Monday, May 30, 2011
Memorial Day 2011
I realize I am quite in the middle of telling you all about my trip back to the States, but since this has been a month of interruptions, there's another very important one I must make on this particular day.
In my very first "real job" out of college, I worked for a veterans service organization called AMVETS (American Veterans). As far as first jobs go, I landed a pretty great one. I was working as a writer, editor and journalist for their national headquarters' publications. One of my tasks as peon copywriter was to write a message and a speech for each patriotic holiday that would be sent out by our National Commander, along with a press release to our media outlets. I started the job in August, so my first holiday to cover was September 11th, 2004. I took great care in preparing that speech, as it was one of my first big writing assignments on the job. I took similar care with Veterans Day. Then Pearl Harbor Day. By the time Memorial Day rolled around in May, to be honest, it was just another speech... just another press release... just another day off... and in many ways, just another day.
As I read the message and speech that I wrote for Memorial Day 2005, it's apparent to me now that I had absolutely no understanding of what this day really means. I mean, all of the information is correct. The holiday began after the Civil War and was originally called Decoration Day because townspeople would remember their fallen by decorating each grave site with a flag, as is done at military cemeteries across the world (even here in Guam). Memorial Day is, in fact, our nation's oldest holiday. And yes, across our history over a million people have given their lives in service to our country.
But reading this message and this speech now, I can tell that my 22 year-old mind never conceived that one of those million would be someone in our close circle. No question, this past year has been the one in which my understanding of life in the military has changed very much. Sure, there has always been danger, always been risk. But for the first time, I have had to accept that not everyone comes home. And for those who do come home, they may not come home the same... and a sacrifice to our country may still be theirs to make. These are awful truths. So awful that I wish I could go back to Memorial Day 2005 when I only knew these truths on paper but did not feel them in my heart or know them to exist at a friend's dinner table.
There is one thing from the speech I wrote that is worth repeating. And it's the one part I did not write. A quote by Franklin Delano Roosevelt, someone who had to understand the gravity of sending men to war.
"Those who have long enjoyed such privileges as we enjoy forget in time that men have died to win them."
They forget. We forget. That people died so this great life of freedom and privilege might be ours. These men and women all had dreams left to fulfill in this life, but they put them aside to protect the freedoms of people they'd never meet. People like you and me.
So this weekend, my heart is with the friends and families who have unfairly yet gracefully borne the greatest burden of war. Our love, gratitude, and prayers are with you as you remember your hero. We will never forget them or the selfless sacrifice they made so that freedom might remain ours a little bit longer. And so it appears we must learn the hardest way that freedom isn't free. I just never before really understood how tremendous the cost...
In memory and honor of Brendan Looney, Adam Smith, & Clay Hunt. We will never forget you.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Remember When
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One thing I learned about MomMom this weekend is what a difficult childhood she had. When she was eight years old, her father suffered a series of strokes that left him bedridden for the next nine years. He died when she was 17. Her adolescence had been spent as a caregiver, a skill she gracefully and flawlessly wove into her roles as wife of one and mother of six.
The other thing I learned was how much MomMom loved the water. Apparently during WWII she became the first female lifeguard on the Jersey Shore (that's the actual Jersey Shore, ahem). The night before the service at the family dinner, we did a memory ceremony in honor of MomMom.
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There were similar stories told by other children and grandchildren about memories of the beach. These sweet memories, though, were somehow all different. The youngest, little Kevin, talked about
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Others told stories about what a good cook MomMom was. Whether it was bowtie pasta, grilled cheese sandwiches, liverwurst sandwiches, German stolen cake & lebkuchen at Christmas, or Thanksgiving turkey, MomMom made some incredible and memorable meals. Even better than the flavor of her food was the pleasure of her company as she'd sit and talk with her grandkids one on one, making each of them feel somehow like the most special. MomMom was also an exceptional gardener, and images of roses told the story of how she grew perfect roses on the sunny side of every home they ever lived in. In many ways, she was the rose.
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When asked about their favorite memory of MomMom, at least half a dozen people of all ages went with their first instinct and molded their clay into a heart. For some, it represented how big MomMom's heart was. She was a shining example of selfless love and service for all of them, comforting them when they fell off bikes and got hurt, and always putting others before themselves. Susan's story was of a sweet moment when they were out to dinner and she realized MomMom and PopPop were holding hands together under the table. For others, the heart also represented that their own heart is now broken for having lost someone so dear. And one of my favorite heart stories was by John Howard, who said his heart figure was made of two colors. One color represented him and one represented MomMom, and even though she is no longer with us, she will be forever in our hearts.
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Friday, May 27, 2011
Traveling Through the Unexpected
One thing I haven't shared over these past few travel posts is that while I was making my way back to the States to celebrate the life of my grandfather, Nick was simultaneously making arrangements to get to the States to say goodbye to his grandmother. He had planned to spend a week in New Jersey with his family this very week I am posting this (which is strange considering we now know all that has happened since). Unfortunately, the night before I left for Florida, we got the difficult call that his grandmother, MomMom, probably would not make it through the next few days. Nick said goodbye to her on the phone, then changed his flight to leave Guam as soon as possible with the hope of getting to see her. Sadly, he didn't make it there in time, as she had passed away early that morning while he was on the long flight from Tokyo to Newark. Part of me was crushed for him for not making it there in time. But part of me thinks it's better that we keep the memories of our grandparents pure. I think that's probably what MomMom would have wanted too.
The way things work out on these trips back to the States sometimes astounds me. When I left San Francisco, I had to book a round trip flight in order to use miles. Not knowing at that point what my return would look like, I booked my return trip to San Diego figuring I'd go through there at some point (or would cry the whole trip back to Guam). When MomMom's service was decided for Saturday, I started trying to figure out if I could make it to New Jersey reasonably with such short notice. All flight options were unbelievably expensive. Miles were out because that requires a round trip. The airlines weren't working with me at all on changing my ticket. Through a sheer stroke of luck it turned out that the return flight I'd booked to San Diego connected in Washington DC's Dulles airport. This was only about a 4-hour drive to New Jersey from here. Thinking of the bonus visits I could have with my cousins and several close friends in the area, plus the fact that I wouldn't have to forfeit the ticket or buy a new one, I decided that leg of the trip would be the perfect one to get me there in time and increase the amount of relationship territory I could cover this visit.
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Looking back at these pictures, I still think it's so amazing how many favorite amazing people we got to see in such a short time. Of course I wish we had more time to see more friends in the area, but with the Thursday morning timing of our visit, we had to see who we could see and hit the road. It was also nice to have some time to catch up with Nick after my family's visit and before his.
From here we started the journey to yet another familiar place, New Jersey, but this time for unfamiliar circumstances. The good news was Nick's entire family would be there to greet us and to make the visit so special. Turns out dealing with the unexpected is always better when you're surrounded by people you love. I am so lucky to have been surrounded every step of the way.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Celebrating in Pensacola
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As I'm sitting on yet another plane, part of me can't believe my time in Pensacola has already come and gone. Just a week ago, it was Wednesday in Guam, and I had no idea at that point if I would be healthy enough to travel or what flights would work out to get me to my final destination in time for the celebration. Looking back a week later, I am grateful to say the travel was easy (as easy as 19 hours of flying can be), I am feeling almost 100% like myself again (which means I can finally start working out soon!), and most of all, I am 1000% grateful that I was able to be there this weekend with my family, not just to relive old memories, but also because we made so many new ones.
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Our angel |
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We spent Sunday sleeping in then sipping coffee and sharing stories about Shoopa with one another on the upstairs porch overlooking breathtaking Pensacola Beach. Part of it was getting ready for the service, since both Mom and I had decided to speak. But mostly, it was spontaneous reflections about the memories that stood out to us most in our respective lifetimes of knowing Bea and Shoopa. There were so many good ones.
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Half mast at the dock at Shoopa's house |
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After the service, our entire family headed to lunch at our favorite spot, the Fish House. My dad's sister Leslie drove from up Gainesville to see us, another bonus visit. We spent part of the afternoon diving through boxes of old family photos. I have to say, this was my favorite part of our week together aside from the service. My grandmother had documented, in photos, our entire lives. She had saved cards we'd written her. She had put together a whole photo album of Nick and my wedding that I found. It was amazing to look back over photos from the last 28 years of my life, including my birth announcement and baby pictures. So grateful to have these souvenirs, not just from the trip, but from a lifetime (so far) of memories.
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After being picked up in San Francisco by my sister, picked up in Pensacola by my parents, I headed off to Washington, D.C., to be picked up by my husband. And so, this crazy but peaceful journey of unexpected, meaningful visits continues…
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Crossing the Bar
Today I had the honor and privilege of speaking at my grandfather's memorial service in Pensacola, Florida. He passed away peacefully last Tuesday at 81 years old after living an unbelievably rich and meaningful life. There were some 200+ people who showed up for the service today. The audience encompassed everyone from students who were in the band he directed at Pensacola High School 50 years ago, to students of the school he started in the early 70s, to teachers that taught with him, to students who graduated from his school in the last decade and even the last week. I share with you the remarks I made about him, but it doesn't come close to encompassing all of the touching stories everyone shared with us after the service about how my grandfather, William J. Holston, who we call Shoopa, greatly impacted their lives. I am humbled after learning what an amazing legacy he leaves, and I realize even more how blessed I am to be his granddaughter.
Remarks at the Memorial Service of William Joseph Holston, May 16, 2011:
Thank you all for coming this morning to celebrate the life of our grandfather. It's hard to know where to begin in telling you about this amazing man who had so many layers, personas, and philosophies. So I will start with the words I wrote about him when I was 17. These words are from my high school journal, written in July 2000, nearly eleven years ago.
"Undoubtedly prominent in my fond memories of what I call my childhood home lies my grandfather - the single wisest man I've ever known in these 17 years. I chose tonight to sit with him and converse until 11:30p over escaping upstairs to the "Teenage Den." I love my grandfather. I love his wit and satire of the absurd things that bother him like Jim Carrey, Howard Stern, and federal taxes. I love his dedication to his wife, his family, his students, and his projects. But mostly, I love his wisdom. Tonight he gave me timeless advice about how to get things done. "There are only two things you need to do in life to be successful," he told me. "Number one: Learn the rules (and follow them). Number two: Work hard."
Great advice. Shoopa was always giving us great advice and no question he worked hard his entire life. But the ironic thing, of course, is that Shoopa was never really one for following the rules. As grandkids, I remember joking about how he wouldn't wear his seatbelt because he felt it was one more way the government was trying to control him. And when the public school system no longer met his standards, he did what many people would only talk about doing. He started a school from the ground up and ran it the way he thought a school should be run, and the number of lives impacted through the Pensacola School of Liberal Arts only continues to grow decades later. His role as an educator often overlapped with his role as a grandfather, and us grandkids would often get quizzed at the dinner table. Whether it was math problems, English questions, or even philosophy, we always had to be on our toes. And to those who got an A, there were handsome prizes of dollar bills and sometimes even fives that he rewarded to those who knew the answers.
Long before Shoopa was ever involved in teaching, he was a member of the U.S. Navy. One story I remember him telling me about his time on the USS Midway, was how he remembered waving goodbye to Bea who stood on the pier as the aircraft carrier pulled out to sea in the late 1940s. Loaded with nuclear weapons, he said he was certain they were going off to start World War III. He still had a sadness in his eyes as he told me he thought he would never see our grandmother Bea or America's shores again. Luckily after 18 months, his ship returned. As a Navy wife myself, I can't imagine being apart for that long. But through writing letters, he and Bea withstood the obstacles of time, distance, and war and started a family together shortly after that.
Personally, one of Shoopa's greatest gifts to me was a love of sailing. Our family grew up taking day trips accompanied by the sun and the wind on the majestic Valkyrie and we spent summers working with him on the endless battle to keep the boats up and running. I thought I had the coolest grandparents in the world because they had a working replica of a Viking Ship, presumed to be the only one of its kind in all of North America. My grandparents put us through sailing school and we learned to sail on our own. In recent years, I followed in my grandfather's footsteps and became a sailboat owner myself, and I loved calling and sharing stories of sailing and broken boats and tales of the sea with the man I often heard called Captain.
Among his other personas, Shoopa had a tendency to be mistaken as Santa Clause by small children. I remember one time all of us grandkids were out to breakfast with him and a little boy came up to our table and asked Shoopa for a computer set for Christmas. Not missing a beat, Shoopa played right along, "You be a good boy and I'll bring you that computer set at Christmas," he said, winking at the child's poor mother. We all had to laugh after that one. Our very own Santa Clause.
Shoopa's affinity for music also permeates my memories of him and time spent at his home. Family dinners would often end with music blasting, people --- especially Shoopa --- singing from the tops of their lungs. Whether it was Don McLean or big band music or Abba didn't matter. There would be various instruments spontaneously picked up and played. And above all the raucous, you could often hear Shoopa's most impressive belly laugh rolling over all of it. There was so much joy in the music in their home. Sometimes he'd be talking to one of us grandkids and would just break out into song. Beryl Ives Little White Duck or Would you like to swing on a star? Carry moonbeams home in a jar. My favorite song he made a point of teaching me was from the WWII era.
Between the music and the poetry, I think all of us could claim to be impressed by his library of memory for lyrics and sonnets and melodies.
All this and yet, more than anything, Shoopa loved his family. One of my favorite all-time memories of Shoopa is from just a few years ago. I was back in Pensacola for Christmas break during college. One crisp, sunny December afternoon I came out onto the dock behind their house about 4:30p.m. as the sun was setting and saw Shoopa rowing Bea back toward land in a brand new dinghy. As they came to shore, I realized they were halfway through a bottle of Champagne, and Bea was holding a beautiful long-stem red rose. Before they had embarked on their journey, my hopelessly romantic grandfather had gone to the end of the dock and thrown the rose into the bayou. As he rowed Bea out into the bayou, he scooped the floating rose up out of the water and surprised her with the flower to hold for the trip. Once back on land, as he helped her out of the boat, he gave her a big kiss with a proud smile that I was so lucky to catch a glimpse of. Christmas on the Bayou, that's what he called it. I never saw my grandmother, who was well into her 70s, beam with such joy as on that day.
The last few years have certainly
introduced their trials as Shoopa had to say goodbye to his lifelong love several years sooner than any of us were ready. The day of Bea's memorial service, I wrote in my journal Shoopa's words that he said after it was all over: "We have to move all of this into the world of memories now." Of course, Shoopa knew, as we do now, that that's an easy thing to say and a difficult thing to do. For many of us, it will be difficult--- even painful--- to walk this earth knowing this great visionary William J. Holston no longer does. His Crossing the Bar, in some ways, signifies the end of an era, not just for our family, but for our whole community, really, where he was such a passionate advocate of education, always encouraging young people to follow their dreams, always ready to ask questions and learn more, or impart his timeless wisdom with a smile.
But focusing on this monumental loss, I know, is not what Shoopa would want. No. Today he would want us to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. To dream of hanging from a star and bringing moonbeams home in a jar. And so today, that's where my heart will be. And no matter what you called him, be it Mr. Holston, Bill, Shoopa, Captain, or Dad, know that his spirit lives on and is calling you to never stop learning; to follow your dreams; to listen to the sea when it speaks to you; to always have a song in your heart; to strive, to seek to find, and not to yield. We are forever grateful, forever blessed, and will forever miss you, Shoopa.
A favorite poem of Shoopa's that he taught his students:
Remarks at the Memorial Service of William Joseph Holston, May 16, 2011:
Thank you all for coming this morning to celebrate the life of our grandfather. It's hard to know where to begin in telling you about this amazing man who had so many layers, personas, and philosophies. So I will start with the words I wrote about him when I was 17. These words are from my high school journal, written in July 2000, nearly eleven years ago.
"Undoubtedly prominent in my fond memories of what I call my childhood home lies my grandfather - the single wisest man I've ever known in these 17 years. I chose tonight to sit with him and converse until 11:30p over escaping upstairs to the "Teenage Den." I love my grandfather. I love his wit and satire of the absurd things that bother him like Jim Carrey, Howard Stern, and federal taxes. I love his dedication to his wife, his family, his students, and his projects. But mostly, I love his wisdom. Tonight he gave me timeless advice about how to get things done. "There are only two things you need to do in life to be successful," he told me. "Number one: Learn the rules (and follow them). Number two: Work hard."
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Long before Shoopa was ever involved in teaching, he was a member of the U.S. Navy. One story I remember him telling me about his time on the USS Midway, was how he remembered waving goodbye to Bea who stood on the pier as the aircraft carrier pulled out to sea in the late 1940s. Loaded with nuclear weapons, he said he was certain they were going off to start World War III. He still had a sadness in his eyes as he told me he thought he would never see our grandmother Bea or America's shores again. Luckily after 18 months, his ship returned. As a Navy wife myself, I can't imagine being apart for that long. But through writing letters, he and Bea withstood the obstacles of time, distance, and war and started a family together shortly after that.
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Among his other personas, Shoopa had a tendency to be mistaken as Santa Clause by small children. I remember one time all of us grandkids were out to breakfast with him and a little boy came up to our table and asked Shoopa for a computer set for Christmas. Not missing a beat, Shoopa played right along, "You be a good boy and I'll bring you that computer set at Christmas," he said, winking at the child's poor mother. We all had to laugh after that one. Our very own Santa Clause.
Shoopa's affinity for music also permeates my memories of him and time spent at his home. Family dinners would often end with music blasting, people --- especially Shoopa --- singing from the tops of their lungs. Whether it was Don McLean or big band music or Abba didn't matter. There would be various instruments spontaneously picked up and played. And above all the raucous, you could often hear Shoopa's most impressive belly laugh rolling over all of it. There was so much joy in the music in their home. Sometimes he'd be talking to one of us grandkids and would just break out into song. Beryl Ives Little White Duck or Would you like to swing on a star? Carry moonbeams home in a jar. My favorite song he made a point of teaching me was from the WWII era.
You've got to accentuate the positive,
eliminate the negative
and have faith in the affirmative,
don't mess with Mr. In Between
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The last few years have certainly
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But focusing on this monumental loss, I know, is not what Shoopa would want. No. Today he would want us to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative. To dream of hanging from a star and bringing moonbeams home in a jar. And so today, that's where my heart will be. And no matter what you called him, be it Mr. Holston, Bill, Shoopa, Captain, or Dad, know that his spirit lives on and is calling you to never stop learning; to follow your dreams; to listen to the sea when it speaks to you; to always have a song in your heart; to strive, to seek to find, and not to yield. We are forever grateful, forever blessed, and will forever miss you, Shoopa.
A favorite poem of Shoopa's that he taught his students:
Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.
Tennyson
Saturday, May 14, 2011
In the Air Again
Returning from Australia, I was anticipating my next flight off Guam would take me to Manila in June for our service trip. The week after my horrible illness as I was recovering, I got the sad news that my grandfather passed away in Florida. He had been in hospice for several weeks with a steady decline, so the news was not completely unexpected. It was, however, difficult timing to think of rallying my weak body to make the grueling trip back for the service. I found out Wednesday morning, when I was finally able to leave the house for a staff meeting, but still had trouble standing for long periods of time and got winded easily from even short conversations with people. At that point, I was mentally and emotionally preparing myself to not be able to go. I just didn't know if I could physically get there.
The human body is an amazing thing. With the goal of leaving on a military flight out on Friday, I forced myself to consume large protein shakes, big meals, and lots of Gatorade. My physical state returned well from this routine, but mentally I was still in a fog. I was dreading the 2-hour mission trip meeting I had to lead at church Wednesday night. I just didn't have the energy for it. Somehow, though, about halfway through the meeting as we were brainstorming ideas and singing songs (not your typical boring work meeting!), I snapped out of it. Suddenly I could think clearly again, my mind finally awake after two solid weeks of being sick and out of it.
Thursday morning I awoke after a good night sleep feeling amazing. I spent the morning tying up loose ends and then Nick called to see if I was up for a round of golf. At this point, we were anticipating not seeing each other for two and a half weeks or more, and given I was a slightly warmed skeleton the previous two weeks, it felt like we hadn't actually hung out in forever. So I rallied, chugged a protein shake and decided I'd take it easy this round and just enjoy being out there. After five minutes of warm up, I was winded like you would be in your cardio warm up at the gym. It was kind of ridiculous, but I was still able to play. Nice easy swings. No pressure to do well. I can't believe it, but I had my best round of golf EVER that day, even after not playing for three weeks! I shot a 95, and FINALLY broke 100. I even had a chip-in birdie on a par 5 (for those non golf enthusiasts, this is really hard to do and at my playing level requires an enormous amount of luck!). Just like at the meeting, about halfway through the round of golf, I felt myself physically snap out of it. I felt much stronger and almost completely like myself. It was a joyous feeling, especially anticipating the morning flight out.
As Space-A goes, the morning flight out turned into the afternoon flight out. (Of course, part of the fun of Space-A is the war stories you get to tell afterwards... I am lucky to not have any this time!). I was so grateful to get on the first flight I tried. In fact, because there was a death in the family, I was eligible to get bumped up to the priority travel category. Ironically, I had to call the Red Cross in San Diego and speak to a Red Cross caseworker who was one of my former coworkers in order to make this happen. After all those years of plugging the Red Cross's services to the military, I found myself needing the very program I had written so many press releases about. I actually feel like making a donation.
After a non-eventful 7-hour flight from Guam to Hawaii, I arrived there at 4 a.m. local time. An hour later, my friend Melissa who lives in Honolulu was online, up early feeding her baby, and offered to bring me breakfast. At this point, I was starving and so grateful not to have to choke down another granola bar! Melissa is my friend from a Bible study in Annapolis and she helped me with Space-A in January when I was there. She showed up at the terminal with the best Egg McMuffin I have ever eaten, and she and her now 10 month-old hung out with me for the two long sleepy hours before I boarded the flight. She was definitely my Space-A angel!
Five hours later, I found myself landing at Travis AFB in San Francisco. I collected my bags and hopped on a shuttle to get off base, where my sister was waiting to pick me up! We immediately headed to Panera Bread (!) for dinner and wifi, where I booked a flight out to Florida for that night. After a quick turnaround at their flat in San Francisco, Courtney, Ben and I headed to the airport. Another red eye flight and here I find myself in Washington, D.C., about to board another flight to head to my final destination, Pensacola.
It has been about 48 hours since I last laid my head down in a bed. But luckily I am a Space-A champ and brought a ground pad and sleeping bag with me and was able to lay out and sleep on the floor of the military flights. After so many long hauls, this next hour and a half flight to Florida is going to feel like a breeze. And on the other side await my parents, cousins, aunt, friends, and the celebration of the life of a most amazing man. A long journey, indeed, but worth the effort to have this time together.
The human body is an amazing thing. With the goal of leaving on a military flight out on Friday, I forced myself to consume large protein shakes, big meals, and lots of Gatorade. My physical state returned well from this routine, but mentally I was still in a fog. I was dreading the 2-hour mission trip meeting I had to lead at church Wednesday night. I just didn't have the energy for it. Somehow, though, about halfway through the meeting as we were brainstorming ideas and singing songs (not your typical boring work meeting!), I snapped out of it. Suddenly I could think clearly again, my mind finally awake after two solid weeks of being sick and out of it.
Thursday morning I awoke after a good night sleep feeling amazing. I spent the morning tying up loose ends and then Nick called to see if I was up for a round of golf. At this point, we were anticipating not seeing each other for two and a half weeks or more, and given I was a slightly warmed skeleton the previous two weeks, it felt like we hadn't actually hung out in forever. So I rallied, chugged a protein shake and decided I'd take it easy this round and just enjoy being out there. After five minutes of warm up, I was winded like you would be in your cardio warm up at the gym. It was kind of ridiculous, but I was still able to play. Nice easy swings. No pressure to do well. I can't believe it, but I had my best round of golf EVER that day, even after not playing for three weeks! I shot a 95, and FINALLY broke 100. I even had a chip-in birdie on a par 5 (for those non golf enthusiasts, this is really hard to do and at my playing level requires an enormous amount of luck!). Just like at the meeting, about halfway through the round of golf, I felt myself physically snap out of it. I felt much stronger and almost completely like myself. It was a joyous feeling, especially anticipating the morning flight out.
As Space-A goes, the morning flight out turned into the afternoon flight out. (Of course, part of the fun of Space-A is the war stories you get to tell afterwards... I am lucky to not have any this time!). I was so grateful to get on the first flight I tried. In fact, because there was a death in the family, I was eligible to get bumped up to the priority travel category. Ironically, I had to call the Red Cross in San Diego and speak to a Red Cross caseworker who was one of my former coworkers in order to make this happen. After all those years of plugging the Red Cross's services to the military, I found myself needing the very program I had written so many press releases about. I actually feel like making a donation.
After a non-eventful 7-hour flight from Guam to Hawaii, I arrived there at 4 a.m. local time. An hour later, my friend Melissa who lives in Honolulu was online, up early feeding her baby, and offered to bring me breakfast. At this point, I was starving and so grateful not to have to choke down another granola bar! Melissa is my friend from a Bible study in Annapolis and she helped me with Space-A in January when I was there. She showed up at the terminal with the best Egg McMuffin I have ever eaten, and she and her now 10 month-old hung out with me for the two long sleepy hours before I boarded the flight. She was definitely my Space-A angel!
Five hours later, I found myself landing at Travis AFB in San Francisco. I collected my bags and hopped on a shuttle to get off base, where my sister was waiting to pick me up! We immediately headed to Panera Bread (!) for dinner and wifi, where I booked a flight out to Florida for that night. After a quick turnaround at their flat in San Francisco, Courtney, Ben and I headed to the airport. Another red eye flight and here I find myself in Washington, D.C., about to board another flight to head to my final destination, Pensacola.
It has been about 48 hours since I last laid my head down in a bed. But luckily I am a Space-A champ and brought a ground pad and sleeping bag with me and was able to lay out and sleep on the floor of the military flights. After so many long hauls, this next hour and a half flight to Florida is going to feel like a breeze. And on the other side await my parents, cousins, aunt, friends, and the celebration of the life of a most amazing man. A long journey, indeed, but worth the effort to have this time together.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Australia By Land
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The trails were a lot of fun. I didn't exactly knew what I was doing, but I faked it and eventually figured it out. We rode over some pretty bumpy trails, through muddy streams and around some tight turns (trees!). And at the end of it all we were absolutely caked with dust. I had a great time and was extra thankful for that little magic called late check-out, so we could get a shower before our flight. We grabbed a last meal in Cairns and headed to our next destination, Sydney!
We got in late and my friend Joann picked us up, so we didn't get to really see anything until the next morning. My friend Joann, who I met working at my cousin's catering company in Washington, D.C., nine summers ago, lives in an amazing part of town called Manly. It's north of Sydney Harbor and is its own little peninsula, with a bay on one side and an impressive beach on the other. There was a huge surfing atmosphere and we couldn't help but feel like we were back in La Jolla or Coronado again. We took the Manly Ferry across Sydney Harbor and enjoyed the breathtaking scenery along the way
Reminds me so much of Pt. Loma!
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We turned the corner into the Harbor and it was apparent we were definitely in Sydney!
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In front of Sydney Bridge
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And the oh so famous opera house
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Sculpture at the Botanic Gardens
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Chai Tea lattes after lunch when it started to rain
(seasoned travelers that we are, we brought no umbrella... or rain coats. whoops.)
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We'll have to stay here next time we come!
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We took a stroll through the Chinese Gardens
We found the gardens to be, um, very
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When I last saw Joann about four years ago, she was living in Washington DC still working at the catering company. Since then she packed up and moved back to Sydney, her hometown, and she also has a few good men in her life I was excited to meet. One is her husband Tim and the other is their adorable baby Noah. He has the cutest smile and is super cuddly and fun. And he looks just like his momma. We had a blast getting to know this little guy. Joann and Tim spent their weekend hanging out with us. It was SO awesome to have locals showing us around. Our first meal out together was a first for me... Vietnamese food. Quite delish!
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Noodle soup is just good everywhere
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Next they drove us over to Bondi Beach, one of the most famous surfing and touristing beaches in the area. It was a beautiful afternoon and the five of us went for a stroll. Very picturesque! And lots of surfers.
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The walking path went up and around this cliff to more breathtaking views
Introducing Joann! I can't believe I finally got to visit you in Australia!
Joann, Tim & Noah. Tim grew up in the UK and longed to live near the sea :)
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Ocean water lap pool filled by surf
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Love these guys!
Love this guy :)
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Nick's trip to Australia would not be complete without a little surfing, and luckily Tim was a surfer too. So our last morning there, Nick borrowed a board and a wetsuit and the guys headed out to Freshwater Beach. I did the proper surfer wife thing and laid on a towel in the sun while the boys paddled out through the big waves to catch a few. Nick was thrilled to not have to worry about getting crushed on a reef break.
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Australia is really good at beaches
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After a bit I spotted Nick and Tim heading my way
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Big smiles from Nick
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