Honoring Our Heroes

This past week, Boston laid to rest two fallen heroes, both Boston Firefighters from Engine 33 Ladder 15 on Boylston Street. I can’t help but feel this tragedy at home even though I have no true connection to either hero we have lost. There is something about those special people who put on a uniform to keep us safe – Police Officers, Firefighters and Military personnel – that can’t really be put into words. I think it may be hard for some people to feel this connection, if you don’t personally know someone whose job consists of these primary factors: 1) putting their life at risk and 2) for the safety and well-being of others. How many words can be said about someone who has the heart and soul to do this? In my opinion, never enough. Any one of these men or women who do such, will also humbly tell you the love and passion they have for their job.

I am lucky enough to live among one of these heroes. There are behaviors and words of his that illustrate this indefinable character I write about today and I am not sure I will ever understand fully, but I know I will always honor it. It takes a tremendous person to put themselves directly in danger, solely for the safety of others. I’m not sure words can express how courageous, heroic and special that is and I my only wish is for people to recognize this more often.

My husband served four years in the United States Marine Corps during which he was deployed to Afghanistan for two, eight month tours. While your spouse is away at danger, you can’t help but have those kinds of thoughts. You fight it, you deny it, you avoid the news, but it’s still there.

I never really expressed these questions and thoughts in depth with anyone, because well, you don’t want to think them, never mind let others know you’re thinking them.

When they come back and after some time passes, most of those thoughts become irrelevant. So as I reflect on the heroes we lost last week, I can’t help but think about their spouses and families. My thoughts were steady for 7-8 months. A Police Officer and Firefighter could be in the line of duty at any moment, any day of the week. But again, that is your husband’s job. You support him, and you pick up the pieces and keep them together when he can’t because his job is calling him to protect not only you, but others.

So today, not only do I raise my glass to all of our heroes, especially those we most recently lost, but also to their families for you are the ones who are behind our heroes. To the parents, you are what made our heroes and to the spouses and children, you are the ones who continue the support, carry the honor, and remain the backbone at home.

Like anything unfamiliar, it is hard to relate to something whether it is tragic or not, if you are not well informed about it, or have no real connection to it. Our country and even more so this generation, is too far disconnected from our heroes.  I hope that through my small circle of friends and family, and also through this blog, I can share the importance and awareness that some people may be missing so that they too, may honor our heroes and their families , even if it may be a simple thought or prayer from time to time. 

Lone Survivor Part I: Necessary Awareness

I’m not as big of a movie guru as I would like to be, but I am working on expanding my repertoire. The most recent new release I saw was Lone Survivor, based off of the book written first hand by Navy SEAL, Marcus Luttrell. For the first time in a long time, I left the movie theatre deeply moved by what I had just seen. This movie hit home in so many ways for me, maybe even in more ways than it did to my husband who was at war twice. Many movie critics are comparing Lone Survivor to Saving Private Ryan. I probably can’t compare the two as well as I can discuss Lone Survivor alone, nor could many of my generation. Saving Private Ryan is a classic war movie, however, this generation can not quite relate to it as much as they would with Lone Survivor. For starters, Saving Private Ryan was released in 1998; most of this generation was merely conceived at this time and for people my age, we were walking and talking, but not old enough to grasp the concept of war.

           

Mark Wahlberg (left) who plays Marcus Luttrell (right), author of Lone Survivor and former Navy SEAL 

I have decided to make my commentary on Lone Survivor a two part blog; not to bore you, but also because there is so much this movie did for me that I feel it necessary to express. Today I find it imperative to address the awareness this movie could and will bring to people of our generation worldwide, not only about war itself, but about the ongoing war in Afghanistan. In our household, we are actively aware of OEF; not only what it stands for, but also different measures of its depth.

The average freshman college student believes we are NOT currently at war. 

NEWSFLASH – even the sometimes unreliable Wikipedia is able to tell us when googling “OEF” that this is the War on Afghanistan and that it is “ongoing” AKA…STILL HAPPENING.

In terms of awareness, the part about this movie that moved me most was HOW REAL all of this was. 

As a nation, we rely on our media for just about everything. So when we hear through the media that troops are being pulled out of Afghanistan, and when we do NOT hear about activity occurring overseas, it is natural to be unaware and more or less ignorant to war's reality.

Troops are still being deployed. I see it first hand in my Facebook timeline. Two of my Facebook friends just sent their husbands off for their 3^rd and 4^th deployments in the past two weeks. Both of these men are from very different units. For those that war has been “real” to, this movie will touch your soul, pull your heartstrings, and cry for those hurting, wounded, missing or gone before us. For those of you who are not as cognizant about war and how real it is on this day, at this moment, I ask you to watch this movie; take it in from all angles. I hope this will also touch your heart, even if you can not relate.

For me, Lone Survivor allowed me to reflect on feelings and emotions I had when my husband was in Afghanistan for two separate deployments. The second time around wasn't easier, but I learned how to manage and filter my emotions more. I didn't cry as much, I didn't mope as much and I was able to find more positive outlooks during the journey. Because I held a tough skin during the deployments, this movie is what sent those emotions escaping from my body; sad but refreshing. In another light, Lone Survivor brought out even more consciousness about the darkness of war; the emotional fight, the physical pain, the genuine dedication and determination of our military...which brings me to my final point...

"Never judge a person until you walk a mile in their shoes."

We may never be able to walk in the shoes of our military heroes, but keeping our eyes and hearts open, can help bring the appreciation and gratitude to the men and women who keep us free, while they aren't always safe.

Giving Thanks

In our family, every day is Veteran’s Day. I am lucky enough to be one of the few Americans who have truly seen how hard our military personnel work day in and day out to keep us safe. I think of it like the slogan of MTV’s the Real World: “You think you know, but you have no idea.”

Each and every one of our heroes in uniform represents the meaning of selfless bravery while remaining humble to the fullest. There are many times in the past four years, and even now as my husband is no longer serving the country, that I have become overwhelmed with pride and honor to not only know him, but to share my life with him; especially when it comes to all that he has sacrificed for our family and most importantly, our country.

This past Sunday, we had the opportunity to be a part of The New England Patriots’ and the NFL’s Salute to Service as they honor service men and women from all five military branches for the entire month of November. It’s not just about Veteran’s Day; it’s about celebrating Thanksgiving for the whole month by showing our military how thankful we are for their service.

Believe it or not, I often think they go underappreciated, but as always, they remain humble so the ordinary American may not think this is so. If every NFL game this month was like Sunday’s game as I experienced, then each person in uniform that was able to be a part of Salute to Service, received the exact thanks and appreciation he or she needed.

As one of the few who got to tag along with their service member, I also felt honored to be included. My involvement was neither necessary nor important, but it was nothing shy of amazing to witness the gratitude first hand. As one would presume, all of the military personnel present for Sunday night’s game were dressed in uniform. The sight of a large group in uniform alone, is enough to bring a smile to my face.

Thirty-seven minutes prior to kick-off, we proceeded onto the field; almost tracing the entire perimeter of the field before lining up behind the Patriot’s end zone. Watching the players from only a matter of feet away from us warm up (literally) for the game, was surprisingly not the best part of my evening. The mere one to two minute walk around the field brought tears of pride, honor and gratitude to my eyes. The stadium noise rose decibels as America’s finest were announced and entered. Every Patriots’ fan that could get to the front row, made sure they did so they could high-five or shake the hand of a service member while yelling “Thank you!” or “You rock!” and “We love you!”

They were not just Patriots’ fans, they were the fans of the United States Marine Corps, Army, Navy, Air Force and Coast Guard. The men and women in uniform were celebrities. At that moment, each and every courageous and selfless person in uniform, received the gratitude and appreciation of a lifetime. I almost wish they could experience that every day, because that is how often they deserve it.

And at the moment, on the night of the coldest Pats game in twenty years, I had never been so proud of my husband.

This is what a wind chill of 5 looks like....

Our second family

There is a special bond that military families have with each other, especially in the Marine Corps. Saturday I wore my Marine Corps sweatshirt to the grocery store and to pick up food from a restaurant down the street. The man in the grocery store and I only had to exchange eye contact and point at each other’s supportive USMC apparel to realize we were both part of the larger family called the Marine Corps. My other encounter was also wearing a Marines tee and while he was intoxicated in the middle of the street, he felt the need to salute me screaming “Semper Fi,” after which I told him I was a spouse and not a Marine, so there was no need to salute me. “Semper Fidelis” is the Marine Corps motto translating to “Always Faithful.” It pairs nicely with the saying “Once a Marine, Always a Marine.”

They say that “home is where your heart is” and I think that fell true for us during Brendan’s active duty years. In the (almost) four years that Brendan was stationed in California, I never had the experience of living on or near his base. I am still undecided on whether or not this was a good thing or not, but either way, we made the long distance work. Ironically enough, base still felt like home when I visited him.

I remember the first time being on a Marine Corps base – there were men (and some women) in cammies EVERYWHERE and every sign on base was in red and yellow font.

 

See, I told ya!

“Cammies” is a short term for camouflage, the uniform Marines and most military personnel wear from day to day. Did you know that each military branch has its own camouflage pattern and color? As time went on, I learned to identify them without needing to read the name tapes on their chest.

Prior to my first visit, I thought military bases were this boring, secluded place that just held barracks for the single Marines and fields for training…boy was I wrong. I guess the best way to explain it is that military bases are almost their own city or gated community. You need to pass through the gates with proper identification, but once you’re there, you have just about all that you need and TAX FREE. The department stores are close to, if not better than, the ones at regular malls. You can still get your Nike Frees or Michael Kors purses, but a little cheaper, and again, TAX FREE. They even have everyday franchises we all know such as McDonalds, Domino’s, etc. Brendan and I praised the day they put a Dunkin Donut’s in the new PX and we made sure to use it well.

This is the main gate at Camp Pendleton, but there are several others because this base is so large. I believe it is 7 seven exits on the highway!

Aside from all of the glorious aspects of base, there were also a few things one must adapt to – like gun fire at 7am from the shooting ranges. I guess if you live there full time, it becomes background noise, the way heavy trucks and emergency sirens do in the city.

Beyond all of the shopping necessities and other oddities, the people living on base are one of a kind. Of course like anywhere, you will have a variety of people from A-Z, but on base, you have thousands of families from diverse walks of life, living and working side by side every day. Needless to say, you learn A LOT about people from all parts of the country, for the good and for the bad. It allows you to open up your eyes to new cultures and different ways of living. For us, like many military families, these different walks of life became our family. Now that Brendan is home, we find ourselves saying, “Let’s move to…” and fill in the blank of the state our second family lives in just because we miss them.

I can probably count on two hands the amount of physical times I have seen our second family in the past four years, but none of that really matters. We have adopted these wonderful people in our lives to help us during the hardest times as we endured situations that many (and most) people will never experience in their lifetime. And there we were, early twenties, still trying to figure out who we were as individuals, but also having to learn what it meant to be separated for long periods of times and distances from our newlywed spouses and families; and even more so, the emotional meaning of war.

And that is why these amazing people are our family now; because they helped us conquer our fears, adjust to a new way of life, teach us about their part of the country and also a lot about ourselves. To these very special people in our lives: thank you. We love you like we love our family made from blood.

So it is true that home really is where your heart is and that is why a little piece of our hearts will always be in New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Kentucky, California and of course a few other places. 

And here is some of our family. My apologies if I missed you/dont have a picture of you! 

What’s in a name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other word would smell as sweet.”
             -William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

Unfortunately, the meaning of Shakespeare’s colorful metaphor does not directly correlate with my topic for today, but a little Shakespeare never hurt anyone! I can’t help but think of the always dreamy Leonardo DiCaprio when I think of Romeo & Juliet…but that’s beside the point.

If I were you, I would be ever so curious to the story behind the name of my blog. There are four components in the naming of my blog that not only represent what I hope to write about, but also reveal a few very important things in my life. Three words, four components. Did I confuse you yet? Good.

Leaving the fourth mystery component until the end is hopefully reeling you in like a fish. Otherwise, maybe you wouldn’t continue reading. Suspense is key.

Barbells are my best friend. They used to be the piece of equipment in the gym that scared the crap out of me. Well, pick one up. They’re not so bad. Since conquering my fears of using barbells, I have learned that I am preferring to use them instead of dumbbells.

Fitness has been the number one thing I am (trying) to center my life around. With the help of my daily motivator, I am really determined to stick to my current program. I learned about James Wilson’s 12 week body earned program through a friend. The best part about the program is that there is a private Facebook group once you join, for questions or just pure motivation from James and other users of the fitness program. It is affordable and 100% worth the money! If you are interested in learning more about his program, which I highly recommend, here is his public Facebook link where he sums up the program. Feel free to message him about it too. He is quick to respond.

https://www.facebook.com/JamesWilsonFaithFamFit

Blazers - Look around. THEY’RE HOT. They can dress up any outfit and they absolutely should be worn with jeans.

When I started my first "real world" post college job, I was lost for wardrobe ideas for the working world. When it comes to “business casual,” there can be a fine line between old and frumpy and too sexy for someone my age. Without using “old” in a derogatory way, a lot of business looks are more easily fitting for a woman much older than myself. With (a lot) of help from a friend, I was able to find my in between - still dressing young, trendy, fun, and most importantly, professional.

And the final word you read on my URL is battalion. Some of you may have never even heard of a battalion. For me, it has become a more common term than you would think. In fact, the past four years have been overwhelmed with acronyms and words I did not know or comprehend, especially when it came to listening to Brendan and his friends communicate. I have gotten really good at smiling and nodding. Sadly enough, I use the acronyms now, too…the few that I actually know. 

The military actually has its own language. I bet you didn’t think that aside from the physical separation and emotional hardships, as a military family you must learn the lingo too. After supporting Brendan across the country and across the world for four active years of duty, I hope to share some of the stories we not only had along the way, but also some about our post military life. 

“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” is how they pride themselves as the most elite branch of the military. I think I will always consider myself as a Marine wife, too. I also carry pride in my role, as I am so honored to have met (and marry) one of the elite.

For fun, here are some commonly used Marine Corps acronyms:

BAH – Basics Allowance for Housing. In short – housing allowance. Mostly, Marines only receive this if they are married and living off base. On base housing is offered to military families for free (if available.)
EAS – End of Active Service – exactly what you think it means, their last day of active duty in the military. Brendan’s was August 9^th. We counted down that date for awhile…
EGA – Eagle, Globe & Anchor – the emblem of the Marine Corps. If you look closely at their uniforms, they are visible on any and every uniform they wear; often as pins on their jackets or caps (they call them covers.)
MCX/PX – Marine Corps eXchange / Post eXchange – where you go shopping! Kind of like a department store, they literally have everything and it’s TAX FREE!

Last, but not least….alliteration. I will assume you noticed all three words in the title of my blog begin with the letter B. For those of you who did not study English for four years, as I did – Alliteration is the repetition of a sound or letter in a set of words or phrases. And there you have it, the not-so big mystery. Using a small touch from my English degree background was just the cinnamon I wanted to add on top of my blog to portray the interest and fun I have with personal writing. (I like cinnamon more than I like cherries on ice cream.)

 
                   In center, the EGA.

Last week I was inspired to write...

  Last week I was inspired to write. I haven’t written more than a to-do list or a thank you card since I graduated with an English degree in December of 2011. I learned of my “knack” for writing in high school. I have my high school English teacher to thank for her endless hand outs and excessive mark ups on all of my assignments. It wasn’t until college that I learned to enjoy writing; with the exception of when it came to a six page paper on Greek Mythology or a twelve page paper on various nonsensical topics, or so it seemed at the time. Since the freedom of my educational career, I have still found myself creatively writing in my head – about people I encounter on the train, my opinion on our ever changing world and even about my own simple, but growing life; until last Tuesday evening, when my husband and I had the realization that the following morning marked the twelfth anniversary of 9/11. And so I write…

Twelve years ago, I was having as ordinary of a day as any sixth grader would have. Waking up on a beautiful, late summer morning - the kind you wish you weren’t already back in school for - throwing on a private school jumper and itchy knee socks, that I knew would later cause me to stick to a chair of 6B, with the lack of air conditioning, and scurrying off to school. My entire day was smooth and thoughtless as I went from Religion class to Science class, to lunch, recess and a few others I can’t remember twelve years later, until approximately 2:30 in the afternoon.

It was a Tuesday. I remember the day because my older cousin was running in the primary election for the first time for Medford City Council. My family and I were active in her campaign and would hold signs throughout the summer; on this day, my parents would help by holding a sign of hers at select voting stations, one of which was located across the street from our pick up location for school. And that’s where I found out. My father was waiting, as well as a few other parents at that pick up location, all anxious to see us; they all had the same look on their faces. My father had a large sign in his hand. The car was still running with the radio blasting but he was outside of it; the radio wasn’t playing music of any kind. One door was open and one of his feet resting on the car, while the rest of his body leaned on the door of the car, still holding a sign. None of us got asked, “How was your day at school today?” like we did on every ordinary day. Instead we had a frantic stream of questions and orders spit out at us in a matter of seconds: “Are you okay?” “Did you hear what happened?” “Get in the car.” “We need to get you home.”

The mind of an eleven-year old girl does not comprehend the word “hijacking,” as I did not on this ordinary Tuesday of the first week of sixth grade. My first thought was, “A plane crashed into a large building. What an awful accident.” The innocent mind of my eleven year old self could not fathom the thoughts that someone would ever be so evil to do something of the sort with intention. It wasn’t until I was home when I couldn’t watch TV or listen to the radio without hearing about what had happened in New York City and Washington, D.C. six hours prior. Our house was in the quiet part of Medford, a suburb close enough to the city you can see its skyline. On an ordinary day, we could hear commercial planes flying high up above our house fairly often; soft enough for no disturbance, but loud enough for recognition. On September 11, 2001, when I returned home from school, there were no planes above my house. For a short time, I felt like I was in some other realm of my universe that was still so small. The sky was chillingly silent, but the temperature from the sun with the right amount of breeze that day, was perfect. The only television stations not broadcasting the events of 9/11 were Disney and Nickelodeon and I was approaching the age where some of those shows were inferior of my capacity. I couldn’t escape the nightmare our country was going through, even though I felt so disconnected from all of it. I had no friends or relatives in either city at the time. We didn’t know anyone heading out of Logan Airport for a trip that week either. I had never visited New York City; I barely knew the buildings of my own city.

Twelve years later, it is not just another day, although I think some have tried to turn it back into such, as time is passing. It seems like last week Logan had no problem of making it an ordinary Wednesday in September, as they followed through on an emergency drill with a smoking plane on the runway, as families of victims from Flight 11 and Flight 175, were remembering their loved ones lost on that tragic day.

It wasn’t until the past two or three years that 9/11 has really begun to impact my life. Initially as the years passed, I still felt disconnected. It wasn’t until Brendan was overseas during its anniversary for the second time when I felt the imprint of these events. It had been exactly a month since I moved out on my own, without Brendan. Working many long days at the salon, I encountered all walks of people and it was constant; learning about clients’ lives and families and their most recent trips. I spent eleven hours at the desk last year on September 11 alongside at least seven coworkers. Arriving home to an empty apartment without having a single recognition of what day it was, brought upon an overwhelming amount of emotions. How could my husband be risking his life for all of these people who do not even acknowledge how that day was the beginning of most of it? I connected. The feelings of separation were slipping away. And so I began to tightly grasp everything I could from that event. 

Maybe it was because this was the first major tragic event that I witnessed in my lifetime. Or maybe it was because I have such close ties with the military now, who has been fighting a war because of that day. At first I didn't know why I couldn't help but refer to Google looking for answers. 

Last week I was inspired to write. As I sat on the couch with my husband, two months after he was discharged from serving four active years to defend our nation, I finally understood. Good always conquers evil. There are days when we have our doubts, but if we wait a few hours, or days, or years, we will comprehend it. Looking back to a matter of hours after the World Trade Centers collapsed, the heroes that came out to help is the good in which our nation can pride itself. As are those that went into those buildings as their minutes to ruination were ticking. And now I can look at the person living amongst me and think of how lucky and blessed I am. He helps connect me to 9/11. He is the good, in the evil of that day; serving because of the evil. So how can this ever be just an ordinary day in our family when he emulates the patriotism, honor, strength and bravery that is a direct result of the events of 9/11?

I am patriotically blessed; to be able to connect with and appreciate the heroes in our country. Please shake their hands, thank them. Or do a good deed for them.

And so I write…how in our family, it will never be just another day.