Are We There Yet?

SLOWLY working their way home. The 4th Stryker Brigade Combat Team, 2nd Infantry Division has made it as far as Kuwait. It is appalling how long it takes for the Army to get these guys back to the states. To quote the Usual Suspect, my favorite 11C Infantry/Mortar soldier guy.... "Here in Kuwait, there isn't a damn thing to do, and that's precisely the reason why posts have been so frequent now.

One of my friends and I were out and about exploring this wasteland (after Iraq, this place really doesn't seem that bad. It just sucks, but it doesn't seem like its been marinaded in runny, sickly shit for eons). Kuwait has REAL sand, not the Iraq dust and dirt, but legitimate sand. In the movies, when you see someone walking aimlessly across the dunes, there's always vultures circling overhead, waiting for the lost traveler to grow too weak to continue, then they descend on him and pick his bones."

I need to figure out how to post links and make a blog roll call, I seem to have accumulated quite a few milbloggers as required reading. If anyone out there wants to know what is really going on in Iraq and Afghanistan, try getting first hand information from the boots on the ground. It is an education you can't get anywhere else!

Tomorrow Is A New Day

Sorry for the confusion regarding my blog address. Apparently I am not as tech savvy as I thought I was...damn! Also, in case you haven't already figured it out, I don't usually post until I get home from the hospital, which is after midnight so a "new day" has begun. The information is generally from the previous day. Although right now, all my days are running together like a watercolor painting that has been left in the rain.

I posted this picture because it looks a little bit like a picture that Kate painted for Nick. He already has that one in his room at the hospital. He has quite a few of his favorite photos and paintings up on the walls. And he is looking forward to all the promised pictures from the nieces and nephews. Here is the address: Weinberg Center 401 N. Broadway Baltimore, MD 21231. Also, include Nick's name and 5C-Room 10.

Nick had a good day today. He was in good spirits and felt a little better. He got some much needed sleep last night and he got several pints of the elixir of life...i.e. packed red blood cells. He looks less pale and his hematocrit is up to a wopping 18 at last check. He is actually having blood drawn 4x/day (every six hours ATC) His WBC count continues to fall and was around 167,000 at last check. His platlets are a little low, but holding. If they continue to drop, he will get platlets transfused also.

We have yet to speak with any doctors regarding ultimate diagnosis and long-term plan or even short term plan. However, we were able to speak with the fellow who was covering the floor for the night. She gave us the name of some of the chemotherapy agents that might be used. I will be researching and talking to Michelle about these "big guns" as the doctor called them. I guess these are the .50 cals of chemotherapy. For those of you who don't know, these are some big guns used by the infantry soldiers. This first round of chemotherapy is called "induction therapy" and may start as early as Day 8 of admission, which would be next Thursday. But, this is all up in the air right now. Really I don't know enough to say anything for sure right now.

Sorry that these posts are so fact driven. Right now I don't have much energy to get inspired to put together I nice coherent piece of writing. And I really am not ready to handle the emotions of any real thought about what is happening right now. I made the mistake of listening to some music on the way to the hospital. This caused some early warning signs of meltdown, so I quickly switched to talk radio. I don't know how I am going to get through the shows. They are always emotional for me anyway. And I really love all my modern music this year, so I guess I better invest in some Puffs Plus. Thank you to everyone who has been calling and offering their support and prayers. In closing, I offer this quote by Emerson, which seems appropriate for the
daily roller coaster ride involved in being hospitalized for both patient and their family.

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

Finding A Balance

Well today was the antithesis of yesterday. How many doctors did I see today during my nine hours with Nick....one! And that one was actually very nice and actually answered our questions. However, he was not one of the heme-onc doctors (hematolgist/oncologist).
We saw a LOT of Nick's wonderful nurse for today, Megan ! She worked sixteen hours straight (agreed to stay over 4 extra hours).
So far all the nurse's have been great. But, of coarse I am just a little biased on that front. Here are a few of the highlights of today's events.

*We still do not have an official diagnosis yet. We are hoping to get that within the next day or two and then a plan of treatment will eventually be decided.
*Nick did well with his cytoreduction, the WBC has fallen to 277 and is expected to continue dropping over the next 5-7 days.
*A medication called Dopamine was started (it is an IV infusion), which at low doses helps the perfusion to the kidneys, in order to keep all the bad stuff flushing out of his kidneys and bladder
*Nick got his first transfusion of PRBC's (packed red blood cells) today and his hematocrit has improved from a low of 10 to 15. (Normal is 35-40) He will most likely receive quite a few more of these (as he is able to tolerate) over the next few days; with the goal being getting the Hct. up closer to a normal range.
*Nick had a fever last PM which is being attributed to lysis of the WBC's and inflammatory response to said lysis. Blood cultures are always drawn when the fever hits a certain threshold, with the concern being the ever present "infection" monster. There is no concern at the moment that infection is why he had the fever.
*Nick let the doctors know in morning rounds that today was to be a "resting day." He told them he didn't want any surprises and he needed time to process what has gone on to date.
*None of us (Nick, Kate & I) has gotten much sleep the past two days. Nick seemed tired to me today (as I was myself) and I know Kate was too. So hopefully we will all get some much needed sleep. Although, Nick is finding is hard to sleep in this new environment that will be his home for the next few weeks. Inpatient hospitalization and good sleep is an equation that NEVER adds up! Between phone calls, medical treatment and even just a few visitors, it seemed there was nary a moment for the blessed release of sleep. So we will all have to work harder on that in the future. Sleep deprivation is not a good thing!

At this time, the nurse's have told us that Nick can have visitors as long as he feels up to it and that it is good for him to have visitors to keep boredom at bay. Finding a balance is the key and I know we will all figure it out together.

Funny How Things Can Change

Ok, so one minute the sky's the limit, I am happy, things lookin' up, soldier's coming home, it's all good...then life rears it's ugly head and gives you the old gut check, the big round house Krav Maga kick to the head, the tap out choke hold of all choke holds.

Today, around noon, my son and I got in the car to go to see an eye doctor. About one hour and one grim phone call later, he was hospitalized with a diagnosis of leukemia. How's that for some real ass kickin'? And now for the rest of the story....

Nick was admitted to John's Hopkins Hospital's, Weinberg Cancer Center. On a general note, anything with the word "cancer" in it...not good. We park the car, take the elevator to the fifth floor, cheery desk person greets us, "Oh you're here!" They basically "swoop and scoop" and Nick is in a room in like five minutes. That is world record kind of time for hospital admitting procedure. We just basically by-passed all that, you know, do not pass go, do not collect $200 dollars being that his WBC's (that's white blood cell count) was hovering somewhere around 380 instead of the normal 4.3 to 10.8. His Hgb was 6 about half what it should have been. No sooner are we in the door, when the lights dim and the latest version of CirqDeSoleil erupts. There begins a parade of residents, fellows, attendings, nurses, clin specs and a host of other performers to take blood, sign papers, ask questions, obtain permissions, start IV's, take out IV's, ask more questions, go to CT scan, put in central line, CXR of said line (to check placement), hook up to monitors, take VS, ask more questions, order round 1 of chemotherapy (called cytoreduction) and to top it all off (for your reading enjoyment) some spiffy pamphlets explaining what the hell is going on and how to deal with it.

The cytoreduction process is basically getting Nick's WBC count down to something lower ASAP!
According to the doctors, this was imperative as such a high WBC can cause lots of problems and we don't want to go there. After this dose of medicine (which he received on night of admission), Nick will have to chill for a while in the hospital while they follow his "counts" (RBC, WBC, and platelets). He will have to receive transfussions of various blood products as needed based on set guidelines. Most likely, he will feel a lot better after he gets his first blood transfusion. They could not give that transfusion until they got his WBC's down. His CT scan was clear which was a good thing. He will have blood drawn at minimum 2x/day for a while. The good thing is he won't have to get stuck because they can take the blood off the central line. Bad thing about central lines is they can get infected, so they need to be watched carefully and pulled out at the first sign of any evil-doing.

The specific type of leukemia is still unknown, but, we should find out soon. This information will then determine what his treatment will be. Regardless, it is going to be a long process. The doctors and nurses tell us to be prepared for a 4-6 week stay at minimum.

I do not have his address right now, but, I will post it so people can send cards or notes. Just FYI, he cannot have any live flowers or plants. (Infection risk) I am sure most of Nick's friends will be able to communicate via myspace, facebook or email. He has internet access in his room, which is great. He really should not have a lot of visitors right now, due to the risk of infection. Nick's body cannot fight infection normally right now because the WBC's he has are not mature and cannot do their job. That's why we are firing all those bastards right now! Oh yeah, by the way, if you can't take the cursing, don 't read the blog. I have been unduly influenced by reading my soldier's milblogs and apparently cursing is something soldiers love to do regularly. And if you haven't figured it out, I am currently enamored of all things soldier due to the fact that they are over in Iraq putting themselves in harm's way to save all of our sorry butts. Sorry, got off on a tangent there for a minute.

Nick has been a trooper. The "most painful thing" award for today goes to getting the central line. Not a pleasant experience. Nick came through with flying colors. The most frustrating thing was getting bombarded with so much information. Being a nurse, I got most of it. But Nick does not have that advantage and his chemical engineer brain was trying to take it all in, but, that fastball was coming in high and tight at 98 mph; and nobody was cathcin' up with that thing today!! The medical people basically said, we can't wait for your brain to catch up with what is going on with your body right now. This is the first strike in a new kind of "shock and awe!" And while the doc's and nurse's were moving like a well-oiled machine, we were left standing in the dust with our mouths agape.

I know Nick is in shock right now, just like all of us. I don't think any of us have really processed this...I can't think about it too hard right now, day by day, is all I can do. And I know there are going to be some rough days ahead. When I think too much I cry and Nick doesn't want any "sappiness", at least for the moment. We have already brought him creature comforts from home, like his pillow, blankets, stuff to wear besides those fashion forward gowns, some of his favorite pictures that Sara painted and books. Right now he says "Emerson is going to be his bible." Now if I can only get him to use some deodorant!

Well it is 3AM...I need to go to bed. I don't think I will be able to sleep. Thank you to the teachers at RES who helped G get through this afternoon. And yes, he has already baked the nurse's cookies. Thank you to all Nick's nurses today - Iko, Heather, Whitney and Karen. You helped make the most horrible day of my life to date bearable. Thank you to everyone who has called and special props to everyone at the studio who is pitching in to help cover my classes and help Disco Babs until I can get back on board with things there. Thank you Jill, Sarah K., Sarah C. and all my apprentices! Keep on dancin'! And please keep your prayers and good thoughts coming Nick's way...peace.

P.S. - The picture is for Nick, I thought he would like it.
P.S.S. - Oh yeah, it's gonna be a fight and we ain't tappin' out!

There's No Place Like Home

Well it is official as it gets...the 4/2 Stryker Brigade Combat Team has started the long trek home after serving 15 months in Iraq. Even now they may be uncomfortably strapped into those ridiculous seats (if you could call those things seats) in the belly of a C130. I hear that ride can be very cold, so I hope they are enjoying the A/C after all the triple digit days in sector. I hope they are all so exhausted that they are sleeping like babies for the 30+ hours it will take them to get back to McChord Air Force Base. I wish I could be there to greet them, give them all really big hugs, help them with their bag draggin', and buy them some good food. Alas, I am stuck here on the wrong coast, so those of you who will be there at Fort Lewis...give the guys some extra hugs for me. Suspect, you know I will be thinking of you and I wish I could be there to see your feet touch down on American ground. I cannot wait to hear all your travel stories and how it feels to be back home, both good and bad. Have a care and keep a low profile for a while, being back home is like getting on a ship, it takes a while to get your sea legs. God(s) bless every one of you! Hope you all enjoy the homecoming tunes. Rock on with your bad selves!

Because The Soldier Made Our Country Free

Matthew Joseph Thaddeus Stepanek was born on July 17, 1990. Mattie had a disability called dysautonomic mitochondrial myopathy. Despite the challenges of his disability, Mattie found a way to meet them head on without ever losing his ability to find the joy and beauty in each day of his life. Mattie was so young when he began writing and yet, he was wise beyond his years. He was a prolific writer, poet and storyteller. Mattie passed away on the morning of June 22, 2004. Mattie wanted to be remembered as "a poet, a peacemaker and a philosopher who played."

Today on Memorial Day, I want to leave you with a poem that was written by Mattie about Memorial Day and what it meant to him. He was only three years old when he wrote this poem.
This poem is posted to honor Mattie's memory and those of the soldiers who have given their lives for this country.

Memorial Day

This is a holiday
That means we are free.
We can run and play.
We can have food and friends,
Because the soldier
Made our country free.
I like living in
The United States of America,
And in Maryland.
And because this is a holiday,
That means we are free
And should go to the donut store.

by Mattie J.T. Stepanek
(Used with permission from Celebrate Through Heartsongs, Hyperion, 2002)
To learn more about Mattie, please visit his website at mattieonline.com

Staff Sgt. Darrell R. Griffin Jr.

Darrell R. Griffin Jr. was born on March 13, 1971. He was a Staff Sergeant in
the United States Army. Staff Sgt. Griffin was serving his second tour of duty in Iraq and was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 3rd Infantry Regiment, 3rd Styker Brigade Combat Team, 2nd Infantry Division. He was killed by small arms fire while patrolling in Sadr City on March 21, 2007.
He was 36 years old.

The following quotes are taken from Associated Press articles written to honor Staff Sgt. Griffin.

“Griff was the type of man you want to have by your side in a fight,” Maj. Brent Clemmer, his former company commander, wrote from Iraq. "He was the type of squad leader every young soldier wants to have."

“He was a really patriotic young man,” said his father, Darrell Griffin Sr., who lives in Van Nuys. “He said that the people there really needed us and he felt it was the right place to be. He wished we didn’t have to have wars, but since that’s the way mankind is, he felt he was contributing an important part to his country.”

May you rest in peace Staff Sgt. Griffin knowing that you have done your duty and served your country with honor and courage.

Captain Jonathan D. Grassbaugh

Jonathan D. Grassbaugh was born on August 18, 1981. He was a Captain in the United States Army. Captain Grassbaugh was an Army Ranger who was serving his second tour of duty in Iraq and was assigned to the 5th Squadron, 73rd Cavalry Regiment, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division. He was killed by an improvised explosive device in Zaganiyah, Iraq on April 7, 2007. He was 25 years old.

The following quotes were taken from Captain Grassbaugh's page on the Arlington National Cemetery website.

Major Townley Hedrick, the squadron's executive officer said,
"Professionally, he was the smartest and most competent guy that I've had a chance to work with in 15 years in the Army," Hedrick said yesterday. "On a personal level, out of all the other captains on the staff, he was kind of the center of gravity." There was no one else to call to get the job done as well as Grassbaugh could do it, Hedrick said, and when it came for a little morale boosting, it was Grassbaugh who came up with the best ideas -- like having pizza delivered in the middle of a war zone.

"He was just in tune with what all the guys needed," Hedrick said. "He had the perfect mix of a sense of urgency and a sense of humor, which is so important to have in the Army."

"He laid down his life for us and for his country, and we are grateful," said the Rev. Frederick Pennett during the funeral Mass at St. Anne's Catholic Church. "For there is no greater love than this. Jonathan's story and his memory will go on forever."

May you rest in peace Captain Grassbaugh knowing that you have done your duty and served your country with honor and courage.

Captain Maria I. Ortiz

Maria Ines Ortiz was born on April 24, 1967. She was a Captain in the United States Army. Captain Ortiz was a registered nurse who was serving with the 28th Combat Support Hospital, 3rd Medical Command. Prior to deploying to Iraq, she was assigned to the Kirk U.S. Army Health Clinic at Aberdeen Proving Ground in Maryland, where she was the chief nurse of general medicine for 18 months. She was killed by enemy mortar fire inside the Green Zone in Baghdad, Iraq on July 10, 2007. She was 40 years old.

The following quotes were taken from a Washington Post article,
written by Steve Vogel, about Captain Ortiz.

"Capt. Maria Ines Ortiz had a smile that lighted up the hallways in every hospital where she worked, from Aberdeen to Walter Reed to Iraq. When a patient needed extra care, the Army nurse would stay late. If a colleague was feeling blue, she was there," wrote Mr. Vogel.

"If there was such a thing as the jewel of the clinic, she was the jewel," said Renee Smith, who worked with Ortiz at an Army health clinic at Aberdeen Proving Ground. "Her work wasn't finished until everybody was cared for." "It really took everybody by surprise," Smith said. "God, it's a great loss."

May you rest in peace Captain Ortiz knowing that you have done your duty and served your country with honor and courage.

Sgt. Joseph M. Vanek

Joseph Michael Vanek was born on December 8, 1984. He was a Sergeant in the United States Army. He was serving his third tour of duty as a member of the 2nd Battalion, 325th Airborne Infantry Regiment, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 2nd Airborne Division. He was killed by small arms fire in Baghdad, Iraq on November 12, 2007. He was 22 years old.


The following quotes were taken from an Associated Press article written about Sgt. Vanek.

“Sgt. Vanek was an expert and professional at his job,” Spc. David Heath, a fellow paratrooper, said in a statement released by the unit. “He earned a great amount of respect from his men.”

“He lived every day to the fullest,” Spc. Jason Burrows, another fellow paratrooper, said in the division’s statement. “He knew when to have good time, and he knew when to focus for missions. I would follow him into combat any day.”

May you rest in peace Sergeant Joseph Vanek knowing that you have done your duty and served your country with honor and courage.

Fallen But Not Forgotten

To the families of the fallen...your warrior will always be my hero. Always remembered for the honor and courage with which they served and never forgotten for the sacrifice they made!

Specialist Ari D Brown-Weeks

Ari D. Brown-Weeks was born on August 9, 1984. He was a Specialist in the United States Army. He was a member of the 1st Battalion, 325th Airborne Infantry Division, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division. He was killed in Iraq on September 10, 2007. He was 23 years old.

The following quotes were taken from an article written about Spc. Brown-Weeks on "The Iraq Page."

"He always spoke of how this place was an insane adrenaline rush, but all he ever wanted to do was get his deployment over so he could return back home to his wife and see his family," said Army Spc. Michael Letourneau, a high school classmate also stationed in Iraq, via e-mail.

"Specialist Brown-Weeks was a true American hero," said Capt. Patrick Koucheravy, of the 82nd Airborne Division, in a prepared statement. "He will sorely be missed by anyone who had the honor to serve with him."

May you rest in peace Specialist Brown-Weeks knowing you have done your duty and served your country with honor and courage.

Sgt. John C. Osmolski

John Carl Osmolski was born on October 19, 1984. He was a Sergeant in the United States Army. He was a member of the 2nd Brigade Special Troops Battalion, 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division. He was killed in Iraq during combat operations on February 5, 2008.
He was 23 years old.

An article written by Mark Berman of the Washington Post said the following:

"He was just doing his job," his brother, Daniel Osmolski, told the Orlando Sentinel last week. "His goal was always to go into the Army and serve his country."

"Osmolski was a paratrooper and combat engineer. His company commander called him "a premier young sapper, and an excellent engineer" in a statement released by the 82nd
Airborne Division. "

May you rest in peace Sgt. Osmolski knowing you have done your duty and served your country with honor and courage.

To Fallen Soldiers

There is a beautiful song that pays tribute to those who have fallen in battle. I discovered this song from the soundtrack of the movie, "We Were Soldiers." I am posting the lyrics and the song to pay my respects to the soldiers who have lost their lives serving our country so courageously and valiantly. For the rest of this week, my posts will be in honor of just a few of those fallen heroes. I do not know any of them personally; perhaps, I read a story about them, saw a picture of them, or they were part of my adopted soldiers "band of brothers." I see each one as a star in the heavens and I hold them close to my heart, their sacrifice never to be forgotten.

"Mansions of The Lord"

To fallen soldiers let us sing,
Where no rockets fly nor bullets wing,
Our broken brothers let us bring
To the Mansions of the Lord

No more weeping,
No more fight,
No friends bleeding through the night,
Just Devine embrace,
Eternal light,
In the Mansions of the Lord

Where no mothers cry
And no children weep,
We shall stand and guard
Though the angels sleep,
Oh, through the ages let us keep
The Mansions of the Lord

Rainy Days & Fridays

Well it is raining again...fits my mood today. Lots of BS going on at the studio, can't really deal right now! Watched Grey's Anatomy last night...
conversation between Dr. Gray and Dr. Yang:

Gray: "Are you in your dark place?"
Yang: (Dramatic pause) "Yes...."
Gray: (Screwed up face....pause) "Me too."
Well it's official "expletive deleted" I am in my dark place too!
So leave me the hell alone!

Save For Them A Place

As Memorial Day Weekend approaches my thoughts are not of holiday picnics and family gatherings, but, rather to the true purpose of the day; to honor those who have fallen in battle.
Living so close to Washington DC, I feel it is my duty to go and pay tribute whenever I can, not just on Memorial Day. It is daunting to walk the rows in Arlington and read the names of so many soldiers from so many wars. I found this poem in the book, "Dear America: Letters Home From Vietnam." It speaks to me and I hope to others who may stumble this way.

If you are able,
save for them a place
inside of you
and save one backward glance
when you are leaving
for the places they can
no longer go.
Be not ashamed to say
you loved them,
though you may
or may not have always.
Take what they have left
and what they have taught you
with their dying
and keep it with your own.
And in that time
when men decide and feel safe
to call the war insane,
take one moment to embrace
those gentle heroes
you left behind.

-Major Michael Davis O'Donnell
1 January 1970
Dak To, Vietnam

The following is the information about Major O'Donnell that was listed with his poem.

Michael O'Donnell, from Springfield, Illinois, was a helicopter pilot assigned to the 52nd Aviation Battalion, 17th Aviation Group, 1st Aviation Brigade, based at Dak To and Pleiku. On 24 March 1970, attempting to rescue eight soldiers, his chopper was shot down. He and three crew members were declared missing in action. In 1977, he was posthumously promoted to major. A year later, he was officially declared killed in action. He was posthumously awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the Air Medal, the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart.

Rainy Days and Mondays

It has been COLD and rainy here for what seems like an eternity...it's actually only been a day or two, it just seems longer I guess. I doth protest too much. Reality check....weather in Iraq....HOT and freakin' more HOT!!!! Although, today it is only supposed to be 94 degrees, cool by usual standards.

I was reading a milblog the other day, a soldier talked about how he woke up one night to thunder! He was very excited about the thought of rain. Apparently, thunderstorms are a rare treat in Iraq. He wanted to get up and go run around in the rain, but, he decided not to for several reasons....1) discretion being the better part of valor - Army regulations against singing and dancing in the rain, 2) sleep, when you can get it, is even more important than feeding the soul, 3) streaking went out in the 70's and 4) it's hard to remember the steps to the "happy, happy, joy, joy" dance when you have been in the Army longer than three months.

Anyway, to all you guys and gals out there in a war zone, I will perk up and go out in the cold and wet and do the happy, happy joy dance in your honor. God bless you, every one! A special shout out to Suspect...this one's for you, you crazy expletive deleted.

P.S. All those who remember the Carpenter's song, "Rainy Days and Mondays" raise your hand.
"H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A. That's the anthem get-cha damn hands up!"

Angel Standing By

All through the night
I'll be watching over you
All through the night
I'll be standing over you
And through bad dreams
I'll be right there, baby,
Telling you everything is gonna be all right

And when you cry I'll be there baby
Telling you you were never nothing less than beautiful
So don't you worry
I'm your Angel standing by

Nurses Have Already Earned Their Wings

"The Combat Nurse"

Far from the sterile white hospitals
with immaculate white floors and crisp white sheets
The combat nurse contemplates the dirt floor of her ward

Her starched white uniform just another memory
Shelved in the back of her mind
As she stands in grime encrusted cammies,
with blood on her boots and dust in her hair...

No sophisticated equipment is at hand for her
No well-stocked central supply
No CT scans, no MRIs
No fresh-faced anxious young interns, anxious to make their first diagnosis...

There is no overhead music or soft voiced operators,
Just the distant sound of small arms fire,
The constant roar of incoming dust off choppers
and the moans of her patients.

No orderly progression of patients sent upstairs from the ER
No scheduled admits or planned work-ups...
Just the cacophony of chaotic off loading,
as the helicopters disgorge
yet another load of bloodied teenagers
onto the dusty ground

But...as she stands in the opening of the tented ward,
She remembers why she is there...
Because nursing is caring, and she cares deeply
For these fresh faced children in soldiers' uniforms

The faces of her patients will haunt her for the rest of her days
Their grateful smiles and dying cries
There is courage in her caring,
for in her gentle touch she comforts her patients
while she tears yet another hole in her heart.

by Diana E. Anderson RN

In honor of all those nurses currently serving in Iraq and Afghanistan.
National Nurse's Week (May 6th-May 12th 2008)
Poem used with permission of author.

---

Fly Me To The Moon

Did you know that you can send your name to the moon? That's right, your name can become part of space immortality aboard NASA's new- fangled thingymawhatsit...the lunar reconnaissance orbiter. Here is some info from their website: "NASA invites people of all ages to join the lunar exploration journey with an opportunity to send their names to the moon aboard the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter, or LRO, spacecraft.

The Send Your Name to the Moon Web site enables everyone to participate in the lunar adventure and place their names in orbit around the moon for years to come. Participants can submit their information at http://lro.jhuapl.edu/NameToMoon/, print a certificate and have their name entered into a database. The database will be placed on a microchip that will be integrated onto the spacecraft. The deadline for submitting names is June 27, 2008.

The LRO mission is the first step in NASA's plans to return humans to the moon by 2020, and your name can reach there first. How cool is that?"

Well I think that is pretty darn cool, so my name will soon be "Lost In Space" which is a metaphor for my life sometimes. And while we are sending our names, I think we should send some songs that will play on the LRO as it orbits, like Tony Bennett's, "Fly Me To The Moon." Definitely an old school selection, but, ya gotta be down with Tony B!

On that note, it is time for me to go to the sleep pod. Peace my lunar friends.

Bell Hops Rock!

Here are three of my little bell hops at the studio for rehearsal. Today they all went onstage and gave another wonderful performance of "Ring Them Bells." The dance scored 97 out of 100 from each of the three judges! The girls received a "Diamond" award (the highest level you can get at this competition) for their crisp, clean and precise execution of their bell dance. A great way to finish our competition season. On to Tremaine Nationals in July. You go girls...you rock my socks!

Bells Will Be Ringing

This weekend I will be back in my "dark cocoon" for another competition with my Gems dancers. Here is a picture of their award winning dance, "Ring Them Bells." The dancers are all dressed as hotel bell hops and they each have a suitcase with a bell attached and their bell hop hats have bells! The bells create a rhythmic cacophony of sound, that compliments the dancers movements as they spin, pirouette and leap over, around and through their bell adorned luggage. The dance is choreographed in the Rockette precision style and it actually takes quite a bit of practice and coordination to keep all the bells in time. Whenever you have a dance with a prop or two...things can go south really fast if everyone is not on their game. The dancers routinely freak me out in rehearsal by losing all concept of rhythm and timing just before going onstage. Somehow they manage to pull it off when it counts. This dance has been a big crowd pleaser and we will be taking this dance to Tremaine Nationals in Florida this July. This will be our last competition before Nationals. Spending the weekend with this group of smiling, happy, healthy dancers beats working any day. Hopefully, they will go out there and rock it like I know they can and bring another win home for the gipper. Break a leg girls!

Hercules...."Fighting For The Right"

That's what I am talkin' about...especially the "iron in his thighs" part and the "with the strength of ten ordinary men" part too! LOL! Damn I am getting good at this technology stuff. Gotz to go, it is way late. Why am I always up at this unholy hour (0346)?

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!

A New Reality

As much as I hate to admit my addiction to reality TV shows, there is always a silver lining to be found. Tonight as I fast forward through the final episode of Celebrity Apprentice, there are two worthy organizations being championed by the finalists. The first is the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund at www.fallenheroesfund.org. an organization that helps to take care of the needs of our wounded soldiers and the second is the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis network at www.foodallergy.org. an organization that is trying to make a difference in the lives of those with severe food allergies. I really hope Trace Adkins wins because I like him a lot better than Pears Whatisname. It is good to know that even people on reality television shows have figured out that it does mean something to try and do some good in this world. Donald Trump has more money than Midas...but, I have to give him props when it comes to his public efforts to raise money to help others. Well Trace just lost...sorry, Trace sometimes the good guy does finish last. No worries, I'll buy your new single and support your cause any day. Check it out at itunes...it is good and all the proceeds go to Trace Adkin's charity. (Trace's daughter has severe food allergies and that is why he decided to do the show) Also FYI...another great organization that supports the wounded soldiers and their families is the Wounded Warrior Project. (www.woundedwarriorproject.org) Spread the word and do good work, everyone can make a difference in this crazy world, we only have to try.

So Inside The Box

As I sit in my living room ant 2AM in the morning, I am actually amazed that I have been able to figure out how to create a blog page. My daughter insists I am too old to have a myspace page (even though I do) an ipod, or any other new age gadget that us old people are expected to know how to work, but, we are not supposed to enjoy them or want to know how to use them. So, I figured at my age, I might as well throw some stuff out into cyberspace and see what sticks (like spaghetti on the ceiling). I am not sure what will come of this adventure, but I am willing to have some fun with it and see what happens. I was recently labeled by one of my son's friends as "so inside the box." I do not feel I am inside the box at all. My response to him was that if someone would poke some holes in the box and let me see, I might find my way out! I have to credit my motivation to create a blog to my recent discovery of a soldier's blog who is currently serving in Iraq. His blog is always amazing and I for one appreciate his candor and his ability to express himself in such succinct and creative ways! I also joined my first fantasy baseball league today. The draft was tonight...very exciting. Hopefully, managing a fantasy baseball league will not prove to be more than the "can of corn" I am hoping it will be. As stated in the movie "Field of Dreams," look for down and away, but, watch out for "in your ear!" My box is calling, goodnight all!