A funny thing happened to me...life

Show me the way.....

2024-05-23T11:11:00.000-05:00

Memorial Day Tribute

2018-05-23T19:19:00.003-05:00

A Memorial Day Story!

Memorial Day Tribute

2018-05-23T19:19:00.001-05:00

A Memorial Day Story!

Remember Everything

2014-08-15T21:47:00.001-05:00

Just this week, we, society as a whole may have lost one of the most is not the most inspiring

comedian/actor during my lifetime. Robin Williams committed suicide shocking us all. As most of

know I have some personal experience with this as both my sister and then my father have taken

their own lives. It is a tragedy for anyone to take their life and seems to us as a society that this

act was especially egregious because of his talent and that millions loved him. I'm not going to

try to explain my beliefs on suicide or defend your belief but what I want to do is tell you what Robin

Williams meant to me.

Robin will always be T.S. Garp to me. If you'v never seen the movie "The World According to Garp"

then it's a must see movie in my opinion. Any movie with Glenn Close, Robin Williams, Mary Beth

Hurt and John Lithgow is a must see. Let me tell you that it wan't the movie that inspired me it was

Robin's amazing performance that inspired me. I'm a book snob, the books are always better than

the movies and I mean always. Except in the case of Garp. The book is written by John Irving and

won several awards. Despite this I could hardly stay interested in it. I tried, goodness I tried but

I just couldn't do it. For starters the book is about 6,000 pages long. No joke it's a long book. Two;

being from such a small town I couldn't really relate to the characters and the story lines in any

way. I finally gave up and went to see the movie. It was magical. Really and truly it was weird

it was funny and eye opening all at the same time. Robin gives his best performance in this movie

of all the movies he starred in during his life. However, here's the reason why I consider Robin to be

one of the greatest actors of our time.

He made the book come alive for me. After I saw the movie I immediately went back to read the

book and it was magical. Every line from Garp in the movie was Robin's voice. Now please

think about this, Robin made a book come alive for me. Not the movie, he was fantastic in the

movie but the book! It came alive in my hands and it still resides in a my bookcase to this day.

I will owe Robin for making me realize what an effect an actor can have on a person moving

his mind and heart with his performance. In the book John Irving ends it with "In the world

according to Garp we are all terminal cases". I prefer the movie ending. Garp is dying and his

wife is riding with him and then come his final words to his wife Helen:

T. S. Garp: Remember, Helen.
Helen Holm: What, my love?
T. S. Garp: Everything.
Helen Holm: Yes, my love.

Yes Robin we'll remember. We promise.

A funny thing happened to me...life: Don't Blink

2014-08-06T07:28:00.001-05:00

A funny thing happened to me...life: Don't Blink

Leave no man behind......

2014-06-10T22:39:00.000-05:00

I've struggled with writing this blog for the past week. I've read most likely a hundred articles with

various view points about Bowe Berghdahl. I've tried to put myself in the position of being a father, a

brother/sister-in-arms and a civilian. I've been angry, outraged and sad all at the same time, yet still I

struggled with my thoughts and feelings. Many of you know, if not all of you that I served a brief

stint in the Marines. I'm more than familiar with the concept of leave no man behind. Both the Marines

and the Army Rangers have a history of never leaving a man behind under no circumstances, Chesty

Puller did it in the frozen Chosin (Korean War) and the Rangers most recently in Somalia. There are

other great examples as well among the other services but those ring specific in my mind. I know the

Marines felt strongly about this and apparently Bowe's unit did as well considering they lost 6 soldiers

trying to bring him home. You can read about them here. The President ultimately traded 5 terrorists,

men so dangerous that they had spent the last 6 years locked at Guantanamo Bay prison. You can read

about them here if you like.

His father and mother were distraught and never gave up hope. His father growing a beard and

learning a language to try to help bring Bowe home. I would hope that most parents would be as

dedicated in trying to bring their son home. All in all we'll see eventually where this leads and

what the overall trade nets us both as a country and as a society. I personally have to speak against it.

It seems based on his fellow soldiers testimony, accounts of his final days before capture that Bowe

simply walked away from his post, he took no weapon and walked into enemy territory.

Bowe left .... Do you see where I'm headed with this? Bowe left us, his country, his fellow soldiers

and his family. He wasn't captured he walked into enemy hands. There is no disputing this. He

WALKED AWAY, why he did we may never know. They'll be an investigation and he might be

punished although I suspect the 5 years in captivity and the weight of 6 deaths on his conscious may

be the worst punishment most men could bear. I doubt it'll be much more although I think many

Americans would like to see him severely punished. America says "Leave no man behind" and we left

no man behind. I hope we don't come to regret it more than we already have.....

A funny thing happened to me...life: I'm just a fan.....

2014-01-04T09:00:00.001-06:00

A funny thing happened to me...life: I'm just a fan.....

A funny thing happened to me...life: It's All About Timing

2013-10-14T07:34:00.001-05:00

A funny thing happened to me...life: It's All About Timing

It's All About Timing

2013-10-13T15:29:00.000-05:00

It's been forever since I've blogged. Lots of changes in life for me. I suppose that can be said of everyone

that I know and even those I don't know. I'm 49 now. I can't decide where that puts me in life, sometimes I

feel certain it makes me old but as of late not wise or venerable. Physically I'm not in bad shape, I've begun

training to run 50 miles on my 50th birthday. We'll see how that goes. I"ll tell you what I have discovered

in life of late. It's all about timing. Literally, I truly believe that life is all about timing. You can call it destiny,

predestination, chaos, the universe, luck or any other word you want to use but timing, well that's the "rub"

as we say in the south. I found it especially true in relationships. ESPECIALLY true.

I look back on my life and did you know I met my first wife in nursing school? I started with one class and

became great friends with another guy that was closer to my age after I had gotten out of the Marines and

his wife was pregnant at the time we met, she delivered a preemie, I visited the hospital and 18 months later

I'm married to the nurse that took care of their baby. Who knew?

But it's more that that, timing is so critical in nature that it's not just big events that affect our lives but little

ones. Small details missed not noticed by us that make the difference between life and death, happiness and

sadness, triumph and tragedy. My father and mother as many of you know were hit by a drunk driver on

the way back from a local high school basketball game, it nearly killed them both, did you know that the van

that left the parking lot behind them was filled with about 20 kids from their church? Timing....

For me timing has always been about being impulsive, I never had much of a sense of being thoughtful or

reflective about most situations. My personality is well suited to charge ahead, "fix" the situation, damn the

torpedoes, full speed ahead as they say. I cannot say it did not always serve me well. I was promoted

twice meritoriously in the Marines for such actions. I can honestly say foolishness not bravery pushed me

through one of those promotions and I came through unscathed despite my actions and so did my men.

Timing.

I have spent the last 17 years working in the organ and tissue donation field. I've done well at times and

enjoyed it otherwise I would have never stayed in it that long. What most people don't know is that when

my sister died we asked that she be an organ and tissue donor. It wasn't allowed because of medical

examiner's concerns but I was so impressed by the coordinator that spoke to my parents it followed me. I

moved to Mississippi some years later and eventually began to work for the University of the Mississippi

Medical Center who fired their organ/tissue department. 8 people applied for the job. 7 were offered the

job and turned it down because of the salary. I was the 8th. I took the job , 17 years. Part of my

responsibilities in Georgia were Medical Examiner's Relationships. Timing.

Despite these grand things it's the small things that I'm beginning to see as more important, did I tell my

father I loved him the last time I saw him? Timing. When I spoke to that person at work, what did my

voice inflect to them. Tragedy, Triumph, Love or disdain. Did they leave in wonder of who or what they

were or to become? Timing.

Love, that's the thing. Love is all about timing. A sweet gesture, a gentle kiss, a "I'm sorry" at the right

moment. A tender touch, remembering to make her feel special, flowers for no reason. " A day late and a

dollar short", my father use to say. Affairs of the heart march to their own drummer. I suggest we all start

listening, reflecting, and quietly ever so quietly being more attentive. Timing.

Time is short.

Time moves on whether we do or not.

Most important thing I've learned? Time cannot be recaptured. It's in the moment. You can't take back

what YOU DID or what YOU DIDN'T DO.

I suggest we all start living that way, in the moment. You won't get it back.

The bear, a biscuit and me.

2012-09-30T14:18:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was lovely day in what is referred to as Middle Tennessee. We divide Tennessee into three distinct areas. West, Middle and East. I live in Middle Tennessee, Nashville in fact and decided to go hiking. The area around Nashville allows for some varied terrain in and around the city which the average hiker can indulge him or herself in a fashion of hiking in which they so choose. I lately have had some migraine headaches so when I had a great night sleep when I awoke I determined that we would go to a local park and do some hiking both on and off trail. The park we chose is very close, less than 30 minutes drive from my home, extremely beautiful hardwoods, running creeks, a number of varied wildlife that you will encounter from time to time The park is perhaps appropriately named after the family that owns many of the the car dealerships in Nashville. (I'm not sure they are related, no one has ever actually approached me about buying a car while I've been hiking.) Nonetheless after packing the appropriate gear as a prepared Marine, hiker and OCD treated patient we were off on our adventure. We would never and I mean never go anywhere without packing enough supplies to last for seventeen days. I mean did you see the fellow that had to cut his arm off to get back to his car? Really?

We drove with the windows down as the weather was glorious. The temperature was in the low 70's and that would drop by 2-5 degrees as we neared our destination. A lone coyote was seen in a empty lot in a neighborhood; a shudder passing through me as I knew he was standing over a meal since he was so emboldened to eat in the open We both exhibited great excitement as we pulled into the parking lot and I pulled on a light Camel bak and we headed off to the Ridge Trail. We struck a brisk pace almost double time and the woods cast a shadow that didn't allow for sun glasses so they became an ornament for the apex of my head. The hundreds of acorns crunched beneath my feet and the plunking sound of them bouncing off branches to trunks to branches and then to the ground were constant; as if a light rain of acorns had been forecast for today. All and all it was pleasant more than that it was peaceful. I picked up my pace and my body temperature began a tug of war between a chill and the warmth that is meant for you when the sun pushes through the slowly vanishing leaves of fall. We chose a ridge trail and eventually picked up the pace till we were running.

Running trails requires a combination of several atributes of balance, coordination and luck and I cannot place enough emphasis on luck. Just push the toe of your running shoe a fraction of a millimeter off the root of a hundred year old oak tree as you bound across a small but deep trench in the trail created by the thousands possible millions of gallons of rainwash that has moved through in the last 50 years and the ER physician will say "These stitches should approximate that gash nicely and it shouldn't leave much of a scar at all." The other but mostly positive note is that since you are always looking at the ground for places to push off, place your feet such as the flat rock exposed from the rain over the years, the 150 year-old oak who gives both the root for pushing off and falling acorns that you are sliding though as if you are Neo in the movie Matrix, or perhaps the hard pack earth that you can see through the leaves that have fallen in the early season is that you often run upon scenes in nature unexpectedly. Sometimes deer grazing, sometimes a bobcat, lots of squirrels, rabbits and an occasional snake. (I will say the occasional snake will cause me to immediately work on my vertical jump skills which the height of the jump are direct relation to the size of the snake).

Today was no different in the sense that we did run upon an unexpected guest. We reached the end of our trail and sat down on the bench and decided to have a little snack. I had not eaten lunch before running and I had also brought something for my partner. I had just taken out his morsels when I heard a grunt and some shuffling some distance behind me. I casually turned because I really expected an obese middle aged bow hunter that had been caught slipping through State of Tennessee landing hunting where it is prohibited. It was not. It was a bear. A black bear I suppose. I cannot find an article that states a black bear has been sighted in Davidson County Tennessee in the last 20 years or so on Google search but never the same there he was approximately 50-75 yards or so away. At the time I was holding "BEGGING STIPS" in my hands. Yes the ones on TV where the dogs are thinking Bacon, Bacon, Bacon , Bacon , Bacon, Bacon and are doing somersaults to get said begging strips from the person holding them. My mind immediately went to what alternate did I have to get rid of the strips and my mind thought "I have a biscuit". Biscuit is my dog. When I say "we" in this article it's me and biscuit "We spend a lot of time together. Anyone of you that has spent time with me know why at this point in my life why my dog spends more time with me than anyone else. " Biscuit was more interested at this time in the Begging Strips in my hands than the possibility that there was a black bear 75 yards behind me sniffing the same mind controlling smell of "real bacon. I had just eaten my lunch, a large asian pear. Please remember this as we continue our story. Since we were well beyond the distance in which anyone would hear our bear clawing screams I decided we were going to vamoose. I started packing up (Who packed all this crap? Enough for 17 days!) while trying to keep hold of a dog who wanted to Beggin Strips and still had not noticed the bear. I'm not sure whether to be proud or to express my disdain for my dog but at a more appropriate time of course.

After finally getting everything packed (I could have used that large illegal hunter to sit on the pack to close it) we were on the trail. We eased up the trail another 50 yards and at that point the trail narrows in relation to where we were when we first saw the bear, so the bear would have to use the trail if he decided to tag along. I could not see him anymore. I couldn't decided if this was a good or bad thing. A bear you couldn't see had left the area right? Of course! Except I once saw a bear in the Smokies with my son, Zach, we were no further than 30 or 40 yards away and it was bright green foliage and shadows. We took a picture with our camera and when we got home where we developed the picture we couldn't find the bear in the picture. So maybe it wasn't good I couldn't see the bear. We were going to walk back but I told biscuit let's run. So we ran, turns out not good after eating an extremely large Asian pear. The pear and I determined within half a mile that it did not want to stay friends and the pear was promptly ejected. While this was going on Biscuit looked quite confused about the whole day and I said "I guess if the bear was following us he'd catch us for before the car" he looked at me like the person who finally realizes "There's a bear following us? Did you say car?" Apparently Begging Strips do not cause the same type of gastrointestinal discomfort as Asian pears. I saw him for about 7 seconds before he was gone from sight.

When I emerged from what I thought would be a most glorious day, plastered in dirt, with a growling stomach, and angry legs I was greeted by a smiling Biscuit sitting by my car. The day was perfect!

Disclaimer: I understand that bear sightings in Middle Tennessee are extremely rare. I did not take a picture of it with my cell phone camera, who takes their cell phone hiking in the woods? No I will not show you where I saw the bear, no I will not give you the name of the park, no I will not correspond in email with you and no I will not do an interview with you. Leave me and the bear alone. Yes I am an experienced outdoors man, Marine, hunter, and hiker (I have over 400 miles on the AT in section hikes, I have seen numerous bears so I do know what they look like). Some of the story is fiction. Not all of my blogs are completely true and are exaggerated for effect. The bear sighting is not one of them. Biscuit is also not an exaggeration.

A funny thing happened to me...life: Words we should despise or a "Yummerful" Experience

2012-08-07T21:00:00.001-05:00

A funny thing happened to me...life: Words we should despise or a "Yummerful" Experience

Words we should despise or a "Yummerful" Experience

2012-07-12T21:40:00.001-05:00

At times I think we are overwhelmed by the amount of media that we can access everyday. We get on
Facebook, twitter, CNN, CNBC, FOX News, and then there is of course the old fashion way, books and
television. It is overwhelming at times and we all get caught up in the mass media. I usually am not bothered
by this. I'm not on Facebook anymore and I've never been on twitter and I only watch TV several hours a
week. I do read a lot of news on the Internet. Despite all of my filtering I've become appalled by our
inability to describe any experience without using the same words over and over. I'm serious, how many
times lately have you heard the word amazing? That was amazing! I'm at a football game and a receiver
made the most amazing catch I've ever seen. Awesome. That was awesome. Can you believe that roller
coaster, it was awesome! Yummy. I despise this word. Roast beef, sweet corn and peas, Yummy! Just
had cupcakes from Cupcakes-R-Us, YUMMY! My stomach literally turns when I read or hear the word
"yummy". I've personally never tasted anything that made me say the word yummy. I ate octopus once in
Spain that was cooked in a sauce made out of the ink it disperses when in danger. Not yummy. I didn't
even think not yummy. I can't share the word I used but it was not yummy. I once asked every older lady in
my church to make banana pudding for homecoming. I told them all I had never tasted banana pudding
more heavenly than their banana pudding. There were 23 dishes of banana puddings laid out that day. I ate
some out of each and every bowl. I thanked every older lady in our church and yet yummy never crossed
my mind (God, please forgive me but I do love me some banana pudding). I don't like wonderful either. Everything has become wonderful. Did you see "Abraham Lincoln, the Vampire Killer", it was wonderful (It was not even good, much less wonderful). I just rode in a new Lexus,it was wonderful! If that is wonderful, your goals are not set high enough.

After giving this careful thought, I've invented a word so that we can describe mundane experiences, yet still
maintain the dignity of the words used to describe the Pyramid of Giza, the Aurora Borealis and the Temple
of Artemis. It's a word that I will never use as I despise it already. As soon as I got the word out of my
mouth I vowed never to utter it again. The word is "Yummerful" that's right "Yummerful" Yum-mer-ful: of
a sort that causes or arouses wonder; very pleasing to the senses, especially taste. It will become an
instant sensation on Facebook and Twitter. "I went to Ruth Chris Steakhouse tonight and it was
Yummerful". It's a perfect word for our generation. It both conveys the idea that the food was say,
excellent, exquisite, tasty, delectable, divine, pungent,savory, or zestful and that the experience was pleasant,
pleasing, superb, tremendous, terrific, or stupendous. I think this word is going to catch on instantly. If the
three followers of my blog use it once, then their friends use it once and their friend's friends use it once then
in no time it'll be on Facebook and tweeted constantly. Can you imagine a tweet from say Mitt Romney?
"I just raised 15 million dollars to run for a job that pays only 250,000 dollars a year!" Yummerful! A
Facebook post from Michele Obama? "Today, I bought totally green cleaning supplies from Target,
Yummerful!" I can't contain my excitement! I can see Maroon 5 having a tour next summer and calling it
"The Summerful of Yummerful". What about Jared from Subway? "Try our Yummerful sandwiches!" The
possibilities for the word are endless. T-shirts, bumper stickers, flair and billboards everywhere.

In just a few short months, everyone will begin to hate it as much as I do. They'll cringe every time someone
uses yummerful to describe an experience. Soon only old and geeky people will use the word. It'll make the
"Top Ten Over Used Words List" I can't wait! Don't worry though I've already filed a copyright on the
word so I'll make money every time someone uses it. Simply Yummerful!

Ready to Lead, Ready to Follow, Never Quit.....

2011-05-05T11:12:00.000-05:00

Ready to Lead, Ready to Follow, Never Quit…. Those are the words that comprise the Navy SEAL’s

motto. We were reminded this week that there are a group of men that are a cut above the rest that protect

our country in the most dangerous places in the world. Saturday, May 7^th, 2011 we will honor one of these

elite men named Michael Murphy. It would have been his 35^th birthday. A Medal of Honor winner, the

Navy will commission a ship with his namesake to forever honor a fallen hero. I have provided the Marine

Color Guard for several of these ceremonies in the mid 1980’s and although there will be great pomp and

circumstance, I’m sure despite the Navy’s best effort it will be lacking in the gratitude Lt. Murphy truly

deserves.“The Protector” was his nickname. He received the moniker when in Elementary School he was

suspended for fighting. The fight was with several boys who were trying to “stuff” a special needs child into a

locker. I imagine most men of Lt. Murphy’s caliber have a similar story in their past. Lt. Murphy grew up

and graduated from Pennsylvania State University. I understand that he had been accepted by several law

schools but instead chose to join the Navy to become a SEAL. I would afford a guess that he felt “called” as

so many of our servicemen and women cite this as the reason they joined a branch of our military. SEAL

school was in Lt. Murphy’s future and just like all of the other endeavors in his life, failure was not an

option.

Lt. Murphy was eventually given the command of a SEAL team and 2005 found himself and 4 other Seals in

the Kunar Provence of Afghanistan. Their mission was supposed to be one of observation and reporting of

target identification. However, like most missions not everything went smoothly, 3 goat herders wandered

upon his team. They were quickly captured and a discussion ensued as to their immediate future. Lt.

Murphy argued successfully that they should not execute these three men. They had no proof that they were

combatants and current he was under orders not to engage unless there was a clear danger. Lt. Murphy

even put it to a vote and the men were released to be on their way. One of the “men” was a 14 year-old-

boy and they all quickly disappeared over the hill. Just minutes later the SEAL team was assaulted by over

100 Taliban fighters armed with AK-47’s and rocket launchers. Though overwhelming outmanned the battle

raged for quite sometime. Soon 3 of the team were wounded and their radio had been damaged beyond

repair. Despite the danger, “The Protector” ran to an open area exposing him to enemy fire and used his

satellite phone to call for support. Lt. Murphy did make contact with the Command Center requesting

support for his team. Then the inevitable happened Lt. Murphy was shot and he dropped the phone. The

lone surviving SEAL team member tells that Lt. Murphy then picked up the phone and gave his last words to

his command, “Roger out, Thank you.” No, Lt. Michael Murphy, thank you.

Grief is a long road.....

2011-04-16T19:03:00.000-05:00

Hello folks, this is my first blog since my father's passing. I don't have a great lesson in my words for you, not

that my blogs have ever had some great lesson to share. I've struggled to come up with something to write

about at all. No, that's not totally true. I've had thoughts on occasion the last two months, something that has

caused me to be indignant, happy or sad that I would like to have shared with you, but I have not been able

to express them here. It has been as if someone has punched me in the stomach and whoosh; all the words

and thoughts have been expelled from me and I'm having a hard time catching my breath. Sarah has been a

great comfort during this time as have my friends yet still for the first time in my life words do escape me. It's

ironic that at a time where I want and almost need to find a great lesson, something to hang my hat on if I can

be so flippant, I am blank. I feel reminiscent about life in general, reflecting on how things have played out

over time wondering if I have done my best, been as kind as I should have been (that answer is no), accepted

people for their strengths and not their faults in my life. A road of "what if" with large billboards of memories

that trigger rushes of emotion that "jerk" me back to the present time. It's as if I've nodded off while life

passes by and been startled awake by the realization. I don't know when things will get back to "normal" if

life can ever be called normal. A friend posted on my Facebook that "Grief is a long road" and they are

mostly right. I would say "Grief is a long hard road" and we all make the journey sooner or later.

A funny thing happened to me...life: I'm just a fan.....

2011-02-22T15:20:00.000-06:00

A funny thing happened to me...life: I'm just a fan.....

I'm just a fan.....

2011-02-19T14:45:00.002-06:00

They were already 80 years old when I was born. A venerable age by all accounts for anything, or anyone

for that matter in our relatively young country. I don't believe it is recorded whether they were planted or they

like so many other oaks, germinated from the fallen acorn from one of their brethren. They have survived

drought, flood, harsh winters and of course the tornadoes that plague our State every year. At one time or

another their acorns provided forage for wild deer, squirrels and other animals of the forest. In recent years

their acorns have been collected, seedlings established and then sold to share their heritage. They grew

despite the invasion of men and their buildings, you might even say that a town was built around their very

existence as they sit in the geographical center of the "Loveliest Village on the Plains". They have provided

shade during the Alabama summer and shelter in the sudden downpour of an Alabama spring. I'd be willing

to bet that perhaps one or two young lovers have kissed beneath them for the first time and perhaps a

proposal or two has been offered and accepted beneath their massive limbs. They look stately and wise, if

you believe in such, in the way that nature matures and shapes itself over 130 years. They eventually became

the central place to gather in times of celebration. A focal point for a town, a university, and yes, a State

where we all could meet to express our joy and pride from accomplishments and feats of athleticism that both

thrilled and inspired us. We celebrated in a silly way, adorning their branches with long sheets of toilet paper

draped from them like streamers being dropped from a departing ship or being thrown from the windows of

buildings during a hero's parade. We didn't build them, commission them like a piece of art or even plant

them for the purpose they serve. They have emerged as an icon to longevity, diversity, adversity and triumph.

Today those beloved trees are dying. A man poisoned them out of spite over a football game. The assertions

I have heard is that he is crazy and I have no doubt that is true, it doesn't change the fact that it was done

over a silly game. The State of Alabama has built two world class institutes of higher learning that also

happen to have football teams. One has been forever successful and certainly the pride of Alabama for many

years. One has become more prominent over the last 20 years, reaching the ultimate goal just this year in

football circles. They have inspired us to become fans, a rivalry emerged that at one time was healthy and in

good fun has turned tragic and ugly. I'm going to admit here that I'm as guilty as anyone else in the insanity. I

stomped around mad for days over a comment made by an Alabama fan, I've blocked people's comments on

Facebook, and made inflammatory comments on other people's Facebook page as well. Today it stops for

me. Today I vow to just be a fan again. I will no longer wish for others to lose to feed my ego. I will no

longer celebrate when teams do poorly or lose a recruit to a rival school. I will celebrate when Alabama or

Auburn plays and wish both the best. I will be proud of either as they bring acclaim to a place I proudly call

my home. I will congratulate my friends when their team wins and be encouraged by the efforts of my team

when they lose. Please don't get me wrong, I will always be an Auburn fan. My 10 year-old son who in his

heart truly believes he will play college football will be strongly encouraged by his father to go to Auburn.

Where he will be going soon is to Toomer's Corner, I want him and his sister to see the oaks before they die

and I hope he will learn from me that traditions are important, that the spirit of competition inspires us to be

our best and that football is just a game played on Saturdays.

The breeze, the bay and a memory.....

2011-02-13T12:17:00.002-06:00

I am always amazed by how incredibly connected our senses are to memories of an event or a place.

Especially our olfactory sense seems to link them together. Yesterday while getting a towel out of the

bathroom closet I caught a whiff of the coconut scented tanning oil that we have stored there for future use.

Immediately, memories of Panama City Beach came flooding into my mind. They were so clear and vibrant it

was almost like I was there in that instant. My family had a 28 foot camper that we parked at Venture Out a

community of campers mixed with an assortment of mobile homes for some of the locals in that area. We

went every summer for 3 or 4 years when I was in high school. It backed up to the bay and was directly

across from Captain Anderson's restaurant and the Treasure Ship that had recently been built at that time.

Across the street was the beach. Memories flood my mind fragmented and picked from many days spent

there happy, carefree and lazy. I do not recall a bad day spent there. I do remember walking in the ocean

around knee deep as the tide came in at night, flashlight in one hand, crabbing net in the other and catching the

next nights boil. Riding my bike with several of the local residents of the park to St. Andrews State Park to

fish off the jetties for anything we could catch. Swimming across the bay stopping in the middle to rest on the

sandbar always amazed by how quickly the ocean changed from shallow to deep.

I remember the red dress that the girl wore the night we went out for the first time during one summer. I do

not recall her name though. She was tall, tanned, blonde and way out of my league. Her father was career

army and they were taking a summer before leaving to live at Ft. Dix in New Jersey. Our first stop was the

Treasure Ship where we sipped Virgin Pina Colada's in tall keepsake glasses which only cost 3 dollars more

per drink. A local strummed a guitar and sang Jimmy Buffet, James Taylor, Christopher Cross and Paul

Simon songs in the background as we talked and laughed. I must have been 16 that year because I can

remember driving my parents big tan hideously uncool Buick LeSabre with her sitting next to me. I don't even

know if they still put bench seats in the front of cars anymore but if you've never driven with your arm around

a pretty girl with one hand on the wheel and the radio softly playing while she rests her head on your shoulder

you know why they should still make those seats. We ended that night at the pier that ran out into the bay.

Legs dangling into the water, feeling them floating up and down in time with the sound of the water lapping at

the posts. A quarter moon hung in the sky, shedding light enough to make the water ripple with a glow that

allowed you to hear the distant boats passing but not enough to see anything but their lights move in and out of

the bay. The warmth of her hand in mine as we sat mostly in silence watching the boats and listening to

someone's radio pour out tunes from somewhere close by. A slight breeze blew across us bringing the rich

smell of the beach, salt water, and the faintness of her coconut tanning lotion. It seems now like a complicated

symphony had been written to fill every sense to complete a memory. After leaving the pier I drove her back

to our trailer and walked her across the street to hers. She kissed me on the cheek, sweet, innocent, perfect.

A week later they left for her father's new duty station. I think she hugged me and we both promised to write.

We never did of course, and I've never seen her again. I don't think I've really thought about it again since it

happened and it all came back by opening a closet door and smelling coconut sun tanning oil. Sweet,

innocent and perfect.......

The 5 Steps of Facebook Withdrawal....

2011-02-10T09:46:00.002-06:00

Recently my wife sweetly pointed out that perhaps I am consumed by checking my Facebook account. I denied that this was true. She then pointed out that an addicted person always denies their addiction. I then announced that with my super willpower that I would not log onto Facebook for one week. I lasted 5 days. The following is my account of what will now be known as the 5 Steps of Facebook Withdrawal. I have have assurance from the scientific community that it will be published in a really, really, really, important journal soon.

Step 1. Anxiety.... It started innocently. I logged off my computer, discontinued my email notifications and logged off my android phone. That wasn't so hard I thought. I promptly went to bed thinking this is a breeze. Woke up the next morning, took my shower, got dressed, poured a cup of coffee and ate my bowl of gluten free rice chex. I sat down and booted up the computer, immediately my promise came to mind. No logging on to Facebook today. My palms instantly got sweaty and a small wave of anxiety rolled through my body. "No big deal, who cares that I'm not on Facebook today?" Off to work, whistling as I left the house.

Step 2. Denial.... Funny how little things disrupt your day. I own a smart phone, generally in layman's terms it means that the phone I own is smarter than me. I usually keep my Facebook logged in during the day and on occasion I will check it at work just to make sure that nothing important has happen, oh say in the last hour or so. "Oh well, I'll just be in the dark today" I nervously chuckled. Actually, come to think of it the laugh was more maniacal than whimsy. Later in the day I picked up my phone to call about an appointment I had made and instead of touching the phone button I touched the Facebook icon which instantly opened to the log in screen. There's that maniacal laugh again.

Step 3. Self Affirmation.... Do you remember Stuart Smiley on SNL? Everyday he'd look in the mirror and repeat, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggone it, people like me" In this step you must move pass the need for constant affirmation. The day begin as usual but I noticed that I wasn't as cheerful as usual, that my cereal didn't taste quite right, "I'll need to note that on Facebook" I thought, "I feel certain other peoples cereal didn't taste good this morning and they'll like my status" Wait, I can't post my status. Am I the only one who had a crappy bowl of cereal this morning? How will I know that I'm normal? How will I know that people "like" me?" I decide to look in the mirror and repeat, "I'm good enough, I'm smart.........

Step 4. Hallucinatory state.... This occurs about day 3 continuing into Day 5. Did my computer just flash the Facebook log in screen? No, No, I'm still on yahoo. I swear it my laptop was closed when I walked out of the room and now it's opened to the log in screen for Facebook. I look at Sarah. She looks a little evil. I think maybe she's taunting me over there on her Macbook laughing and smiling at all her friend's posts from today. Did she just wink at the screen? I ease myself out of the room slowly hoping that she's unable to smell the fear in my sweat. I'm sweating alot so I don't go to my computer. I don't because the keyboard might get soaked and ruined. I'll call my kids, that's what I'll do they'll comfort me. Wait who put my phone on the Facebook log in screen? Why is my Facebook icon flashing? Why won't my phone let me make a call? Has Sarah done something to it too? I wonder if Sprint is in on this? I wish I could talk to Mark Zuckerberg right now he'd make them stop. My hands are shaking now, I have the stench of desperation around me. People are looking at me strange now all the time, whispering posts I"m sure. Thoughts keep running through my mind. I keep getting an error message over and over telling me my thoughts are limited to 420 characters. "Mark Zuckerberg is Satan" is going to be my first "post" I feel certain. Why has my boss suggested I take some time off? I think my friends will have some "comments" about his attitude.

Stage 5. Bliss..... I log in on my phone. I get an error message three times. Has my account been deleted? No, no I've just misspelled my email address. Must be my shaky hands. I'M LOGGED ON! WOOHOOO!!!!!!! Pure Bliss! The world is right! I lasted 5 days. I mean that's a business week right? I have great willpower. I think I'll post that right now.....

The Greatest Show on Earth!

2011-01-26T17:17:00.000-06:00

Step right up folks. Be amazed! See "The Greatest Show on Earth. Three rings of excitement, intrigue,

mystery, and drama. All right before your very eyes.

In the first ring, see the young man! Daring, exciting, full of vigor and youth. See him attempt great feats of

daring. See him from his childhood adventures, throwing his first football, making his first tackle and growing

in leaps and bounds. Watch him as goes on his first date, tastes the lips of the girl in his first kiss and feel his

sorrow in his first heart break! See him as his mother hugs him goodbye and his father shakes his hand as he

goes off to the Marines. Feel the passion, the uncertainty, and experience the fear that fills him for the first time

in his life. Feel his despair and the warmth of his tears as he carries his sister's coffin to her grave.

Look now to the second ring! Examine his ascent into manhood. His father at his side, the best man at his

wedding. Don't look away before his first child is born! Watch him giving cigars away and proudly showing

photographs of her to anyone that he can stop for a moment. Imagine his misgivings as he experiences so

many firsts! Mortgages, sick kids, career decisions and finances. Imagine the joy and madness that

accompanies the birth of three more children. Breathe deep his hopes and plans for a future for them all!

Gaze now on the third ring! Dreams, aspirations, great sadness with hope are the stars. See his unrealized

dreams fade before him. Watch as aspirations are replaced by reality, circumstances both within and outside

of his control. See his marriage fail and the sadness, grief and madness that accompanies divorce. Watch his

hopes soar as his runs his first marathon, meets a childhood friend and falls in love again for the first time.

Experience the melancholy as his children enter college, throw their first football and make their first tackle.

Swell with pride over his children's accomplishments and be encouraged in his belief that everything will work

out if you just keep the faith.

Ladies and Gentlemen, don't look away for even one moment. Life......... it's the "Greatest Show on Earth!"

The Legend of Linthicum Hill

2011-01-18T19:14:00.003-06:00

Every town has a legend. A story retold again and again passed down from generation to generation. Usually

it's of a heroic deed, perhaps a touchdown pass in the state championship football, or the final strike in

the state baseball championship or maybe it's rescuing someone from a burning building. Alas, I think for my

generation it's Linthicum Hill. Maybe we should call it the Sled Ride on Linthicum Hill.

It was 1982, I don't remember the exact date as it's been 28 years since the legend was born. Some men are

destined for greatness others have greatness thrust upon them, some of us are just plain unlucky I suppose. I

would fall into the latter class. It had snowed in Tarrant on that fateful day and had left the streets with a thin

sheet of ice on them and just enough snow to cancel school and send us all in a frenzy. When it snowed

everyone would head to Linthicum Hill in our little town. Linthicum Hill was the Mount Everest of Tarrant

City. It was a monster hill. I don't know the exact height of Linthicum but I consider it one of my greatest

accomplishments as a kid that I rode my bicycle all the way up the hill without having to get off and push.

I know many of my friends that could not do that. I can tell you that it was so long and so steep that my

friend Allen and I "popped wheelies" in his father's wrecker while driving up the hill. He would put it in first

gear, pop the clutch and the front two wheels would come off the ground. Let's for argument's sake say

the hill was a quarter mile in length and steep enough to touch the sky. Anyway, back to that fateful day and

our hero, yours truly. When it snowed everyone gathered at Linthicum Hill to watch the bravest of brave

sled down the hill achieving speeds of Olympic magnitude only match by those crazy men that get on that

little sled called a luge. I (the hero please remember) was a senior in high school and thus endowed with

levels of testosterone and stupidity that leave medical researchers shaking their heads in disbelief. It was

considered brave to sled by yourself on a real wooden sled with the metal runners and the faux steering

board that gave only the slightest ability to steer during your run. If sledding by yourself was considered

brave then sledding with someone was considered, well stupidity I mean courageous beyond belief. I think

it was Scott Clements who suggested the fateful ride, he on the sled and me on top and we would start at the

very top of Linthicum Hill with a push from our friends (or so I thought at the time). The beginning went well

and we began to pick up speed. I swear at one point that we begun to go so fast that I saw a portal to

another dimension open up in front of the sled. Unfortunately, what reality was there was a truck. Apparently

someone had tried during the snow to go up the hill in a truck, couldn't get up the hill, slid down the hill and

parked on the side of the road. We failed to take into account the velocity, trajectory, distance and weight

in our calculations on the sled run in which we were currently on at the time of the ride. Really, what we

failed to take in to account is that the manhole cover was warmer than the rest of the street and when the

runners of the sled hit it, it changed our trajectory. Yes, you guessed it. We were headed for the truck.

Now, if you have followed this through you have deduced that the person on top of the first person on the

sled is the one that might hit the truck about bumper high you would be correct. I cannot explain to you what

the word stop really means. Many of you will mistakenly think that you know what the word stop means.

You will assume that you have hit the brakes, that watching Fred Flintstone push his feet to the ground

while driving or you have run into a door frame when not paying attention will have experienced what stop

really means. I am here to tell you that you are wrong, incorrect, have a negative assumption of the word

stop. The word stop can only be experienced if you are going down Linthicum Hill on a sled with another

person at about a hundred miles per hour with everyone watching and I mean everyone that you know is

watching and then hit a truck parked at the bottom of the hill. That is the true meaning of the word "stop"

and if you do not experience this you will never, ever, ever know what stop means. Trust me on this one.

People will tell you they were at Super Bowl 12, that they were at the Sugar Bowl when Barry Kraus

stopped Penn State from scoring or they were there when Bo Jackson scored over Alabama to break the

ten year domination over Auburn, people in Tarrant City will tell you they were there the day Mike White

ran into a truck sledding down Linthicum Hill. Legends are born this way........

Out with the old, In with the new.....

2010-12-31T13:50:00.000-06:00

A new year is always confusing for me as I'm always reflective about what the last year brought to me and

what the new year will bring in lieu. As I began my morning with the hopes for a run today, I begin to lace up

my new running shoes that my lovely wife gave to me for Christmas. My new shoes lay next to the pair that

they replaced, the stark contrast of their condition striking me as similar to my apprehension of the new year.

The first thing I noticed was that my new shoes were white, shiny and brilliant in color. They are not marred

with dirt, mud, grayed from months of running in snow, mud, rain and flood waters. Such is the approach of

the new year our hopes, our dreams shiny and brilliant, yet to be put through the obstacles that we will face,

the lack of a job, some unexpected tragedy, or perhaps money issues that will little by little gray the brilliant

colors that we imagined not so long before. I also notice in closer inspection the that the heels of my shoes

are not the same. My new shoes have a full tread, while my older pair has a significant amount of tread that

has eroded away with each step I took in them. I will no doubt be the same one year from now. The

constant movement in life that cannot be avoided will wear away another year on me like everyone else,

leaving lines etched in my face, perhaps eroding my hairline, but most certainly it will weaken me with age the

inevitable mark that no man can overcome or outrun. My older shoes also appear to be shorter in length

then my newer ones. An illusion as both are the same model and size, yet it reminds me that past years seem

to have gone by so quickly, time marching on faster and faster, ever decreasing circles at ever increasing

speeds seeming to short change me as if the promise of a new year is replaced by the realization that it is gone

as another approaches.

Please don't get me wrong, I love my old shoes as I have loved my life. They hold many memories both good

and bad for me. They remind me of days where I felt 16 again, alive and young living in the moment and the

moment was glorious. Of days where each step was a struggle, the next more painful than the step before an

agonizing journey that in the end strengthened me physically, emotionally and mentally. They bring back

scenes to my mind of misty mornings on the river, raging flood waters surrounding our city and the indomitable

spirit of man to overcome such adversity. My shoes like the years have carried me there and these things I

cherish greatly. Yet, I am humbled as I finish tying my new shoes. There is such promise in them as there is

promise in a new year. Each step they take me brings me to an unknown journey, perhaps to a place I've

never been, seen or imagined existed for me. They most certainly will carry me through the mud, snow,

water, good weather, bad weather and I will certainly get out of them what I put into them. I suppose life and

the next year is certainly like that, I will get out of it what I put into it. Run on my friends, it's the glory of a

new year.

Christmas Day...

2010-12-25T07:11:00.002-06:00

Here I sit in my living room, TBS repeatedly broadcasting "A Christmas Story" in the background, a holiday

tradition at my house. We never watch the whole movie at once, just bits and pieces of each movie till we've

finally watched the whole movie at the end of the day. It seems this morning that many of my friends have

been out of bed early and are stirring about checking their facebook and expressing their heartfelt wishes for a

wonderful Christmas for me and my family. I look past the beautiful tree that my wife and her daughters so

carefully adorned through our picture windows and see the ground covered in snow. A rare white Christmas

for us in Tennessee. I sip a cup of coffee coaxing my body slowly to get ready for the day. Sarah and I will

open presents later, we have already celebrated with our blended family, each similarly excited about their

gifts. Xbox, flips, makeup and clothes were gifts that were exchanged. No Official Red Ryder Carbine-

Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle adorns the tree as we worry about eye safety and that of

the small animals that scurry around our backyard. Biscuit lays quietly on his bed near the door already

having made his early morning patrol around the yard ensuring that we are safe inside the house and Black

Bart is kept at bay. Later we will share a meal with one of our friends and their two grown boys, it will be a

great time as we both enjoy each others company very much. There will be no Chinese Turkey to adorn our

table and no songs with "bows of frowee ralalala" will be sung. I will of course suit up and run later today

battling the wind and cold as I do most days now. This evening I imagine we'll have a glass of wine settle

together on the couch and if I've done well with the gifts perhaps I'll get one more "gift" before the day is

completed. I hope so. Tomorrow will come soon enough after and we'll only have 364 more days to get

ready for Christmas again. I hope your Christmas is so wonderful today that you'll start counting the days till

next and if you aren't worried about eye safety that a "Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-

Shot Range Model Air Rifle" finds it's way under your tree. You never know when they'll spot grizzly bears

near Pulaski's Hardware store......

One of those people....

2010-12-19T18:19:00.000-06:00

It happened on Thursday afternoon. We have had bad weather here in Nashville for the past several weeks and this last week it's been bitter cold with snow and ice. The realization struck me in the oddest fashion, it was the cows. They were staring at me. Six of them to be exact, all grazing on the side of a hill, fence separating us by less than 2 feet and I could see in their gaze that I had "become one of those people".

It all started about 4 years ago. I was as they say, sick and tired and being sick and tired. I got up one day and looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the man that looked back at me. I weighed a whopping 250 lbs and couldn't walk to my car without wheezing. This coming from a man whose family drops dead of heart attacks at about the age I was currently. So, I decided that I was going to run my way into health. I bought a pair of shoes and off I went. I used the Michael White method of running. Run as far as you can, puke, repeat. I wouldn't recommend that method but that's just how I did it. Funny thing it got easier and I ran farther each week. At some point I noticed my belly and face started getting thinner and I didn't sound like Darth Vader after walking up the stairs. I've long held the theory that runners start out with the purpose of just staying in shape, but slowly all the jarring that accompanies running causes small hemorrhages in the brain which in turn makes a runner think, "Wow I think I'd like to run 26.2 miles." Alas I was no different. I did start with a half-marathon though, I ran it in 2:47. Then off to the Marine Corps Marathon for my first. It was glorious. I cannot explain nor will I try on why it was glorious but trust me I consider one of my greatest accomplishments in my life. I won't bore you anymore with the grand details but I've run a total of 5 marathons now, along with a handful of half-marathons, several 10K's and when I want to be totally embarrassed by other men my age I've done a dozen or so 5k's. What makes me on of "those people" though is my desire, no my obsessive need to run. I use to be able to run on a treadmill but now I call it the dreadmill and if at all possible I run outside. If at all possible means I actually still have both my legs and a heartbeat.

Which brings us back to the present. Thursday was bitter cold in Nashville, not as cold as Tuesday when I ran just 3 miles. It was a balmy 9 degrees that day. I ran at Centennial Park and the ducks were walking on the pond as it had frozen over. I passed just one other runner and other than that it was me and the ducks. I stopped running when my teeth starting hurting from the cold air I was breathing in that day. Thursday was different. It was raining, cold (around 31 degrees) and I went for a six miler. The wind was around 10-15 miles an hour and I ran the trail by the river. The trail goes right by a pasture and the cows had moved to the backside of a hill to move out of the wind and graze to stay as warm as possible. As I passed them it was then I realized they were staring at me and I was "one of those people". You know, one of those runners when you are passing in your car you look at your passenger and say, "look at that fool he's out running in 9 degree weather is he crazy?" or you tell your co-workers "Do you know what I saw today?" "Some idiot was out running this morning when it was nine degrees!"

I would always nod my head when someone said that, thinking what an idiot, who does things like that? I bet if they passed cows they would stare at them like they were crazy. Funny it's the same look Sarah gives me when I walk out the door for a run. It's the same look the cows gave me last week.

Footnote: I am proud to say that since 2007 I have run approximately 3,000 miles. That's over 6 million footsteps, approximately 15 pairs of running shoes and 2 lost toenails.

I'll be home for Christmas....

2010-12-10T20:30:00.002-06:00

I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams

Listen to the words of this song next time you hear it and bear in mind that it was written for the servicemen and women serving in World War II. A song to encourage and remind them that coming home was just around the corner maybe by Christmas….

His name was Ford McKenzie. He was 18 when he joined the army and left that backwoods town in south Mississippi. His father saw him off to the bus stop and in an encouraging but humorous send off he gave his son a homemade “sling shot” to help protect him against the German army. He was no soft city boy going off to war, he volunteered for a new unit, they called them paratroopers promising they would jump out of airplanes behind enemy lines. They eventually became known as the 82^nd Airborne. Their training was tough. Their original camp was near Currahee, a mountainous area in

Georgia

that had an especially challenging three mile run up a mountain that now is encompassed in the Appalachian forests. He saw combat almost his entire time in the Army. He jumped out of a plane on D-day in Normandy, behind enemy lines like they promised winning two bronze medals, a silver star, was wounded twice and still served out the entire war. With your permission I'll jump ahead and paint you a scene.

It’s December 25^th, 1944. Ford is in Bastogne, France. The newspapers back home have started calling his unit the Battered Bastards of Bastogne because it's 83,000 of us against 250,000 of them. The Germans are desperate because they know if they lose this one it’s over for them, yet your Commanding officer has refused to give up. His reply when asked to surrender by a German delegation is “Nuts!” Its bone rattling cold, the kind of cold that makes you think your teeth will shatter into a million pieces if you don’t get warm and they don’t stop chattering. You haven’t had a hot meal in week’s maybe even months when you have anything to eat at all. Your boots and uniforms have holes in them and the snow seeps into those holes like the sand of a beach seeps into your shoes. As a bonus you can’t build a fire to stay warm or crawl out of your foxhole as you are more than likely to be shot by an enemy sniper. You have run out of most supplies and have no idea when new supplies are coming. What you do have is Ford McKenzie in your unit. On Christmas morning, Ford and a buddy crawled out of their fox hole, stealing silently through the woods with his sling shot. That’s right his sling shot, carried for 4 years, all the way from Mississippi to France. They eventually catch up with a chicken spotted earlier that morning which inexplicably had somehow escaped the local farmer’s pot. Ford is as good with his sling shot as he is with his rifle and soon the bird is in hand. Now imagine what a feast the two of you could have with this bird. Incredible! It would probably last you and your one buddy for several meals, but that is not how it works for these soldiers, these band of brothers. The chicken is shared. A small fire is risked in a foxhole. A squad of men gathered in rag tag gear laughing, sharing a cigarette amoung them, a piece of chicken and the memories of past Christmas’ with their loved ones. I’d like to imagine that someone may have even quietly murmured a song:

I wonder now when you hear that song again if you’ll listen to the words more closely trying to imagine sitting in a foxhole with 6 or 7 buddies, huddled for warmth, claiming this is the best meal they’ve ever had, missing their families far away and yet still celebrating the peace of Christmas. I hope you do. Then I hope you’ll put aside all the glitz, glitter and clutter; gather your family, your friends, or your loved ones and share a simple meal celebrating the peace of Christmas. It might just end up being the best meal you’ve ever had…..

Footnote:

Ford McKenzie made it back home eventually living in Franklin Parrish, Louisiana the rest of his life. I’ve never met a better man. He always treated me like a hero because I served a relatively peaceful stint in the Marine Corps. He passed several years ago living to be 79. He never spoke of the war except once. Ford can be seen on film at the D-day Museum in New Orleans telling this story, sharing a brief moment of a hero’s journey. I hope someday you’ll visit this great tribute to our servicemen and women.

We honor you.....

2010-11-10T18:42:00.000-06:00

Dear Marine, Solider, Airman and Sailor,

I would like to take this moment to thank you. I know it's not much and I realize that many of you will never

see this post but I'd like to thank you anyway. Active duty, reservist, retired or veteran I'm speaking to you.

Once every year America, the country that you serve, chooses to remember you and that day is tomorrow. I

could tell you that I think about you and appreciate you everyday, but the truth is I like most people take you

for granted. I do pause today, at this moment to tell you how much I appreciate you and what you do for our

country. I would call it a job but having served in the Marines calling it a job is a disservice to you. Please

allow me to express my gratitude to you.

I appreciate that you leave your families behind sometimes for years without seeing them. I can only imagine

what it must be like to hear that you are a father knowing that your child may take their first step before you

ever hold them. I can appreciate what it's like to come back from deployment and find that your girlfriend or

boyfriend has moved on to someone else. I know what it's like to be so lonely for home that you hide so your

buddies don't see your tears. I can appreciate that mail call is the highlight of your day and a letter from

home will be read so much that eventually it falls apart from being folded and unfolded to be read and shared

with your buddies. I know what it's like to be on edge for weeks at a time, to be hungry, tired, dirty and that

a toilet is considered a luxury. I know what it's like to not see anything and I mean anything but ocean for

weeks at a time and there is no bar, buffet or shuffleboard games on the ship on which you serve.

There are things though that I have no idea how to appreciate about you. I don't know how to mourn the loss

of one of my buddies. I cannot imagine coming back without my arm or my leg having to learn how to button

my shirt or walk again. I cannot imagine how your wife, mother, father, sisters, brothers and friends mourn

when you give the ultimate sacrifice for your country. How when your flag is folded and handed to your

family somehow they are suppose to understand that you not only gave your life for you country but you did it

for your buddies that count on you everyday.

I could go on and list a thousand reasons why I am writing this letter to you today. I look back over this letter

and realize that no matter what I say it is inadequate to express how I, no how we feel about you and your

service to our country. We are honored, blessed and humbled by you and what you do everyday so that

we may work, live and play mostly without a second thought to our safety and freedom. God bless you

and your family. We officially honor you tomorrow but you deserve more than our gratitude.

Lest we forget,

A forever grateful American