Graf # 13 reaction to cause essay "Falling in Love!"

Clearly this is a very insecure young lady. Love is not always those three things, it can be so much more. The problem is that people always seem to lead with their very first knee jerk emotions instead of letting something grow slowly. Because we as humans desire that touch or emotion, we sometimes pick up or try to pick up the first thing that happens to be near at the time. Love isn't just a physical thing, it's multi-faceted. I would say never had a lasting relationship because everything is self-centered around her. Love is a two way street, a give and take if you will. I love my husband, but there are times that he does stupid things that irk the snot out of me and I find myself trying to look at it from his perspective. Not an easy task. Hope she has found lasting love and not just a relationship to say you have someone.‏

 

 

Cause Essay Complete

"There is a real sense of purpose out here, I mean this may sound strange, feels a little weird writing it down but when those Helo’s take off, or when an F-16 screams through the runway I am filled with a sense of honor… I feel justified in what we do out here. When they take-off from home guard it’s not the same, you know the birds are going out to get some quals done and they will be back in an hour or so… I saw a little girl the other week playing in a dingy dirt hole filled with water the other day, out there with her friends, she couldn’t have been a day older then Livi, running around naked playing in this water hole I would not let a dog drink from, and they all were having the time of there life… I realized then that we are not out here just because its our job, not just for America but its for them as well…I mean don’t get me wrong some of those same people out there don’t want us here; mortar and rocket attacks are proof of that. Like I told Beck I am sure I brush my teeth a few 100 yards from someone who is probably launching those attacks on us. However after those pilots go out and do what they do I feel great, what they do, I helped with I was a part of that. I love my family, I would love to be with them all, and as I think about that little girl I don’t want this to happen there so if I have to come out here, away from my family to help out, to make sure it doesn’t happen there to… then yes I will go, I will help anyway I can….”  

  The above is an excerpt from an email our son sent us during his first deployment to Balad, Iraq in Oct 2005. The part of the email you don't see is the heart felt cry of a momma begging her son to reconsider a second tour. How did my son, my only son, end up in the middle of a war zone? I remember thinking doesn't he realize he has a wife and daughter here in the States that love him? Shouldn't his sense of duty be to them first? 

   I felt it was mostly my fault he was even in the Navy to begin with. After he graduated high school in June 1999, he prepared to enter college in September. He enrolled at EMCC and wanted to learn computer aid drafting. We agreed that he needed to be in school, however, we did not agree that he needed to live on campus. I knew my son did not like studying, and I worried about him applying himself. The agreement was made for one semester away from home, which was about 20 miles. Along about the middle of December, he came home from college. He hadn't taken his finals, he admitted he partied his entire semester away and had been asked to leave. What are your intentions was the question of the hour. I remember he really just wanted to stay put at home and figure something out. I also remember that was not the answer I was looking for. He did say first, maybe I will go into the service. Without a moments notice I said, "Great, I've always liked the uniforms the Navy has and I have that picture from your first Christmas in the little sailor suit!" At the time I was working with a lady who's husband was a recruiter for the Navy and my son asked me to get in touch with him to "set something up". He was sworn in on December 31 1999, he was nicknamed the Millennium Man, as he was the last person from the State of Maine to be inducted into the service in that Millennium. My boy, it would seem, was going to become a man in a matter of weeks. His departure date for basic training was February 4 2000.

   The day arrived, February 4 2000, it was that kind of weather that was cold, dreary, and uncomfortable. To this day, the weather couldn't have been any more perfect for the mood set in our home as our son prepared himself to say good-bye. You see, we were more than mother and son, we were a team, we had grown up together in a lot of aspects. Not to say that he raised me, he respects me far too much for any behavior like that, but through him I was able to raise myself to a level of maturity while raising him. My son has always been very humorous, I believe he comes by it naturally. However, that day, neither of us were able to cut through the thick atmosphere in our home. We knew, for the first time ever, were about to be separated by a lot more than 20 miles and for an indefinite amount of time. He was about to fly on a plane for the first time, I had never been on a plane, so I couldn't tell him not to be scared. He was about to go to a place where people were going to get in his face and scream at him. I didn't want anyone yelling at my son. I didn't share my fears because they may not have been his fears. I found out years later, they indeed were his fears but he didn't want to worry me if I hadn't thought about it. The little blue Toyota Echo, pulled into our driveway. A lump surfaced in my throat and my eyes were welling up and burning with tears. "Well, this is it Momma." There was a knock on our front door that radiated through out the whole home. It was a three part knock. BAM BAM BAM.  It was as if this man was knocking with a sledge hammer, or at least that's how my heart perceived it. My son opened the door, and a very tall, sharped dressed United States Navy Recruiter stepped inside. "These are for you ma'am", as he passed me two ceramic coffee mugs and a bumper stick that said Fly Navy. Seriously, the USN gets my son and I get two mugs and a bumper sticker? I don't even like bumper stickers! He looked at my son and said, "Ready?" In my head I shouted "THAT'S IT?" Is there no time for coffee, small talk, or questions?" With a very quick huggle and a kiss on top of my head, my son was one step behind him as they both walked out the door. I stood there, awestruck, in the doorway and watched these two 6'3" men squeeze into this tiny compact car. I place my hand on the cold glass of the storm door, my son rolled down his window and said, "Go in my room, and push play on my stereo, I love you Momma," he blew me a kiss and was gone. The coffee cups were not enough to hold the tears that were streaming down my face as Boyz 2 Men crooned, "A Song for Mama" followed up by Aerosmith's "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing." 

   Division 150 from Recruit Training Command,Great Lakes, IL graduated on April 21 2000 as an honor division. Due to earning that title they were afforded one extra day away from the base with family. We would now have a three day weekend with our son! Once we located our sailor, he surprised us with another honor he received while being there. He had been promoted to the rank of E2 which was not as easy feat. The three days were spent holed up in the hotel room, laughing and talking about the right of passage he had endured. Yes we paused long enough to go to the mall and walk about, eat at a few of his favorite places. Still the best times were just being together. We left on a Monday, the goodbye was a bit easier this time. We knew we would see him again soon possibly within eight to ten weeks upon completion of aviation school in Mississippi.

   His first leave was timed perfectly in June 2000, but just prior to that I was sitting at work one day when the phone rang. My son was on the other end and he was frantically telling me he was given fifteen minutes to make a decision that would impact the rest of his life, although we didn't know then how. He was going to be given the choice to be stationed at Willow Grove, PA or Fallon,NV and had to report to duty on July 3 2000. Seemed like our summer was going to involve travel one way or the other as our first hope of Brunswick ME was not offered. I remember him being so undecided about where to go. I wanted to scream through the phone choose closest to home! But my external mom voice relayed a very calm, "Son, this decision is not mine. The world is yours what do you want to see, where do you want to go?" Again, more back and forth, back and forth, when finally he said, "Fallon Nevada" "Sounds great! I've never been to Nevada to visit!" was all I could muster. Less than twenty four hours later, another call, "Momma, I chose The Grove, (the nickname for Willow Grove PA) I just wasn't ready to be all that far away from home. Hell, I have 20 more years in here to see Nevada. My first station, I want to be on the East Coast."  

   Pennsylvania is where he met and married his wife and together they have two of the most beautiful girls, of which, we would not have if he had chosen Nevada. These memories swirled around in my head like water in a blender as I read the excerpt of the email from our son. Look at the life he has lived, and the adventures he still faces for eight more years. The sense of pride we have being a military family. In part because this momma took a picture of him in a sailor suit on his first Christmas when he was just three months old. 

  A card I keep that he sent from Iraq, says, "Once upon a time I just wanted to see the world, now I would give the world just to see you."

Graf # 12 Place The Womb

Your world is safe, secure, and dark. You are bathed in a warm fluid and a soft muffled voice from somewhere afar assures you that everything is going to be okay. Your time is spent growing and growing. You will increase the size of your home 1000 times over. You discover a few toys to occupy your time, hands, feet, some type of cord that ties it all together. You are nourished, comfortable, and secure. One day, without warning, your walls begin falling in on you. Your place of fluid filled security has become an hollow cavity of pressure. Your surroundings are scaring you. The pressure is intense, almost too much to bare, pressure pulses are driving you deeper into an unfamiliar abyss. Instantaneously, you hear a scream, see a bright light, and a hard slap demands your attention. You open your eyes and see a smiling face staring back at you. Your world is once again safe and secure.

Graf #11 Research Genealogy

  My greatest research project to date has to be the record of my genealogy. Everyone always wants to know where they came from, after all Maslow may have deemed it number three on his hierarchy, in love and social belonging, myself, however, I would have placed it at number two, because it gives me a sense of safety and security knowing where I came from.
  My research would lead me to long Sunday drives with my dad to numerous cemeteries in Washington and Waldo counties. We purchased a laptop to document all of our findings. A whole new level of investigation was brought forth when I found out we could access vital statistic records in the town offices. In searches our eyes beheld the signatures of some of our dearly departed relatives. We had births, deaths, and marriages with true dates that could not be disputed. One lady at a town office told me that she knew the State of Maine had uploaded vital statics onto the world wide web and I should also search there. Because I am who I am, I raced to Augusta and spent two days in the archives. It was there I learned how to use a microfiche machine. The dusty old man at the archive building told me maybe I should try this new website he had heard scuttlebutt about called Ancestry.com, seems you could just enter your surname and see if anyone had information on you! Ancestry offered a subscription whereby you could have access to the United States census; the written copies of census records became real before my eyes! The information and dates started filling my computer, my dad purchased a software program, called Family Tree Maker, so we could store all our information. One of its best features is the relationship maker. If you select two names, it will tell you the relationship between the two people. This initial process took about four years to complete. Oh the fun we had, the information we gathered and the myths we discredited. Our greatest discovery was the line of royalty we are descended from, I am the 38th great granddaughter of William the Conqueror. My then teen children told me if I didn't stop soon eventually our genealogy would just say.."In the beginning" which are the first three words of the Bible, God's Holy Word. When we started we had no idea the adventures we would have going from place to place, it is truly a time with my dada I will hold dear for as long as I am able to remember.

 

Graf# 10 Person

On average a life long friend is not some one you have known from birth, unless of course you are blessed like me. I have a friend who has been with me since the day of her birth. The beautiful lady in my life is my sister, Lynne.

I remember well the days leading up to her birth. I was about two and half years old. There were always multiple aunts and uncles who would be inclined to ask me, repeatedly, are you excited for a new baby to come to your house? I wasn't quite sure what all this talk of a baby was about but I do remember getting into trouble for asking my mom why she was getting fat.

She arrived on a Monday, the 274th day of the year in 1968.  I remember being with a few of my Auntie's while my mother was in the hospital. I was told mom was busy doing something and she would back home when she was done.  Low and behold, when she arrived home finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she had this baby doll with her and it was moving. I took a little peek in under the blankets of security and thought I wonder where she is going to live.  After all we had only two bedrooms, my parents had one and I had the other. What a surprise to find out this bundle was going to live at my house! She was introduced to me as my sister! What a cool new word, I quickly adapted it to sissa.

You formulate a high archey of friends as you progress through grammar school. You have your best friends, your friends, your classmates and then those you were never lucky enough to get to know. I had all of those in my 9 room school house but my go to person then as now was my sissa. Yes we indeed had our share of "i can't stand you get out of my life" moments. Then there were the times she would chase me and I would run in the house before her and slam the door in her face. On two separate occasions she put her arm up in front of her face and her arm went through the glass in the door. Stiches for her spankings for me.  As I look back on it now, thats how we went through life, she was always getting hurt and I was always getting into trouble.

Our adult lives weren't much different, as I have said in the past, I had my first child at 15, my sister had her first ovary out at 15. I would go on to have my second child one week before I turned 18, and my sister would have a full hysterecomy at 23, never having children. Never having children, I know she isn't alone in her plight, but statements like that do not make it any easier. Her pain is just as real at times some 21 years later. If it pains her it pains me. We adjust, we have our days when she tells me I'm so glad I never had children. She has three very beautiful German shepkids and an amazing hubby to take care of her. We are both in our 40's now and she is a huge part of my granddaughters lives, more than an AunT (emphasis on the T) she is a co grandmomma with me. I couldn't think of a better go to person to share that role with than my sissa.

Graf # 9 Object NARBLE..(that's four year old for Marble)

 Slowly the glass ball rolls across the counter between both of my hands. It reflects the lighting directly above the counter top. A tear comes to my eye, one and then another, until it's a full on tear fest. She loved this small glass ball. She called it her 'narble". I remember how her face lit up when she found this treasure outside on one of our walks. "Gam, can I keep it?" asked my then four year old granddaughter. My response taught her a lesson on finders keepers, as long as the value was under a dollar, it would be alright to probably keep without posting any "LOST" signs to find the original owner.
 Our two eldest granddaughters, Olivia and Izabell, were staying with us for 18 months while their dad, my son, was deployed overseas. Their mother had left my son in search of her own happiness, and agreed to let us have the girls until she got on her feet. How we enjoyed that time, every moment was precious. While we love them equally and don't have a favorite, there is something rather humbling about seeing the world through the eyes of a four year. The day of the "narble" find, was one of those times. I would have walked right past this perfectly spherical, shiny, green object, but my Izzy would have no part of that! She was very quick to point out to me this was a beautiful treasure and would be polished and kept with her finer things. She did very well with her narble. I can say it was probably the cleanest piece of glass in our entire home. It traveled to pre-school numerous times, travel to Jamaica on a missions trip and on one occasion, almost got lost in the offering plate at Sunday School! Sadly, it would come to be a trinket she would leave me to remember her by when she left abruptly one cold day in July 2011. Their mother arrived to reclaim them. I was angry at the sudden decision but had no recourse. The tears flowed freely that day and we said our goodbyes. In her wealth of knowledge Izabell knew, she was going to be in a different state a great distance away and that sweet little one looked up at me and said, "Gam, no crying, be strong, you keep my narble in yours pocket and play with it when you miss us!"  I don't think it has stopped moving yet.

Graf # 8 Reaction to the Isearch sample My Home Brewing Journey

Mr. Hodgkins, is a guy knows about beer. Obviously he has studied it in depth. His paper reads as if he's not a brew master but could do well on his own in the brewing business. I immediately wonder, is there really that much to making beer? Why not just go to the store and buy it? I suppose there wouldn't be a paper on his home brewing journey then nor would I be writing a reaction to it and making the individual juices flow. People always are looking to make something themselves because no one else could possibly do it better than them. Does there always have to be a cheaper alternative? People never take into consideration their own time and it's value. There are only a finite amount of minutes in a day and why would you want to spend it on something that you could just as easily buy already made at the store? Is it just to be able to say you made it with your own two hands? Why don't you go out and kill an animal for supper or milk your cow for milk or go pump the well for a bucket of water.  Come on, technology is a good thing, EMBRACE IT, get over the fact that it's a dying technique. My grandmother used to jar vegetables in the fall, guess what, she's still died and it didn't help live longer. Beer, well okay, to each his own, I've got my own paper to write, now where did I put that homemade bread recipe?