My time here in the desert is really speeding by, thanks to plenty of missions to keep us busy. The fact that the days are going by quickly is definitely a good thing, because I just got some news I’m not exactly thrilled about. I’ve been EXTENDED.
It’s only an extra month, and the truth is I started preparing for this news from the day I got here. It basically comes down to a buddy of mine missing out on a one in a lifetime opportunity, or me sticking around for 30 more days. It was my choice, so I made him sweat it out a little…just to drive home the point. It’s really not that bad now that the days are starting to cool off a bit. The monetary bonus helps too.
I’m saddened to report the death of my computer. As I write this entry from an extremely slow government computer, I am reminded of the good times we shared together. My constant companion on trips around the world, it helped keep me in touch with all of you and remind me what you all look like. As I anxiously await the arrival of my new computer, I am hoping that I will be able to recover addresses, phone numbers, photos and writings, but I’m not holding my breath. You may be getting an e-mail from me very soon asking for updated contact information.
I imagine everyone is frantically trying to get in the last few activities before admitting to themselves that summer is actually over. I envy you! I plan to cram all the activities I would have been doing this summer into a couple of weeks in San Diego…and moving my long awaited trip to sometime shortly after the new year. I’m also planning to take some time to do a little cross country traveling to see old friends and family when I get back. I won’t make any promises until I find out what is in store for my schedule, but it will be as soon as I can.
The morale around the camp is at an all time high. We’ve culled through the talent and put all the key players are in the right spot to make our mission over here the most effective possible. The work is getting done, and we are getting noticed for it. Although we still operate in crisis management mode the majority of the time, we have gotten it down to an art form and the guys really step up when it’s their turn to shine.
So, the question is inevitably asked: What do I need from all of you to help make my time continue to fly by? Well, it’s the standard “back to school” assignment. Tell me what you did this summer. Stories, pictures, whatever you’ve got. Fill me in so I can have a vicarious summer and catch up on what’s going on in your lives. A lot of you have been doing this all summer anyway, so you’re excused from the assignment…but for the rest of you slackers….give!!!
Looking forward to seeing you all when I get back. As soon as I get my schedule a little more firmly in my grasp, I’ll start making the plans. Hope you’re ready! I know I am.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Friday, August 3, 2007
Perspectives
I’ve discovered that this “blog” thing is much more widespread than I thought. Although I started mine in order to keep all of you updated on what is happening a half a world away, I soon found that several of my friends had their own blogs that were created for their own unique reasons.
My friend Lesa started a blog as a sort of cathartic journal to help keep track of her trials and tribulations as she wrestles with the challenges of raising two children while her Marine husband is deployed in
I’ve got another friend I’ve known for just over a decade who is an emergency room doctor. In deference to his desire for anonymity, so that he can continue to write candid comments on the current state of affairs of our nation’s medical system, I’ll refer to him by his web alter-ego name of 911Doc. In this blog you’ll find that 911Doc has teamed up with 4 other E.D. (Emergency Department – or E.R. if you prefer) physicians to give a no holds barred view of the impending demise of health care as we know it. It is decidedly PG-13 in content (and occasionally Rated R), but frank and to the point. Check it out here.
Finally, in an attempt to single handedly prove that news does not necessarily need to be serious or even factual to be relevant; my nieces husband Kevin publishes the prolific blog that is “Mr. Heavyfoot.” The entries show a viewpoint of the world as processed through the machinations of Kevin’s mind, and the results are often hilarious. Although much of it is aimed at the people most dear to him, many of the entries have universal appeal.
If you find yourself looking for something other then the Sunday paper to enjoy with your morning coffee, I hope you take a look at these.
T.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Swimming in the NAG
When I was 18 years old I spent the summer living in the bunkhouse of my buddy Chris’ family lake cabin. I had a job, but I don’t really recall working that much. I think I spent most of the summer in the water; on water skis, hanging out at the sand bar, or heading to other lakes with friends.
The bunkhouse was all mine. Chris lived in the boathouse, and some girls from New Zealand lived in the cabin itself…at least for part of the summer. At some point one of the girl’s ex-boyfriends flew up from New Zealand to propose to his lost love. The girls left shortly after that (it was more like fleeing the scene of a crime than leaving), and the ex-boyfriend stayed. Not exactly a fair trade, but he had a guitar and knew how to use it, so we didn’t complain. The bonfires drew a bigger crowd with live music.
I had this other buddy, Nick, who lived on a different lake and had a ski boat. He tended to live life as if tomorrow wasn’t likely to arrive. I never wore a watch back then, and I remember on the days when I had to work I would turn to Nick and ask, “Hey, what time is it?” His answer was always the same…”It’s summertime.” It may not have answered my question, but it reminded me that there were more important things then work sometimes.
I think we all have that one summer that is eternally etched in our minds. That summer that defined what summer was supposed to be about. I can’t describe in detail all the things that made that summer so memorable (most of which involved events that, to my Irish Catholic mother, would be considered capital crimes with no statute of limitations). I can say that the memories of those 3 months helped me define how I wanted to live my life. Working hard enough to be able to leave work behind, and stringing enough days together to make some incredible memories with great friends. In my mind, that is the key to staying content with life.
The other day, as I was sitting in the control room of my alternative workspace in the middle of the Northern Arabian Gulf a young Lieutenant knocked on the door.
“Sir, a bunch of us are going swimming and wanted to know if you cared to join us?”
I felt a crooked smile forming on my face. “Is it safe to go swimming off an oil platform?”
“I don’t know sir, we’ve never tried it before.” came his response accompanied by a mischievous smile that may just as well have been a dare.
“I’m in!” I said, without hesitating long enough to think about what I was about to do.
By the time I had changed into shorts and walked outside I could already hear the cheers, and shouts, and splashing from 4 stories below. As I made my way down the last of the ladder wells, I was psyched to see that they had rigged a rope swing to properly deliver us into the rolling seas below. 20 sailors fidgeting like ten year olds, all waiting for their next turn on the rope…but they gladly handed it off to me as I approached, knowing I was a few swings behind.
It was 125 degrees that day. The water was incredible. Neither hot nor cold, but more refreshing than anything I had experienced in the preceding 4 months. The salt content was so high, I didn’t even have to work in order to float in it.
At 10 second intervals another sailor would hit the water. Each turn on the rope was an opportunity to perfect your technique…or out-do the person who had gone in front of you. The straight swing, the swing and flip, the swing and flop, and of course the endurance swing that brought you dangerously close to striking the large metal beams from which you launched.
For 30 minutes I wasn’t in a war zone. I wasn’t miles off the shores of a country whose people meant to do us harm. I wasn’t worried about tactics, reports, rank, logistics, or much of anything for that matter. I emerged from the water barnacle-scraped, slightly tar covered (think crude oil), and itchy from a combination of saltwater and jellyfish encounters…but I’m guessing the most notable thing would have been the broad grin on my face. Had someone asked me at that moment what time it was, I’m pretty sure my response would have been, “It’s summertime.”
The bunkhouse was all mine. Chris lived in the boathouse, and some girls from New Zealand lived in the cabin itself…at least for part of the summer. At some point one of the girl’s ex-boyfriends flew up from New Zealand to propose to his lost love. The girls left shortly after that (it was more like fleeing the scene of a crime than leaving), and the ex-boyfriend stayed. Not exactly a fair trade, but he had a guitar and knew how to use it, so we didn’t complain. The bonfires drew a bigger crowd with live music.
I had this other buddy, Nick, who lived on a different lake and had a ski boat. He tended to live life as if tomorrow wasn’t likely to arrive. I never wore a watch back then, and I remember on the days when I had to work I would turn to Nick and ask, “Hey, what time is it?” His answer was always the same…”It’s summertime.” It may not have answered my question, but it reminded me that there were more important things then work sometimes.
I think we all have that one summer that is eternally etched in our minds. That summer that defined what summer was supposed to be about. I can’t describe in detail all the things that made that summer so memorable (most of which involved events that, to my Irish Catholic mother, would be considered capital crimes with no statute of limitations). I can say that the memories of those 3 months helped me define how I wanted to live my life. Working hard enough to be able to leave work behind, and stringing enough days together to make some incredible memories with great friends. In my mind, that is the key to staying content with life.
The other day, as I was sitting in the control room of my alternative workspace in the middle of the Northern Arabian Gulf a young Lieutenant knocked on the door.
“Sir, a bunch of us are going swimming and wanted to know if you cared to join us?”
I felt a crooked smile forming on my face. “Is it safe to go swimming off an oil platform?”
“I don’t know sir, we’ve never tried it before.” came his response accompanied by a mischievous smile that may just as well have been a dare.
“I’m in!” I said, without hesitating long enough to think about what I was about to do.
By the time I had changed into shorts and walked outside I could already hear the cheers, and shouts, and splashing from 4 stories below. As I made my way down the last of the ladder wells, I was psyched to see that they had rigged a rope swing to properly deliver us into the rolling seas below. 20 sailors fidgeting like ten year olds, all waiting for their next turn on the rope…but they gladly handed it off to me as I approached, knowing I was a few swings behind.
It was 125 degrees that day. The water was incredible. Neither hot nor cold, but more refreshing than anything I had experienced in the preceding 4 months. The salt content was so high, I didn’t even have to work in order to float in it.
At 10 second intervals another sailor would hit the water. Each turn on the rope was an opportunity to perfect your technique…or out-do the person who had gone in front of you. The straight swing, the swing and flip, the swing and flop, and of course the endurance swing that brought you dangerously close to striking the large metal beams from which you launched.
For 30 minutes I wasn’t in a war zone. I wasn’t miles off the shores of a country whose people meant to do us harm. I wasn’t worried about tactics, reports, rank, logistics, or much of anything for that matter. I emerged from the water barnacle-scraped, slightly tar covered (think crude oil), and itchy from a combination of saltwater and jellyfish encounters…but I’m guessing the most notable thing would have been the broad grin on my face. Had someone asked me at that moment what time it was, I’m pretty sure my response would have been, “It’s summertime.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
