The Green Oven

How is it that weather can have such a profound effect on our lives? From hurricanes, tornadoes, flooding, blizzards, earthquakes, tsunamis, drought, and global warming...weather conditions have been known to change the course of history. We take it for granted for the most part, until the thermostat starts to go up or down to the extreme and we are forced to accept the limits of our human form to withstand all but a very narrow range of temperature variance. It was a beautiful day in our little part of the world today, sunny and in the 70's. While in Iraq...the temperature reached 105 degrees! I spent most of the day in an air conditioned (temperature controlled) studio, rehearsing with dancers who get "hot" very quickly once they start moving, but, really they have no idea what real heat is all about. I then jumped into my car to find that my recently repaired at great expense A/C, had gone on the fritz again. I recall the exact moment that the humidity level in the car changed! I have a finely tuned radar when it comes to temperature...and this was not making me happy. As I drove home, with my window down to allow for air circulation, I began composing the irate phone call I would be making to the Toyota dealership on Monday. Then I had to stop and think about the heat levels currently being experienced by the soldiers in Iraq. It is damn hot there...I for one freely admit I would lose my all of my marbles and my mind in that kind of heat within a matter of hours...no let's revisit that...in a matter of minutes! I really don't know how the soldiers do what they do under these kinds of extreme weather conditions. So at that point I sort of stopped whining about my car A/C. After reading some stories about the Styker and how hot it can be inside this rolling monster, I decided to try to write about it...I would never presume to know what that is like...but, I just wrote from the heart what I felt about what I read. The title of the poem comes from some Stryker brigade soldiers who named the Stryker the "green oven" for obvious reasons.

The Green Oven

They call me the “Green Oven.”
I am rolling hell on eight wheels.
I am hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Preheat to 450 degrees of separation.

Give me your tired, your poor
Warriors, yearning to be free.

Shut the door.
Cramped and dark, hide in my belly.

Sit and stew with the fear that simmers
just beneath the surface of your fragile mind.
Let me fry your brain and bake the life right out of you.

I’ll take my pound of flesh in sweat and tears,
Until it is time to send you spewing forth onto
another war torn street.

Keep on Dancin'

Today will be my dancing day....then again every day is a dancing day for me. It is great to have a job that feeds the soul. I have been fortunate to have two of those jobs/careers so far in my life. When I worked as a nurse, I was always very entertaining to my fellow medical types...I was known as the "dancing nurse" because I was always humming a tune at my patients bedside and getting ready to bust a move. Whenever we had a quiet moment (and this did not happen too often where I worked) my co-workers were always trying to get me to give an impromptu demonstration of my finely honed dancing skilz. I would go into the supply room and get me some EKG patches....the round ones with the little metal thingy where you would hook up the cable for the EKG monitor. I would put them on the bottom of my shoes and proceed to tap dance my way about the unit. Fun and merriment was had by all...I reserved these little shows for only special occasions, so I was always in high demand. Ha, ha....the next shift would come on to find out that I had been doing the "Old Soft Shoe" or Shuffling off to Buffalo and they would all be majorly bummed that they had missed the performance. Much begging and pleading for an encore would ensue, but, I politely declined, reassuring them that tickets for the next show would be going on sale soon. I wonder if they miss the dancing nurse and her EKG taps? I know I miss them...well, time to go, it's off to Boogie Wonderland for me. Keep on dancin'!

The Last Person Who Will Love You

If I had been born just a few years earlier, I might have been one of the many nurses who ended up serving in the Vietnam War. When I graduated from nursing school, the war was finally over. Looking back I realize that I grew up with the Vietnam War overshadowing the bulk of my childhood and young adulthood, although it never really touched my life in any real way. My life as a nurse took an entirely different path, as I chose to work in Pediatric Intensive Care. I do not regret that choice, but, I often wonder if I could have handled the stress, trauma and exhaustion that come with being a combat nurse. I don't know how those brave young women handled the responsibilities that were thrust upon them. Many were novice nurses who had no idea what they were signing up for and I would have been right there with them. When you start off as a nurse, you really have no idea what being a nurse is all about. But, you learn fast and you do what needs to be done to survive each shift. The problem is that as you move from task to task, patient to patient, your mind focused on each precise detail that will save a life, there is no time to process the human suffering that is going on all around you. The emotions are often pushed aside, locked safely away so as not to disrupt the flow of the work that needs to be done. Until the day that all those buried feelings bubble to the surface wreaking havoc on your life and demanding that you do something with them. Many of the nurses who served in Vietnam returned home suffering from what we now know as PTSD. They fought for recognition of their contribution to the care of literally hundreds of thousands of wounded and dying soldiers. That recognition finally came in the form of the Vietnam Woman's Memorial pictured above (sculpted by Glenna Goodacre). Many women who served in Vietnam also contributed poetry to a book called, "Visions of War, Dreams of Peace" Writings of Women In The Vietnam War
(Edited by Lynda Van Devanter and Joan A. Furey.)

Here is some information from the "Vietnam Women's Memorial Foundation" website.

"An estimated 11,500 American women served in Vietnam, about 90 percent of them as medical personnel. They saw and touched the awful wounds suffered by 300,000 American boys, excluding those who were killed. Of the dead they saw, 29,000 were 17 or 18 years old.

The effect of so much exposure to so much pain was little understood for a long time. Like their male counterparts, these women returned in late 1960s and early 1970s to a sometimes hostile and, at best, uncaring reception.

They took years to realize that, like the men who fought, they could suffer post traumatic stress disorders and they too would have to come to grips with what they saw and felt.

"There is nothing more intimate than sharing some one's dying with them," a Vietnam-era nurse named Dusty wrote in a collection of poems, "Visions of War, Dreams of Peace."

"It is more intimate than sex, it is more intimate than childbirth, and once you do it, you can never be ordinary again." Here is one of Dusty's poems that struck a chord with me tonight.

Hello David

Hello, David-my name is Dusty.
I'm your night nurse.
I will stay with you.
I will check your vitals, every 15 minutes.
I will document your, inevitability.
I will hang more blood and give you something
for your pain.
I will stay with you and I will touch your face.

Yes, of course,
I will write your mother and tell her you were brave.
I will write your mother and tell her how much you loved her.
I will write your mother and tell her to give your bratty kid sister
a big kiss and a hug.
What I will not tell her is that you were wasted.

I will stay with you and I will hold your hand.
I will stay with you and watch your life
flow through my fingers
into my soul.
I will stay with you until you stay with me.

Goodbye David - my name is Dusty.
I am the last person you will see.
I am the last person you will touch.
I am the last person who will love you.

So long, David - my name is Dusty.
David - who will give me something for my pain?

Standard Issue Angel

Well it is getting to be late Sunday night...I am long overdue to get some sleep. It is Monday morning in Iraq...I heard some brief news clip that there had been "renewed" fighting. Where? What province? Who was involved? How many casualties? I haven't quite figured out how the families of soldiers deal with the stress of having a loved one in a war zone. Just close your eyes and really imagine how you would live each day with a loved one over in Iraq or Afghanistan, in the dust, the heat, and the danger...in harm's way 24/7 for fifteen months! Ever since I adopted my first soldier from Adopt-A-Platoon, I have a new appreciation for the helplessness you feel, when you don't know if that soldier is still OK. Did they make it through another day unscathed? They can't always email or call and if they are on a mission it could be days or weeks before you here something from them again...after Captain V came home, I adopted my second soldier, Sgt. R. The not knowing got harder with each weekly letter I wrote over those ten months. Sgt. R is home now after completing his third tour. He was twenty-two years old when I first started to write him...a veritable veteran of the Raq! Thank God he is home "safe and sound," which brings me around to my latest songs. In dance, I spend so much time listening to music, choreographing to music, it is an occupational hazard, but, a good one. Everywhere I go, I hear music that I have used for one dance or another. After 9/11, I choreographed a dance for our company to Sheryl Crow's, "Safe and Sound." I love this song...and it is dedicated to Suspect, who will also be coming home real soon. I also choreographed a dance to "Calling All Angels." This song is from the movie, "Pay It Forward." Remember how I have a thing for rain songs....well, I have one for angel songs too. So you may see songs from that collection here in the future. For tonight, this song is for all those who continue to protect and defend this country under the most difficult of circumstances. AMERICA, please wake up and smell the coffee burning...stop for a moment and find out what is going on over there in Iraq. It is our duty to be informed, make intelligent choices, vote and remember that all wars come with a price to human kind and the price is high! Our soldiers need us to stand up for them and watch their backs. Until that happens, it is my humble opinion that every soldier should get a standard issue guardian angel to watch over them and keep them safe and sound!

A Dark Cocoon

Today was the start of a competition weekend for our company dancers, the Gems In Motion. When one goes to a competition, one generally plans on spending an entire weekend enveloped in the warm, dark cocoon, we lovingly call a theater. We arrived on site around 8AM and got home about fourteen hours later. Our company consists of eighteen dancers (a small group by most standards) who range in age from eight to fifteen years old. Throughout the day, my sister and I wrangle the little Gems from one step in the process to another...is everyone here? Who got lost? Who forgot what crucial costume piece? Who got car sick on the way here? Priority #1 - Stake out our little piece of land in the costume change area; it is all very territorial and we gotta scrap for our little part of paradise they call a dressing room. It's very unglamorous with no actual amenities of any kind! The big dressing room with your name on a star, comes much later and then only if you are very, very good. So we find our little piece of hallway to squat in...drop all our gear and begin to get ready for the day. It is amazing how much "ish" is involved when you are traveling about with eighteen girls. Dance bags, pocketbooks, dance clothes, street clothes. Garment bags filled with costumes, dance shoes, accessories of every shape and color, hair stuff, make-up kits, first-aid kits, and extras of everything. First group up, get changed. Check hair & make-up, bathroom, go to warm-up, practice in hallway with little bricks that make it really hard to do turns, splits, leaps or any other dance move. What number are they on? What??? In order to try to stay on time, the numbers (number = dance) need to be backstage at least five dances ahead. Check in with the backstage manager...hurry up and wait! Just like the Army only a lot more fun. Stand around with the kids backstage for what seems like an eternity. Try to keep them focused and warm. Their little made up faces are swiveling like the kid in the Exorcist trying to see everything that is going on around them....totally not focused on their dance, yet, trying to act like they are old veterans at this sort of thing. The youngest of the group are up first. Onstage they go...break a leg! They have a lot of little mess ups...but, what are you gonna do. It's dance for God's sake. No worries, they come off the stage flushed with excitement and looking to you to give them the 411 on how they just rocked the socks off everybody in the joint. With the little ones, it's high fives all around. The older dancers know what's up...we always ask them...do you want the truth or the "rose colored glasses?" At that point, we usually give them the old "coach's sandwich" something good, something bad, something good. The bad goes down a lot easier that way, especially right when you come off the stage with all that adrenaline flowing, you don't want to hear what went wrong, so much as what went right. The parents are always wearing the "rose-colored" glasses. But, that's OK, cause that's their job. We however are the teachers, coaches, trainers, choreographers, and general authority figure for all these little rug rats, we try to keep it real and minimize the sugar-coating. The kids know when they receive a compliment from us, that we are telling them the truth and they have earned the praise we are giving them. My sister and I swap off playing good cop/bad cop. I picture myself as a more benevolent Clint Eastwood in Heartbreak Ridge. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to whip this rag-tag little company of future Anna Pavlovas into a lean, mean, kick-ass dancing machine. Usually when we are actually at the competitions, we try to keep it upbeat and accentuate the positive. The watching of tape and critical review can wait until we regroup at practice the next time. After the kids finish dancing, they have to change costumes and prepare for their next dance and we start the process all over again. When all of our dances are done we end up watching other dancers for another eternity and then we have to wait to see what "award" we get...like scoring in the Olympics. This process can take forever and the results can be a let down if you don't get the score you were hoping t0 get. I actually enjoyed today, I got to see some really beautiful dancers and our Gems were great, because they are just generally wonderful little people and they love Big D. They respect themselves and what they do, they work hard and they put themselves out their on the stage of life and work it! I also got to see an amazing dancer from another school perform again. (We had seen here two weeks before at another competition.) She is only ten years old, but, boy can she dance! She did a lyrical dance to the "Star Spangled Banner" that was so breathtaking that it made me cry. I wish I had a video that I could put on You Tube or something, because words cannot do justice to her performance, her artistry and her skill as a dancer, especially for one so young. This day and that performance reminded me what I love about what I do...tomorrow, I'll go back again for some more fun in our dark cocoon, where for a few hours, I can forget about the war in Iraq and soldiers who are making their way through that living hell, so far away from home. I will remember to be thankful for the beauty of life and the innocence that surrounds me.

Old Posts

Too busy reading old posts on someone else's blog to write my own. It's probably better that way for right now; gotta be in the right frame of mind to write, let alone create something someone else would actually want to read. I speak through movement and music, which does not translate well on a blog....it is now o235 and I need to put the book down and back away for tonight. I see more late nights ahead...not looking forward to this weekend's early call. Gotta take the little dancers to a competition. Good times!

Counting Stars

When I gaze into the stars, they look down upon me with pity from their serene and silent spaces, likes eyes glistening with tears over the little lot of man. Thousands of generations, all as noisy as our own, have been swallowed up by time, and there remains no record of them anymore. Yet Arcturus and Orion, Sirius and Pleiades, are still shining in their courses, clear and young, as when the shepard first noted them in the plain of Shinar! (Carlyle)

Rain Songs

I don't know why I have this thing for rain songs but I do. I actually have a quite a few of them in my music library. I had forgotten about the song "Rain" by Breaking Benjamin. It is such a beautiful melody and the sentiment though melancholy is hopeful. Rain, rain go away...let the rain wash away the pain and the fear, and let the sun warm your heart and your soul.

Poop Poetry

It has recently come to my attention that there is an online company that allows one to send fecal matter to friends and enemies alike. This has prompted me to go off on a tangent about that very topic, which due to the “Disney Label” on this blog, I will announce that this entry is not G-rated and therefore, not for those easily offended by poop and it’s other more derogatory names. So, if you are not allowed to say curse words like “Shhhhh……it” went out the window or you are otherwise offended, please STOP reading this now.

First of all, the company is euphemistically named “Poopsenders!” This likens the product to something as innocuous as I don’t know a little tiny baby poop that you wrap up in the diaper and throw in the trash can. No…this is like a gallon jug of gorilla poop.

Which begs the question, how exactly do they produce this product? I can see the company providing a lot of jobs; for example, they would need the poopers, the pooper scoopers, the pooper packagers (also known as gift wrappers) and writers for the creative cards to be included with the gift, like the simple yet loving sentiment, “I Thought of You Today” to the angry warning “Don’t get shitty!”

I took the liberty of compiling a list of expressions and or sayings on the topic, which is actually quite lengthy and I am sure I have forgotten more than a few. I then composed a little ditty about all the sh*tty, it would go well with a tune like the REM song, “It’s The End of the World As We Know It.” So wanna here it? Here it go… (which in deference to my Disney label has an * to make me feel better)….

Bullsh*t In Baghdad

Dog sh*t, horse sh*t, can never have too much of it.
Jack sh*t, bullsh*t, people going ape sh*t.
Sh*t shingle, feel it tingle, sh*t faced, let’s mingle.
Sh*t head, sh*t smear, when can I get outta here.
Shi*t hole, “Holy sh*t!” IED!!!! Took a hit.
Sh*t kicker, kick the can, watch it as it hits the fan.
Sh*t creek without a paddle. Keep on fighting, losing battle.
Sh*tty job, won’t quit. Hate this place. “No shit!”

Night Owl

Well here it is 0200 hours and I am still up and wondering why. My internal sleep/awake clock seems to be set to some other universe or something. I am not a morning person, I like being up late, I just don't want to get up when the rest of the world has determined I should. When I started work as a nurse, I always worked the evening shift. Usually quieter, sometimes crazier...patients have circadian rhythms too. Teenagers and college kids get it...stay up and out til all hours of the night, sleep until noon. They do what their bodies tell them...when the clock strikes midnight the energy boost kicks in and it's time for the next round...definitely not time to turn in, hit the hay, or go to sleep of all things! Don't get me wrong I must have my sleep time and I will have it on my own terms. There are times though like right now where my body is telling me to give up the ghost, but, my mind is still revving at some NASCAR level of RPM's. Usually the night time is when I finally stop moving long enough to actually think and process. When it is quiet and no one else is around...

Sail You Home

Being a dancer and choreographer allows me to express my emotions and my feelings on just about any subject, which is good for me because telling it in words doesn't always work out. It is actually amazing what a powerful tool for expression the combination of music, lyrics, and the dancer's movement can be. Nothing like some loud music and open space to soothe the soul. Today I decided I needed to go into my studio and put on some music and dance. I don't get to do that very often and it was very therapeutic. The picture was inspired by the song "1000 Oceans" by Tori Amos. I choreographed a dance to that song a few years ago and it held a special place in my heart then and still does now.

"These tears I've cried, I've cried 1000 oceans,
And if it seems I'm floating in the darkness,
Well, I can't believe that I would keep, keep you from flying.

And I would cry 1000 more, if that's what it takes to
Sail you home, sail you home, sail you home."

Bad Voodoo's War

Check out the PBS Frontline show, "Bad Voodoo's War."
See the war through the eyes of these National Guard soldiers. Just a small sample of what these soldiers deal with on a daily basis while deployed. How do they keep putting one foot in front of the other every day? How do they deal with the mind-numbing boredom one minute and then the switch flips and it is all about the trauma and sheer terror of watching your buddies getting blown up by an IED. When was the last time you had to tie a tourniquet on your leg before you drove off to work? This program should be required viewing for all Americans. After each person watches the show, it should be required that everyone get up off their hind parts and go do something to make their voices heard about this war and and find some way to help make life better for one soldier. There are so many organizations out there where one can make a contribution to the well being of another, in this case the soldiers who are putting their lives on the line every day in Iraq and Afghanistan. Let me suggest a few...Wounded Warrior Project, Adopt-A-Platoon, USO, America Supports You, Any Soldier.com , IAVA ( Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America), Fischer House, Hero Bracelets.org and there are so many more. Also, everyone should make sure they have an American flag and they should fly it every day and unless it is lit you have to take it down every night. Every time you put that flag up and you take that flag down...remember all the men and women who are serving this country so far away from home. Do it today, we can make a difference.

Puppy Love

Nothing like a puppy to make the world seem like a better place. I guess this little guy would be a great Pets On Wheels partner. I can't wait to go visiting those who need some puppy lovin' and kisses to help them forget their problems and feel better. Someday soon...peace out, puppy!

They Who Dance

After hearing so much depressing news lately, I decided to go the uplifting poetry route. Enjoy!

They Who Dance
(Marjorie Allen Seiffert)

The feet of dancers,
Shine with laughter,
Their hearts are vibrant as bells;

The air flows by them
Divided, like water
Before a gleaming ship.

Triumphantly their bodies sing,
Their eyes
Are blind with music.

They move through threatening ghosts,
Feeling them as cool as mist
Against their brows.

They who dance
Find infinite golden floors
Beneath their feet.

Never Forgotten

It is funny or ironic or something how things happen. Today I received two things in the mail...one the old fashioned postman delivery way and the other via electronic mail. The first delivery came out of my mailbox, my Hero bracelets had arrived. Check out this organization, www.herobracelets.org. you can go on their site and order bracelets to honor heroes who are currently serving in the war, those who have been wounded or those who have been killed in action. The bracelets honor those who have served and memorialize those who have given their lives in battle. The proceeds go to the Intrepid Fallen Hero Fund. I still have the bracelet I wore through high school during the Vietnam War. I often think of that brave young soldier who lost his life in Vietnam (his plane was shot down over Laos and he was MIA for many years)...and I have gone to find him on the wall. Now there are more soldiers who need to be remembered. As I wrote to my adopted soldier over a ten month period of time...I became even more aware of the growing number of soldiers lost to us forever in the service of their country. Some of those soldiers were the names I requested on the Hero bracelets that came today. I did not know them...but, I tried to learn something about who they were... to read about their lives, visit their my space pages and read the tributes paid to them by grieving family and friends. Talking about the bracelet will lead to the telling of each soldier's story, thereby, honoring their sacrifice and keeping them alive in our memories forever. The electronic mail came later this night from my adopted soldier. Sgt. R finally arrived home in February after a 15-month deployment (his third) to Iraq. He had emailed me that night to let me know he was home at last. I hadn't heard anything from him since then, but, I knew I would eventually. So finding that email brought me great joy...knowing that he is enjoying his non-war zone life and he seems to be adjusting to life back in the states. I even got my first picture of him and his family from the day he arrived back in the good old USA! I smile every time I think of Sgt. R, who survived his tour and made it safely home and every time I look at that bracelet on my arm, I will remember those fallen heroes who did not!