"It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times" - Yep, That's February!

Well, I've been back from Florida for over a week now and we still have snow outside which is highly disappointing as I gave explicit instructions for it all to be gone by the time I returned from Orlando! Perhaps I didn't say it loud enough as it's threatening to snow yet again tonight.  Enough already!

At least I've got some warm memories of my trip south two weeks ago which included a meet-up with the on-her-way-to-svelte Barb in Saint Augustine where the weather was absolutely gorgeous! It was great to see Barb again even though it was a quick visit before she had to make her way back to Georgia and Morgen and I went in search of spiral staircases.

We found our first batch of stairs - all 219 of them - at the Saint Augustine Lighthouse and Museum which, with a tower that's 165 feet tall, is a pretty good hike but we took our time and made it to the top for some absolutely gorgeous views of the area.

Normally I'm not keen on having my photo taken but I figured that climbing all the way to the top of my very first lighthouse was an auspicious enough occasion to have a photo snapped for posterity.

After climbing back down those same 219 stairs and touring the rest of the museum and grounds, we made our way south in need of some lunch after working up a good appetite and then followed that up with a nice stroll along the beach.  The photo below is Crescent Beach which is a very, very wide expanse of sand!  It was an absolutely gorgeous day to be there and I wish we'd had more time to spend but there were more spiral staircases calling our name further down the road in Ponce de Leon Inlet.

On our way there we passed this guy who seemed to be having a good time advertising Mulligan's.  Hey, these days a job is a job so good for him for being enthusiastic about his! 

Arriving at Ponce de Leon Inlet Lighthouse - Florida's tallest at 175 feet - we knew that this one was going to be even more of a challenge than Saint Augustine was as even though there are only 203 steps, they are much steeper and narrower. But Morgen and I were there to climb to the top so climb it we did !

It's a little hard to really get a good view of the stairs from this angle but this was taken from almost the top looking back down.  The higher we went, the narrower and steeper the stairways got but again, we took our time and managed to make it to the top of the tower without being too out of breath!

Again I decided to forego that whole wrong-side-of-the-camera-lens thing and have my photo snapped while out on the balcony. It was a lot breezier there than it was in Saint Augustine and, with a narrower balcony deck, it was a lot skeerier, too! But again the views of the surrounding area were more than worth it as well as the chance to say, "I did it, I did it!"

Back on solid ground again once we had navigated the very steep stairs which were trickier going down than they were up, we had just enough time to check out the Fresnel Lens Exhibit before it was closing time.  I have to say that I was in Fresnel Lens Heaven seeing that 16-1/2-foot tall First Order lens in person!  What a magnificent piece of craftsmanship!

After our big day of climbing not one but two very tall lighthouses, Morgen and I took it easy on Wednesday and went to go see "Lincoln" at the local movie theater. I hadn't had a chance to see it yet and was so glad that Morgen didn't mind going to it again as I thought it was very well done.  We finished up our night with appetizers and dessert at The Cheesecake Factory which was quite delicious and a real treat!

On Thursday, even though the forecast was threatening rain, we went to Universal Studios Islands of Adventure where I had a great time getting turned every which way but loose on several rollercoasters, became totally drenched on the Jurassic Park Adventure Ride, and had a chance to glomp onto Iron Man a little bit! Our last ride of the day was a spin on the Caro-Seuss-el because I just can't pass up a carousel - even if there's nary a horse to be found!

Unfortunately my time in Orlando seemed to fly by and all too soon it was time to come back to Connecticut and the realities of February which has included more snow, temperatures that are way too darned cold, and  all the other the things that make February a rather sad month for me like the one-year anniversary of my good friend Cyndi's passing on the 17th and the ten-year anniversary of my father's death which is coming up tomorrow.  I'm having trouble believing that it's been that long for either of them.

Cyndi and I at Lake Tahoe in April of 1997

Dad and one of his radio-controlled models that he built

Then, as if February couldn't be sad enough, last Saturday evening one of Morgen and Eyad's beloved fur-kids - Peter Pete - threw a blood clot and passed away the following morning following emergency treatment that could only ease his suffering and not prolong his life. I was happy to have had the chance to meet the little fella before his untimely death but that just made it all the more heartbreaking as Pete had rather reminded me a bit of Tesla and I quite enjoyed watching his interactions with Little Isis.  Morgen and Eyad are both still hurting very badly from this sudden loss so if you've got a moment, please send them a good thought or two.  For my money, I've got no doubt that Peter Pete has found his way to Cyndi as she was quite the cat magnet and he'll be well looked after in heaven but I know the guys would rather have him home with them.

Photo Credit:  Morgen's Facebook Page

Finally, to end this post on an up-note, today I launched my very own photography website where I hope to maybe occasionally sell a print or two - hopefully at least enough to cover the nominal monthly hosting fee!  LOrlomoskiPhotography.com was designed by Eyad and I think that he did a phenomenal job!  It's very user-friendly for any potential customers and it's also easy for me to upload new photos and keep the content fresh.  Until March 3rd, I'm offering a coupon good for 20% off the entire purchase which includes free shipping in the United States - not a bad deal if I say so myself!  Should you find yourself over there and want to help a poor starving artist out (or at least help finance my next batch of wanderings!) use coupon code TAKE20OFF and I'll do just that!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to wishing that this month - and winter - was over already as I try desperately to get my hands warm enough so that I don't have to wear finger-less gloves well working on the computer!  I hope that your February has been good to you! 

A Final Song for Sarge Charlie

Yesterday in Lake Worth, Florida a good man was laid to his final rest with the military honors that he so richly deserved - a full Color Guard, a real bugler to play taps, and lots of friends and family there to pay their final respects and tribute to a man who called it like he saw it, didn't back down from his convictions and beliefs, and adored his wife of 44 years with a love for the ages.

Sarge Charlie had been a force in the Blogosphere for quite some time and he posted as he lived putting his patriotic beliefs and opinions out there for all the world to see. Not everyone agreed with his thoughts and opinions - which was to be expected - but even if you didn't, you had to respect him for standing his ground.  I know I sure did.

As a young man, Charlie enlisted in the United States Army and dedicated the next 26 years of his life to his country.  He served proudly and spoke often of his time in the military on his blog.  As it turns out, Sarge and my Dad both served in Vietnam at the same time and as such, they were both exposed to Agent Orange at the same time.  The insidious nature of the chemicals that they were both exposed to eventually took their toll on both men - taking my father way too young in February of 2003 after his own long and courageous battle against the cancer for which there is no cure - and claiming Sarge Charlie last Sunday, January 29th.

Both my Dad, the Air Force veteran, and Charlie, the Army veteran, fought hard to stay with the women that they loved unconditionally - neither one willing to give up a single minute of their time left on earth - but some battles just can't be won it seems and death eventually had its victory taking them away long before anyone was willing to let them go.  

We've had almost nine years to try to get used to my Dad being gone but I get the distinct feeling that not a day goes by that my Mom doesn't miss him just as much as she did that wretched February day in 2003.  Miss Bee hasn't even had nine days yet to get used to the fact that Sarge is no longer in the next room and my heart goes out to her knowing the rough road that lies ahead as she tries to adjust to being the remaining half of a whole.

That said, I don't for a minute believe that love dies or disappears with a final heartbeat or the closing of a casket. I believe that it lives on and always will as those who have loved us in life, continue to love us in death. As the song says,

"There are more than angels watching
Over me ... I believe ... ohh, I believe."

I'm sure that Miss Bee believes just like I'm sure that my Mom believes and maybe - just maybe - that helps them get through each day just a tiny bit easier.

In Honor of My Dad's Birthday ...

Today is the 77th anniversary of my father's birth and in honor of that I'm posting this picture.  Now, I suppose you're wondering what on earth a picture of a can of Van Camp's Beenee Weenees has to do with what would have been my father's birthday, aren't you?

In January of 1966, my Dad - who was a career military man in the Air Force and a darned fine aircraft mechanic - was deployed overseas to do his mandatory tour of duty at Da Nang Air Base in the Republic of Vietnam.  I believe that Dad was part of the 61st Tactical Wing at that time and Da Nang was considered to be the world's busiest airport with 1,500 take-offs and landings recorded on peak days.  It was also the target of a lot of bombings and my mother received many a letter that was written in very shaky script as my Dad waited out the bombings in a shelter.

This was back in the days before there was any such thing as web cameras and email so contact was limited to letters that came back to the States via snail mail and maybe - if one was very lucky - a very rare phone call.  If families today think they worry about their military members who are deployed, that's nothing compared to what families went through during the Vietnam War and the wars that preceded it. I've got no doubt that my Mom was probably worried sick pretty much every single day that my Dad was away but being made of the stern Yankee stock combined with a very stiff British upper lip that she inherited from her mother, my Mom very rarely showed any of that fear and worry that she no doubt felt as she waited for each letter to arrive.

Meanwhile, my Dad was no doubt on the other side of the world also looking forward to Daily Mail Call when he'd receive word from home or if he was really lucky, a Care Package that my Mom had lovingly put together containing some of his favorite things from the States that he couldn't possibly get his hands on in Vietnam.  As packages went over via slow boat back in those days, Mom had to be choosy about what she would include so she'd bake some of his favorites that she knew would last the long trip and also include a few other non-perishables like cans of Vienna Sausages and another of Dad's favorites - Beenee Weenees.

I hadn't seen a can of Beenee Weenees in years but on a recent trip to the grocery store, while searching the shelves for something else, I found myself looking directly at the Van Camp's label on the can of one of my Dad's favorite things to receive when he was in Vietnam.  Needless to say I had to buy a can and maybe - just maybe - I'll pop it open and eat the contents today in honor of my Dad and his service to our country all those many years ago.

Happy Birthday, Dad; as you can see, you'll never be forgotten even if it's in ways you never thought twice about!

Memorial Day 2011

"All we have of freedom, all we use or know -

This our fathers bought for us long and long ago."
— Rudyard Kipling

In memoriam to my own father who served honorably in the
United States Air Force for 22 years
and saw action in both Korea and Vietnam.
Rest in peace, Dad, and thank you for all that you did
for this country and for me.
I should have told you that more often when I had the chance.

Happy Thanksgiving to You; Happy Birthday to My Dad

I'm not sure what the mathematical equation is to figure out how often Thanksgiving falls on a particular date but I know that there were times when Thanksgiving would fall on the same day as my Dad's birthday - this year would have been one of them were my Dad still with us. Unfortunately, he's not but that doesn't keep him from being remembered not just this year but every year when November 25th rolls around.

So on what would have been my father's 76th birthday, I wish you all the happiest of Thanksgiving Days here in the United States as you gather with family and friends and celebrate the blessings of the past year as we hurtle rapidly towards a new year. Ferris Bueller wasn't kidding when he said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." ... Don't miss it!

Dad & I - August 1991

Thursday Things

Yesterday - the 7th anniversary of my father's death - was pretty much what I would expect from the 24th of February - dark, rainy, and dismal.  Funny how some days just tend to match the anniversary. Just as Green Day's Bille Joe Armstrong wrote in Wake Me Up When September Ends  -

I've got to agree that the 7 years has gone so fast and sometimes I have to do the math a couple of times over to make sure it really has been that long. That doesn't mean that any of my family has forgotten by any stretch of the imagination, though, and I guess it was only fitting that yesterday was raining buckets - in my world anyway.  Feel free to wake me up when February ends.

On a lighter note, Amanda had an assignment in her Advanced Drawing class to do a self-portrait in graphite and this is the end result -

At least, that's a picture of the end result as the actual end result itself is being mounted and matted and then going on display at an art gallery in Mystic with a price tag attached!  Of the 16 students in her class, Amanda's drawing is the only one going on display which I think is pretty danged cool (insert goofy proud parent grin here).  Once Amanda remembers to find out just which art gallery the portrait is going to be displayed at I'll be sure to take a trip down there and get a picture of the picture. 

In regards to her artwork, she's happiest with how the nose came out but I'm pretty impressed with both the hands and the eyes.  Well, actually as a non-artist, I'm darned impressed with the whole piece!  If it doesn't sell, I'm pretty sure I've got a nice spot on the wall for it myself even though I see that exact same look in real life quite frequently!

Holiday Pies and A Birthday Cake Remembered

For those of you wondering how the pie-a-thon went yesterday, I managed to not only bake four pies but also a batch of brownies for Amanda being that the pies are off limits!  I baked one pumpkin pie, two traditional apple pies with crumb crusts (I can't make a top crust for love or money I'm afraid!) and, using a recipe that Lois sent me, I made my very first cranberry-apple pie.  Here be the finished products  -

The cranberry-apple will be going to work with me later today, the smaller apple pie will be going to work with me for my 16-hour Thanksgiving Day shift, and then the other two will be going to my Mom's house on Friday when Amanda and I will be getting together with my brothers and their wives as well as my son, his wife, and my grandson for a big Day-After-Thanksgiving dinner.  Who needs to be jostling around at a store with crazed shoppers on Black Friday when you can be eating a nice dinner and enjoying some family time?!?  Not me!

As I was baking all of those pies yesterday, I couldn't help but think about the main thing my mother used to always bake at this time of the year and that was an angel food cake with mocha frosting - my Dad's very favorite cake for his birthday which would have been today.  Were Dad still with us he would have been turning 75 today.

I know I've posted these pictures in the past but - honestly - they're two of my very favorite pictures of my father taken when he was stationed overseas and I was really, really young (if I was even around at all!).  My father joined the Air Force when he was only 17 years old and made a career out of it retiring in 1972 at the not-exactly-ripe-old-age of 37 with a pretty distinguished record to boot.

Dad fought in both the Korean War and the Vietnam War and he received both the Purple Heart and the Bronze Star Medal while he was stationed at DaNang Air Force Base where he was an aircraft mechanic on F-4 Phantom fighter planes. The F-4's were a long-range supersonic jet interceptor fighter/fighter-bomber that served as the principal air superiority fighter for both the Navy and Air Force in Vietnam and my Dad could fix them like most guys can fix lawn mowers.

Dad was really, really good at what he did and was even asked once to fly with the Thunderbirds, the Air Force's air demonstration squadron,  as one of their mechanics but he turned the offer down saying that he didn't want to live out of a suitcase or leave my mother alone with us four kids while he flew all over the countryside and the world to Air Shows and the like for three or four years.  I'm pretty sure, though, that he was honored to be asked and it was pretty good bragging rights to have your Dad asked to fly with the Thunderbirds - especially amongst other "Air Force Brats"!

Even though it was ultimately the exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam that gave my father the cancer that caused his death almost 7 years ago, I honestly don't think that he would have done anything different with his career choice.  It was a career that gave him the chance to see a bit of the world and also to provide for his family even though he sometimes had to leave that family behind while he was deployed overseas.

When Dad was stationed overseas, he obviously missed out on those birthday cakes my Mom would bake for him but whenever he returned that was always one of the first things he'd get - along with a big bowl of rice pudding and meatloaf (he thought my Mom's meatloaf was pretty much better than anything else in the whole world).

Anyhow, I hope there's angel food cake with mocha frosting where my Dad's stationed now and I also hope that he knows that even though he's gone, he hasn't been forgotten.  Happy Birthday, Dad; we miss you.

Remembering My Dad

Throughout our lives there are dates that become etched into our memories - dates of birthdays, dates of anniversaries, dates of high school or college graduations, dates of weddings, dates of deaths ...

Today marks a date that will forever remain etched in my memory as it was six years ago today that my father passed away.  Six years.  Yet I still remember it like it was last week and I think that I always will, it's not one of those dates that one is likely to forget.  I guess it's one of the reasons that I dislike February as much as I do.  I was never a big fan of the month to begin with and having the anniversary date of my father's death on the 23rd doesn't help its case.

Winter this year, much like 2003 was, has been horrible and I'm pretty sure that if my Dad were still alive, he would have had quite more than enough of it by now.  I believe I've mentioned in the past how much my Dad didn't like the cold of winter and how he, like so many of us, couldn't wait for it to be over and warmer weather come back around.  After he was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma (a result of his exposure to Agent Orange while serving in Vietnam), he liked winters even less as he just couldn't seem to get warm. 

So many times my Dad used to talk about moving to Arizona after he retired from his second career in maintenance at Day Kimball Hospital so that he could enjoy his later years in relative warmth but he never got the chance to do that as cancer robbed him of the opportunity to enjoy his retirement years like he should have. After being diagnosed with a cancer that was treatable but not curable, I think my father lost all desire to move elsewhere as Connecticut really was his home in spite of the nasty winters that we can get here.

I've thought about my Dad a lot this winter as the weather has  reminded me so much of 2003 and I've thought about how much he would have hated the bitter cold and the snow that we've had this year.  Perhaps my dislike of the weather this year and the desire to see the cold weather end is just me being more and more like my father; though I'd like to think we had more in common than a dislike of cold temperatures!

At any rate, I'm not sure exactly where I'm going with this post other than to say "Dad, I miss you and even though you wouldn't have liked the nasty cold we've had this year, I think you'd have been glad to see that I finally moved off the side of those ridiculous hills I lived on!"  Somehow, though, I think he knows ... or at least I like to think he does.

The Dead Dads Club Redux

My Dad once said that he thought February was the most miserable month ever and I'm inclined to agree - especially living in New England and just wanting winter to go away while it tenaciously hangs on with one bout of lousy weather after another. By this time of the year I'm ready to scream from the cold, the dark, the hope of spring just around the corner but still out of reach, and the memories that February inevitably brings.

Five years ago was one of the coldest and most miserable Februarys ever and went beyond miserable when my Dad died that month. I guess that considering how he felt about February it was quite fitting that he chose that month to start his "big dirt nap" as he used to call it.

Maybe people think that you can't just choose when you're going to die outside of suicide but I tend to disagree. I know that in speaking to Dr. Slater, Dad's oncologist, he said that a person can't just decide they don't want to live anymore but I think he might be wrong on that one. My Dad was tired and worn out from battling non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and as much as he hated leaving my mother, he was tired of fighting and just wanted to rest. I guess in the end I can't blame him for wanting that but it doesn't mean I still don't miss him and think that it was horribly unfair that he left when I was finally beginning to appreciate who he was as a man and a father.

Last year I wrote a post about The Dead Dads Club so I thought I would repost an excerpt from that post for those who might have missed it and also because I can't really put the feeling of having lost my father into words any better this year than I did last year ...

The Dead Dads Club - originally posted February 22, 2007

CRISTINA: "There's a club. The Dead Dads Club. And you can't be in it until you're in it. You can try to understand, you can sympathize. But until you feel that loss ... My dad died when I was nine. George, I'm really sorry you had to join the club."
GEORGE: "I ... I don't know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn't."
CRISTINA: "Yeah, that never really changes."

Cristina is right, that never really changes. Four years ago I became a member of The Dead Dads Club when my father passed away unexpectedly in the middle of a CAT scan procedure. Four years later I still have trouble believing it because it still seems so surreal. If you have never lost a parent or a close loved one, you can't grasp the enormous sense of impossibility that never seems to go away. You learn to exist without that person, you have to, but you will still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and it will take you awhile to remember that person is gone because it will just never feel right or real. It isn't just at night either, it can be anytime of the day or night when the overwhelming sense of loss overtakes you from out of the blue. I will never get used to it.

But as much as the loss of my father has affected me, I know that the loss to my mother was immeasurable. My parents were just a little over two years short of their 50th wedding anniversary when Dad passed away and I have no doubt that losing someone after that amount of time has got to be just like losing a part of yourself. How my Mom has survived the ensuing years without him is amazing to me, especially considering that she always thought that she would never have to face that possibility; that with her family's health record she would go before him. Even when my Dad was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma my Mom still thought she would die first but I think that was more of a desire of wanting to go first because she couldn't imagine an existence without him. I admire her strength in being able to go on and I thank her for sticking around when I'm sure she really wanted to just lie down beside my Dad and join him on the other side.

Death is obviously an inevitable part of life - we're born and we die - it's the whole Circle of Life thing but that doesn't mean that it's easy to understand or even accept sometimes. I deal with death a lot in my job - not on a personal level but on a level where I have to come to know a lot of our patients by their names in the computer or on the spreadsheet. I talk to people on 911 whose family members are dead or dying; I've heard their anguished cries and the disbelief in their voices on the other end of the phone; and I have sympathized with them over their loss. Thankfully I deal with death from behind a computer, a telephone, and a radio microphone. How the guys and gals that are in the field deal with death face-to-face is beyond me. I could never do it, I know my limitations, but I admire those that can and do.

For anyone else out there who is part of The Dead Dads Club, there is a website where you can memorialize your father and post a tribute to him next to those of others who have lost their fathers. Just click here. And if you aren't a member yet, go tell your father how much he means to you while you still can. Along with your mothers, your grandparents, and anyone else you may have forgotten to tell that to lately.

Manic Monday - Rank

When I first saw that Morgen of It's A Blog Eat Blog World and host of Manic Monday had declared this week's word to be "rank" I had a sneaky feeling that it had to do with the tumble in Page Rank that many of us suffered at the hands of Google recently. Well, either that or someone had forgotten to take the trash out and that was what had inspired him!

At any rate, I have no desire to start whining once again about my Page Rank dropping from a 4 to a 2 to a 0 (boo to Google yet again, I say!) so instead I thought I would write about rank in regards to my military service. It's certainly not anything to brag about as I barely made my way into NCO status (Non-Commissioned Officer for those unfamiliar with the vernacular) during my five + years that I served in the United States Air Force but at least my DD-214 (discharge papers) have me listed as a Sergeant, a rank that the Air Force did away with in March of 1991 due in part to the manning reductions that occurred in the post Cold-War drawdowns of the early 1990s. Ah, good ole' President Clinton ... not!

When I first joined the Air Force in June of 1976 at the ripe old age of 17, I had no rank whatsoever as I was an Airman Basic (E1) and we didn't have insignia, or chevrons, on our sleeves to denote any sort of rank as we were the lowest of the low. A lot of recruits never made it through Basic Training to begin with so why have them sew on an insignia? Eventually I made it to Airman (E2) and got to sew this insignia on my uniforms:

Next step was Airman First Class (E3) which gave me this insignia:

After that came Senior Airman (E4) which was this insignia below with the star in blue rather than silver. Once I was promoted to Sergeant (E4), the star was silver again and that was what put us into the category of Non-Commissioned Officer as opposed to just a regular old Airman. The dual insignia within one grade mirrored the Army's Specialist/Corporal division of E-4. The reasoning behind it was to promote Senior Airmen who were ready for NCO responsibilities but not prepared to take on the role of a Staff Sergeant, which was the next step up (E5).

Had I stayed in the Air Force rather than taken a discharge when my son Michael was born, it probably would have taken me years and years to get to Staff Sergeant as my career field was very difficult to get promoted in. You had to test and then wait until there were openings and even though I enjoyed being a motion picture camera operator (I had cross-trained from being an electronics communication repair tech), I wasn't very good at the promotion tests.

My Dad, on the other hand, was and he advanced to the rank of Master Sergeant (E7) quite quickly within his career field of aircraft mechanic (he was so good, The Thunderbirds asked him to join their team at one point but he declined saying that he "didn't want to live out of a suitcase" or most likely leave my Mom alone any longer than was necessary!). The diamond device, or French lozenge, in the center of this insignia indicates that he was a First Sergeant, which was not a rank but a special duty held by a senior enlisted member of a military unit who reports directly to the Unit Commander. As the "First Shirt" my Dad was responsible for the morale, welfare, and conduct of all the enlisted members in his squadron and was the chief adviser to the squadron commander concerning the enlisted force. You wouldn't believe how many times the phone would ring in the middle of the night with one problem or another from some enlisted member!

Even though he was good at being a "First Shirt", I think my Dad missed being on the flightline and working as the excellent aircraft mechanic that he was so when he was offered the chance to re-enlist and sew on the rank of Senior Master Sergeant, he choose instead to retire with 20+ years of service under his belt.

It wasn't an easy decision for him, though, and I remember that he took one of the Senior Master Sergeant insignias (like the one above) and tacked it to the doorway leading to the dining room of our base housing at Pease Air Force Base in New Hampshire so that he could look at it every day before making his decision to retire. In August of 1974 he retired with the rank of Master Sergeant along with a Bronze Star, Purple Heart, and more commendations to his credit than I could list. While serving in the Air Force he wore his rank with pride and he wore it well and it was one of the things that inspired me to join up myself right out of high school.

Interested in finding out what others find rank on this Manic Monday? Check out Mo's post at It's a Blog Eat Blog World and see where it takes you!

Happy Birthday, Dad, Wherever You May Be

Today is my Dad's birthday - or would have been had the effects of the Agent Orange that he was exposed to in Vietnam not eventually turned cancerous and into Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma which, after a darned good fight on his part, took his life in February of 2003.

Dad would have been 73 years old today and probably would have happily spent the day playing Bingo with my mother at Foxwoods Resort & Casino which is located just a bit down the road from here. Even though the game seemed to frustrate the hell out of Dad, he enjoyed going with my Mom and also enjoyed spending a bit of time playing the slots afterwards. Much like Sarge Charlie (another fine veteran) likes to play poker, my Dad liked to play the slots. Not the big money slots, mind you, but the nickel or quarter slots were good enough for him.

As a 20+ year veteran of the United States Air Force and someone who then put in another 20 years in the Maintenance Department at Day Kimball Hospital, my Dad more than earned his retirement and the chance to enjoy it a little bit. Unfortunately, because of the cancer, he didn't get to enjoy it for nearly as long as he should have been able to. His life was shortened because of his service to our country but I don't think that he would have changed a thing if given the chance. He served proudly and with distinction and honor. He was one of the good guys.

There aren't a lot of pictures of myself and my father around but I do have this one that was taken on my wedding day in August of 1991. I think at the time he was still trying to convince me that I had the chance to turn around and head the other way but, like so many other times before this, I didn't have the good sense to listen to him!

It took me way too many years to realize that my Dad was right a good part of the time and that he really only had my best interests at heart but, stubborn mule that I can be, I didn't listen anywhere near as well as I should have. I doubt that it was any victory to him to know that he was right when my marriage ended ten years to the date of when this picture was taken but he was right - again. I think it's kind of ironic that one of the few pictures I have of my father and I is one that I look at and think "Linda, you should have listened to your father more often and not been so stubborn and pig-headed." Come to think of it, though, I'm sure he would rather enjoy the irony in that!

Dad, wherever you are - happy birthday and I hope they've got a mocha angel food cake like Mom used to make for you every year - and a meatloaf as I know how much you liked that, too! Though I know it's not anywhere near as good as Mom's always was.

What America Means to Me

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For as long as I can remember I have been a patriot. I was raised as an "Air Force brat" for the first 16 years of my life moving from state to state and base to base while my father, a patriot himself, proudly served his country as an aircraft mechanic. He was barely seventeen-years old when he enlisted and was sent to Korea on a troop ship to begin what would become a 20+ year career. Many times during those years my mother was left home alone to raise four kids Stateside while Dad got sent to one remote duty location after another but never once - not even while reading letters written in my Dad's shaky script while sitting out a raid in a bomb shelter at Danang Air Force Base in Vietnam - did my Mom ever say that she wanted my father to get out of the military. Never once did she complain about the nomadic life that we lived or the lousy pay that Dad got; never once did she curse the Air Force or the government that sent my father into a senseless war and left her home alone to worry and wait. She could have but she didn't; instead she supported my father in every way possible. She was a patriot, too.

Having two patriots for parents and growing up on Air Force bases and in military communities it's no wonder that I became a patriot also. At 1800 hours every evening traffic would stop all over the base while "Taps" was played and the flag was lowered; every Fourth of July there were fireworks and celebrations for our country's independence; at the base theater the "Star-Spangled Banner" was played and everyone stood before every movie started; and every year there would be an Air Show with all manner of planes on display as well as spectacular aerial shows by the Air Force Thunderbirds. I was proud to be a part of the military and I was proud of my father for his part in it; proud enough, in fact, that I followed in his footsteps and joined the Air Force myself arriving in boot camp just three short days after my high school graduation - only seventeen-years old just like my father before me.

Even though I have been away from military life for a long time, to this day I still choke up at the playing of our National Anthem - whether it be at a ballgame or other sporting event, a memorial service, a concert, or even the end of a broadcast day on radio or TV. When attending a parade I get the same feeling and can't talk around the lump in my throat while watching the Honor Guard march by. I have even been known to shed a tear while watching fireworks displays on the 4th of July - please don't ask me to speak to you during the finale because I can't! I am proud to be an American and that pride has never faltered even though I don't agree with the direction things in this country are currently heading.

It has become standard operating procedure to insult our Government and those insults come not only from the "common people" but from those politicians we have elected to represent us. The very men and women that we have voted into office to speak for us in Congress or the Senate cannot seem to show a united front and that causes everyone else to be at odds with each other. While politicians jockey for position and undercut each other in their quest for the Presidential prize or to align themselves with the "popular side of the room", they send out a mixed message to the rest of the world; a message that does not show solidarity to those who watch and wait to destroy the country that many patriots like my father have fought for and died for these past 231 years. I know, though, that in spite of the arguing and disagreements the solidarity that we seem to be so sorely lacking does exist as I've seen it in action.

On September 11, 2001 I watched in horror with the rest of the Nation while the Twin Towers in New York City were taken down by foreign terrorist actions. I stood in shock in front of my television set while the news media told of an additional attack upon the Pentagon and of a plane that went down in a remote field in Pennsylvania rather than into its intended target because its heroic passengers and crew chose to fight back against their hijackers. I cried as reports of the deaths of the brave men and women who rushed into those towers to save others were reported and I cried even more as the horrific death toll rose higher and higher. I was shocked and appalled and dismayed that such destruction could be visited upon one man by another.

However when the smoke cleared and the country came together in a surge of National pride and brotherhood I was more than proud to be an American. I didn't have to run out and buy an American flag to hang out as I already owned one but I was happy - no ... thrilled - to see so many other flags now flying from cars, from houses, from office buildings, from every possible place. The words "let freedom ring" never sounded sweeter because they were spoken by people who truly meant them and who treasured that freedom and the men and women who fought and died for it as much as I did. The world had temporarily tipped on its axis but America was standing strong and proud and nothing or no one was going to knock us down.

The memories of those dark days following 9/11 define what America truly means to me. We are a Nation whose people have the Freedom of Speech; the freedom to question and criticize our government, the freedom to ask "why?" and expect an honest answer, the freedom to enter into intelligent debate without fear of governmental reprisal, and the freedom to say "I disagree with you but I respect your different opinion as you should respect mine". We are a Nation that seems to be at odds with not only ourselves but with the rest of the world, however we are also a Nation who will pull together and defend our country like a mother bear defends her cubs if the situation warrants it. We are "free to be" and that's what America means to me.

Staff Sgt & Mrs. Kendall B. Orlomoski & family
Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Arizona 1965

Note: This post was originally written as an entry for an essay contest on "What America Means to Me".