Turns out, I have a ‘mild case’ of dyslexia. Suppose it has been with me all my life, but I’m KO now…
When I finally diagnosed last summer, it all began to make sense: Mom had a bumper sticker on her Caddie that read: “DAM” – it finally dawned on me, “Mothers Against Dyslexia!”
So, not to be outdone, I decided upon a bumper sticker of my own: “Dyslexics of America – UNTIE!” And, now I feel better… LOL!
Wiesbaden, West Germany. Christmas, 1963.
Dear Ole Dad thought he was so clever. As Christmas rolled around that year Dad would wrap his presents and place them under the tree – a couple at a time each evening. However, instead of putting names on the name tags, he used numbers. He said he was tired of us shaking and guessing what was in the presents. He made a big deal out of adding a couple names to the list every night throughout the Christmas season that year – calling out the numbers, and pointing to the gifts. Thought he was soooo clever.
Then came Christmas morning when it was time to open our gifts. The only problem was, Dear Ole Dad ‘got into’ the egg nog a bit too much Christmas Eve, and that morning couldn’t find his list! Guess who was sitting under the tree, shaking and trying to guess what was in the packages!
In 1957 we were stationed at Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico. It was a great assignment for me. As a kid (11, 12 and 13) I had the ‘run of the base,’ we all did. I had a Schwinn (wide-tire) bicycle, and I rode it all over that base.
When I first got to Ramey they had B-36s assigned.
These were huge airplanes! 10 engines; 6 props and 4 jets. The wingspan of the B-36 was 230 feet.
One day I was riding along the flight line when I saw a B-36 parked with the engines running. I didn’t think much about it as I rode behind it. However, when I got about half way across behind it, the pilot added power to taxi. Holy Crap! I immediately left my bike and became airborne! And it didn’t seem like he added much power… off I went!
Never did that again…
We were stationed at Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico from 1957 to 1960. I turned 11 in Sept. 1957.
Someone made a comment on Facebook recently, “As kids, we had the ‘run of the base,’ and no one seemed to care.” Oh, how true! And I ranged that base, far and wide, day and night!
One of the things I really enjoyed was playing on the beach just below the Officer’s Club. I think it was called “Survivor Beach.” (If not, I’ll change this when I find out different.) At any rate, the road behind the O’Club to the beach was a very steep road. Paved, but steep. No way would I ever even attempt to ride my bicycle down that road! But, how many times did I walk down there?
One of the things I enjoyed down there was fishing. I spent hours upon hours on a big rock that I could get out to fishing only with a Coke can, some (fishing) line, a sinker and hook. Quite an ingenious set up – and simple. One of the ‘locals’ showed us how to do it.
All you have to do is, take some fishing line and tie it to one end of the the can. I don’t know if today’s cans would work – they don’t have the medal seams on the ends that the old cans did. Anyway, when you get what you think might be enough line on your can, then you just add your weight and hook. For bait we would look for hermit crabs. Simple, plentiful.
Then once you are set up, you just swing the line around, then “fling it” to the area where you want to fish. You can control the distance the line travels with your thumb as it unreels. Simple!
I would spend hours out on that rock, returning to the beach only to refresh the bait. Imagine my delight the other day when I saw that rock in a picture on Facebook!
“My” rock is in the lower right of this picture, the one closest to the beach. I could get to it without getting wet, then work my way around to the seaward side… Just pure fun for a kid!
I recently “relapsed” again. Not in the “physical” sense, where I actually drank, but int he emotional and spiritual sense. I tend to do this upon occasion, and its a real bitch for me. This latest “relapse” was a powerful one in that it hurt me – physically and emotionally; and I felt the “hurt” for some days afterward. And after that, serenity. Upon reflection, and through a few hours of conversion and coffee with a few trusted friends, I made a couple discoveries about my spiritual journey; one of which is, my path to serenity sometimes leads me through “anger” to “hurt.” And after I embrace my “hurt,” I find serenity.
A friend came over to my house, and we talked one evening. He exhibited real courage to put my “anger” in my face while we were talking. He told em there were others who chose not to associate with me because of my tendency toward anger. This was tormenting to me as he told me, and sad for me upon reflection, because I knew it to be true. Rather than isolate further into more anger and self pity, I became determined to work through it…
I reckon we all know certain basic core truths about ourselves. One of mine is, I have a softness about myself, a sensitivity that I love to express – and feel, and at the same time, I’m afraid of. I suppose I am afraid that if I open myself to this natural softness, I’ll open myself up to ‘hurt.’ I feel vulnerable. So for many, many years, I have used ‘anger’ as a barrier to ‘hurt.’ Not in all cases – there have been some things that have legitimately pissed me off, but by and large, I have used ‘anger’ as an insulation measure – at the expense of being myself. As I continue tog row in sobriety, I find this behavior ever more burdensome, to the point of chronic fatigue.
What is remarkable to me is, once I have an awareness of an ‘issue’ about myself, e.g., the relationship of ‘anger’ and ‘hurt,’ I can begin to see it ever clearer in others. I begin to ‘relate!’ The other night a woman told (in her ‘lead’) how she used to feel anger at school when others would tease her. I am sure she did, but i saw through her ‘anger’ to her ‘hurt’ as she told her story. And, for a brief moment, I could feel her hurt also. So, over this past week, I have been looking at certain of my ;angers,’ and have found ‘hurt’ behind many of them. Not all of them, but enough for me to realize it’s time to stop using ‘anger’ as a barrier to living.
Recently I was filled with a revelation that would have driven me to anger in the past. At first I was inclined to just ignore the issue, perhaps hoping it would just go away or maybe I had heard wrong. I didn’t hear it wrong, and as I processed the situation, I felt ‘hurt,’ not anger! I allowed myself to feel my ‘hurt’ and soon it passed. I was somewhat amazed – and soon felt ‘gratitude.’ Gratitude for not having to bury it anymore – and it all went away! Damn – I have buried so many ‘hurts’ over my life…
I am naive to think that all anger masks just ‘hurt;’ I know different. Some of my anger hides ‘fear,’ some ‘guilt,’ some covers ‘shame’ and so on. What I realized from my recent (emotional) relapse is, I don’t have to react to all troublesome life situations with anger. Just as I didn’t have to drink when faced with adversity or stress, I also don’t have to get angry. It’s ‘okay’ to feel feelings other than anger…
As is often the case, people or events show up in my life at very interesting times. The other day I found myself at Barnes & Noble looking at CDs. I came across a Harry Chapin album I hadn’t seen before so I bought it – and began listening to it on the way home. The second song not he album is, “If You Want to Feel.” The part that reached me was:
“If you try to look
But you don’t touch
Then you won’t touch
But you’ll never feel
And if you never feel
You’ll never cry
And if you don’t cry
Then you’ll never heal…”
At this time in my life I have to go beyond the anger and allow myself to hurt – and upon occasion, maybe cry. Then I might begin to heal…
(Area 55 News, June 2002)
I don’t know why, it just seemed like the thing to do…
I was in the mall and walked by a music store the other day. I don’t know why these thoughts come to my mind, but it just seemed like the ‘thing to do’ – at the time. I walked in and asked the clerk if they had any current “Gangsta Rap Christmas Albums” yet this year…
The clerk thought about it for a moment, then asked me to leave! Absolutely no sense of humor… LOL!
I was flying with Capt. Phil Foley on a C-141A trip once when it was my leg into Elmendorf AFB, AK – just outside of Anchorage. As we configured for landing the flaps hung up at 5%. Normally the AC, the Aircraft Commander, would take the landing as a no-flap was considered an emergency landing. But Phil that afternoon, told me to continue flying. And so, I did.
I actually enjoyed things like this, upon occasion. It allowed me to fly ‘in real life,’ what I had practiced so many times in the simulator. And so, we ran the applicable checklists, and continued on.
The approach speed on a no-flap is considerably higher as you don’t have the lift available you would have with flaps. Throttle control is also more critical because you don’t have the drag (of the extended flaps) to wipe off excess airspeed if you have to. So, it’s imperative that you have the calculated no-flap airspeed set before you begin your final descent. And this is what I loved, the ‘challenge’ of it all!
That afternoon I had just that – no-flap final approach speed just as I reduced power for the final descent. And as advertised, down we went, on speed. From there on out, it was a piece of cake. Hardly any, if any, throttle adjustments needed for the approach.
When we crossed the runway threshold I reduced the power, ever so slightly, and began raising the nose. I then held that attitude until we landed. After that it was into reverse and moderate braking until we slowed enough to turn off…
I happened to see these pictures this morning on Facebook, and that approach and landing all came back to me. The weather conditions that day looked just like this:
And, it still looks cold!
On a side note, Phil, by regulation, should have taken that landing. But he allowed me to fly it. I have never forgotten his confidence in me…
My two grand daughters, Delaney and Riley, have been back here in Ohio for a week now. They were brought back here to spend Thanksgiving with their father’s family. Their father’s family lives about 6 – 7 miles from me. I normally might write about how great was to have seen them; but that didn’t happen. The last 3 times their father has brought the girls to Ohio, they were prohibited from seeing either me, or my son and his family. So, since I can’t tell you about how great it was to see the girls, let me tell you a little bit more about my former son-in-law, George. I will call him ‘George’ because that’s what his name actually is – and I don’t give a shit if he might be ‘offended’ or not! I have never been concerned about offending a ‘slug.’
(Am I concerned that someday my grand daughters might read this? Not at all! It’s past time people stop tip-toeing around the slug and his family.)
I met George just as he was completing high school. Not a bad kid; full of ideas, promise and goals. He was going to go to college until his dad, Big George, pulled his promised financial support because the kid was dating my daughter. Class!
As it worked out, in the late 90’s George and Dana got married. They both had good jobs and George actually began college, supporting himself. He was enrolled in Air Force ROTC, claiming he wanted to become a pilot. He subsequently quit.
The job market in Northern Ohio then tanked and George was laid off from the battery company he worked at. So, he began training to become an electrician.
With jobs in NW Ohio somewhat scarce, George and Dana decided to move to Colorado. Out there he bounced around from one job to another – always having an excuse for quitting. It wasn’t long thereafter before Dana tired of him sitting around the house – essentially doing nothing at all. They were divorced, and then the ‘fun’ really began.
Dana did not ask for ‘spousal support;’ she just asked for and was awarded child support. And it has been a battle ever since. They have been back to court once over delinquent child support payments and recently completed ‘mediation’ – essentially over delinquent child support again. George just arbitrarily decides not to pay, or his checks bounce, or he reduces the payments because he thinks $50 per month is just fine to support 2 teenaged girls. This Fall Riley called Dana at work to tell her that her school lunch account – that George was suppose to fund – was $20 overdrawn. Thankfully the folks at the school ‘found’ a cheese sandwich for her.
(Soon thereafter George gave Ri a ration of crap because of a ‘C’ she had gotten on an assignment. I told her to consider that this was coming from a guy who was getting an ‘F’ in personal financial management, and not to worry about it!)
So now it seems as if George wants to continue fighting my daughter through the girls. This is the third time now, over the past 18 months, that the girls were brought to Ohio, and prohibited from visiting our side of the family. I can not even imagine restricting the girls from visiting his family if we were to bring them out sometime. That ‘behavior’ is just not in my family’s fiber.
The thing I suppose I am most concerned about is, what the girls are being taught about “hatred.” And they are being groomed for “hatred” with this behavior of their father and his family. I can’t do anything about it, and I know it. But I can record it, and maybe someday, the girls can see it for what it is. Maybe someday they can see their father for what he is… an asshole.
So, as I was taught in AA, I’ll say a prayer for him this morning, and let it go: “God, please see that that son-of-a-bitch gets what he deserves!” Amen!
With the pins about to show up this week, I think it time to reflect, ‘Why the BratPin’ at all? Having been working the project now for almost 4 years, I think I have a great appreciation for ‘Why the BratPin?’ Let me share some of my thoughts on it here this (early) morning.
First of all, like many of you, ‘I lived the life.’ That’s paramount because you touch my soul when you share your stories of your Brat life. I know of what you speak. Never thought much about my childhood until I began reading “Military Brats: Legacies of Childhood Inside the Fortress,” by Mary Edwards Wertsch sometime in the mid-to-late 1990’s. It took me the better part of 5-6-7 years to get though it as your stories cut right through to my heart.
It was about that time that I also began taking notice of the kids at so many military deployments; Active Duty, Reserve and Guard deployments. Didn’t matter, the kids faces were all the same in reflecting fear, uncertainty, the anguish of having to say ‘goodby’ to Mommy or Daddy. And I also noted the joy upon the return of Mommy and Daddy. Then those damned funerals, and the kids sitting there, sometimes holding the flag… We older Brats, more than anyone else, know what these younger Brats experience.
In his Introduction to Wertsch’s book, Pat Conroy comes right out and says it; “…military brats, my lost tribe, spent the entire youth in the service to this country and no one knew we were there.” And I thought, “Well, it’s about time!”
And so, specifically, “Why the BratPin?”
First of all, as a small token of great appreciation. How many of us ‘senior Brats’ ever had Mom or Dear Ole Dad sit down with the expressed purpose of thanking us for what we went through, as Brats? The constant moving, ever changing ‘homes?’ Continually losing friends? (And yes, making new ones.) Always the “new kid” at school? Opportunity may have been lost on many of us (senior Brats) but it’s now here for the parents of today’s Brats!
How many service members today have thanked their kids – for their service today? Acknowledging that they are aware of the many hardships being placed upon their kids?
Last year, here in Ohio, we had 5 soldiers killed in combat in one week. What do you think a BratPin would mean today to those kids today; had a soldier taken his kids aside, and given each of them a pin? A friend once remarked, “Bob, I can just envision a soldier heading overseas and telling a kid to keep the pin close to his or her heart, as they would always be in their hearts.” You get the idea…
My kids, my Brats, are 38 and 40. I don’t think it’s ever too late to recognize them for their sacrifices for me to have the career I had. I essentially “took it for granted” as they were growing up. After all, I was a Brat; “shut up, and row!” (However, I don’t think I was ever that callous.) But you know, this BratPin – a simple token of great appreciation… Never too late.
Then yes, there is our class; The Senior Class. LOL! Everything I’ve mentioned here, we all know. We all served, without complaint. We moved, changed friends, houses and schools – often without complaint. I read recently where someone once observed that military brats spend their entire youth in ‘grief.’ Grieving the loss of one thing or another. Many of us never “processed” that grief. If you’re anything like me, you just buried it. But it was always there, and I knew it was there! And it wasn’t going to go away until I dealt with it!
Reading Wertsch’s book was the catalyst for me to break through my grief. And once I did I began to feel ‘pride’ in being a Brat! A ‘quiet’ pride, but pride nonetheless… (I will admit though, in building this pin with the contributions and suggestions from many of you, my ‘pride’ in being a Brat has swollen quite a bit!)
Finally, this summer I had the privilege of handing out challenge coins we made up for the kids of Vietnam Vets. The event was the Toledo, OH Vietnam Vet Appreciation Event. I suppose it was kind of a “test run” to see the reaction…
I was “blown away” with how these were received! One Vet came up and just stuck out his hand, saying nothing – just looking at me in with his eyes beginning to tear up. Later in the day he returned and told me that he wasn’t able to speak because he thought that the coin might serve as a “bridge” between him and his estranged daughter.
A Brat told he that he had nothing of his dad’s – that an ex-wife of his father’s had taken everything. (This kid was in his mid-thirties I suppose.) He just stood there, holding my hand, looking at me, not wanting to let go…
Then there was the Army Brat from Puerto Rico. She was a little younger than me; perhaps late 50’s. We bonded immediately when I told her I was an AF Brat, and had lived at Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico for 3 years in the late 50’s. We shared a couple-3 stories of growing up, then all of a sudden we looked at each other, and again the tears came as we each touched on buried aspects of our youth. Then we just stood there and hugged – as if we had ‘found’ each other. Ten minutes before, perfect strangers!
And so, I do have a great appreciation for what a pin like this will do – and for what it can do! And this is “Why the BratPin…”
When I began the BratPin project in August 2013, I initially focused on the “BratPin Pin” – just the lapel or hat pin. Then a little bit into it, it dawned on me that women might not want to put holes in their clothes as much as men don’t seem to mind. So the BratPin Pendent was created. It is essentially the same pin, only on a chain.
As time went on and the pins and pendents seemed to be well received, I began thinking about BratPin dog tags. It was more or less, just a natural I suppose. I tossed the idea out on Facebook one day and received enthusiastic support. So, it began…
This is the design I initially sent to my account rep:
…and their first version was:
(At first my account rep wanted to have all 5 service emblems on the reverse of the tags. I knew, “That dog won’t hunt!”) With this version I thought I had too much empty “airspace ” on the front, and it was too “busy” on the reverse. Besides I wanted a tag that could be “personalized.” So, Version 2:
Now we were getting there – but still “not quite right.” The seeds on the face of the tag looked like they were being driven onto the world with a fire hose vs. ‘floating’ over the world. I also didn’t particularly care for “Military Brat” on the face – too bold, too brash for the image and ambiance I hoped to create. Again, the “whispering” of being Brats…
On the reverse side, there was no room for “personalizing” the tags. And then, when I saw this I realized I served as a “Brat” in the Air Force; not as a member of the Air Force. So, I looked for a compromise, and finally settled with this version:
…and I am very happy with it. Again, for those who offered your suggestions and comments during the design process, Thank You! I think we created something we can all be proud to wear!
(To keep me ‘on my toes,’ my account rep first offered the Marine Corps version as a “Marine Corp” version. Holy Crap – am I glad I caught that! LOL!!!)
So, this is how the BratPin dog tags came about…
