Those Places Thursday - A Historic Moment at the Supreme Court

At the Supreme Court as the ruling striking down Proposition 8 occurred - June 26, 2013

My mom, two sons and I took a trip to Washington D.C. this summer.  We arrived on June 25th and walked around the National Mall and Arlington National Cemetery.  That was the day that the Supreme Court decided that the Voting Rights Act was out-dated.  So glad we didn't visit the courthouse that day.  It's a day I'd like to forget.

At the FDR memorial

On the roster for day two was the far side of the National Mall with the MLK and FDR memorials, the White House (no tours due to the sequester so pictures of the outside only), Congress, and the Supreme Court.  Sounds like a busy day, but we weren't taking any tours and we hoped to get out before rush hour.  As we were entering the National Mall portion of D.C. we turned the news on the radio.  We knew that Proposition 8 and D.O.M.A. (the Defense of Marriage Act) were going to be ruled on that day.  As we entered the Capitol we heard it...D.O.M.A. was struck down.  The boys were playing with their electronics in the back of the van. They were oblivious about what just happened until we started talking about it minutes later.  My mom was thrilled.  I was in tears.  So happy I could cry...I certainly understood that phrase that morning.

It took awhile to get to the parking garage, but we decided that the Supreme Court was the place to be.  Prop 8 still needed to be ruled on and the demonstrations should be quite the experience so we started walking to the Supreme Court.  We did have to pass Congress on our way (they're right across the street from each other, if you didn't know) and as we passed I pointed out to my children "the building where no work gets done" and took some photos for posterity.  We then crossed the street and dove into the crowds in front of the Supreme Court.

We heard cheers as we crossed and I felt certain that it was more good news.  I approached someone wearing a pro-LGBT shirt and asked what the outcome of Prop 8 was.  We were told that it had been upheld.  I was stunned.  Was all that cheering really because it had been upheld.  I comforted with the words that the fight wasn't over and we'd get there someday, and my family and I entered the crowds to try to get closer to the stairs.

The wall at the Martin Luther King Jr memorial

We couldn't.  We got through much of the media that was set up along the walkway and then couldn't go any further.  What was the hold up?  I was frustrated until I realized that I had come within 2 people deep of a statement that Representative John Lewis (D-5th District, Georgia) was giving...thus the congestion.  I recognized the man standing there from TV, but I couldn't remember if he was friend or foe to the LGBT community so I did what any other clueless bystander would do.  I whipped out my iPhone held it up over the heads of the few people that separated me and the congressman and took a picture.  I saw a young woman smiling at me when I did that and asked her, "I'm sorry, but who is this man and what district does he represent?"  She told me and I knew he was a friend.  He was a very active figure in the Civil Rights Movement and had marched with Martin Luther King Jr.  A supporter of equality for all.

I'm sorry your eyes were closed Rep Lewis, but thank you for your service!

I asked this woman what the ruling was.  That we had been told that Prop 8 had been upheld, but that everyone looked far too happy for that.  She told me that indeed it had not been upheld, but struck down.  The person I had spoken to upon crossing the street was mistaken.  I was elated.

I've talked to my children, ages 12 and 7, about topics like racism, sexism, and equality before.  This was a moment for them to experience too.  I don't know that Daniel completely understood its significance being only 7, but I know that my oldest son got it.  I know that both of them will be able to tell their children and grandchildren that they were there on this momentous day and that they stood near the stairs to the Supreme Court with their mom and grandmother when one of the fundamental tenants of our country was reaffirmed...

"All men* are created equal"

The wall at the Martin Luther King Jr memorial

*Just a little linguistic reminder that the term "man" and "men" can actually be used as gender neutral words.  A point often lost among many.  Today we would say "everyone" but language needs to be viewed in the context of the era in which it was written and "man" was the appropriate term when the Constitution was written.

Very busy in front of the Supreme Court on June 26, 2013

This post is dedicated to all the friends I have that are members of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) community.
To see my fellow Americans discriminated against for basic rights that everyone should have tears at my heart. These rulings are of historic significance for our country.  There are states that still deny these rights to members of the LGBT community and while we have not finished the fight, we took two giant steps forward...and I want my descendants to know that I was there.

Those Places Thursday - Time to Confuse my Descendants Again

Garden of the Gods

So if being in the military wasn't enough to throw those pesky descendants off my trail, we're moving again.  I know, I know...we aren't in the military anymore, but it matters not.  We're on our way to Colorado Springs!

I'm excited.  Very excited.  Colorado Springs is a gorgeous area.  But I'm a bit sad too.  My boys are in an awesome school and we got close to quite a few people here.  We weren't really thinking that we'd be leaving Killeen, Texas...at least not until retirement, when we'll no doubt join the great Packer fans of Wisconsin.

So getting close makes this move harder.  I was close to many people while I was in the military, but you expect to move every few years.  It's just different.  I'm leaving behind great people, but thank goodness for Facebook, FaceTime, and Skype!

So I'll look at the positive points.  Gorgeous area.  Lots of outdoor stuff to do.  Four seasons...yay, snow! Adventure!  Only about a one day drive to Salt Lake City (time for my first visit!)

My resolutions which will make this move an even more positive one:

1)  I will not become PTA/PTO-involved for a minimum of one year.  I'll join whatever parent organization the schools have, but I'll just have to give them a wrong phone number or something. Take my dues and leave me alone for a couple years.  Lay low...

2)  I will be my 6 year old's Tiger Den Leader or Assistant Tiger Den Leader, but I will not have one of the Committee positions in either Cub Scout Pack or Boy Scout Troop for at least one or two years.

3)  I will finally head out to the Family History Library!

4)  I will crank up my genealogical studies.  Either by more online courses and webinars, or (preferably) by taking the Boston University certificate program or Monterey Peninsula College's program.

5) Once I feel comfortable back in the genealogy world, I'll be heading for my certification.

So maybe this move isn't a bad one.  It looks like it will be freeing up my time so I can refocus on my business. Here's hoping anyway!

Those Places Thursday - The House That Caused the Fuss

This is the house that cause all the fuss with my grandfather and his siblings in my previous post.  It's still standing in Scranton, Pennsylvania.  Knowing that it was Adam and Jadwiga's house, I wish it was still in the family.  They were the first immigrants in that line so it is meaningful to me.  If nothing else, I wish I could see inside it, although I'm sure it's changed.

I wish I had a better picture.  I was sure the picture that I had wasn't this bad, but the one I'm looking for may be at home on my backup drive.  I guess I'll check again after spring break when I get home!

Those Places Thursday - Pilgrimages to Lambeau Field

The Atrium entrance to Lambeau

It sounds silly, I mean no one is going to Lambeau Field to worship or anything, but to Packers fans from all over, getting to Lambeau Field is a pretty big deal.  Getting season tickets, well, that's a huge deal.

The Green Bay Packers have an extraordinary history, heck the trophy awarded to the Super Bowl winner is named after former Green Bay Packer coach, Vince Lombardi.  Lombardi is looked at as an inspiration to football fans and players everywhere.  Heck, one of my nephews is named Vincent if that tells you about Packer love!

One of the many businesses with Packer pride

I’ve been to Lambeau several times.  My husband is originally from Green Bay and every time we go home to visit a trip to Lambeau Field is on the schedule (and a Packer game if they’re playing).  Green Bay exudes Packers.  Almost every business has something Packer in the store and Packer gear among kids and adults alike is a clothing staple.

Want to go to a Packers home game?  Well, unless you know someone with season tickets or find a dealer authorized to sell tickets for season ticket holders that aren’t going to the game that weekend, you’re pretty much out of luck.  The Packers games have been sold out since 1960.  So if you want to go and live in the vicinity, best sign up for season tickets, but…

Getting season tickets is no easy matter.  You will wait decades, or even your entire life without getting season tickets.  It used to be that you could will someone your place on the waiting list if you died, but no more.  Luckily, you can still will your tickets to someone so it’s possible to keep them in the family!

In front of Lambeau with Benjamin

 To illustrate how long it takes, and how important it is, to get season tickets, after our first son was born we flew to Wisconsin from Hawaii to have Benjamin baptized in my husband’s church…and then we drove to Lambeau Field and put his name on the waiting list for season tickets.  After our second son was born, we drove from Tennessee to Pennsylvania to have Daniel baptized in my church and then a few days later drove to Wisconsin to see family…and to go to Lambeau and put his name on the waiting list for season tickets.  Benjamin was born in 2001 and his number on the waiting list the last we checked is 47560.  Daniel was born in 2006 and his number is 68529.

I mentioned earlier that almost all stores have something cheering the Packers on inside, but lets talk about the city.  The McDonalds restaurants are GREEN & GOLD!!! 

A Green Bay McDonalds

You’ve seen signs up north that tell you not to park on this side of the street due to street sweeping or plowing?  Well, in Green Bay you see street signs that say “No Parking Day of Packer Game”!

A very unique sign

Many streets, particularly near Lambeau Field, are named for popular/famous Packer players and coaches, and Brett Favre owns a steakhouse near the stadium!

Well, speaking of Brett Favre what Packer fans had heartache about (apart from him being just a first class drama queen) was the fact that he didn’t retire (you know…the final time he retired) straight from the Packers.  His last team that he played for should have been the Packers, and the silliness that went on (and the reasons were many, varied, and complicated) should never have happened.  He should have gone out gloriously, and not gone out with a text of his genitals!

Despite the Favre-drama and how upset fans were at his bumping around to other teams, what they support

fully is Aaron Rogers.  Not only is Rogers a 1^st class quarterback, but that’s what Packer fans do.  They support their team.  They don’t support their team when they’re winning.  They support their team whether they’re winning or whether they’re having a terrible season!  Packer fans don’t walk out of football games.  They stay to support their team, not what you see when you watch other teams play…they’re losing and the stands empty.  Nope…not for my Packers.  Die hard fans, always. 

Lambeau isn’t a covered stadium either, and as you might expect, it snows in Green Bay, so after it snows the fans come out to shovel the stands and get the stadium ready for the game.  They come out in droves to shovel!  In fact earlier this year the stadium had to turn away hundreds of people because there were just too many of them!  There were even some fans that drove more than 3 hours so they could shovel.  It was like they were waiting for Black Friday Holiday deals outside Walmart.  They waited for the stadium to open and to be among the people selected.  Sure they get paid, but they do it because they are fans!

Going to a game is an all-day affair….OK…most of the day affair.  You first have to find a place to park.  There simply isn’t enough room at Lambeau to park (and it’s expensive!), but if you drive around (or know the right people) you can find parking near the stadium.  Lambeau is right next to a residential area.  Quite literally there are homes across the street from the stadium!  People rent out their lawns for anywhere from $10-$25.00+ dollars per car to park.  I don’t know what it does to their lawn, but do the math…if you fit 10+ cars on your lawn each time the Packers play, that’s a nice chunk of change!

Outside Lambeau after signing Danny up for tickets

So we park on a friend of a friend’s lawn and then we tailgate.  Sometimes it’s just sandwiches, and sometimes it’s much more, but a tailgate is required…even if it’s 5 degrees!  You dress for the game.  You bundle up in the winter.  Seriously bundled up!  Then you head in about 45 minutes to and hour prior to kickoff so you can get through security, get a tasty beverage and get to your seat.  After the game you go back to your car and chill out for about an hour until the traffic clears before even attempting to head home.

The Packers aren’t owned by one person.  They are owned by the fans themselves.  In fact, as I type this, the last day to purchase stock in the Green Bay Packers is coming to an end.  Perhaps we’ll purchase a couple shares before midnight.  If not, we’ll wait for the next stock option.  How much are shares going for?  $250!  It’s one of the ways that this non-profit organization raises extra funds.

I'm not originally from Green Bay, but as I've blogged before, I've whole-heartedly married into a Packer family and am a die hard fan.  I love the passion the fans have as well as the sense of humor.  This DirecTV ad makes me laugh.  It's very spot-on.  The hand-made sweater.  The priest sitting in the room with her and the team rivalry (although they would have been more on target had it been a Bears fan that moved in).

Those Places Thursday - No Longer the Follower

Can you see me?  I certainly look different back then (Hint: the red hair is there, albeit dark red)

I seem to be walking down Army Memory Lane quite a lot recently, but it was a big part of my life.  A part I want to share with my children and their children as well.

I joined the Army as a Private First Class (PFC), and after a year or so of believing that I wanted to be an officer, I came to realize that I wanted to be a Noncommissioned Officer.  A sergeant.  I eventually got to my promotion board (that's another post which I plan to do in April) and then on to the Primary Leadership Development Course (PLDC).  I was stationed in San Antonio, Texas when I needed to go to PLDC, so I was sent to the nearest Army post which happened to be Fort Hood (ironically enough where I am now!).

I was a little scared when I went.  I had a horrible fear of failure.  I wasn't afraid of the academic learning.  I could do that, no worries.  I was afraid of the practical, field-work.  I was stationed at a unit that didn't go to the field.  While it was a great assignment to gain some very good technical experience in my job it wasn't the best job for gaining tactical experience, and that's what a good portion of PLDC would be about.

I guess I was a little insecure with my experiences, but I had great leaders and they prepared me well. I was at PLDC from the end of January to the end of February 1999.  There were three moments that stand out in my mind from my short four weeks at this school.  The first was during our field exercise. It was pretty cold out so the cadre set up fire barrels and we stood around the fire in the dark with coffee made from our MREs.  We held our canteen cups over the fire to warm it up.  It sounds like a silly, trivial thing to remember, but it was a lot of fun being able to take some time and just talk with classmates.

The second was on the last day of our field exercise.  It was the day that we were heading back in for recovery.  We had gone well over 24 hours without sleep and we were tired.  My cadre called me over and told me that I was the Honor Graduate for the class.  I just stood there and stared straight ahead and said, "Huh?"  The words weren't making sense to me.  My brain wasn't working.  They repeated it and I just said "Oh.  OK."  They told me to head back to my tent.  Like the obedient Soldier I was, I did just that.  I sat there outside my small tent with my M16 in my hands and just stared at the grass in front of me.  I stared and the grass STARTED TO GROW!  I am not joking, my mind was so tired and I was so out of it that I actually was hallucinating.  I started giggling and then a couple cadre members (after asking what I was giggling about) told me to go to sleep.  I did and it wasn't until I woke up an hour or so later that what they told me sank in.  I was Honor Graduate.  That was the #2 graduate in a class of about 100 (the #1 person was called the Distinguished Honor Graduate).  I was excited.  I hadn't let my unit down.  My fear of failure was for nothing...or at least it drove me to succeed.

The last significant memory I have of PLDC was graduation.  My Battalion Commander, the acting Sergeant Major, and my Platoon Sergeant were coming to the graduation.  There may have been one or two other minions that came out with them, but I was excited that these leaders (mostly my Platoon Sergeant, who was so awesome!) were going to be there, and I was giving the commencement speech.  There were technically 2 graduations and the way they split the graduations up, the Distinguished Honor Graduate was giving the speech in the afternoon graduation so I was giving the morning speech.  Why was this memorable?  Because the speech was written by the NCO Academy and my Battalion Commander thought I had written it and she congratulated me for giving such a great speech.  Why does this stick out?  Well, I despised my Battalion Commander and saying something along the lines of, "Thanks ma'am, but I didn't write it." just to make her seem foolish is a highlight any day of the week.  You'll discover the reason for my animosity toward this woman in the April post I alluded to.  It should be a pretty good one.

The picture at the top of the post was just of the students in my actual classroom.  Sure we had about 100 Soldiers in the PLDC "class," but we had to be separated into groups so they could teach us better.  I had fun with these Soldiers, but sadly, I don't remember their names.  Even though their names elude me right now, they were a significant part of that experience that was PLDC.  We shared experiences and supported each other during our time at school, and that school, for most of us, was the final obstacle we had to go through to become Sergeants.  No longer the followers, but expected to be the leaders.  No pressure though....

Those Places Thursday - What Did I Get Myself Into?

Don't even THINK of smiling for this picture!  Yes, we were actually told that!

I always wanted to be a Drill Sergeant.  OK, not always, but for the majority of my military career I did.  I joined the Army and wanted to become an officer (NCOs everywhere are making vomit-faces while reading that).  My aunt and uncle were both officers in the Army and my other uncle had been an officer in the Navy.  It just made sense.  That's what I'd do.  Funny how things don't always work out according to plan.  My basic training drill sergeants were awesome.  I went to the Defense Language Institute (DLI) the first time around (see blog post) and there were no drill sergeants. Just regular NCOs.  While some were outstanding, my platoon sergeant was a first class piece of trash.  She played favorites, her uniform looked like crap, and she couldn't physically keep up with the trainees (I enjoyed that a bit much).  Then I went on to complete my training after DLI and it was back with drill sergeants.  It doesn't have to make sense...the whole span of a year with no drill sergeants...it's just the way the Army worked back then, but what did matter was getting back with those drill sergeants, and, again, those drill sergeants were nothing short of awesome.

I dreaded leaving training and going to my first duty station.  Would the NCOs there be garbage like my DLI platoon sergeant?  Nope.  There were, naturally, bad NCOs there.  There are good and bad NCOs everywhere, but my NCOs were awesome.  They took care of me.  They trained me.  They made sure I was prepared.  My experiences to that point made me realize that NCOs really did make the difference in Soldiers' lives.  I had experienced great NCOs and I had experienced bad NCOs and I knew what affect both kinds had on Soldiers.  I realized that not only did I want to be an NCO, but I wanted to be a drill sergeant.  I was a bit concerned that my family would be disappointed, but as life would have it around the time I made my decision, my Aunt Cathy who lived in Hawaii was visiting San Antonio where I was stationed.  She stopped by for a visit and I asked her if she would be disappointed in me if I decided to be an NCO instead of an officer.  Of course the answer was that they would all be proud of me no matter what decision I made, but it was comforting to hear it all the same.

I didn't expect to see a camera when throwing this dummy-grenade!

So time passed and I was asked if I would be a drill sergeant at Goodfellow Air Force Base.  I ended up turning it down.  I had a baby by now and my husband and I were both in the military.  Goodfellow ran in shifts and there would be no guarantee that my husband and I would be on the same shift.  We could essentially go through my 2 or 3 years "on the trail" and almost never see each other.  I didn't want it that bad!  A year or two later I got a call from my branch manager.  He used to be my platoon sergeant in Hawaii (another completely awesome NCO) and he knew I wanted to be a drill sergeant.  He told me that military intelligence was in desperate need of female drill sergeants and that I could go back to DLI to be a drill sergeant.  Back to DLI?  Be a drill sergeant at DLI?  Holy cow, yes!  My husband was redeploying.  He had been deployed for a few months after September 11th and was on his way back.  I had to clear it with him first, but I was completely excited about the idea.   I picked my husband up from the airport in January 2002 and as he was driving us home I told him about the offer.  I believe "Hell, yes!" or something along those lines was his response.

Would you like to know how small a world it really is?  I had the mail sitting on my lap in the car and after my husband's response I opened a letter that I saw was from an old friend of both of ours.  It was from Jen and Andy Woods (yes, Jen Woods from Climbing My Family Tree, Jen Woods!).  Jen had written her yearly Christmas letter and in it she gave the news that Andy was going to Drill Sergeant School and then would be heading out to DLI.  Holy cow!  I immediately contacted Jen to let her know we'd be seeing her there!

So how does the title of my post fit into this?  Well, I would eventually have to head to Drill Sergeant School myself, and in October 2002 I left for Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.  I have to admit that I was scared.  Not scared of how I was going to be treated.  My fear was always a fear of failure.  That fear always drove me to succeed.  You wouldn't have known it on that first day of Drill Sergeant School though.  In fact, my Drill Sergeant Leaders (DSLs) probably wondered who the heck decided to send me there!  You see I spent the entire night before school started polishing my boots and pressing my uniform.  I wanted to look sharp on that first day of school.  I wanted the DSLs to be impressed.  They weren't...and the first day was a disaster.

Drill Sergeant School has all these "modules" that you had to memorize.  What's a module?  Well, drill sergeants have to be able to instruct Drill and Ceremony, and the Army wants it done the same everywhere, so each drill and ceremony action had a module that a drill sergeant candidate had to memorize.  A module was "pitched" (recited word for word) and those words instructed the Soldiers on how to complete the action.  You can see an example of a relatively easy module at the end of the blog post, but my point here is that I went to school knowing that we would have to memorize these modules.  I figured that if other people had done it, then I could too. What I didn't know, what no one had bothered to tell me before going off to Drill Sergeant School, was that I was expected to know the first 3 when I arrived...or at least be remotely familiar with them.  Yeah...I didn't even know the first LINE of ANY module when I fell into formation that day.  Not good.

A sea of scary people.  Can you see me?

I was in the front row of the formation.  I was about the fourth or fifth candidate in so it didn't take long before they got to me.  I thought I was being smart.  I heard the others start to recite the module for the "Position of Attention" and I thought if I could get the first few lines down before they got to me then they'd cut me off and move on to the next person.  I would amaze them with my knowledge and how sharp my uniform looked.  Nope.  When they got to me I barely got off the first line and then ran out of what I knew.  DOH! I got a "Minus 2, sergeant...minus 2!"  We had demerit cards at drill sergeant school.  If you did something wrong it was a minus 2, 3, 4, etc and you had to put it on your demerit card.  On the weekend they needed extra manual labor and they would pick the people that had the most demerits to perform this duty.  If you did something right you could earn pluses, but they didn't happen often.

Anyway, I got a minus 2 within the first 10 seconds that a DSL was standing in front of me.  Then it got worse.  The DSL looked at my boots, "Those boots aren't shined on the sides, sergeant."...and I opened my mouth, "They're jungle boots, drill sergeant.  They aren't supposed to be."..."Minus 2, sergeant...minus 2." As I've mentioned once or twice before, one of my biggest problems in life had been my inability to just shut up.  My mouth failed me again...and again.  For such a smart girl I wasn't prepared for what the goal of that first day was and the pain continued..."Your hair is touching your ears, sergeant."...me, "I'm a female, drill sergeant, it's allowed to touch my ears."..."Minus 2, sergeant...minus 2."  Basically, by the time this DSL got done with me I had over 10 demerits and school just started!  I was known to the other DSLs as well.  Later that week we were marching to class and one of the other DSLs started talking to me. He looked at the name on my uniform and said, "Oh, it's YOU! Don't you have a ton of demerits?!?"  "Yes, drill sergeant," I said embarrassed.  Needless to say, I pulled duty that weekend.

What I failed to realize going into Drill Sergeant School (and boy do I wish someone had told me this), was that they were there to find flaws in us that first day, just like we would be finding flaws when inspecting our Soldiers later on (although not intentionally with our Soldiers).  The point wasn't to be perfect.  They would find flaws with you or they would make them up, just so your would get demerits.  A way of knocking everyone down a notch.  My brain just wasn't working that way and I couldn't understand why this drill sergeant was wrong!  How could he not know that you physically couldn't polish the side of a jungle boot...it was made of fabric!?!?  How could he not know the hair standards for female Soldiers?!?!?  Well, he did, but I just wasn't getting knocked down a notch so he kept going.  I can look back at it and laugh now, but I was horrified at the time.

Things got better.  Drill Sergeant School was a "gentleman's course" now.  No more "smoking" the candidates with push ups or sit ups.  As I said, they used demerits.  Drills that went to the school previously might think that this was a "softening" of the course or standards, but not so.  The demerits did their job and the philosophy as it was explained to us by our DSLs was that we were all NCOs and deserved to be treated like NCOs.  Made sense to me.

There I am.  I'm happier than I look!

We did lots of interesting things at school.  We had to stand across a parking lot from our "buddy" and give commands.  Our buddy had to execute the drill and ceremony command we gave or it was a hit on us.  The point was to make sure we projected our voice well enough to be heard.  Good reason...but the entire class of drill sergeants was in that parking lot yelling to their buddies, so you had to also yell over everyone else. Luckily, I had no problems in that department!  I was always too loud for my own good although one of my DSLs did tell me when I was marching our squad one afternoon that I wasn't loud enough.  I got a good giggle out of that one.  I think anyone that ever knew me would disagree with him too.

So these modules that I mentioned.  They had to be memorized word for word.  Not a single "a", "an" or "the" missing.  Some modules were a page long and some were much longer.  The longest was FOUR pages!  We would be assigned them in groups.  Here's your next group of modules.  You need to know them by this time.  When we would get "free" time during school you would see candidates with their noses to walls or light posts mumbling to themselves.  I had heard of this but didn't understand why.  As it turns out what it was is candidates finding a quiet corner to recite the modules to themselves without disturbing the others.   Silly, but it worked.

Anyway, you only had to say one from each group/assignment, but you never knew which one you'd have to do.  They'd roll the dice and tell you which one you got and then you'd recite it.  I never missed a single word and after the hell I received that first day, I was delighted!

By the time Drill Sergeant School ended, I was no longer the demerit queen.  I graduated with an "exceeds course standards" (no more than 20% could get this, and there were other stipulations as well), I was the Commandant's Inspection Awardee (finally recognized for having a kick-butt uniform), and I earned my Army Physical Fitness Award patch, by getting over a 90% on each event on my record APFT.  In fact the DSL grading my sit-ups was rather excited at my score.  He yelled to the DSL next to us after I finished, "Hey she just did 98 sit-ups! (in 2 minutes)"  I was hurting during that APFT too.  I had gotten sick and was actually drinking cough syrup to stop my body-shaking coughs during the night.  My suite-mate threatened to have me sent to sick call because my cough sounded so scary.  If you went to sick call you essentially went home.  You couldn't miss more than a couple hours of class, and sick call always exceeded this time.  After I finished my 2 mile run on that APFT I collapsed and proceeded to cough my brains out, but I was done!

Drill Sergeant School was quite the experience, but it was a good one too.  I learned a lot and I felt somewhat prepared to take on the responsibilities that came with being a Drill Sergeant.  When I graduated I was thrilled.  Not just because I had "done it", but because despite starting out rough, and wondering "What did I get myself into?",  I did a pretty good job!

The Drill Sergeant Badge

The Position of Attention (module)

STEP I

1. First and Second Squad FALL OUT, U-Formation, FALL IN. RELAX. LET ME HAVE YOUR ATTENTION. The next position, which I will name, explain, have demonstrated, and which you will conduct practical work on, is the position of attention.

2. The position of attention is the key position for all stationary, facing, and marching movements.

3. The commands for this position are FALL IN and ATTENTION. FALL IN is a combined command. ATTENTION is a two-part command when preceded by a preparatory command, such as Squad, Platoon, or Demonstrator. I will use Demonstrator as the preparatory command and ATTENTION is the command of execution.

5. When given, these commands are as follows: FALL IN. Demonstrator, ATTENTION.

STEP II

6. Demonstrator, POST. I will use the talk-through method of instruction.

7. On the command FALL IN or on the command of execution ATTENTION of Demonstrator, ATTENTION.

8. Bring the heels together sharply on line, with the toes pointing out equally, forming an angle of 45-degrees. Rest the weight of the body evenly on the heels and balls of both feet. Keep the legs straight without locking the knees. Hold the body erect with the hips level, chest lifted and arched, and the shoulders square.

9. Keep the head erect and face straight to the front with the chin drawn in so that the alignment of the head and neck is vertical.

10. Let the arms hang straight without stiffness. Curl the fingers so that the tips of the thumbs are alongside and touching the first joint of the forefingers. Keep the thumbs straight along the seams of the trouser leg with the first joint of the fingers touching the trousers.

11. Remain silent and do not move unless otherwise directed. RELAX.

12. At normal cadence, this position would look as follows: FALL IN. RELAX. Demonstrator, ATTENTION. RELAX.

13. What are your questions pertaining to this position when executed at normal cadence or using the talk-through method of instruction?

14. Demonstrator, ATTENTION. You will now become my assistant instructor. FALL OUT.

STEP III

15. LET ME HAVE YOUR ATTENTION.

16. I will use the talk-through method of instruction.

Those Places Thursday - DLI the 1st Time Around

The Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center in Monterey, California.  That's where I went after Basic Training and that's where I spent just under a year learning Russian for the Army.  I've got loads of fond memories from my time there.  I was in Foxtrot Company.  Lived and went to school "up the hill"...and the hills on DLI are no joke.  They're evil.

I would (like everyone else) sneak through a hole in the fence to get to the local grocery store.  Because going through the hole in the fence was much faster than going through the gate.  This also meant that whenever the installation would fix the fence it didn't last long.  Within weeks it would open up again, but we didn't complain.  We often thought they should have just put a gate up there!

The best way to describe DLI is a weird cross between the military and college.  Once we passed our inspections at 4 weeks, we had loads of freedom.  Freedom that you wouldn't expect for Soldiers in training.  We weren't complaining though!  We went to school Monday through Friday for about 8 hours.  That was our job.  Go to school and learn your language.  Sure we did PT in the mornings and some training in the afternoons, but usually our leaders did their best to not give us too much to do.  Why?  Because we usually had lots of homework.  If you didn't have homework, you should be spending time studying (yeah, I'll get right on that...).

Our teachers were great.  Sweet little Russian ladies (and one American gentleman) taught us.  Mrs Rubenstein was in charge of the schoolhouse and you did not mess with her.  We complained the whole time...who could learn this crazy language!?!  I'm never going to be able to understand Cyrillic!  God bless them for tolerating us!  And, of course, they were right.  We learned Russian just fine...most of us anyway.  There were those that couldn't handle the intensity of the course and ended up being reclassed into another job, but we had a pretty big graduating class, as can be seen from the picture above.  I'm on the left, in the second row.  The Private First Class with the sun in my face between the two Russian ladies.  The dark-haired lady to the right was my "homeroom" teacher...Mrs. Turin.  She was awesome.  She was sweet, and we loved her like a mom. She treated us like her kids and almost always had a smile for us.

We often times gave "code names" to our various teachers.  Mrs Turin was occasionally referred to as "mom".  Then there was "Lady Flip-Flop head" because one teacher always bounced her head back and forth.  "The Red Dragon" because, we'll she had red hair and some people thought she was mean (I rather liked her though).  "The Babbler", she well...babbled.  Even though we gave them these nicknames, we were still very respectful to them.  We just saw it as harmless fun.

It's easy looking back fondly at those times, but in reality it was one of the hardest things I had done at that point in my life.  Sure, we had fun when we weren't in class, but you had to or you'd snap (and there were those Soldiers that snapped and had to be committed).

We didn't have Drill Sergeants at DLI when I went through for training and it was very hard to leave after having a year of freedom and heading to our next training assignment...and back to Drill Sergeants.  We managed, of course, but it wasn't ideal.  What is though?

Ah, well.  Good memories...and I'd end up back there again within 5 years of leaving.  But that's a different Thursday!

Those Places Thursday - Family Vacations at Virginia Beach

Sunrise at Virginia Beach, July 2011

When I was growing up I really thought that everyone took vacations to places like Virginia Beach, VA.  I loved going to Virginia Beach (referred to from here on simply as "the Beach").  Each year we would start asking my father if we were going to be going on vacation sometime around March.  The answer was always the same..."Maybe".  That was good enough as a "Yes" to a kid and I was a planner so I'd start packing...in April.  

Aimee and Cherie Tabor playing on Virginia Beach

Packing..you know...the things that a 5 or 6 or 7 year old would pack for a trip.  My sisters and I couldn't contain our excitement about going.  What we didn't realize at the time was that it was always a matter of money as to whether or not we could go.  As I've mentioned in previous posts, my father was (to put it kindly) employment-challenged for the majority of my life, but little kids don't really understand that.  When we would go, most times, it was because my mom was the general manager at the local Holiday Inn and either got the hotel room for free or a really discounted price.

My mom, Alice, with Aimee and me at VA Beach

The hotel room was always right on the beach and had a balcony over-looking the ocean.  It was heaven to me.  To be able to go out onto the balcony in the dark and not be able to see the ocean but to listen to it.  Listening to the waves crashing  close by, but just far enough out to not really be able to see them was so cool.  It's a peaceful sound to me.  Probably because it brings back some happy childhood memories.  Back when my mom and dad were still married and my family unit was still whole.  That's not to say that my life wasn't happy after that, but divorce makes an impression on a child and children are generally that casualties of those types of war and "war" was a pretty apt term for what happened.  That's another post, however, and this is a much more happy memory.

Benjamin and Daniel Cayemberg collecting shells at VA Beach

We would wake up in the mornings and my mom would make breakfast.  It was a requirement for the hotel room to have a kitchenette so she could cook and we could save money.  Then we'd go to the beach and play in the sand or in the water and then head back to the hotel room for my mom to make lunch.  Dinner was the one meal that was at a restaurant.  This was a big deal for us because there wasn't much restaurant eating for us during the year and I was an incredibly picky eater.  This was irritating for my father.  He'd take us to a wonderful seafood restaurant at the beach and I would get a hamburger.  We'd go to an Italian restaurant and I'd get a hamburger.  We'd go to any restaurant and I would get a hamburger.  He hated that.

My husband and kids at VA Beach

Why wouldn't I try crab legs?  Shrimp? Lobster?  To me I would think, "Why would I want to eat something that looks fairly close to what it looked like when it was still crawling around?"  My older and younger sisters enjoyed that stuff, but you couldn't get me to touch it with a 10 foot pole!  And my burger...yeah...well-done, baby.  It had been sent back a number of times by my mom who would sarcastically tell the waiter to have them burn it.  She enjoyed her meat pink...not me...pink meant blood.  I've grown out of that.  I eat my beef medium and try new things...as my waistline unfortunately has started to show since I said good-bye to the Army and people whipping my butt into shape!

Rick and Danny on VA Beach at sunrise

Still, even with the craziness of my awful eating habits it was the height of the year for me.  We would get inflatable rafts and ride the waves in.  They call it body surfing now, I suppose, and I had so much fun doing it.  It was hard to get my little sister, Aimee, and I out of the water to do anything else and my dad would body surf with us.  Great fun.

My other favorite thing to do was to visit the souvenir shops along the beach.  Yeah, I can appreciate today that they are pretty much filled with crap, but to a kid it was awesome crap!  We never got to buy too much, but every now and then, when my dad had an employed year, we'd be able to get some souvenirs.  I remember a wind up dolphin that would float in the bathtub and swim around.  It lasted a couple weeks before it died.  They still make them by the way!

I will always have fond memories of the Beach although as an adult I can look back and understand that it wasn't perfect.  What is?  But the memories are perfect.  Pure joy.  Pure innocence as a child oblivious to all the difficulties of the world.  Just having fun.

I wanted my two boys to share in those experiences, so this year as we drove from Texas to Pennsylvania to see my family, the Beach was one of those places we had to stop at.  It looked the same.  The hotels, the shops, the beach.  Not much changed.  People still plucking jellyfish out of the water and poking them.  Sitting on towels and kids playing in the sand.  No body surfing for my 5 year old, but my 10 year old and husband did enjoy riding some waves sans raft/board.  The little one and I contented ourselves with jumping over the waves and staying cool.

The sunrise over the Atlantic

We had fun, but I realized that it wasn't the same type of fun my husband had when he was a kid.  His family lived in Wisconsin and would go camping.  We shared childhood memories of vacations and I realized that we both looked back on our different experiences with such fondness...both had somewhat different ideas of what a family vacation was, but we managed to give our kids a taste of both his childhood and mine.  I wonder what they'll think of our family vacations when they are grown and have children of their own.  Hopefully, we've given them some great experiences.

Thanks for reminiscing with me.