheimer and dementia veterans and I, shamefully, am terribly uncomfortable in those types of situations). We heard stories of the building of the bridges and dams across the Columbia. One gentleman, who was visiting his wife, told us about growing up in Hood River, picking cherries, and riding his bike up and down the hills before bikes had gears. (As a side note, I believe they are both veterans, but his wife is blind and lives in the home. I have rarely seen two people so in love at such an advanced stage in life and it really touched me.)

My husband and another lady veteran swapped stories about Apple Valley, California as they had that in common. She actually worked at the senior center down the street from where his father pastored.

I was wearing my Soldiers' Angels t-shirt, which proved to be a good conversation starter and everyone was interested in hearing about the organization and what we stand for. We were so busy visiting that we only took one picture, which is the one above of a handful of veterans decorating heart shaped sugar cookies.

On the drive home my husband and I discussed the different conversations and feelings we'd had. It was a memorable experience for both of us and we think maybe we'll make it a Valentine's Day tradition. (Except maybe the dinner at a certain restaurant that followed that excursion. I'd be okay not going there again. Ha.)

Unsung Heroes...

Dad just sent me an e-mail that gave me pause. I have a lot on my mind and haven't had a chance to get it all. I have class in ten minutes, so here's a story I lifted from an e-mail. I haven't checked the facts, but will later.
***
You're an 18 or 19 year old kid. You're critically wounded, and dying in the jungle in the Ia Drang Valley, Nov-14-1965, LZ Xray, Vietnam.Your infantry unit is outnumbered 8-1, and the enemy fire is so intense, from 100 or 200 yards away, that your own Infantry Commander has ordered the MediVac helicopters to stop coming in.
You're lying there, listening to the enemy machine guns, and you know you're not getting out. Your family is 1/2 way around the world, 12,000 miles away, and you'll never see them again. As the world starts to fade in and out, you know this is the day.
Then, over the machine gun noise, you faintly hear that sound of a helicopter, and you look up to see an un-armed Huey, but it doesn't seem real, because no Medi-Vac markings are on it. The pilot, Ed Freeman, is coming for you. He's not Medi-Vac, so it's not his job, but he's flying his Huey down into the machine gun fire, after the Medi-Vacs were ordered not to come. He's coming anyway. And he drops it in, and sits there inthe machine gun fire, as they load 2 or 3 of you onboard. Then he flies you up and out through the gunfire, to theDoctors and Nurses.
And, he kept coming back.... 13 more times..... And took about 30 of you and your buddies out, who would never have gotten out.
Medal of Honor Recipient Ed Freeman died Wednesday, Aug 20, 2008 at the age of 80, in Boise , ID.
May God rest his soul.
(Oh yeah, Paul Newman died that day too. I guessyou knew that -- He got a lot more press than Ed Freeman.)
***
I verified. Read the story: http://dailynightly.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2007/07/11/265756.aspx
PS: The picture is from my brother's first deployment. He left for his second deployment last Friday.