Mom

As cliche as it is to begin a letter this way, I can't think of any other way to do it. So here goes . . .

If you're reading this, I didn't make it home, or at least I didn't make it home the way I intended. For that, I cannot apologize enough. I never intended to have you suffer the way I can only imagine that you are now. I always wanted to do something bigger than myself, and I felt that the military was the best way that I could give back to my country. It never went exactly like I thought or hoped it would, but sacrifices are never supposed to be easy. Looking back now, I would probably rather have stayed home and been a park ranger and still been there with you and Dad for all the birthdays, holidays, and Christmas mornings.

As far back as I can remember, you and I have been connected in a way that I really cannot explain. Even as a child, you knew when I was upset, needed encouragement or could have used a helping hand. You've always sent me little cards and notes that I have kept over the years. They have always been a source of strength and comfort to me. The countless conversations that we have had remain forever in my memory and will always be among my most cherished reminiscences of our time together. Even now, your influence in my life is apparent as I try unsuccessfully to refrain from the use of the passive voice.

I don't really know what to say, Mom. I feel like I owe you some viable explanation or comforting words. I know that probably seems as if I am placing such a great value on me as a person. It just hurts my heart as I sit here writing this in my bedroom knowing what will have transpired for you to read this. I just hope that regardless of the situation or circumstances surrounding my death that you will know that I was serving my country with everything that I had within me. I brought with me to work every day all the things you and Dad taught me, and I have tried so hard to implement them in the way I treat others.

Mom, you have been the single greatest influence in my life. As far back as I can remember, I have always cared deeply about your thoughts and perceptions of me and my actions. I have always trusted your judgment and advice, even though sometimes I didn't want to hear it. I knew that you only had in your heart what was good for me and that you only wanted to see me succeed and avoid failure. For these things and your perpetual guidance, I thank you.

I would be remiss to leave out your great strength, faith and personal drive. If anyone in my life has taught me the importance of setting goals and achieving them no matter the cost, it is you. As a child and a young man I watched you go from running to the mail box, to 5ks to the Memphis Marathon. I stood witness my senior year in high school as you worked on your bachelors degree, pursued a masters and eventually added Ph.D. to the end of your name. In the midst of all that you still loved me and made time to do things with me. I have learned so much from your time, hard work and dedication. Thank you!

You also taught me how to have fun. I will always cherish the movies we went to see together, the concerts we attended, and the museums we visited. As I sit here now, I remember being Charlie in The Foreigner while you played Betty Meeks. I can't tell you how fun it was to be on stage with you. It is easily one of the happiest moments and memories in my life. I don't know how many other 26 year olds spend their Spring Breaks with their mother's flying from one museum in London to another, but I had such a great time because you were there to share it with me.

I cannot think of any important event in my life when you weren't there. You have been a constant support and guide for me in my life. You gave me strength when I wanted to quit. You knew the abilities and strengths I had within myself even when I did not. You never let me forget that and you always pushed me toward bettering myself and helped me to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I feel as if this letter should go on forever. Even as I draw it to a close now, I feel like I am doing you a disservice by not coming back home to you and not providing you with a novel that you may read over several days and receive some sort of closure. Please have faith that my soul has gone to where you always prayed it would go. Take comfort in the fact that I am now waiting for you in eternity, and I am not alone. As surely as I write this to you now, I know that Papaw was waiting for me when the angel carried me home to await the day that you and the rest of the family would join me. While my body is now gone, my spirit will linger there with you forever. Please know that if there is anyway I can watch over you from heaven that I will do it. I pray that you will think of me fondly and with a smile on your face instead of with tears in your eyes. Think of me when you hear the Arkansas Pops, when you attend a performance at The Rep, see a movie that Dad wont' go to or when you complete an extremely difficult crossfit workout. Please don't become bitter. Don't let my leaving affect your ability to influence others for the good.

I'm so sorry that I have to stop writing you. I hope that you are proud of me. I pray fervently that my actions in this life have not been an embarrassment to you but a life that you can look upon and be proud to have influenced so greatly. I am proud of you, for what it's worth, and could never ask for anything better in a mother. I love you so much, and if anyone can be plagued by sorrow in the great hereafter by missing someone left behind on earth it will be me missing you. Push forever forward. Live every day to the absolute fullest, and please remember me.

Love always, your son,

Travis

New Job

Well, this marks the end of my first week at the new job. For the last year+ I have been serving as a platoon leader in the 82nd ABN Division. Throughout that time I have learned more than I ever thought possible. It has been tough and not always rewarding, but looking back on it, I now know that I will remember the experience as one of the best of my life.

At present I am serving with an infantry battalion in the 82nd. I'm still interested to see how I am received by the other officers since I am not combat arms. So far, however, I have been treated extremely well. We have been working long hours on training exercises, but I look forward to this job more with each passing day. I already feel like what we do makes a difference. As time goes, I hope I grow to love it more. We will see.

Egyptian protests? Tunisia? Yemen? They say there is nothing so powerful as an idea whose time has come.

It's about time . . .

Well, I have allowed more than a year to go by without posting. I'm sure that all the millions of people out there that read this have been anxiously awaiting for my return. Well, wait no longer. The glorious day of your liberation has arrived. I am sitting here in Fayetteville on the end of a four day weekend, or a 96 to some of you. I have thoroughly enoyed my three and a half days off, and I think I will prob spend the rest of this day dreading tomorrow. That seems to be my new schedule: anticipate the coming weekend and, once it arrives, dread the coming week.

With that being said, I am spending my last two weeks in my current job before switching. I am actually swapping job positions with a good friend. He will be coming to take my job, and I will take his. Unfortunately, we will do this on the exact same day so there will be no time to pass of any knowledge. It's not the end of the world, but I'm certain that a day or two together would help pass quite a bit of instiutional knowledge on.

The stressor in this job change lies in the fact that I will report to an infantry battalion. They generally push their officers to go to RANGER school, and I am gearing up for the pressure that will no doubt be laid on me as soon as I enter the door. I have spent the last several days trying to drum up in the internal stamina and intestinal fortitude to convince myself that I want to go to Ranger School. I know it would suck to do, but I'm sure the reward and fulfillment at the end is worth the hunger, lack of sleep, loss of energy, loss of massive amounts of weight, teeth falling out, hair falling out by the roots, general loss of will to live and co-exist in a meaningful manner on the planet, and so on. A piece of cloth with RANGER on it has got to be worth that doesn't it?

I haven't figured it out yet. I'll try and post more and keep on top of things here.

Das Abzeichen für Leistungen im Truppendienst in Gold

While attending the Military Intelligence Officer's Course, I have had the opportunity to pursue the German Armed Forces Proficiency Badge (GAFPB). This is one of the few foreign awards that U.S. personnel are allowed to wear on their dress uniforms. To acquire the badge you must participate in several different events performing to a particular standard. Your reward is the badge to the left in either Gold, Silver, or Bronze depending on your level of performance. To win Gold you must complete the following events:

200m swim-6:00 minutes

3000m run-13:00 minutes

100m sprint-13.6 seconds

High Jump-1.35m

Shot Put-8m

25m Marksmanship- Shoot 5/5

18.7 mile ruck march- 5:00 hours

What did I manage to get you might ask? Well, it came down to the ruck march and the swim. I failed the swim twice before finally coming in 30 seconds under time. Go figure! And for the grand finale, I finished the ruck march seven minutes early with a whopping 4 hours and 53 minutes. Nothing like coming in at the last minute. Somehow I managed to get the Gold GAFPB, or as they say in Germany, "Das Abzeichen für Leistungen im Truppendienst in Gold."

I'm quite pleased.

For the Fallen (Sept. 21, 1914), September 21, 1914

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Written as a reaction to the high casualty rates of the British Expeditionary Force at Mons and Le Cateau
-Laurence Robert Binyon

1-12-1985/09-10-2009

They are more than a name . . . please remember.

Thoughts from Over There

I used to believe we had lost command of the English language, but it seems that grammar is not everything. Some retain the ability to write simply and with great feeling. I stand corrected.

Army Staff Sgt. Dale Panchot, 26, of Northome, Minn., in a letter to his family.

“I was reading my Bible the other night and in the book of Genesis ... it said when God created the heavens and earth, he made four rivers, two of which are here in Iraq, the Tigris and the Euphrates. So after I found that out, I had to go down by the river and touch the water. I tell you, it was something else. Pretty cool, huh?”

The final journal entry of Army National Guard Chief Warrant Officer Bruce Smith, 41, of West Liberty, Iowa. His wife, Oliva, received the necklace in the mail two days after his funeral, with a short note:

“Oliva, Happy Birthday Early. Love Bruce.”“I sent Oliva a b-day present yesterday. A nice necklace. She will get it a couple of weeks early but that is good.”

Army National Guard Sgt. Roger Rowe, 54, of Bon Aqua, Tenn., in his last letter to his wife, Shirley.

“Love has always gotten us through and it will do so again.”

Army Pfc. Diego Rincon, 19, of Conyers, Ga., in his last letter home.

“Whether I make it or not, it’s all part of the plan. It can’t be changed, only completed. Mother will be the last word I’ll say. Your face will be the last picture that goes through my eyes. ... I just hope that you’re proud of what I’m doing and have faith in my decisions. I will try hard and not give up. I just want to say sorry for anything I have ever done wrong. And I’m doing it all for you mom. I love you.”

Some Gave All

Executive Mansion,Washington, Nov. 21, 1864.
Dear Madam,--
I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.

I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save.

I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,
A. Lincoln

Weekends . . .

Einstein had something going with the whole relativity thing. I have my own theory regarding weekends. I don't know how E=mc2 will figure into it, but I know that somehow time accelerates over the weekend and then slows to a crawl. My weeks here have, for the most part, gone by fairly quickly. I set small milestones along the way so that I can act surprised when I get to them. Childish, I know. Wednesday night is the best one for me so far. I found a really good church here and look forward to visiting with the people there.

But back to the weekends. Thus far the weekends cruise by at the speed of light. I usually catch a movie and then do some hiking with a friend of mine from church. Today we hiked in an old abandoned mine up in the Huachuca Mountains. The weekends have been a great experience here, but they just fly by so quickly. I always seem to find myself on Sunday night lamenting the coming morning.

As I walked through Hasting's buying books to entertain me over the coming weeks, I also made a movie purchase. Their on the shelf was no movie other than "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken." Many may have no idea that this movies exists, but it stars Don Knotts as a would be newspaper reporter vs. an old haunted house and the murder mystery within. A lot of people don't like that kind of comedy, but I thoroughly enjoy it. I've watched it twice already, and Monday doesn't seem so bad. Can Don Knotts thwart the theory of relativity?

Maybe I'll make another disjointed post like this soon.

Stil thinking

I've been stewing over what I wrote yesterday and have some more thoughts to post about it; however, my homework from my schooling has crowded into my evening. I think I'll ruminate on it some more and post more tomorrow. Besides, I'm almost finished with my Dean Koontz novel and will probably wrap it up tonight (instead of reading army field manuals).

So I will post a picture. I've been studying some military history and recently purchased the "Band of Brothers" DVD box set. So I give you the true reason for the allied victory in World War II. Who knew it was so simple?

More questions than answers

Well, some time has passed since I last posted. I have been both busy and in an all-consuming funk as of late. I can't really explain it, but part of it has to do with my current school schedule. It's just not he most exciting thing in the world right now, and I find myself thinking of home and other things. That's dangerous when you still have some 11 weeks left until school is finally over for a while. I've always been a bad day counter, and BOLC2 sapped the last bit of my motivation.

My friend Mary Anne and her husband, Cy, have both told me on numerous occasions that "you're problem is you want to go out and change the world." This is usually after I've denied yet another job offer from Cy to go and work for Fastenal and make a lot of money as one of his employees. I would always thank him and make some statement similar to the change the world deal. Then I would promptly forget about it and go about making my plans to "change the world."

I would usually roll my eyes and tell myself that I don't think that I need to change the world. I haven't thought about those moments in a long time until I got here. Since coming here I do a lot of thinking. I tend to think of just about everything except what I should be thinking about here. In keeping with that tendency I went to the bookstore this past week and bought a Dean Koontz and a Chris Baldacci novel. I began the Dean Koontz book and found a little bit of wisdom in an odd place.

The book, Fear Nothing, has turned out to be quite intriguing, and as I lay reading it on Saturday night, I read a few pages that left me sitting open mouthed in wonder. While Chris and Bobby are discussing the strange turn of events surrounding the past several hours, they come to a decision point. They must do as Christ wishes and pursue the matter further, or they may take Bobby's path and just forget it happened at all and hope life returns to normal. As Chris goes off to change the world Bobby says, "You know what your problem is? Your problem is you want to make a mark on the world. You want to leave something behind that says, I was here."

Chris responded by saying that he pretty much didn't care about things like that. Sound familiar thus far? I was in agreement at this point until Bobby's next point.

"We're not here to leave a mark, bro. Monuments, legacies, marks--that's where we always go wrong. We're here to revel in the world, to soak in the awesomeness of it, to enjoy the ride . . . The world's maximum perfect as it is, beauty from horizon to horizon. Any mark any of us tried to leave--, it's only graffiti. Any mark is no better than vandalism . . . Live life. Soak it up. Enjoy. That's what you're here to do."

Now I understand how this might come off as a "throw everything to the wind and live in complete and utter drunken revelry." In the context of the book you would realize that this is not what Bobby is saying. Chris suffers from a disease that has left him extremely photosensitive. The fact that he has lived to 28 years of age is a miracle in and of itself. Bobby is trying to ensure that Christ prolongs his years and makes the most of what he has.

With that being said and looking back at Bobby's idea, have I missed a point in life? Have I missed what it's all about? Have I wasted time . . . a lot of it? I'm normally not a confused and mentally errant person, but those few words summed up the thoughts in my mind over the last few weeks perfectly.

I feel like I've missed some simply truth in my life that has been staring me in the face for 27 years only to go unseen due to my blindness. I think of my mother and the focus on life she has always seemed to possess throughout my life. Have I made my life far more difficult than it should be? Do I seek things in other places that I have always had close by? I am discovering more questions at a time when I thought my life was going to start becoming clearer.

What's going on?

The final days

It has come at last. My time at BOLC2 draws to a close, and yet again I find myself heading off into the unknown. It's odd to think about it, but despite my misgivings about this course, it does provide and air of security and comfort just because I am aware of the rhythm here. Next week will be a new place, new instructors, and a completely new routine; however, I will finally be learning a trade in which I have always held a strong interest. I'm apprehensive but ready.

I've been absent for the past week or so due to some field time we had to put in out in the FOB. It was an interesting two weeks that we topped off with a 10 mile ruck march. It wouldn't have been bad if I had not hurt my back the morning of the ruck march and had to do the whole thing injured. Not fun to say the least, but very rewarding in the end even thought I finished the march hunched over and more reminiscent of "Eye"gore from Mel Brook's "Frankenstein." It hasn't been a bad experience all around. I've met some great people I will no doubt work with in the future. I'm looking forward to the next chapter in the book of my life.


p.s. My mother just received her PhD this week! So proud of her! Congratulations Mom!

10 Days Left

I technically have 3 weeks left, but the last week is outprocessing and the next two weeks we spend Monday through Friday in the field. So it is really only 10 days of training left. I am not enthralled about this at all, and I'm really digging deep to find the motivation necessary to put up with these final days. I know it will be over in the blink of an eye. If life is like a vapor, what must two weeks be in the grand scheme of things? From this side it seems interminable although I know differently. Keep me in your prayers and send me a text from time to time. A letter would be nice too if you have the time :D

Good luck.

Another week . . .

I'll be spending this entire week out in the field doing land navigation training. I'll have my phone, but you all may not hear from me that often. I will try to call and text as the opportunities arise. Please pray for me as I do land navigation. If I can manage a perfect score I will qualify for honor graduate here. Even though the course is going away, I would still like to earn the honor. Just because I'm gone doesn't mean my room is public to the open either. Love you Mom and Dad.

For Dad

I have been lucky to have had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with my father. Truth be told, not all of it has been pleasant. The unpleasant times are usually due to my failure to adhere to certain rules or expectations. In general, about 99% of them have been my fault. On this particular Father's Day I find myself several hundred miles away from home and thinking about the man who has made me so much of what I am today. I was thinking back over the years reminiscing of funny times, sad times, long nights, and sleepless morning working on the farm. Out of all those times, one night keeps coming back into my mind over and over again. I find it odd that this would be the story I choose to tell about my father today. It's not an amazing story and should, it would seem, be lost forever from my memory by now. For some reason, however, it still hangs around as clear as the night it happened.

When I was probably 12 or 13, we all did a great deal of rabbit hunting. Dad, my brother, my cousins, other friends and I would all load up the dogs, go out in freezing weather and try to locate and decimate the local rabbit population. One evening, and I don't think it was even rabbit season, Dad and I loaded up the dogs and took them over to Uncle Homer's place across Hog Tusk. There were rabbits and the occasional deer over in the bottom near Uncle Dub's place. As I recall we had about three dogs and let them out of the box to run. They hit on a rabbit or a squirrel and ran for a long time. Dad and I walked along in the woods listening. As it began to grow dark, we were able to catch two of the dogs. One, however, continued to run endlessly down in the bottoms. Her barking echoed over the water, and we knew she was much further than we could walk before dark. We headed back to the truck with the other dogs.

When we arrived, we loaded the other dogs up, dropped the tailgate, and waited for the other dog. As darkness fell, we built a fire in front of the truck using some old tree limbs that had fallen along the wood line. I don't know how long we sat there waiting for the dog to come back. Dad and I talked the entire time. I remember some of the stories he told. I've probably heard them a dozen times since then by my own prompting. I remember listening to him talk and worrying that I would never have such stories to tell people when I grew up. He told stories of when he was my age, and when he was in high school. He talked about people I knew and told stories of people I feel as though I now know. My uncles, grandparents, aunts, and Dad's coworkers all seemed so different in those stories. I discovered that I knew them differently than Dad. Others, like the mysterious Frank Poe, I have never met but feel as though I know just from hearing Dad's stories about him. I think I would know him instantly if I saw him.

Dad and I talked into the night. Then, as now, the night passed all too quickly. I remember not wanting to leave and halfway hoping the dog wouldn't show up so we would have to spend the night. In time we heard the jingle of the dog's collar and saw her eyes light up in the firelight as she approached us in the darkness. We caught her, put her in the dog box, and waited for the fire to die. It only took minutes and they went by far too quickly. I climbed back into "old blue" and we drove out of the field, onto the dirt road that went up to Hwy. 78. We made the left, crossed Hog Tusk, drove past Charles Flowers, then past Papaw's field and by Miss Laveta Mae's house. We turned left in front of Miss Sue's store and drove through the metropolis of Aubrey in the moonlight until we reached our house. We put the dogs up, and I suppose the night ended much like any other at our house.

I went to sleep that night thinking of Dad and his life and wondering if mine would be half so interesting to tell someone about in the future. I think about that night more tan you think one would considering it was fairly uneventful. Of all the big things that have happened in my life, I don't think, when you combine all of them, that their sum total can exceed even one of those moments with Dad. I'm glad I have a million more of those little moments to last the rest of my life.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! Thanks for the memories and all you've taught me!

England on my mind.

I have been absent for the past few days. We had some training that went until late in the day, and I could not muster the stamina to stay up and write something when we got back. I simply hit the sack. I've made it through week two, and have a weekend pass. Some buddies and I are going to Oklahoma City. We'll see how that turns out.

For the past few days I've been thinking about the last year of my life, specifically 2009, and all the things that have happened. I believe it will remain one of the oddest and most eventful years of my life. While I've been in this wonderful training known as BOLCII, I have had several hours to kill while waiting in line to accomplish a certain task or learn a particular set of actions. During that time I've dwelt a considerable bit on a trip to England that I finally undertook during spring break this year. I had planned to go with two friends of mine and called my mother to tell her. She was excited about the opportunity (and probably a bit jealous). She gave me some hints about where to go and what to do. About 10 days out, my buddies bailed on me because they couldn't get a passport in time. Somewhat ashamed and embarrassed that I hadn't asked her first, I called Mom to see if she would go with me.

She was working on her dissertation, and I knew that although she may want to go she may not be able to due the large volume of work she had before her. I knew she was interested when I called and asked, but she said she would have to think about it and talk to dad. Within a few hours, I had my answer.

Mom and I left for England a few days later, and I enjoyed one of the best trips of my life. We must have walked five marathons up and down London's streets. We got a nice hotel about 1/4 mile from an underground station and planned each day out the night before. We caught a play every night on London's West End and saw almost everything there was to see in London. I know I got snippy once or twice as we negotiated some of the worst pedestrian traffic in the world. Looking back, that is the only regret I have of the trip. I really wish I didn't let small things like that get to me that threaten to ruin a trip or make your travel partner, and mother, feel that you are mad at them. I suppose that is my burden to overcome in life.

That week was one of the most exhausting and exhilarating weeks of my life. I enjoyed every minute of it and still smile when I think back that I have a mother who will hop on a plane with me, run through the traffic of London, and make some of the best memories of my life. When times are less than favorable, and I long for better times. That trip always surfaces "in the back roads of my memory" and keeps things "ever gentle on my mind."

Thanks for the good times Mom!

The bottom of the fast food chain . . .

In fast food, you have your top of the lines restaurants: McDonald's, Burger King, Sonic, Taco Bell, etc. You also have your less than ideal eating establishments. Church's Chicken, in my opinion, falls at the very bottom of the chain. After training today two Second Lieutenants and I(sounds kind of neat to say that) went out to eat. One of them, who shall remain nameless, suggested Church's Chicken. We decided to dine in that particular establishment much to our taste bud's dismay. Nevertheless, the trek was not a total loss.



Now in the Army you may see one Sergeant Major or two Sergeants Major. You can address letters to Dr. and Mrs. Smith or The Drs. Smith if they both hold the title (i believe). So in the case of ordering food at Church's Chicken, which rule applies. The gentleman in line after me ordered "Some chicken, a couple of them biscuits and two corn on the cobs." Now I sat there in the chicken shack for the next several minutes trying to determine whether it should be "corn on the cobs" or "corns on the cob." You could go the easy way out and simply request, "two corn cobs please." All of the three sounded so humorous that I started laughing in the chicken place. I guess the ladies felt sorry for me because they gave us all free apple pies.



So which is it? "Corn on the cobs." "Corns on the cob." or "Two corn cobs please."



p.s. another excellent day of training to include a 5 mile road march. I lost ten pounds in water (at least) over the course of the march. Overall a really good day.

From this corner of the world

The week is almost over. Tomorrow is Wednesday, and we have an 8K ruck march in the morning. I have to be dressed and ready to step off no later than 0415. Needless to say, I am less than thrilled at this prospect; nevertheless, we get to shoot a little bit more tomorrow. Today wasn't too bad. It was hot and uncomfortable, but I suppose that's the nature of training. We know for sure that this course is cancelled, so it makes little sense for me to keep taking notes to pass on to future generations of ASU graduates. Some of my own graduating class have been lucky enough to avoid having to take this course. It's not a bad course, it just seems kind of pointless now that the Army has decided to get rid of it. I find it very hard not to develop a "what's the point" type of attitude and just ease through the course. I don't see that happening.

I find it very odd that I sit around and fret about this course, my use of time, and what is going to happen in my future. In the mean time, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad faces crisis in Iran with riots, protests, and widespread violence. The Arab-Israeli conflict rages on with no apparent end in sight. David Letterman has apologized to Sarah, Bristol and Willow Palin for his crude joke. All of this seems to make my situation pale in comparison. So in light of that, here are my thoughts on the situation in Iran.

Iran is an interesting thorn in the side of the United States. In the past several years, Iranian efforts to procure nuclear weapons have caught and held the attention of the U.S., the IAEA and the UN. Ayatollah Khomeini and President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad have led a fairly successful cat and mouse game with the international community, and seems to be carrying out with the Obama administration as well. With the recent presidential election and the increasingly violent protests of opposition leader Mir Hossein Mousavi, many Washington bureaucrats are undoubtedly thinking of regime change in Iran. What better time to do it really? An already unstable, radical government is undergoing massive internal strife. We might be able to pull another Kermit Roosevelt and have money left over following the regime change. Not a bad days work for the CIA.

Despite this golden "opportunity," as seen by some, President Obama has stated an unwillingness to "meddle" in Iranian affairs "given the history of US and Iranian relations." Could it truly be that a politician has examined history? Granted, the past relationship between the United States and Iran has been less than favorable and included many low points and overtly hostile periods: the seating of the shah during the Eisenhower administration with "Operation Ajax," the 1979 Revolution, the Iranian Hostage Crisis along with the botched rescue attempt, and any number of nuclear beefs between Iran and the world. In spite of this, I find it refreshing that President Obama has taken the calm road on this issue and is willing to see how this all plays out in the end. This may be a great opportunity for better political, social, and economic relations in the very near future. We'll just have to wait and see. If nothing else, maybe the Iranians will be able to expand their powers of speech and assembly. They seem to be doing an excellent job right now.

One week down and the weekend is over!

Well, the weekend draws to a close so quickly. I have enjoyed it. I got to take in beautiful Lawton, OK. I did go out to a wildlife preserves and climb Mt. Scott. It offered some absolutely wonderful views. Once I get the pics off my camera I'll post some of them on here. I just hope the weeks pass as quickly as the weekends do. Next week is BRM so we'll be on the rifle range. I've psyched myself into saying it's only a four day week. We do some indoor stuff tomorrow. Zero our rifles on Tuesday. Wednesday we will do a 5-mile road march in the morning and go to the 100 meter range. Thursday we will qualify with our weapons, and Friday will be makeups. I'm hoping that Friday will be a somewhat less busy. As long as I think about that, I can trick my mind into a shorter week. Funny the games we all play? I have to set small milestones or else the long road ahead would be far too overwhelming! More tomorrow!