The Miracle of Flight

I love airplanes. I can never get used to it. No matter how many times I see them, I am in awe of them.

It has been wonderful to be here and watch the C-130s and C-17s pierce the clouds as they bank in for touch and go landings at Pope Air Force Base next door. I see them and wonder: Are they full of airborne paratroopers on their way to a drop zone? Are they returning from a drop? I'll never know.

Aircraft are an engineering marvel, to use a well worn cliche (actually, aren't all cliches well worn?), and in my mind they are a miracle. Their sleek, aerodynamic airframes slide through the air as gracefully as a bird in flight. Yet they are, unlike the flesh and blood of a bird, built of manmade materials that are much heavier than the air that they ride on.

Sometimes, in the middle of an outdoor training session, when one comes over the trees, speeding toward me; I'll tilt my head up towards the sky and take in all its beauty. The roar of its engines, the way it seems to cut through the atmosphere, banking left, straightening out, banking right, then descending into the treeline and eventually landing on the ground. It is amazing. I want to be inside it, experiencing the marvel of flight.

That is one reason I took this new position. I love to fly. I love to experience the miracle of flight; even if it is only viewing it from the ground.

Shocking!

People who know me, know I've always been one who heeds warnings and follows instructions, you might say I'm the overcautious one. Today, I should have done just that. I should have taken the warning label seriously.

The day started out like all other training days on the road. The three of us trainers met on the first floor of the hotel at 7:15 am to ride together out to the training site. Before we left, I made a little detour into the laundry room to change a five dollar bill into 20 shiny new quarters. Diet Coke money.

I hurriedly threw the quarters into my pocket, along with the rechargeable camera battery (one in each front pocket) and a few pennies already in the pocket, and then rushed out the door.

While one instructor is training, the other two of us sit on chairs in the back of the classroom and observe (that is code for trying to stay awake). All was going well, when suddenly, I felt something odd in my pocket. It felt like a bee, trapped in my pocket, just stung me. I grabbed at the pocket and moved it a little, thinking that something in my pocket was poking me and I could move it. It didn't help. Whatever it was, it was HOT and it was getting HOTTER.

My heart began to race. My anxiety level increased rapidly. I thrust my hand into my pocket, trying to rid myself of whatever was burning my leg. It was beginning to feel like someone threw a lit cigarette into my pocket.

There it was, too hot to just grab and pull out: the camera battery, surrounded by quarters. A camera battery alone, in my pocket, is no cause for alarm. But when you surround a battery with conductive metal (quarters) it becomes a short circuit for the battery and the battery HEATS UP. FAST.

When I was finally able to grasp the battery and fling it across the room, since it was still too hot to handle, I remembered the warning that I read on the package (the warning that I scoffed at when I read it). The warning went something like this: do not place this battery where metal conductors can touch both ends of the battery at the same time.

Next time I'll listen...

Losing The Weight Battle

This trip has not been good on my weight. I planned on taking charge of my body and getting back on the weight loss track while I was here. I've failed.

I am afraid to step on a scale. I have definitely gained a lot.

I don't understand why I could do it for two years and then just give up on myself. Maybe it was the support of my sweet wife that helped the most.

I tell myself I am not going to eat anything that is not good for me. I plan, and plan, and plan. But when it comes to meal time I give in. Then I beat myself up over it.

It is a horrible feeling to not be in control; to just watch yourself dig a hole.

It is my goal to find out what I have to do to get my mind back into the healthy eating mode and to get my walking in while on the road.

Stay tuned.

Thoughts About The War

I had an interesting conversation with a female soldier last week. It made me think a lot about our commitment to the war in Iraq. I don't think it changed my mind, but it opened my eyes a little to what they go through.

Since all the soldiers I've seen the last couple weeks are pretty nonchalant about Iraq, I was curious as to how dangerous it still was over there. Her comments were quite telling.

She told me that she doesn't know a soldier who has gone over there who has not been in a fire fight and shot at. It is difficult to protect yourself, she said, when anyone can carry a weapon. A few pieces of candy to a kid won't ensure that someone in the crowd won't try and kill you later.

It is the norm here to speak about having been deployed or waiting for your turn to deploy. Many members of the military here have made several trips over to the war zone. So it is a great wonder to me, that under those conditions, these soldiers put their lives on the line for a concept we all believe in--freedom for all.

It isn't a very popular conflict and the upcoming election may alter the outcome, who knows, but we all need to know that things over there are still extremely dangerous for our troops. We need to figure out the best solution for the Iraqi people and a solution that includes protecting our shores from 911-type attacks on our country.

I don't have the answers, but it would be great to bring all those brave young men and women home to their families.

I Hate Soccer Tournaments

Peace and quiet at last.

Every weekend here in paradise, the hotel fills up with little girl soccer teams. Fayetteville must have a healthy soccer tournament season and they stay here each weekend. Lucky me.

Now when I say little girls, I don't mean toddlers, but those of the young teenager and pre-teen persuasion. The worst kind.

Hearing high pitched voices yelping, laughing, and screaming up and down the halls all evening, slamming doors as they go, is not my idea of a good time. Especially when the noise levels exceed a jet plane on takeoff.

Why is it that parents seem to go deaf to this obnoxious behavior? Maybe that was them down in the bar having a good time of their own.

The normally quiet breakfast restaurant was full of these hungry young athletes gearing up for the day's games.

I took it all in good humor, even when a door knock got me up out of bed to find a shy little lady standing off to one side when I opened the door. "Excuse me," she almost whispered, "Wrong room".

Anticipating a nice long soak in the hot tub, I was distraught to find the hot tub full of giggly, gossip mongers lining around the rim of the tub, feet dangling in the water. They didn't even have the sense to turn on the jets. "Do you want me to turn on the bubbles?" I asked. To which they responded, "Bubbles?"

Oh brother.

So I spent the time I would have spent lounging in a nice warm hot tub wading around in the kiddie end of the swimming pool. The water was cold and when the allotted 15 minutes of hot tub time was more than up for the girls, I went back to my room, unsatisfied. Don't they know there are rules?

But like all good things, it finally came to an end this afternoon as they all said their goodbyes to each other, packed into the minivans and headed home. Thank goodness for small favors.

Museum Day

We went sightseeing today to the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Museum and the 82nd Airborne Museum; both on Ft. Bragg.

The JFK Museum is across the street from the special warfare school where special operations soldiers, like the Green Berets, are trained. Inside the museum are displays of special operations units and their missions since the first unit was established.

I found the most interesting exhibits were the more modern ones. There were several of Saddam Hussein's confiscated artifacts on display, including gold plated weapons he had made as special gifts, a painting of him, and part of a statue that was destroyed and removed after he was deposed.

A graffiti covered piece of the Berlin wall and Vietnam-era displays caught my eye since these are the eras that I am familiar with, having grown up in them and experiencing the Iraqi conflict in more contemporary times. The older displays, those of WWII, were interesting but I could not really relate to them.

The opposite was true at the 82nd Airborne Museum where I was most interested in the displays of Nazi memorabilia--mostly the flags, insignia, and knives confiscated from Nazi Germany. Outside the museum they have static displays of several military aircraft, artillery, and armored vehicles used by the 82nd.

If you love military history and memorabilia, these museums are a real treat; if you don't they still convey an interesting part of our history.

Just Me And Amy Tan

Here I am again, another Friday night on the road and I sit in my room, at the Hilton Garden Inn, staring at the TV and wondering how I am going to find anything worth watching on the blasted thing.

Workday is done, dinner is over, talked to the wife on the phone--now what? Unfortunately, there isn't much happening around here. I miss my wife, my family, and the community of people I associate with everyday. If it weren't for my goals and objectives for this new position I've taken on I would probably give up on it. But I am determined to achieve the things I have set out to achieve.

So tonight it's me, the TV, and Amy Tan.

Breaking Out

I felt all grown up and adventurous today. I got to take the rental car for a joy ride after work.

After a ten and a half hour training session in weather cold enough to require lots of layers of clothing, face cover, beanie, and gloves, I decided I was NOT going to go back to the four walls of my hotel room and stare. I commandeered the keys to the Trailblazer and hit the road.

Now, the road was only about a quarter mile long, but I made it to my destination in record time. The parking lot was packed, bright neon lights proudly announced its name for all of Fayetteville to see. I was so excited to see some of the world famous sites in Fayetteville.

Entering the cavernous building I stopped for a moment to take it all in. People! There were people everywhere. Young families, old couples, individuals, all scurrying about their business.

I couldn't believe all the flashy colors around me. The sounds were exciting. You wouldn't find all this stimulation in my hotel room. I can assure you of that! Even crying babies, screaming kids, and overanxious teenagers, who usually drive me crazy, couldn't dim my excitement. The place had everything you could ever want to see.

I wandered around for quite a while taking in all the many sites around me. I even took the time out of my gawking for a hamburger and a Diet Coke. Before my foray was complete I picked up a few souvenirs and some snacks for the trip back to the hotel room, but all good things have to come to an end, so I got back into the Trailblazer and cruised on back to the hotel room.

I feel energized. It is amazing what a little trip to Walmart to pick up some Diet Coke, a few supplies, and a burger and drink at the McDonald's in the back will do for a body couped up in a hotel all week.

No Diving

Every evening while on the road, I've taken up a new pastime to rid myself of any stress built up through the long training day: I visit the hotel hot tub for a soak.

At this hotel, with the hot water problems we seem to be experiencing, they ought to call it the warm tub, but that is another story.

While sitting in the tub this evening, I noticed something I thought a little odd. Alongside the sign on the floor announcing the depth of the hot tub, I noticed the international (I suppose) symbol for No Diving. Odd, I thought, why would they need a No Diving sign on a three foot deep hot tub?

Who in their right mind would take a dive into a such a small hot tub? I could see having to warn people against diving into the pool.

It wasn't long before I had my answer. There on the wall, in the list of Spa Rules was why they post the No Diving sign. It was for the violators of rule number four (See sign below).



I felt much better dripping back up to my room, knowing the answer to my question.

A Flavor All Its Own

An Army Post has a flavor all its own.

Most civilians don't take two seconds to think about the history of our military, or the everyday perils of defending our country, unless it is to criticize our leaders. The Army makes sure that remembering is a part of a soldier's everyday life.

As you drive around Ft. Bragg, home of the 82nd Airborne, you are reminded of all the many battles our soldiers have fought to defend our freedom. The streets and neighborhoods have names from famous battles: Corrigador, Anzio, Ardennes, and Normandy to name a few. Some streets take on famous soldier names and some take on names of other objects: canopy (of course named after the parachute canopy) and glider (from the gliders flown into battle in WWII).

Medical clinics and hospitals are named in honor of soldiers too--remembering those brave souls who served, not just our country, but other soldiers.

The landscape is changing all around the Post. As the old wooden buildings that served as barracks, offices, and motor pools are being torn down, modern multifloor buildings, looking more like resort hotels, take their place. The old antiquated buildings being replaced by the more modern is representative of the old Army being replaced by the new modern Army.

Soldiers risk their lives for us every day in lands far away and they don't do it without thinking about the chance of not coming home; counting for the numerous chapels scattered around the Post.

The muffled sound of weapons fire calls out from the distant ranges. Parade fields serve as grounds to set up artillery, tanks, and other armored vehicles for training. C-130 aircraft cross the sky in the distance, ferrying airborne soldiers to drop zones on the ranges.

The stark reality of what our soldiers are having to face really hits home for me when I see the tan Humvees sporting signs in Arabic warning locals to stay away from the vehicle. Although I've seen them in photos in Time magazine or on TV, these are real.

If you've never served in the military, or haven't had a spouse serve, this brief tome may not do much for you. I'd love to take photographs and pass them around to give you some of the real flavor, but I'm sure if I ran around the Post taking photographs of everything, I'd be writing this from the Post jail.

What's With The Ugly Carpet?

Isn't it bad enough that I get to smell a tobacco factory when I enter my hotel room or that, with the lack of hot water in the tub, taking a bath is comparible to one of those icy polar bear plunges that crazy people do in the winter?

Everywhere I go in my temporary home I have to put up with the dreaded ugly hotel carpet syndrome. Why do hotel designers pick out such gaudy stuff?

You be the judge.

Let It Snow

When it snows in Fayetteville, even the worshippers take a vacation.

When yesterday's rain storm began to turn into big heavy rain drops, and then into snow, I never gave it a second thought. I figured we would get up in the morning, just like we did last Sunday morning, get ready for church and drive over to the Ft Bragg Military Ward for services.

From the time I woke up this morning, until we drove off for church, the local TV station was broadcasting messages across the bottom of the screen about church closings. Looking out the window and seeing the light patches of snow on the ground under the trees, I assured myself that they were all churches in the surrounding counties and not where we are staying. Since Mormons are a hardy bunch of people, I figured, as my coworker said, "The other churchs might cancel their meetings, but not us."

Approaching the church building, it looked ghostly empty. At first it looked like there weren't any cars in the parking lot, only the black bull in the field gnawing on some alfalfa looking on, then we circled around the other side of the building and saw a handful of cars parked there.

As we pulled up to a parking space to check things out, a brother came out to get something out of the family van. Upon questioning, he informed us that church was called off last night due to the weather, but that a few people had shown up so we were having a short Sacrament meeting with those who gathered.

It was a nice meeting. Opening prayer, a song, the Sacrament, some comments by the Bishop, and a closing prayer. Those of us in the congregation (less than 20) were those who were not on the Ward contact list. It was nice of the Bishop and his counselor to think of us and the fact that we would show up. Not that the weather would have stopped anyone from getting there.

The Bishop explained to us that about three years ago they had the last big snowstorm that, since they are not equipped for snowstorms, crippled transportation. So in anticipation of the same kind of storm they cancelled church today.

As you can see from the pictures, it doesn't take much snow in Fayetteville to keep worshippers away from church.

A Visit to the Airborne & Special Operations Museum

We went to the Airborne & Special Operations Museum in Fayetteville, North Carolina today. It was a very moving experience.

From the moment we entered the building I had an almost reverent feeling.

Some people would look at all the displays of airborne and special operations soldiers performing their duties from WWII to modern day Iraq and be angry at all the death and destruction these types of operations involve; even though there are many displays of the humanitarian efforts these units have always provided.


I look at it from a very different angle. I look at it from the perspective that I think the museum curators and supporters obviously look at it from. Freedom.

Whether I was gazing at the static display of soldiers in airborne gear hanging from parachute chords or the Huey helicopter with soldiers jumping out onto the ground in full combat gear, the same thought came to my mind: it is wonderful that brave men and women have been strong enough in body and have enough love for their country to endure the horrors of war to keep our country free.

And isn't it great that we can give them the best equipment and training possible to try and ensure their safety in extremely dangerous conditions?

The museum is full of memorabilia and static displays. Besides the Huey chopper it contains a Humvee, a WWII glider, and a C47 "Skytrain" airplane with a soldier jumping from the doorway. You won't only see American displays; it has Japanese and German weapons, flags, and uniforms. And many, many more displays.

The gift shop is very well stocked. I have been looking for an Army pin and a 1st Infantry Division hat for a long time. I don't have to look any more!

If you are ever in Fayetteville, you must visit the museum. If not, the web site for the museum is at http://www.asomf.org/.

I Can't Get Over It

I can't get over it. Standing in the pouring rain, with layer upon layer of clothing to keep us warm and dry (underneath it all), we stared at the little TV-like screen; hoping for the slightest blip.

We spent the morning setting up. We tweaked, tuned, and configured. All of our efforts leading up to the big event. Finally we were ready.

The command was given and the 8-foot dish antenna rose majestically, first from its horizontal storage position on top of the vehicle, to its vertical fully deployed position. No sooner than the coordinates were entered into the laptop, it rotated and moved both horizontally and vertically into place.

Suddenly, without fanfare, it appeared. A small blip at first, but as we adjusted the dial and pressed the right buttons, the tiny blip grew into a beautiful arch--satellite acquired.

I will never get over the amazement I get at acquiring a satellite in space from a relatively small dish antenna on top of a vehicle. Imagine bouncing a radio frequency signal off of a communication satellite in geostationary orbit approximately 22,223 miles from earth. Of the 800 operational satellites in space, our equipment can find the right one, lock onto its signal, and communicate with it. Don't you find that amazing too?

I read that about 8000 objects, "space junk", are tracked in space, and yet, most of us cannot even find our car keys. I can't get over it...

I've Taken Up Smoking

I've taken up a new habit on the road. Smoking. Actually, I don't do the smoking myself, I participate in secondhand smoking. Secondhand smoking is an artform. You have to be in the right (or should I say wrong) place at the right time to participate in this filthy habit.

The best part about secondhand smoking is that you save a lot of money on cigarettes. Your smoke benefactor, the smoker, pays for the cigs. Unfortunately, this way you don't get to choose your brand.

It is an easy habit to do here. Everyone seems to be smoking here. Everywhere I go I see people standing around in social circles sucking in that magical combination of oxygen and nicotine. Ahhhh.

All smokers seem to have mastered another artform. You've seen them do it. As soon as they finish inhaling all the carcinogen filled smoke they have to do something with the butt. Finding a butt can or garbage can is too easy and the responsible thing to do. No, instead they place the butt between their index finger and thumb and give it a quick flick. Who cares where it lands? It's only the environment.

When I checked into my room, the room reeked of stale cigarettes. After lugging all my belongings, for a three and a half week stay, across the country and up to the fourth floor; I hated to go through the exercise of moving it all into another room. So I stayed. How dumb was that?

I am sure that the old stale smoke hanging around the carpets and furniture in my room are going to transfer themselves on to my clothes. I am so sure that on Sunday, when I go to church, the Bishop is going to pull me aside and have a talk to me about my smoking habit.

So if you see me sidle up to a group of smokers somewhere and just hang around, inhaling the results of their efforts, go easy on me, I may be hooked.

It's A Small World

It's indeed a small world when you live in a hotel room. A confined space holding within it two beds, night stand, chair, ottoman, desk, and TV stand; that is my new residence for three and a half weeks at a time. After a hard days work and dinner with colleagues, this is the kingdom I return to for rest and recovery from the daily struggles.

Key card slipped in and out of the door lock, a flick of the light switch, and the empty room welcomes me. Once inside, a bright orange Hooter's sign stares at me from outside the window across from my bed. The endless, senseless ramblings of TV noise help to make me feel like I am not alone.

I check my three email accounts. I call my sweetheart to get an update on the things that happened back home. I surf the Internet. I read a book. I open the complimentary USA Today, left outside my door each morning, for things of importance to me, like the weather or late night TV programs (just in case I can't sleep later). I've got to get out...

A trip to the hot tub feels like a major outing. But after the 15 minutes mandated by the safety sign above the tub, it is back to the room. I'd swim laps but the pool is so small I'd have to swim 40 laps just to get in the same workout as a normal sized pool.

A handful of people are in the bar watching an NBA game on TV as I pass by; they are laughing and joking with each other. A few more people are hanging around the lounge in the foyer. One man, luggage and computer case trailing behind, raps on the bell on the front desk to summons the desk clerk to check him into his room after a long day of airline connections.

That's about all the excitement a guy can take. It's a spartan existence, but someone has to do it.

Soldiers Amaze Me

It amazes me to watch the soldiers all day long, going through their daily activities, knowing most of them will be deployed to Iraq or Afganistan during their tours of duty. And many of them have been there and returned to duty here in the states.

They refer to Iraq as if it were Texas or California. It is just Iraq. Not a war torn, dangerous, battlefield. I admire their courage.

They have a job to do and that is the important thing. They work hard and train hard to be able to do it to the best of their abilities. All the dangers and obstacles that doing it in a hostile environment present are challenges, but not barriers.

Brave young men and women, doing a tough job, preserving our freedom in a land far, far away. It is an age old story. A story that we will never stop hearing as long as we are a strong nation helping our brothers and sisters throughout the world to have the freedoms that we enjoy here in America.

I salute them.

My First Training Class

I did my first training session in front of the class today. It went really well, I thought. I wasn't too nervous and I covered everything I was supposed to cover. I even added some good information that was not in the instructor guide. Of course, the subject of the section was the electronic technical manual for the system and so I was expected to be able to do it well.

The problem is, as we often do, I got kinda pumped up that I was able to do it with so little time on the job. Then it hit me. We went out to do a hands on walk around on the equipment. With three instructors and four systems the most experienced instructor got two systems and the two of us novices got the other two systems.

It started out pretty good, until I exhausted my limited knowledge, and my newly found confidence began to fade. I thought we were just doing a quick walkaround...boy was I wrong. Have you ever had that feeling in the pit of your stomach? The one that says you are in over your head? You ask yourself: "How am I going to get out of this one?" I had it. Times TEN.

I did the best I could. I dodged. I faked. I delayed. I guess it worked, because after what seemed like an eternity we closed up the system and went back into the classroom where I got to spend the rest of the day observing the lead instructor do his thing.

I really hate that feeling. I felt like I knew nothing and was cheating the group I was working with. In the end we got through it and I learned from the experience. By this time next year I'll look back and smile at the experience.

Tonight, if you want me, you can find me hiding under the covers hoping the feelings of inadequacy go away.

Oink, Oink

I should oink like a pig after going out to eat last night at Fred Chason's Grandsons buffet restaurant in Hope Mills, NC.

If I understand it right, Fred Chason was famous in this area for "The Best Down Home Cooking.....Any Where." And the road sign now prominently placed on the wall of his grandson's restaurant attests to it.

The menu calls it "Carolina's Famous Buffet." It took probably a half an hour to get there, but the trip was worth it. Well, in some ways; not if you were counting on staying on the "plan."

The line to get in was long when we got there, but it moved rather quickly.

The red checkerboard tablecloths and Kerr quart jar drinking glasses were great atmosphere, but nothing next to the bottles of fat back grease offered for sale at the cash registers up front. The clientele proudly sported their light blue University of Carolina hats with white NC logo, Tar Heels sweatshirts, and Red NC State shirts. Others wore their favorite NASCAR driver's cap or jacket.

The aroma was awesome. The buffet contained every southern dish you could ever want. A sampling: fried chicken, BBQ chicken, chicken liver & gizzards, fried pork chops, and BBQ pork chops. There was fat back, meatloaf, fried trout, fried croaker, and baked trout. Then there were the vegetables and beans. A sampling: black-eyed peas, pinto beans, turnip greens, fried okra, fried squash, field peas, white & green lima beans, etc., etc.. I won't even mention the desserts; let your mind wander.

Even though the food was good, after spending the last couple of years avoiding deep fried foods I felt like an alcoholic on his first binge after going off the wagon. That part of it was not good. I used the excuse to my trough-mates that I was going back to pile it on because I had to try all these southern foods I hadn't had or don't get the chance to eat in the mountain west. What rationalization.

I can only hope the two-hour, five mile walk I took this afternoon makes up for a small portion of it.

Those D#$* Little Micro SDs

The last few days have been those kind where you relive the past and wonder why it takes so long for us to see how good those times were.

As we set up laptops in our classroom, we talked about the size of equipment we worked on in the "early" days--much larger and a lot less capable than those laptops are today.

Things have changed. I can remember those first floppy disks we stored data on. The size kept getting smaller and smaller until now we use CDs, DVDs, flash drives, SDs, CFs, and MS duos. Amazing how things change. Smaller is better...or is it?

After a hard day at work, I get back to my hotel room and decide to remove the MicroSD from my cell phone so I can copy some important photos I took with the cell phone to my laptop. Now, as you can see in the photo, these things are TINY, and the slot they reside in is SPRING LOADED. Yeah, you see what's coming, don't you?

I open the cover on the side of my cell phone to remove the card, grab my Montblanc to use in place of my fat finger tips, and give the side of the card a gentle push. BOING! I quickly look down at the now empty slot and give a silent curse.

Now I'm down on the floor, hands and knees, frantically searching for the little bugger. The cell phone rings and my wife is on the other end of the line. She proceeds to laugh as I tell her my predicament. During the conversation, I pull the covers off the bed I was sitting on when I launched the card into the air and proceed to shake them vigorously. Nothing.

I decide the room is a little dark to see the card on the tan carpet with olive green rectangles so I dig deep into my backpack and pull out my trusty blue Maglight. I hang up the phone and begin the process all over again, canvassing the room with the flashlight.

It took me a while, but I finally found it on top of the nightstand beside the bed.

Smaller is definitely not better when you launch a MicroSD card across the hotel room, but to make matters worse, while putting the card back into the slot in the cell phone, I launched it again...D#$* little Micro SDs.

Soldier Boy

Working on an Army post today brought back some fond memories of my days in the military. It has been more than twenty years since I was a soldier. The sights and sounds of the post take me back:

Soldiers standing in formation behind their barracks, listening to the orders of the day--lined up in order of rank--looking smart in their camouflaged fatiques and colorful berets.

Soldiers walking down the sidewalk, side by side, chatting like they were walking down the block in the "hood" (except that these soldiers carried M16 weapons, hanging barrel downwards, behind their shoulder blades).

Unit names posted in living/working area compounds revealing the organization's purpose.

Motor pools full of Humvees, fighting vehicles, and artillery. For most of the time that I was in the service, our vehicles were for training for the next conflict, but these vehicles, dressed out in combat camouflage paint schemes had probably already been in combat, or were on their way there.

An obstacle course, the sounds of gun shots from a firing range, parade grounds, the PX, and the commissary; oh yes, I remember well.

Tomorrow I will keep my eyes wide open in hopes of catching a glimpse of soldiers in training, marching in formation, or participating in their favorite activity: hurrying up and waiting.

NOTE: The photo in this entry came from the US Army web site.

Here We Go

Here we go....The adventure begins.

I am off on my first training trip. I left home early this morning; jumped on a 757 and off I went into the wild blue yonder (as they say).

I was not anxious at all prior to the trip, but sitting here in the hotel room, after traveling all the way across the country, I couldn't get my laptop to connect to the Internet. Panic was beginning to set in.

I spent a couple of hours trying to get my laptop to connect. Anxiety was building up quickly. Sweat was streaming down my brow. So much of what I do depends on being able to get email and to connect to databases back at the office. I just couldn't imagine what I was doing wrong. This hasn't happened before!

All through dinner those laptop settings ran through my head. I barely heard any of the conversation of the four others at the table. All I could see was the laptop, on my hotel room desk, with the Internet Explorer window staring blankly back at me.

When I returned to the room, I tried the wireless settings, I tried my LAN cable settings, I tried to reboot, I tried to restore an earlier backup...NOTHING. AHHHHHHH.

Maybe, I thought, a trip to the front desk for Diet Coke machine change might bring some kind of miraculous vision as to what was wrong. As I stepped out of the elevator it came to me: the LAN cable HAS to be BAD. I'll just see if the front desk clerk has a spare cable hanging around.

So I rushed up to my room, shiny blue cable in hand, ripped the old cable out of the laptop and the wall connection, then plugged in the new.... CONNECTION!

Whew. First crisis solved. Let's see what opportunities the next three and a half weeks bring.

CompUSA Bye Bye?

My wife and I had to do a double take during the holidays when she noticed a shabbily dressed man hanging around the street corner waving a big brightly colored banner announcing: CompUSA is going out of business - everything in store up to 30% off!

"NOT CompUSA!" I said. What next?

It always makes me a little sad when businesses that seem to have been around forever can't make it anymore. Chevy's, Joe's Crab Shack, Media Play, to name a few, have all come and gone in the past couple years.

Is it the new guy on the corner getting all the business? Is it poor management? I don't know, but I wish they would all quit messing with my life. I need stability. :)

I guess someone else will just have to fill their niche. Now, where did I put that Best Buy coupon?

What's Up With Car Radio?

Driving to work is getting very boring.

I've gone through every radio station on the dial. I've listened to talk radio, sports chatter radio, easy listening, country and western, and news radio. Been there, done that.

I've tried to watch (I mean listen to) movies on my Palm Pilot--but getting all tangled up in headphone wires and car charger cables while trying to catch the thing sliding off the dashboard got old.

I've tried to listen to books on tape, but I found myself losing track of the story as my mind wandered.

I don't like listening to the same artist song after song so CDs are out.

None of it works for me. I'm not going to resort to singing to myself, that's for sure, so now what do I do?

I love listening to Christmas music, but that only lasted from Thanksgiving until a day of two after Christmas. Country and western tunes tout a life I just don't fit in with. Talk radio is too political. Sports chatter radio gets dumber and cruder everyday. News radio repeats itself every ten minutes.

Any suggestions?

Exciting Times

These are exciting times for me. The opportunity to learn, on my new job, has been tremendous fun. And with the system as complicated as it is, there will be much more opportunities.

I love to learn.

I would be a perpetual college student, if it weren't for tests and grades. I love the discovery and then absorbing part of the learning process. I crave the reading and researching portions. I can't wait for the discussions with others about the subject. I just hate having to take tests and being compared to others by the infamous bell curve.

I never was one for competition. Competing for grades included.

This time around, the Internet has been an added benefit. When I come across a concept or word I don't understand, it's Google time. I can usually find all I need to know in seconds, right from my laptop keyboard.

The day I stop learning, is the day I stop breathing.

And now I get an additional bonus--I get to teach others. I'll keep you posted.

Iowa Caucus

Today is the big day in Iowa. Reports will be coming in soon on the tube. I am not really a political being. I don't even totally understand the caucus idea, even with all the news people trying to explain it to us all.

My only hope is to get candidates who really care about the future of our country. I have a real dislike for politics, because the only people that I think benefit from politics are the politicians.

I love our free country, watching what happens in the world of politics scares me. Politicians: I don't care about who you are married to, your heritage, or your religion. I care about your true beliefs about our country and our freedom. Your heritage and your religion are important parts of your character, but they are not YOU.

Your values must be impeccable. Step up for America.

First Day

First day on my new job. Not a lot expected of you on you first day, but it ended up being very productive--I spent the day studying the instructor guide for the course I am going to be training.

Deja Vue. I worked in this department for nine years, many years ago. It is interesting to see the evolution. Back then I was a technical writer. Today I am a customer training instructor.

The more I studied the materials, the more it came back to me. I have a long way to go, but I am confident things will be good for me and for my new department.

Only one thing bothers me... everyone in the department got older! Yet I stayed the same...

Save Your Garbage? For A Year?

Ari Derfel. This guy must be nuts. He lives in California (which might explain it) and he saved ALL his garbage for a year...inside his HOUSE!

Now I am all for recycling, as I talked about in an earlier post. We don't do nearly as much as we should. But to save all our trash in our house, that's going a little bit overboard. The reason he had to save it inside his house, he explains, is that the local laws say if he stores it in bins outside, they have to be removed. Sounds logical. That's what garbage trucks are for.

It's not bad enough that he stores all his garbage in his house...but he says on his blog that he brought 16 days worth of garbage home with him from a vacation in Hawaii.

I said he must be nuts, but I applaud him for his eco-consciousness. The pictures make me wonder about his sanity, but get me thinking. I will monitor his blog this year to see how he does it and how I can maybe learn from his efforts.

How about you? You be the judge: http://saveyourtrash.typepad.com/

Year of the Rat

Today, we begin the Year of the Rat. Well, I think we have to wait until the beginning of February to actually BE in the Year of the Rat, but I don't mind cheating a little when it comes to beginning an animal year. (For those of you who ARE sticklers for the facts, the year actually begins February 7, 2008 and ends on January 25, 2009.)

2007 was a good year.

2008 is going to be better. It will be full of challenges. I should get my share of travel--something I have been missing. I want to make a difference this year. It doesn't have to be a world shattering difference. If I make a difference in one person's life it will be good. If that person is me, it will be better.

What are your goals?