Frustrating Day...and a Lovely Evening

Jake's first pre-op appointment was scheduled for this morning. After waiting over an hour past our appointment time, someone (a nurse, I think) came out to tell us we weren't going to be seen today. This was extremely frustrating. I understand stuff happens and emergencies come up...but making us wait over an HOUR? It wasn't like our appt. was at 0700...they had plenty of time to figure out that the Dr. was going to be in surgery to tell us when we checked in that our appointment was being rescheduled. The frustration was amplified by:

(1) My being a control freak
(2) The fact that we have been sitting around for an extra week, waiting to ask the questions we've had for four months.
(3) Surgery being only two days away and I feel like I'm being cheated out of time I need to prepare. See number one.

So, they rescheduled the appt. for 0700 tomorrow, to fit it in before he goes into surgery for the day...and before the 2 hour pre-op/anesthesia appt. we have at 11:30. I asked (snidely...I'll admit), "Sooo...no chance we'll show up at 0700 tomorrow, to wait for an hour to be told we've been bumped again?" She flatly said, "No."

We headed back to the room. I fumed. And watched several episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Police Women of Maricopa County." {Jake is so happy to have his own TV, I'm sure.}

On the bright side, we had reservations for the Hale Koa Luau tonight. We left a little early to hopefully have some time to go to the Army museum beforehand, but that didn't work out because of accident traffic.



This is the picture they took as we entered the garden. Since I don't have a scanner here, I took a picture of the picture.



There were all kinds of crafts and displays as we walked in...and there was a "before show," with, Hawaiian guitar players, a tree climbing demonstration...



Yummy, fruity drinks...



And hula lessons! Like father, like son. {Ask Cliff about our honeymoon when they pulled him up on stage and made him put his hands on his hips, just like this.}



After the cocktail hour was over, we were funneled into the main stage area to find our assigned tables. The entertainment started right away.


And entertaining, it was. Not just heavy on the grass-skirts and coconuts...



Lots of muscles, too. {Hi, Cutie. Sorry...I'm already married.}



The food was all very interesting...most of it in a good way. Tried the poi, again...just in case my tastes had changed. Nope. It's still nasty.



We were each served a huge plate. Four kinds of meat. {What? No macaroni salad?} Almost all of it was fantastic.



This was dessert. I'm sorry to be a dessert snob...but this did not do it for me. Dessert either needs to involve chocolate...or crumb-top apple pie. Most every plate still had the flavorless pink jiggler on it when the server collected them.



The host was delightful. He's actually sort of famous. He had a couple of hit songs, one was a #1 hit in the 80s. I can't remember the name of it now, though. He sang it for us and I recognized it right away and it brought me back to the day.

Anyway, he went through a process to pick the couple who've been married the longest. This couple has been married 63 years! They were so cute together. They came up and danced while the host serenaded them. I was watching them, imagining being up there with Cliff, 43 years from now. As lovely as this show was, it felt so incomplete to be there without him..



I took many pictures and video clips, but won't include them all here. Just trust me, it was a great show. We had lovely table-mates from Indiana. The mom was a veteran, and she now works for the govt and was here on business. Her grown son and his girlfriend tagged along. He's thinking about leaving college and joining the Air Force. It was great to have the opportunity to tell him about my experience, how it was one of the best decisions I've made...and also go over the pros and cons of enlisting vs. finishing college and getting a commission. I hope he decides the take the plunge, either way...he seems great.



The show's finale was a very touching tribute to our military, past and present. In addition to the typical playing of service songs while people stood for their branch, for the last song, he called for anyone who had lost a close friend or family member in the military, to raise up a candle from their tables while he sang "Proud to Be an American." It was a very special experience.


Oh...and when we got back to the room? There was a message from orthopedics. They needed to reschedule that "sure thing" appt. from 0700...to two in the afternoon. *Counts to ten.*

World Peace and Inner Rage

Warning: This post is kind of rantish. Normally I like to keep it shiny and happy here (with the occasional mommy breakdown). If shiny and happy is what you are after, you may want to skip this one. My intention is not to offend anyone...(well, anyone other than the whiny, progressive, clueless elitists of which I write.) but I realize my tone here might kill your buzz, regardless. Fair warning.

I've been kind of an emotional wreck today. It's a combination of things, I'm sure...Cliff being gone, the cold, rainy, gray day outside, etc. (and by etc., I'm sure I mean hormones). Before I continue, I'd like you to read a couple of articles:

First, this one. It's short. I'll wait.

Then, this one. It's longer...but please {if you love me} read it. It means that much. I'll still wait....




You back? Thanks for reading those. Maybe now you'll better understand my frame of mind, and the ranting which will now commence.

After reading the first one, I just felt rage. Well, rage, and like I just wanted to throw up. I'm serious. What the expletive is wrong with our country? Or at least with the elite "progressives" in it? I have to say I am a political moderate...I have friends all along the spectrum whom I love dearly and AGREE WITH to some degree or another, I'm sure...but can we not all agree that someone who sacrificed a whole, healthy body and normal life for the freedom of your whiny, elite, progressive behind...deserves some respect?

Listen, you don't have to agree with bringing ROTC back onto your campus...but what these snot-nosed kids did was absolutely shameful and pathetic. {Nevermind that ROTC is a fantastic, self-supporting, leader-developing program...which would help to mold and shape *the very same low-income individuals you claim that the military preys upon*, into the leaders of the future. I hear complaints about how the officer ranks are so lacking in diversity...well here's a missed opportunity to remedy that! ROTC produces leaders.}

And while we are on the topic...let's take a look at the issue of the military "preying" on low income communities. I thank my LUCKY STARS for my (almost) five years in the Navy. It was life-changing. I am not exaggerating when I say it changed my destiny. {Not the least of which was meeting and marrying my husband...BUT THAT'S NOT EVEN WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!} When I joined the Navy, I WAS one of those low-income people mentioned on the sign in the picture! I was recruited out of an inner-city neighborhood, thank you very much! I had ZERO prospects for college...and about as much self-esteem. Since I'm laying it all out there for you guys...here it is...I BARELY graduated high school. I had to go to night school to get enough credits to graduate. I had no money, a part time job at the mall and divorced parents, neither of whom could afford to put me through college.

But I'll tell you what I did have...I had a legacy. Like the beautiful (and pitiful) quote in the second article..."Service to and sacrifice for the nation have become a legacy affair for a relatively small number of families." But even at that, this legacy really meant nothing to me, until I did something to claim it. I entered boot camp with not a lot of prospects, no direction, little self esteem, but a desire to follow in my grandfather's big footsteps. I left boot camp with the realization that I mattered...that there was a big world out there, and that I had the opportunity to invent myself in it. And I did...boy did I ever! If I had stayed where I was, I can promise you...the ending (or at least the journey) would have been much different.

This same scenario happens each time a Sailor (or any service member) graduates boot camp. She becomes part of something bigger. He is exposed to people from all walks of life and learns to work with and appreciate their differences. I realize I'm romanticizing something which is much grittier, but at it's very core, this is the truth. What the heck is wrong with that? I resent being painted as a victim. I resent being presented as someone who was preyed upon or taken advantage of by the military because I had no other options. NO...I was given THE GIFT of options by the Navy, thank you very much. THE GIFT of learning just how capable I am...that no one else gets to define me but me. It's an amazing thing that happens within the walls of that open squad bay. The process of having your "old self" stripped away to nothing so that the "new you" can be built back up.

{Trivia: I remember a friend from high school telling me how sorry she felt for me that I was missing out on the "college experience" she was having (up the street from her childhood home). I didn't have the heart to tell her how sorry I felt for her (and still do) as she is still trapped in the same town by the same family whom she allows to abuse and define her. I might be having a different (and extended) college experience...but I'll take the life-altering lessons the Navy gave me, PLUS the money for college...over frat party life any day.}

{More Trivia: I think this is the main reason I loved my job in military education so much. I got to see these young Sailors, who were just like I was, who had come from similar circumstances and joined the military to "be somebody"...and I had the privilege of helping them to become even better. They were serving their country, and I got to help them through the process of letting their country return the favor with an education. Sweet work, if you can get it.}

Am I ignoring the fact that some of these service members pay a very high price? That some lose limbs? Give the ultimate sacrifice? Absolutely not. I can't even fathom what it is like to make that sacrifice...or to love someone who has made that kind of sacrifice. But I would rather myself, my husband or my child die FIGHTING for something better, than so many other options out there. There are FAR worse things to lose a spouse or child to than death...especially death in the service of something greater than yourself.

In the second article, it was like Adm. Mike Mullen expressed the thoughts I had years ago but couldn't even find words for, when he said, "I worry that we could wake up one day and that the American people will no longer know us and we won't know them." or when Ike Skelton said, "Those who protect us are psychologically divorced from those who are being protected."

Like a horrific flashback, it brings me back to a time in the early days of OEF and OIF, where we were experiencing deployment after deployment...where the price our family was paying was high...and it felt like people were just going about their daily lives, completely unaware of what our reality was. Like we were living in a different country within our own neighborhoods and schools. I found myself tiring of having to muster polite responses to their platitudes. If I had to hear "we support the troops but not the war" or "they just need to bring them all home" in those pitiful, condescending tones, directed at me {their token military friend}; from one more complacent, San-Diego-BMW-driving, quasi-peacenik...I was going to forget my manners. It felt SOOO wrong, that I should have to endure that. To say goodbye to my husband again and again, to steel my kids for the pain and uncertainty ahead, hold our whole world together until he returned...and "play nice" with my "progressive" neighbors who obviously had no idea (or didn't care) whom or what provided them the luxury not to worry, while they thought their progressive thoughts. I can't explain it...other than to say it was soul-crushing on days that I allowed it to be.

So today, I find myself very reflective. Wallowing a bit in that challenging experience...feeling so much empathy for those still in the thick of it (both on the front lines, and trying to hold down the home-front for their families). But I also came to the realization that it is easy for us here on Okinawa to forget that so many military families are still living this experience in their communities back in the USA. It hit me that we don't have that problem here. We are surrounded, day in and day out, by other American military families. Not all of them are in the military...there are civilians (school teachers and asst'd. contractors) but they are all still part of the same basic mission. We all pretty much "get it" with few exceptions. I realized that this was another benefit of living here that makes it hard to want to leave....but isn't that a sad statement? That we would "feel the love" here on foreign soil, more so than in Anytown, USA?

Anyway, this is just one example of why I shouldn't read the news while Cliff is gone. I need to stay focused on doing what I need to do. I really don't normally dwell on these thoughts...it's much easier not to, but whenever I read articles like these, I can really let my emotions get the better of me.

God bless Anthony Maschek, The Kelly family, and all of our service members and their families who are currently fighting the fight, or who have already paid the price for us in so many ways. I promise, I will never forget.

"Freedom is not free, but the United States Marine Corps will pay most of your share."---Ned Dolan

Independence Day 2010

Our 4th of July was pretty low-key this year. I wish I could tell you it was because we are super-righteous and since it fell on the sabbath, we spent it reading our scriptures and writing letters to missionaries. That would be a lie (and that would not be very righteous at all).

In reality, we were still recovering from our vacation...which probably had something to do with it. Also, I know at least I was feeling kind of melancholy...being an American not in America, knowing the whole country was over there partying without us. Every Facebook status update was a reminder of that. (Can you tell Facebook is my window to the world?) It reminded me of last year, actually. (The not feeling very festive part). To some extent because of the foreign country thing...but mostly because we were missing Cliff so much.

We started out the day at church. Since it was the first Sunday of the month, that meant it was Fast and Testimony Meeting and we had the opportunity to hear and bear testimony. This honestly can be hit or miss...but this Sunday's meeting was great. We have a family Fast Sunday tradition of eating homemade pizza for dinner, which I made with artichoke hearts, zucchini, onions, garlic and tomatoes (and cheese for everyone except me). It was pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself.

Even though we weren't going to any sort of party, or to watch the fireworks on the Air Force base, we did feel like we should mark the day somehow...so we watched The Patriot with Mel Gibson. It had been several years since I watched it, and it was even more awesome than I remembered. It was exactly what I needed today.

Of course I am grateful for those who serve in our military today...but I am especially grateful to those who had the courage to fight for our independence when doing so was as good as a death sentence (for themselves and their families). Some of them were members of my family. Samuel Huntington was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He is my (many-greats) uncle on my mom's side. Joseph Parks fought in the Revolutionary War and is my (several-greats) grandfather on my dad's side. Then his son, Rufus Parks, fought in the war of 1812. I can't help but wonder what life was like for them. What did they believe? What kind of sacrifices did they make? I wonder what they would think about America today? Would they feel like it was worth it? I hope so.

I think the 4th of July is like many other "picnic" holidays in our country. It's more about the family traditions that we participate in...and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that...I think it's wonderful. I love picnics and fireworks. But the fact that I had no desire to do either of those things this year was making me feel...well...kind of unpatriotic, really. Like..."What's wrong with me?!" I don't want to be all somber when everyone else is celebratory! But in thinking about it again, I'm OK with it. This is a family tradition, of sorts.

I will leave you with one of my favorite patriotic quotes:

"God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion.
The people cannot be all, and always, well informed. The part which is
wrong will be discontented, in proportion to the importance of the facts
they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions,
it is lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty. ...
And what country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not
warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of
resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as
to the facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost
in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from
time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
It is its natural manure." ---Thomas Jefferson

God bless those patriots whose actions allow me to worship, to celebrate and to live FREE...and God bless America!

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Gold Stars

My oldest two boys are like chocolate and peanut butter. They always have been. Born 19 months apart...it's hard to remember Troy without Patrick. I wouldn't want to think of one without the other...they are thick as thieves, those two. Their personalities are so different. Troy is calm, introverted, reflective, go-with-the-flow, with a surprisingly subtle sense of humor. Patrick is a raging extrovert...and while he has always had a serious, thoughtful side...he's mostly dynamic, confident, "if you don't like me, your loss", wild-and-crazy.

When I think back on the years raising these beautiful boys, thousands of random moments flash through my mind: Blanket sleepers, two boys in a tub, road trips, camping trips, pushing them in the jogging stroller, sweet baby curls, chubby cheeks, arm rolls poking out of little tank tops, making cookies, matching outfits, swimming, snowsuits, bedtime stories, Barney, Thomas the Tank Engine, Buzz and Woody, Star Wars, Hobbits, Harry Potter, matching sandals that light up with each step as they run...squealing, "DADDY!!!" (Man, that's the good stuff!) And as they grow into men in these next couple of months and years, I still see them like this. I still want to hold them, still find them adorable, still delight in their friendship and swell with pride in their milestones. When they have families of their own...oh my goodness, I'm going to be a force to be reckoned with! (I just hope their wives like me.)

It wasn't until recently, that I thought of my sweet grandmother in this context. My Great-Grandma Nellie Parks ("Sugar Grandma") was an angel. I feel so blessed that I actually got to know her and have precious memories of her. But I just knew her as a very old woman (albeit an old woman who always seemed to just be delighted with my presence) without really relating to her life.

Even as a little girl I knew she was anxiously engaged in doing good. She was in her 80s and still doing volunteer work at the VA hospital with disabled vets. She continually gathered clothing and household donations for a nearby Indian reservation. She was actively involved in veterans organizations. She was the wife of a WWI navy veteran (an aviation rigger first class and pioneer in naval aviation)...and she earned a title none of us ever aspire to.....Gold Star Mother.

You see, Sugar Grandma also had two cherished, delightful, hand-and-glove little boys. Fishing, skinny dipping, ditching school, running around barefoot, little buds...who lived a life in San Diego, California that was straight out of a movie. (As my dad says it, they had a "Little Rascals" childhood.) My Grandpa Tom, born there at Balboa Naval Hospital, was the youngest and the quiet one...his older brother Jim was the outgoing one.



I think about how proud she must have been of her boys...the hopes she had for their future. Uncle Jim joined the Navy in 1937, following in his dad's footsteps... and his little brother Tom wasn't far behind, enlisting in 1939. They both served in the Pacific...Jim on the USS Langley (The Navy's first aircraft carrier) and my Grandpa Tom, after unsuccessful attempts to secure orders to the same ship, served as a submariner through the war.

On February 27, 1942...the Langley was hit by Japanese bombers and sunk. Only 16 perished...my Great Uncle Jim was one of them. My grandmother heard the news of the sinking over the radio...and received notice of his MIA status by telegram. After her death in 1980, I remember going through her cedar chest of mementos with my family. In a box of telegrams she saved was the telegram. I can't even imagine what that must have been like to receive it.

That loss left a huge hole in our family. How could it not? I think about what it must have been like for my grandmother through the years. Did she ever wonder what her son's life would have been like? Who he would have married? How many children he would have had? I remember right before I left for boot camp in 1989, my Grandma Corenne telling me that when my Grandpa Tom came back on his first leave after their marriage, he pleaded with her to have a baby. She was taken aback at the thought of having one so soon and initially protested, but my grandpa thought it would do much to heal the void in his parents' hearts.

In January of 1945, my dad was born, bringing much joy and healing to this family. But I still wonder, did Sugar Grandma only experience joy in her remaining son's family...or were there times she was reminded through them what she had lost? When she looked at her grown son, did she flashback (like I do) to her sweet Jimmy and Tommy playing in the back yard, reading them bedtime stories, drying them off after a bath? I don't know how you recover from a loss like that. But recover she did. And was she bitter or ruined? No. She was gracious and loving. Besides serving her family and friends, she recorded more than 10,000 hours volunteering at the VA hospital.

I wish there was some way that as an eight or a ten year old girl, while she was still alive, I could have expressed my gratitude to her, that I could have acknowledged the sacrifice she made for our country...but of course that's not possible. In order to truly appreciate what she lost, I would have to have some idea what she had to lose...which only comes with age and experience.

So I will just say it now, where hopefully in heaven she can hear. Thank you, Sugar Grandma...not only for your sacrifice, but for your legacy. I will never forget.

Our Country Tis of Thee

Admittedly, this is probably more of a grandparents post than anything...unless you are a real American history buff...otherwise, you can probably just skip this post altogether.


Jake's class put on a fabulous production celebrating American history called, "Our Country Tis of Thee". Jake was not only the student director, but he had some speaking parts as well. They performed the play at night for the parents, but it was the same time as the Sr. dinner last night, so we had to send him alone. Luckily, they performed it for the school yesterday morning, so we were still able to catch it.



He came out to say hello while the classes were getting seated. I should have snapped the picture a few seconds earlier to catch Coree's real expression when I asked her to put her arm around her brother. She looks way too innocent and compliant here.



This was before the show started...so I'm not sure why the girls have their mouths open. Maybe they were talking to friends?



Maybe I'm just sappy...or maybe it's just because I've been away from home for too long...but I actually started to get weepy here. I tend to tear up at the National Anthem, so I guess it's not too out of character for me.



I vaguely remember Jake saying he was going to portray Patrick Henry...but he never asked for any help memorizing any lines...never said anything about it...so I was surprised at this part.



Hey...at least I didn't make you sit through all Thirteen Colonies...just the cutest one!



Careful...this one will get stuck in your head...and when was the last time you heard "Cumberland Gap"? Fifth grade? Me too.



My favorite thing about this number? Dudes from the Revolution doing "Turkey in the Straw" with the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
LOVE the composite costumes!



The number representing the Civil War was kind of long and boring (how photogenic is a long, still scene of Taps being played in a graveyard?) but I wanted to capture the special effects here. (Ooooohhhh! Aaaaahhhh!)

(I also spared you from the number on "The New Deal". See...don't you appreciate me now?)



"Don't forget to dot the i...for the inventor...don't forget to dot the i." LOVE it!



Jake's facial expressions are priceless...and how about that choir of prepubescent voices? This is the good stuff!



Yea! Dad got to come, too! I know Jake felt very special that Dad was able to sneak away from work for an hour for him.

And this is Mr. Johnson...Jake's teacher and the man behind the magic. I can't imagine how much work that took to teach these kids the musical numbers, the DANCING, and their speaking parts. We were so impressed...and you know these kids are going to remember every detail of these numbers, because they were history lessons set to music, and music just works like that.

Bravo, Mr. Johnson's class...great job!

Flashback Friday...God Bless America!

As we head into this Memorial Day weekend...just thought I'd share this darling little patriot with all of you. It's funny...Cliff was a Marine when this was taken...and was not the most thrilled with his son wearing a sailor-suit. Probably the only reason he didn't veto it was that this little boy's MOM was a Sailor.

Hahaha....guess now the joke's on him, huh?

Hope you all have a wonderful and safe weekend...and that you don't just enjoy the extra day off...but take some time to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for us.

We will never forget.

Christmas Island Style

Maybe that title is misleading. It might make you conjure up images of sipping tropical drinks under a palm tree. While we could do that (it would just be a little chilly with intermittent rain), I meant something different by "island style"...like scaled-down...cramped...condensed.

We had to leave half of our Christmas goods behind in storage due to the moving weight limit for Okinawa (and our cramped living spaces)...but I still brought my favorites:


LOVE these "baby's first Christmas" pics for each of the kids. They make me smile so big every year when I bring them out.



LOVE Christmas books. Children's books...but also the Richard Paul Evan's type...you know the heart-warming, holiday-tear-jerkers you can get through in an afternoon?



Christmas stuffed (and real) animals.



And here's my favorite "Polar Express" stocking holders. They are VERY heavy so they actually hold the stuffed stocking. Troy said we're "ghetto" because I still haven't replaced the stock photos with our individual pics. It's been about...4 years now? Oh well...there's worse things than ghetto, I imagine.



Had to bring the "sea services" nutcrackers...and I just added Marine Santa since we've been here.



And a new centerpiece arrangement I added here with some old, but mostly new stuff. Coree doesn't like it. She says I've confused Christmas with the 4th of July. I believe it's appropriate to put a patriotic twist on anything. In fact, next St. Patrick's Day...if you come to my house and you aren't wearing green AND red, white & blue...I'm pinching you!




This is my new favorite, I think.



And there's the tree...in the only place we could fit it in the entire house. Doesn't make for very easy TV viewing...but luckily we don't watch much (except, we do really like to watch Christmas videos...so actually, this may be a problem).



Remember my little tree from last year? It reminds us of those who are serving in harms way at Christmas...far from their country and family...so that we can spend Christmas in safety with ours. I haven't been able to find a new ornament for it this year...but I'm still looking.



I left more than half of my nativity collection in storage, but I did bring my favorites. This leaves room for adding more to my collection, though. =^)

Like this lovely Kokeshi set. It is the most expensive one I own now...because it's made by an artist who is considered a "national treasure" in Japan...so he can charge more. At any rate, when tempted by other nativities on several occasions this year, I was reminded of the sticker shock of this one...and behaved myself.

As much as I will treasure the Japanese nativity...some of my favorite sets are of the toy variety. Fisher Price makes one, so does Playmobil. I have a Veggie Tales nativity and other various cloth and wooden sets that are kid friendly. Now if only Lego would make one!

Flashback Friday...Never Forget

I didn't know what to expect this year as we remember 9/11 in another country, while it was still September 10th back in the USA. Usually, beginning with the Today Show, I would watch as many tributes as possible, maybe even attend a remembrance event in person, if possible. Since it wasn't possible, I had to look up my own tributes on the Internet. The first one I found posted to Facebook by a friend. It was produced by the LDS Church and it pierced my heart. This man is such a testament to the choice that each of us has to make, between bitterness and fear...or faith, hope and joy. You can find it here.

Since I didn't have another story to tell, I decided to go back and FINALLY scan and upload the rest of the photos to last year's September 11th post...which you can read again here.

We spent the evening at Troy's football game...and although nothing was formally mentioned, I'm sure I was not the only one feeling a little more somber and grateful as the JROTC paraded the colors and a beautiful student soloist sang the National Anthem.

I will never, ever, ever forget.

God Bless America!

Flashback Friday...Homecomings Past

This flashback is dedicated to celebrating all of those happy homecomings we've experienced through the years. While deployments are mostly awful, there is nothing quite like the homecoming. If you've never experienced one, it'll be hard for you to imagine what I'm talking about.

When Cliff was a Marine, he went away for schools here and there, but for the most part, he was home with us. All of that changed when he became a Chaplain.


November 2000

Cliff left the Marine Corps one day and was commissioned as a Navy Chaplain the next...and left for Newport, Rhode Island for Chaplain school right away. He was gone for 10 weeks. Not exactly a deployment, but we were SO proud, we still had to give him a great big welcome home.

He reported to Destroyer Squadron 21, headquartered on the Aircraft Carrier, USS Stennis in Coronado. Two months later, he flew out to meet one of his destroyers, which was already underway with another Carrier Group. He spent about 6 weeks with that group, then returned to San Diego to join the rest of the destroyer squadron.

The Stennis Battle Group was due to deploy in January of 2002. September 11th changed all of that. Cliff was in a constant state of "work ups" (gone weeks at a time) from then on...until he deployed on Veterans' Day 2001, 2 months ahead of schedule. He was gone over the holidays (something we've luckily managed to avoid ever since) and returned 7 months later in June of 2002.


He returned home on one of the destroyers, the USS Decatur.



Coree and Jake waiting for the ship to dock.



And here are Troy and Patrick, already on the ship, living large. They flew out to Hawaii a week earlier to meet Dad for the "Tiger Cruise" back to San Diego. I think it's probably one of the best recruting tools the Navy has going. After a week of playing PS2 on the big screen in the wardroom, drinking slushies at every meal and watching all manner of weapons demonstrations...they were ready to sign up.



This is what I'M talkin' about!


We got to enjoy having Dad back home for about 8 months. Cliff reported to 3rd Marine Air Wing on MCAS Miramar in Feb. of 2003, and left 2 weeks later to meet his unit already deployed to Kuwait (headed to Iraq as things geared up there). This time was a LOT different...scarier. I had always taken his safety for granted aboard ship...but things were so uncertain when OIF started. Cliff was only gone 4 months this time, but if felt like twice that long...falling asleep listening to news on the TV and waking up to check the casualty reports...meanwhile, trying to keep life as normal as possible for 4 children.



When the plane bringing them home landed, Coree fell to pieces. she cried and cried. I hadn't realized how much emotion this 6 year old had bottled up inside.



Together again at last...




We weren't the only ones over the moon to see Cliff again. It was always SO sweet to see Brownie's reaction to seeing him.


We were told that this would be it for deployments for this duty station (the first one wasn't even supposed to happen) but they were wrong. We got to keep him around for another 8 months, before he had to head back to Iraq as the Marines tried to clean up the huge mess over there. He stayed for another 7 months, and in August of 2004, we had another sweet reunion.




I'm not sure why they do it this way. The families are lined up behind a yellow rope in the hangar, while the Marines get off the plane and line up in formation. Maybe it's to keep them from killing each other to get off the plane, maybe it makes for better photo ops...I don't know. But this was the longest 10 minutes of my life, watching and waiting to hear that magic word..."DIS-MISSED!"



Everything that matters in life, right here!



The United crew asked us to pose for their photo.




After doing a few of these, we have the whole process down. In case you can't read this, it says, "Welcome Home Dad" across our back fence (which faced the entrance to our neighborhood).



Front door



Livingroom/Diningroom ceiling



And here's our rockstar!


After 4 wonderful years of having him all to ourselves, it was time for Cliff to deploy again. This one was just as unexpected as the others...but we've learned to expect that!