Sunday, January 22, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Oh yeah, we have a blog
Well, since my last post, I gave birth to a MAC truck. We named our nearly 10 lb son, Shafer Paul Mitchell.
Everyone says, "Your lives will never be the same"
What an understatement.
My house has baby paraphernalia EVERYWHERE. It's amazing where I find binkies while I am looking for my cell phone for the 10th time in a day. I don't sleep anymore, but instead fuel myself by the interactions with Shafer. I swear it's biologically possible to gain energy from baby coos and smiles.
Shafer is an absolute joy, and my heart melts every time he smiles at me, or falls asleep on Rick's shoulder. He is a very good baby, although I don't have a lot to compare it to. He travels well, and we recently tested this on our two week, multi city tour through the Midwest. It was wonderful to introduce him to all his family and our friends. He was such a trooper as we dragged him to a new place with a whole new gang of people waiting to love on him. Even the long car ride back to Georgia hardly phased him, and he didn't squawk at all when I was juggling him, and washing down a rest stop baby changer. Bless his heart.
Our life has been chaotic, in a good way, for..well, forever, and we now have a whole different kind of sweet chaos. Take today, for instance...
Shafer had a doctor's appointment at 8:15am, and I had set out his only zip-up outfit. (I made the mistake of putting him in an outfit that was torture to get him in and out of at the last doctor appointment, and didn't want to be 'that mom' again)
So, we got up this morning, and were getting ready. I got Shafer fed, dressed in perfect zip-up outfit, and placed him in his car seat. While I was trying to make it look like I had washed my hair, I heard him spit up. Dangit! I cleaned him up, salvaged his perfect zip-up outfit, and took 5 minutes finding a bib that matched his clothes. I checked clock, and put speed behind my next task of getting dressed. I was ticking off the items I needed to make sure I had before we left when I heard the sound. The unmistakable sound of a large amount of matter being dumped into a diaper.
"This has to be fast, Pal"
I picked him up, and discovered he had blown out his diaper, and there was a large brownish spot working it's way up his back.
"NOT THE PERFECT ZIP-UP OUTFIT"
I laughed because there wasn't anything else to do as I hurried to the changing table. I tried to quickly remove his clothing without giving either of us Pink Eye. I dropped the bomb into the new fancy diaper pail I got earlier this week. I realized new fancy diaper pail was full, and I had no idea how to change it out. Didn't matter as I certainly didn't have time. I decided to put bomb in plastic bag that I had in his room for such emergencies. As if on cue, he peed while I was digging for plastic bag under changing table. I laughed again, with a little more hysteria this time. I finally got the baby disinfected, and in zip-up pajamas. I imaged the snickers I would get in the doctor's office for having my kid in pajamas. I rushed out of the house, and got to the office with just a minute to spare. They removed all his clothes to weigh him, and I was thrilled he didn't pee. He is in the 97th percentile of height, and 95th of weight. Probably not a big shock there. NBA GOLD!
Then, the nurse came in to give him his shots. She asked me to HOLD HIM DOWN. WHAT?! I was prepared for shots, but not to being an accomplice. I held down his little arms, watched as his sweet face turn bright red, and his mouth open in a silent-please-take-a-breath wail. My eyes filled with tears, and I promised him a new wagon. After Nurse Cruella was finished, I swooped him up, and he promptly stopped wailing. The nurse left, and I got him dressed, promised him ice cream when he switched to solids, and tried to control my sobs. He was asleep by the time I left that exam room, and I felt confident he wasn't scarred for life. I made my next appointment a little later in the morning, and smiled when I saw another little guy carried in to the office..in pajamas.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
WELCOME HOME
I have been terrible at keeping this blog updated, and I have several posts to complete, but I definitely wanted to share Rick's homecoming.
The video is below, and in case you can't tell who the players are, I am the blubbering walrus of a gal that is lurching towards Rick. Rick is the svelte, handsome hero in a desert flight suit.
I can't even describe the relief I felt that day being able to get my arms around him, and know that he was safe.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Transitioning....Nights to Days
As most of you probably know, I've been flying Nights for the last couple months over here in Afghanistan. Today, Monday July 18, 2011, I am switching over to days. So how does one go from nights to day, or any shift change for that matter? Well, simply put, it's a drug induced transition. Now you may thinking "oh my goodness, my son or Rick is on drugs?" (Mom). Don't worry, I'm not "on drugs" but I also won't lie, making a huge transition with only 24 hours to do it is not an easy task and a little assistance comes in handy.
So how exactly did it go down? Well, I flew last night which would of been Saturday night, 16 July. We took off about 1AM local Afghanistan time. Naturally, my last flight at night also had to be the first time the weather was not good. Flying at night in semi-bad weather is never fun, but the mission always goes on regardless of weather (to a certain extent). So my wingman and I took off. The visibility was about 1 mile which is NOT very far. When the visibility is that bad, we are required to fly under instrument flight rules; something that my flight 2 nights ago was also my first time doing since I got here in March. As I got airborne, my Heads Up Display (HUD) "shifted" about 5 inches to the right; this is not good and a problem exists. However, 5 seconds later, it goes back to the normal position. Since the airplane I was flying was made the same year I was born, I just said, "ah whatever, it's old and she's just working out the kinks" and I pressed on into the dust filled night. As we climbed up through 10,000 feet, the visibility got a bit better, but now a new problem was revealed; no kidding storm clouds.......and I was sure the tanker was going to drag us right into them as they seem prone to be attracted to clouds. Sure enough, they did. As my wingman and I struggled to stay on the boom (the probe that extends from the refueling aircraft) through turbulence, low visibility, and the fact it's pitch-black, the radios started going crazy with immediate request for "Hawg" flight to roll up to an area where some friendly forces were taking heavy fire. Once I finally completed my refueling, I told #2 I was leaving him and we'd rejoin in the area where we were needed.
Pushing my A-10 to the limit speed wise, I quickly gathered as much information as I could about where we were going, who we were supporting, what other aircraft were already overhead (remember, it's dark and other aircraft do fly here), what frequencies they were on, and what's the tactical situation. Meanwhile, the visibility is still bad, the lightning flashes are blinding and oh by the way, the radios (we have 3 of them) are going to hell....meaning it's like trying to listen to 3 different phone calls while a power drill, vacuum cleaner, and Harley Davidson motorcycle are all running right next to you. After repeating myself numerous times and saying "say again for Hawg 71", I nearly ejected just to escape the annoying and painful sounds coming directly into my ears through my helmet.
After deciding not to eject and do my job, I finally checked in with the ground forces and got an update on the situation. Luckily, the enemy fire had stopped and nobody on the ground was injured...something that unfortunately is not always the case. Finally, my wingman catches up and rejoins with me. After hanging out over the friendlies for a time, we get re-rolled to support another friendly unit who's returning back to their base. The bad thing for us is that this unit was going to drive straight through the capital of Kabul. Doing a convoy escort is tough; doing a convoy escort over a major (relatively) metropolitan area is even more difficult. Not to mention, once again our radios were SEVERELY degraded due to, well, they just were. Anyhow, #2 and I power our way through that and then we are cleared to make the nearly 300 mile trek back to Kandahar. Not to mention, we had another air refueling in there. Again, it was very painful and this time, amplified by the F16's and F15's all trying to get gas as well. Putting 6 fighter jets and a big refueling tanker all within a mile of eachother at 3AM might seem crazy to you. If not, then you've not been there because I think it's ludicrous, but being the good troop I am, I just do it and move on.
Anyhow, we returned to Kandahar and since it was my last night flight, of course the weather was bad. Calling up all the navigational instruments I haven't used since Moody, I was pleasantly surprised I remembered how to work them all. After flying the approach down to minimums (the lowest I can fly before I have to abort the approach), the elation that came over me that I hadn't crashed and there in front of me stood the beautiful strobe lights and runway was awesome. More importantly as my wheels touched the asphalt, I was relieved that I no longer would have to wear these heavy night vision goggles hanging in front of my face and from now on, those dang dangerous air refuelings would be done during the sunlight where I could actually see the 150 thousand pounds of pure jet fuel I was "bumping" into everytime I fly.
After coming back into the Squadron, it was time for my "fini-breakfast". The greatest thing about the night shift was the fact that after a "day's" work, we would go as a group to stuff our faces with 1,500 calories of omelet and fried hash browns, then go back to the Mod to let the calories just lay in our stomachs while we slept for the next 8 hours. However, since this was my last night flight, I was planning on trying to stay up and start adjusting my clock to the new schedule. I had been going to sleep about 0600Z; now I'm trying to adjust to going to sleep about 1500Z (9 hours later). My plan was to try and just power through my tiredness. About 7Z, one hour later than normal, my plan failed miserably. So, I woke up about 1500Z and couldn't go back to sleep. I tried reading, watching a movie, listening to music; nothing worked. After my futile attempt to get more sleep, I just accepted that I was going to get up and suck it up for the next 20 hours or so.
So here I am. I've drank 4 coffee's, 2 energy drinks, and ate a nice breakfast of jerky and girl scout cookies. I'm doing fine so far and I honestly think by the time I go home in a few hours, my body will be all adjusted. If not, it'll just be good preparation for once the little man comes around this fall!
So how exactly did it go down? Well, I flew last night which would of been Saturday night, 16 July. We took off about 1AM local Afghanistan time. Naturally, my last flight at night also had to be the first time the weather was not good. Flying at night in semi-bad weather is never fun, but the mission always goes on regardless of weather (to a certain extent). So my wingman and I took off. The visibility was about 1 mile which is NOT very far. When the visibility is that bad, we are required to fly under instrument flight rules; something that my flight 2 nights ago was also my first time doing since I got here in March. As I got airborne, my Heads Up Display (HUD) "shifted" about 5 inches to the right; this is not good and a problem exists. However, 5 seconds later, it goes back to the normal position. Since the airplane I was flying was made the same year I was born, I just said, "ah whatever, it's old and she's just working out the kinks" and I pressed on into the dust filled night. As we climbed up through 10,000 feet, the visibility got a bit better, but now a new problem was revealed; no kidding storm clouds.......and I was sure the tanker was going to drag us right into them as they seem prone to be attracted to clouds. Sure enough, they did. As my wingman and I struggled to stay on the boom (the probe that extends from the refueling aircraft) through turbulence, low visibility, and the fact it's pitch-black, the radios started going crazy with immediate request for "Hawg" flight to roll up to an area where some friendly forces were taking heavy fire. Once I finally completed my refueling, I told #2 I was leaving him and we'd rejoin in the area where we were needed.
Pushing my A-10 to the limit speed wise, I quickly gathered as much information as I could about where we were going, who we were supporting, what other aircraft were already overhead (remember, it's dark and other aircraft do fly here), what frequencies they were on, and what's the tactical situation. Meanwhile, the visibility is still bad, the lightning flashes are blinding and oh by the way, the radios (we have 3 of them) are going to hell....meaning it's like trying to listen to 3 different phone calls while a power drill, vacuum cleaner, and Harley Davidson motorcycle are all running right next to you. After repeating myself numerous times and saying "say again for Hawg 71", I nearly ejected just to escape the annoying and painful sounds coming directly into my ears through my helmet.
After deciding not to eject and do my job, I finally checked in with the ground forces and got an update on the situation. Luckily, the enemy fire had stopped and nobody on the ground was injured...something that unfortunately is not always the case. Finally, my wingman catches up and rejoins with me. After hanging out over the friendlies for a time, we get re-rolled to support another friendly unit who's returning back to their base. The bad thing for us is that this unit was going to drive straight through the capital of Kabul. Doing a convoy escort is tough; doing a convoy escort over a major (relatively) metropolitan area is even more difficult. Not to mention, once again our radios were SEVERELY degraded due to, well, they just were. Anyhow, #2 and I power our way through that and then we are cleared to make the nearly 300 mile trek back to Kandahar. Not to mention, we had another air refueling in there. Again, it was very painful and this time, amplified by the F16's and F15's all trying to get gas as well. Putting 6 fighter jets and a big refueling tanker all within a mile of eachother at 3AM might seem crazy to you. If not, then you've not been there because I think it's ludicrous, but being the good troop I am, I just do it and move on.
Anyhow, we returned to Kandahar and since it was my last night flight, of course the weather was bad. Calling up all the navigational instruments I haven't used since Moody, I was pleasantly surprised I remembered how to work them all. After flying the approach down to minimums (the lowest I can fly before I have to abort the approach), the elation that came over me that I hadn't crashed and there in front of me stood the beautiful strobe lights and runway was awesome. More importantly as my wheels touched the asphalt, I was relieved that I no longer would have to wear these heavy night vision goggles hanging in front of my face and from now on, those dang dangerous air refuelings would be done during the sunlight where I could actually see the 150 thousand pounds of pure jet fuel I was "bumping" into everytime I fly.
After coming back into the Squadron, it was time for my "fini-breakfast". The greatest thing about the night shift was the fact that after a "day's" work, we would go as a group to stuff our faces with 1,500 calories of omelet and fried hash browns, then go back to the Mod to let the calories just lay in our stomachs while we slept for the next 8 hours. However, since this was my last night flight, I was planning on trying to stay up and start adjusting my clock to the new schedule. I had been going to sleep about 0600Z; now I'm trying to adjust to going to sleep about 1500Z (9 hours later). My plan was to try and just power through my tiredness. About 7Z, one hour later than normal, my plan failed miserably. So, I woke up about 1500Z and couldn't go back to sleep. I tried reading, watching a movie, listening to music; nothing worked. After my futile attempt to get more sleep, I just accepted that I was going to get up and suck it up for the next 20 hours or so.
So here I am. I've drank 4 coffee's, 2 energy drinks, and ate a nice breakfast of jerky and girl scout cookies. I'm doing fine so far and I honestly think by the time I go home in a few hours, my body will be all adjusted. If not, it'll just be good preparation for once the little man comes around this fall!
Monday, July 11, 2011
Having a Son......Far From Home.
It was a Monday morning, the 23 of May of this year, that I got to find out the wonderful news about the sex of Rachel and I's upcoming baby. I was sitting Top 3 (or Operations Supervisor...depends on who you ask) for our Fighter Squadrons daily activity. Being a Top 3 is kind of nice in that I get to sit at a desk and do some "administrative" related things and also catch up on some emails and simply hang out in the Squadron talking to the numerous people who come and go. This night was extra special however. It was special because I knew that after my shift was over, I was going straight to the Morale tent in order to use Skype video to call Rachel and find out the sex.
Rachel was in Arizona visiting the family out there. They had been having a wonderful week and I'm sure like myself, they were anxious to find out what little Mango was going to be. Rachel and Toni (her Mother) had found a place that does ultrasounds on the weekends; perfect because it allowed Rachel's family to be a part of a very special event in pregnancy that I was unable to be at and it let Rachel and I coordinate a time that I could be present via the Internet to see what Mango was going to be. I had worked with the schedulers to ensure that I was available on Sunday afternoon Arizona time (about 3AM here in Afghanistan). That night, as I sat there "running" our small piece of the Afghanistan War, it was tough to stay focused on the job at hand when I had such an exciting event coming up in the near future. Nearly ever person in our Squadron commented on how jubilant I was and how "slap-happy" I was all evening. The first 6 hours of my shift went by quickly; the last two hours it was like time had slowed down to quarter speed and the hours dragged on. Finally, at 0230AM my replacement (Capt Mike "Papa" Roche) FINALLY rolled in to replace me. Well, Papa, God Bless him, likes to take his sweet old time upon arriving. He'll meander around the Squadron, saying hi, grabbing coffee, a bagel, and whatever other care package item he can get his hand on. After explaining to Papa that "dude, seriously...you need to sit down now and take over", he got the drift that I was in a hurry to get out of here. After pretty much blowing off all pertinent info about the 74 FS's current activities in the War, I sprinted out of the Squadron. I nearly face-planted running my 225lbs (year, that's right....225) frame down the stairs as quickly as possible. Due to my superior and lighting quick skills, I was able to catch myself just in time and more importantly, save my lap top from certain destruction. As Rachel knows, if I would of broken yet another lap top, I would of killed every Taliban in this country and the War would be over.....maybe that would of been a good thing? Anyhow, after regrouping, and of course making sure nobody saw my near catastrophe, I ran down to the Morale tent.
Barging into the Morale tent, I was pleasantly surprised that it was empty. This was a good thing. I seem to have a problem with electronics when everyone else's seems to work fine. This was yet again the case. After 10 minutes of saying things I hope my child never hears me say, I was finally up and running on Skype. I dialed Rachel's skype number and it rang. After what seemed like eternity, there was my precious love, saying hello to me on the other end. My 2 minutes of good fortune quickly turned bad as I immediately noticed my skype screen was "freezing"....meaning yet again, the electronic God's were laughing at me and making the stuff just not work like it's supposed. So I more or less tell Rachel to dispense with the hello's and let's get down to it and open up this envelope....my time is a running out on this Internet connection.
So I sat there, nearly 10,000 miles away from my Love and awaited her to open the envelope. Just like our initial pregnancy test, Rachel gave me the honor of finding out first, something I truly cherish. As the screen got fuzzy and jumped around with it's 10second delay, Rachel held up a picture right to the camera. Now I have 20/15 vision, but me being able to tell what this little creation was just wasn't going to happen. I felt awful and dejected, but kept squinting and straining to see what our little Mango was going to be. Rachel asked me what it was and I simply said "I can't tell" or something like that. So Rachel then turns it around and right when I didn't think I could stand the wait any longer, she says, "it's a boy". The feeling that came over me was unlike anything I've ever experienced. My eyes welled up and my pride soared; not only had I "done my part" and gotten Rachel pregnant, but this little angel was going to be a boy! As many pilots say, I had "snuck one by the goalie" since most fighter pilots have girls and we were having a boy. Nearly simultaneously as this emotional and happy event is taking place, the electronic God's crush my moment and totally freeze Rachel's image right as tears and radiant beams from her beautiful face are streaming out of my computer 10 thousand miles away. I slammed down my screen and ran back towards our fighter squadron to immediately get in touch with Rachel via a land-line. As luck would have it, Rachel did not answer on the my first attempt and my feeling of being a worthless husband and now father skyrocketed as not only was I not there for this event, but now I wasn't even able to effectively speak with my wife. I immediately redialed the number and this time, there was my best-friends voice on the other end and both our voices quivered in happiness and heartfelt emotion at the "little man" we were now going to bring into the world.
After the conversation with Rachel, I knew it was time to pass the word to family. After all that was accomplished, I went back up to the Squadron. Walking into the Squadron, it took less than 3 seconds for people to notice something magical had taken place. My smile was ear to ear and I just couldn't stop smiling. I told everyone and then I told them again and again. Hands were shaken, congrats were passed, names were already being offered. I basked in the joy of being an expectant father of a Son. I truly thought we were going to have a girl and I was SO happy with that. I can only hope that God will bless Rachel and I again with another child and I honestly hope it's a girl. However, with so many contributing factors such as my profession, more girls in the family than boys, and the old school thought of having my oldest offspring be the "man of the house" when I'm gone, I was beyond excited our firstborn was going to be a boy and the Mitchell name will carry on.
After all the initial congrats, it was time to celebrate the best I could. I grabbed my pipe and a near-beer and headed out to "The Winchester", a little smoke area we have here. Don't worry, I'm not a smoker, but on special occasions, I will light up a cigar or pipe and bask in the moment and reflect. Several of the guys wanted to be around; people tend to feed off other people's emotion and my emotion was all good on this morning.
So here we are. That was nearly two months ago and I'm just now writing about it. The events over here have been many since then, some of them not good for me. However, know that there is not a day that goes by where I don't think about my Rachel and our Son. My heart beams with joy and I can't wait to welcome OUR SON into the world!
Saturday, May 28, 2011
May 2011: Osama Bin Laden's Death
Another month down during this deployment. I must say, it was a big month. First off and most importantly, Rachel and I found out we are going to be having a Son. The feeling is indescribable, but my attempt at it will follow in another blog. Additionally, Rachel got to go see her family, I went from Mid-shift over here to Night shift, my mustache got another 4mm's longer, and I lost more weight still. However, the obvious Nationwide, Worldwide for that matter, news for May was Osama Bin Laden's death.
Some may be wondering about what was happening over here during the no kidding, kick down the door and storm the compound timeframe. Certain things were in place, but 99% of our operation was "ops normal". In fact, I was busy just hanging around the squadron when the word dropped. We (several other pilots and I) sat with a weird sense of satisfaction at the reports we were getting. Unfortunately for us, we couldn't see the President's initial speech, but we got to read a transcript soon after. The cigars and near-beer came out pretty quickly and the several war-stories we all had since 2001 all resurfaced for some laughs and moments of reflection.
Seeing the Internet news of the reaction back in the States was somewhat peculiar to me however. To begin, I am happy justice has been served. As President Bush stated, "Dead or Alive", I must admit, I was 51% towards Dead as opposed to Alive. The hoopla and years of debate that would of raged about him would of been a nightmare. Now, it's simply done and life goes on. But the behaviour of thousands and thousands of Americans was somewhat interesting to me. The emotions ranged from extreme happiness to quiet and tear-filled reflective moments. I was somewhere between those two points. The US is a free country and people are entitled to show and express their opinions. However, as many pundits have written about, where is the moral compass in showing parties, chants of "USA, USA", and college kids hanging drunkenly from trees and street signs? The anger many Americans have when they see a foreign country burning the flag is the feeling that I think we were creating and showing to the world. To top it all off, most of, hell, probably nearly all of these people that were jubilant and ecstatic have no real connection to the events that day nor have they served in a capacity to have any effect whatsoever on the war front. Less than 1% of America's population serves in the military today. A bit arrogant I admit, but those of us who have actually been here, where the metal meets the meat, didn't feel the need to swing from a stop light and tell the world we're number 1 and wave a flag around. Again, I'm not saying that people don't have that right; they do and I 100% support that right. I'm just saying it's funny to me that people did that and the people who actually do the dirty work didn't feel the need.
On the flip side of this though is the happiness and renewed confidence the American people should have in their military and counter-terrorism units. People should be proud that nearly 10 years after it happened, when the headline news spoke of nothing but "why are we still there; we're never going to catch him" that the professionals are quietly, patiently, and with heartfelt determination, still tracking down those who do/did us harm. I know from personal conversations with some reading this that you thought he'd never be found and you wondered why your tax dollars were still supporting the effort. It was important because justice needs to always be done. Human nature is to see good-guys win; bad-guys lose. However, justice is often an unfair thing and it seems at times like it's never done or realized. But in this case, the American people got to see the realization of something that many thought was nothing more but a pipe-dream. They got to see some of the qualities that once made us all proud to be Americans. Steadfast dedication to a cause in the face of opposition. A cause that in my opinion, a price tag can't be put on. I think most would agree...or at least in Rachel, Peanut, and our future's son's home we believe, that when someone attacks you in own backyard, retribution will be realized in one way or another. People who doubted the resolve of the Nation now must admit that our Country made a promise and it came through on it. I obviously feel it was worth the cost. Many others I'm sure do not. But that's the great thing about our Country; we can all feel and say what we want and have open dialogue about it. Freedom is a wonderful thing.
Some may be wondering about what was happening over here during the no kidding, kick down the door and storm the compound timeframe. Certain things were in place, but 99% of our operation was "ops normal". In fact, I was busy just hanging around the squadron when the word dropped. We (several other pilots and I) sat with a weird sense of satisfaction at the reports we were getting. Unfortunately for us, we couldn't see the President's initial speech, but we got to read a transcript soon after. The cigars and near-beer came out pretty quickly and the several war-stories we all had since 2001 all resurfaced for some laughs and moments of reflection.
Seeing the Internet news of the reaction back in the States was somewhat peculiar to me however. To begin, I am happy justice has been served. As President Bush stated, "Dead or Alive", I must admit, I was 51% towards Dead as opposed to Alive. The hoopla and years of debate that would of raged about him would of been a nightmare. Now, it's simply done and life goes on. But the behaviour of thousands and thousands of Americans was somewhat interesting to me. The emotions ranged from extreme happiness to quiet and tear-filled reflective moments. I was somewhere between those two points. The US is a free country and people are entitled to show and express their opinions. However, as many pundits have written about, where is the moral compass in showing parties, chants of "USA, USA", and college kids hanging drunkenly from trees and street signs? The anger many Americans have when they see a foreign country burning the flag is the feeling that I think we were creating and showing to the world. To top it all off, most of, hell, probably nearly all of these people that were jubilant and ecstatic have no real connection to the events that day nor have they served in a capacity to have any effect whatsoever on the war front. Less than 1% of America's population serves in the military today. A bit arrogant I admit, but those of us who have actually been here, where the metal meets the meat, didn't feel the need to swing from a stop light and tell the world we're number 1 and wave a flag around. Again, I'm not saying that people don't have that right; they do and I 100% support that right. I'm just saying it's funny to me that people did that and the people who actually do the dirty work didn't feel the need.
On the flip side of this though is the happiness and renewed confidence the American people should have in their military and counter-terrorism units. People should be proud that nearly 10 years after it happened, when the headline news spoke of nothing but "why are we still there; we're never going to catch him" that the professionals are quietly, patiently, and with heartfelt determination, still tracking down those who do/did us harm. I know from personal conversations with some reading this that you thought he'd never be found and you wondered why your tax dollars were still supporting the effort. It was important because justice needs to always be done. Human nature is to see good-guys win; bad-guys lose. However, justice is often an unfair thing and it seems at times like it's never done or realized. But in this case, the American people got to see the realization of something that many thought was nothing more but a pipe-dream. They got to see some of the qualities that once made us all proud to be Americans. Steadfast dedication to a cause in the face of opposition. A cause that in my opinion, a price tag can't be put on. I think most would agree...or at least in Rachel, Peanut, and our future's son's home we believe, that when someone attacks you in own backyard, retribution will be realized in one way or another. People who doubted the resolve of the Nation now must admit that our Country made a promise and it came through on it. I obviously feel it was worth the cost. Many others I'm sure do not. But that's the great thing about our Country; we can all feel and say what we want and have open dialogue about it. Freedom is a wonderful thing.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
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