In supporting their uniformed relative, army families embody the utmost contribution and commitment to their fellow countrymen.
Before I Forget…
I didn’t post anything about Memorial Day. Cause I think I just took it for granted. There was a pool and a hamburger for me. Hot dogs to commemorate a soldiers death. A bass boat or a movie.
Guns Platoon Cadre
I started shooting at 5, growing up in a place where I could earn pocket money later on by selling Pigeons and Rabbits to the local Butcher in the village.
Anyone that knows anything about Marine Corp basic training knows that it is the most difficult boot camp of all branches of the military. I researched all aspects of the training, watched movies, read books and asked other parents all about the experience my would go through on Paris Island in the dead of summer.
I laid in bed exhausted from the nightmares that pledged my dreams and woke me once I finally manage to fall asleep. Today was going to be rough, I could already tell. I argued with myself on the best course of action, attempt to sleep more and face the nightmares in my dreams or get up and face the nightmares of my day.
The year was 1942 and my older brother, Sam, had just turned 18. My Mom and Dad drove him to the recruiting station to sign up for the Marines after he received his draft notice in the mail a couple of days after his birthday. My Dad shook his hand and told him to be careful and not volunteer for anything. Then he told him how proud he was of him and that he loved him. My Mom kept hugging him and kissing him. In between, she would wipe her tears from her cheeks. Me and my younger sister kind of stood back out of the way until Sam came over and gave both of us hugs and told us he would see us soon.
Army Brat, Berlin, August 1961
Growing up as an Army brat was a unique experience, moving around the United States and the world, staying often for only six months at a time before moving on again.
The Job and the Yuletide joy
Being a police officer usually means that you and doctors are the only people that get introduced at parties by their occupation. "Hi, this is Mark, he's a doctor..." “Hi, this is Simon, he’s a cop… Better behave!”
Pretty in Projects
Im sure we are all familiar with the hit T.V shows from the 90’s that showcased the sumptuous homes of our favorite celebrities. millions of viewers would sit around watching and gaping at the fabulous furnishings and amenities that our influencers spent millions of dollars and wish they could live like that, even if only momentarily. I was one of those viewers.
Blue polyester glistens in the sun as I find myself back at the table, hard at work on another project. A light sea breeze whips my hair as a draw a thin, white line across the bottom of the garment. Carefully, I measure the distance, making sure the line is straight and accurate. I look off into the distance for a minute and soak in the cool, dry breath of sky that surrounds me. But the moment passes and out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimmer of something shiny and metal on the table next to me: a pair of gold shears calling my name. I slip my fingers into the grooves of the handle and open them slightly, positioning them along the line I mapped out only a moment ago. I guide the blade from one end of the line to the other, slicing the fabric as I go. And as I open and close and open and close the long, sharp tip, a familiar sound enters my ears like a metronome, keeping the time: Schick, schick, schick, schick.
My Country is at War
Hi, I’m Sana. I'm a 10-years-old Syrian girl and I’m alone. They dragged me away from my parents to bring me here, in a refugee camp, to take me away from war and conflict. Even if they are only fighting in neighbouring countries, they are close, too close. War, with a capital "W", is surrounding us, it’s never far away. My big brother was recruited to fight in this endless war, he was only 13. It's been two years since we last saw him. He is probably dead by now, like many other children I knew. Death is surrounding us, it affects everyone. Whether it's our loved ones, our friends, our acquaintances or even total strangers to us. A lot of people are dying, not to say the whole world is slowly dying, even me. War kills us, it kills everyone, even strangers who didn't have time to become known.
“Why is she the one doing this? She isn’t even wearing a proper uniform!” The Girl Scout mother didn’t care that Megan and I were near enough to hear her snarky comments.
Pop Tarts, Jergen’s Lotion and Young Ladies of Fine Breeding
I was a military brat. My dad was in the Air Force, and we lived all over the U.S. and the Europe. We lived in the UK, Montana, Florida, Germany, Texas, and New Mexico. At my dad’s last station, we were at Holloman AFB in New Mexico. As my parents knew it was my dad’s last tour before he was going to retire, they bought a little house and planned on staying there permanently.