Archive for » November, 2007 «

The best plans….

are soon upset…

I did NOT have to go anywhere today. At all. And since it is snowing and cold outside, I thought that would be a good thing.

I thought I’d have time to do some work, maybe some reading and writing. I could possibly even go back to bed for a bit.

Last night, as Steve and I talked about my plans for the day, he had a few suggestions: folding laundry, putting wood in the stove, some cleaning, etc. It didn’t sound good at all.

But before it was barely even 7 a.m., I received a phone call that changed all of that. I need to take Autumn a paper she needs printed and brought to her before 10 a.m. Maxine also called, could I bring her forgotten folder?

Plus, Autumn reportedly e-mailed me her paper, but I can’t find it. I now have to track it down, print it and drive it to her.

Tomorrow I have plans too for both the morning and the evening. Let’s hope those plans go better than today’s plans.

So much for a day of doing nothing required….

Category: Life with Linda  Comments off

Come on in Boy

I’ve been listening to country music in the car when my 13-year-old is with me because I think the way she reacts is funny.

That’s how I happened to hear a new song by Rodney Atkins, and I’m not sure about the name, but this is the chorus:

Come on in boy sit on down
And tell me about yourself
So you like my daughter do you now?
Yeah we think she’s something else
She’s her daddy’s girl
Her momma’s world
She deserves respect
That’s what she’ll get
Ain’t it son?
Hey y’all run along and have some fun
I’ll see you when you get back
Bet I’ll be up all night
Still cleanin’ this gun

It made me think about two incidents when I was a teen-age girl involving boys. The first, a guy had arrived to pick me up for a date driving his parents’ van. My dad asked, “Where are WE going?” And although Dad didn’t go with us, I think Dad wanted the guy to think what it would be like if my dad was with us.

The other time, I was probably 13 or 14 at a black powder rendevous. This is a gathering where traders sell things like porcupine necklaces and leather pants; there are shooting games and rolling pin throws (I won first), and tomahawk throws (I won second). At one point, my mom was having me pose for a photo. An old* guy with a mohawk came up and put his arm around me. My mom snapped the photo, and the guy stuck around. *He was at least 19.

The guy hung around me all day, and I was going to be staying the night there with my sister and her family. Just before my parents were to leave, my dad said to me real loud (so the guy could hear) something about me needing to get to bed early because “You turn 14 in a few days.” That’s right, my dad made it real clear exactly how young I was, and the guy was gone within minutes and didn’t return.

So hearing this song made me laugh.

And after I thought of those two incidents, I started thinking about my own teenage daughter, and the two daughters who will be teenagers very soon.

Now I think Steve needs to memorize those lines because it might be handy sometime soon.

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Signing bonuses and reconciling freedom

The signing bonus the military is offering has been a point of contention at my house recently. My husband, who served six years in the military, has said more than once that he is thinking about rejoining. As the signing bonus gets higher, so does my husband’s push to have me consider the possibility.

I have said no. That isn’t all I have said, but this is the G-rated tear-free version of my response. He has used logic to argue his point, which normally works for me. He could stay in and eventually get retirement benefits; it would be additional income every month; the bonus would allow us to pay off several bills and maybe even a car. It’s good for the family.

I do not argue logically. Instead, I am totally selfish and emotional. No. I like my husband, and I want to be near him. I like our weekends we spend together, unencumbered.

Plus, there is a reason why the signing bonus is getting bigger — it is intended to recruit people at a time when recruitment numbers are low and the need is great.

Knowing all of that, I have done everything possible to keep my husband from signing up. It is my opinion that a $20,000 signing bonus just isn’t worth it. Frankly, I can’t think of a number that would make it worth it. I can’t put a dollar figure on keeping my family healthy and intact and together.

And then this morning I heard on the radio that the Army is contacting soldiers who were injured in Iraq and requiring them to repay their signing bonus.

My jaw dropped. These soldiers signed up with the possibility of risking their lives being very real; and even if we take the life-threatening possibility out of the equation, it is still signing up for a life that interferes with your family relationships in a very big way. While fulfilling their duty, the soldiers were injured, permanently injured, and now the Army wants their money back because the soldier only fulfilled part of their contract? In my opinion, the soldier’s injuries mean that soldier is destined to serve a lifetime contract of service to our country. Every injury and long-term impact caused by that injury will be endured by the soldier in service to this country, and I am amazed anyone, including the Army, could possibly think otherwise.

I don’t see the signing bonus as an incentive. Even without the possibility of the Army will try to collect part of it back, I see the signing bonus as a gamble, and I am not a gambler. I don’t like to lose $20, so it is no surprise I am not willing to gamble with my husband even if the currency is just time away from family.

I have a hard time reconciling this issue. My dad retired from the U.S. Air Force; my brother retired from the U.S. Army; my other brother and my husband both served in the military as did my brother-in-law, father-in-law and numerous other relatives. I grew up in a town that is home to the largest National Guard training base east of the Mississippi. I understand the need to protect our country, and I am thankful for the men and women who do this every day. I know the sacrifices they are making to do this, and this is where my problem reconciling this issue comes in. I am not willing to make that sacrifice, and I am lucky because I have a choice. I rarely ask others to do something I myself would not do, and although I didn’t personally ask anyone to serve in the military, I benefit from their duty each and every day. In making my choice, in telling my husband no, I feel guilty because I know there are others who didn’t say no, and there are too many who are saying no.

Since the initial news story broke, the Army has indicated this request was “an anomaly” that will be corrected. It was also “an anomaly” that apparently has been repeated over and over.

This story has made the sacrifice and duty our soldiers have given even more awe-inspiring. Despite this level of incompetence, soldiers are still willing to serve their country, and they do it with pride and grace and daily sacrifice. Thank you.

Category: Life with Linda  Comments off

A good memory…

George, my dad would bellow in such a loud voice I would jump. He continued, What are you doing playing with Linda’s toys?

I was playing with my toys alone. There was no George. I’d giggle.

Daddy, I’d say, I’m not George.

My dad would ignore me. George, he’d say. Linda is going to be upset with you for playing with her toys. You better leave before she finds you.

I’d giggle, protesting, I am Linda. These are my toys. You are my daddy.

He’d shake his head, poor disillusioned George he’d seem to be saying. I’d run off to find my mother, dragging her back to prove to my dad that I was in fact Linda and not George.

I’d begin to demand my mom affirm who I am, but before I could begin, my dad would cut me off.

Linda, he’d say. George was just here, and he was playing with your toys again. I told him he’d better stop. And I’d giggle as I attempted once more to tell my silly daddy that it wasn’t George. It was me, Linda, the whole time.

 

This childhood memory of mine is brought to you in memory of my dad, Charles H. Denton Jr., born Oct. 29, 1934, died Nov. 24, 2003. To this day, I tend to call my children George, and when I am in the classroom, and I need a random name to illustrate a point, I select George more often than not.

Category: Fat Man's Daughter, Life with Linda  Comments off

Overheard at Thanksgiving…

Adult cousin talking to her mom about Maxine…

“Isn’t she cute? She’s so tiny. Look at how small her arms are…”

(Maxine, by the way, gets teased often about her small stature although she was smiling at the time this was being said.)

Her dad walked into the room then and overheard it. And this is what he said…

“She’s not small. She’s big. She’s the biggest 10-year-old daughter I have….”
:-)

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Category: Family  Comments off