WORLD WIDE WEBQUARTERS OF THE HEADLESS STICK CHICKEN FAN CLUB

The Gardener

2009-04-09T16:29:00.003-07:00

I spent alot of time outside toady. From the early morning when the air was cool and the sky overcast until the sun came up and the temperature boiled up to 80-something. Anyway, I was just shredding leaves and hacking vines only paying attention to what was dead and needed to be removed and what was alive and could stay. I also had a radio on the play the St. Louis Cardinals game (2-1 over the Pittsburgh Pirates). Then a neighbor came over; she started talking about how the house used to look and the woman who had planted most of what I have over the past few years dug out. She told me about how she had helped the woman when she became too old to do some of the manual labor. My neighbor then went into detail talking about some of the flowers that have yet to feel the snip of my loppers. Telling me how to care for them and what to expect from each plant over the next few months. She told me a little of what was going on in her garden and some of her plans for future growing. After she left I put away all my tools and bagged the trash. Then in typical Oklahoma fashion clouds rolled in, thunder, lightening, rain and hail fell long enough to cancel baseball practice and then proceeded quickly in the opposite direction that it came from. When I came back from an errand I sat in the van and look at the rain soaked yard, and thought about how her plants are probably happy (as happy a plant can be). Having someone dote on your color, size, and shape; noticing all the minute intricacies seeking out the best traits and paring off those that are flawed or harmful. I have been kicking around some song lyrics I heard one Sunday morning and they came to me as looked at my yard. “Knowing I am your desire.” I have been trying to sort out what it means to me to be desired by God, and how my life (would/should/could) reflects that knowledge. I think my gardener neighbor helped me imagine that today.

NCRR Bracket

2009-03-24T09:21:00.002-07:00

Here is a link that is fun for people who like rock 'n' roll as well as college basketball. To find the information you will have to scroll down through the entries to 23 March 2009. Enjoy.

I am thinking about blogging again.

2008-02-11T07:28:00.000-08:00

but I am not really sure what I want to say. I think I will close this whole blog down and start over with a new one . . . Everything I like to do takes so much time.

Dear Terry

2007-09-11T20:59:00.001-07:00

I couldn't find a way to post a comment on your Sept. 11 blog, but I wanted to say that it is great. Last year on Sept. 11 I can remember dragging people into the MWR (Morale, Welfare, and Recreation) Computer Room, navigating them to your site and telling them to read the blog. Thanks.

family tree part two.

2007-09-10T21:52:00.000-07:00

So I am really feeling a connection from my past. My kin folk really got around. Dad's family moved in and around every state that connects to Oklahoma. Mom's folks did too. Although Mom could not trace our family back as far as Dad did I still get a strong connection to them. Through their love of story telling, and traveling. My Grandpa Ray had to ride the rails during the Depression to find work. Sleeping at strangers houses, living day by day and moving on when work dried up. There are also several stories to tell right here in Tulsa. My grandad helped build the Golden Driller, worked in the Gilcrease home and museum and some of the buildings down town. I took a walk on a break today and tried to imagine the hustle of Tulsa during those days.

I regret that my grand dad's both passed before I could appreciate their love and the wealth of knowledge they could have passed on but hearing tales from my parents has drawn me closer and made me more curious.

When I asked what mom thought her dad would like to share with my son she told me how insistent he was on safety. "Hit the metal nail, not the thumb nail."

Family tree.

2007-09-09T21:10:00.000-07:00

Nine generations ago a man named William sailed from Scotland to America. While here in America he and his wife settled down and had a son named John. John and his wife had Samuel, who also named his son Samuel. Samuel and his wife gave birth George who in time had a son named Samuel. This latest Samuel married Lydia Rose. Samuel and Rose adopted one son and gave birth to 4 others. The youngest son was named John. That John married Nina and their oldest son was John. When their son John was old enough to marry he chose a young woman named Laura, the fairest of her kind. Shortly after they were wed they had a son who was named the third John. Although the family was not real creative when naming boys they also had daughters who were each beautiful and named really original names.

William
John
Samuel
Samuel Bigger
George William
Samuel Henry
John R.
John R. Jr
John R. 3

Mommy, the tooth fairy didn’t come!

2007-08-07T05:07:00.000-07:00

A steady stream of terror flowed in through all the doors and windows of our tiny house. How could the tooth fairy NOT have come? My smart, quick thinking wife retorted, “It’s still night-night time.” Problem solved, almost. It was already ten-till-seven and chances are any sleep he caught would be brief and light. Not to fear, even as we speak, my son is quickly assembling the Bionicle that timely little fairy awarded him for loosing his first molar.

My First Earthquake!

2007-04-16T22:32:00.000-07:00

Here is the link, but I reposted the important part of the article. This one doesn't have my name in it, but I was there!

Earthquake hits northeastern Afghanistan
KABUL - The Associated Press
A 6.2-magnitude earthquake hit a remote and mountainous area of northeast Afghanistan yesterday morning, shaking buildings in the capital and as far away as Pakistan, Tajikistan and India.
The earthquake in Badakhshan province was about 300 kilometers (200 miles) northeast of the capital, Kabul, where residents felt shaking buildings and ran outside their homes, and some windows were shattered. There were no immediate casualty reports.
The U.S. Geological Survey said the 6.2-quake was centered 60 kilometers (40 miles) south of the provincial capital Faizabad and hit at 8:05 a.m. (03:35 GMT). The quake was felt across northern Pakistan, including in the capital Islamabad, 450 kilometers (280 miles) away. It was also felt in Tajikistan and in the Indian and Pakistan-administered portions of Kashmir.

MY NAME IN BIG BRIGHT BROADWAY LIGHTS!

2007-04-13T21:49:00.000-07:00

OK, so it's really only my name in a short article on a news outlet that is probabally not real widely read, and my name is misspelled. But it's still my name! How many articles has your name appeared in, huH?! So there.

The article is at here and is titled "ON Point in Afghanistan: Easter Weekend in Kunar Province." As of today, 13 APR 07 it is the top article.

Some thoughts From H. John Poole

2007-04-13T21:47:00.000-07:00

If you didn't visit me at MySpace this is the only blog that you missed.

Hat tip to "Ted Forrester" for cluing me into this guys wealth of knowledge. H. John Poole is a retired Marine who has written extensively on the subject of our enemies military tactics and our own forces gap in training soldiers and Marines to effectively combat them. All these quotes come from his book, Tactics of the Crescent Moon pages 217- 225. They are not about the tactics though, I realize there are not many (of my) readers are interested in that. However these quotes come from the chapter in which the author describes some American responses, he calls them unconventional.

"Capitalism [when] undisciplined by morality, will self-destruct."

Pope John Paul II

"America offers its citizens tremendous freedom. When irresponsibly practiced, that freedom breeds excess. When that excess gets media attention, America appears far more decadent than it really is. But this individual freedom is worth the cost. When responsibly practiced, it generates widespread solvency and heroic philanthropy. Individual Americans are among the world's most generous contributors to foreign aid. The United States should more widely publicize this fact.

America has come to a juncture in her history. At a time when legality has become synonymous with morality, its citizens must find a way to put "God" back in their way of life. While halting abortion may be their first priority, regulating the manufacture/sale of arms should not be far behind. How can a nation that readily removes urban opposition through standoff barrage tell it's opponent not to use car bombs? Noncombatants die either way."

Pg. 217

"The "eye for an eye" foreign policy hasn't worked for the Israelis and it won't work for the United States. That is the advice of the Torah and Koran, not the New Testament."

Pg. 221

"The United States, on the other hand, must find some way to return to its Christian roots. Nine out of ten Americans profess to believe in God, and the rest are mostly agnostic. For the sake of one or two atheists, the U.S. Supreme Court has distorted the societal norm. How can America hold other nations accountable on human rights when it won't save 43 million of its own children? The Supreme Court is not the final authority on morality. In the mid-1800's, it held that slaves were not human. Only God can determine what is moral, and any country that intentionally disassociates itself from God will pay the price. In a Godless world, there can be no peace."

Pg. 222

"As the most powerful nation on earth, America must now reject the "eye for an eye" approach to battlefield opposition. Christianity differs from other Abrahamic religions in that it requires its followers to love their adversaries. That means arresting suspected insurgents where possible and then putting them on trial by their countrymen. It does not mean rocketing suspected hideouts every time they fill with people. While politically lucrative, the standoff approach to war harms too many noncombatants. This is a multidimensional struggle in which the side that uses the least force will win. Without infantry squads that can operate alone and tactically escape encirclement, the United States cannot hope to use less firepower."

Pg. 225

2007-03-26T08:16:00.001-07:00

Hello friends and family, I am really missing ya'll but for some reason our internet has trouble with google and by extension blogger. I can't post or comment. Know that I am having fun reading your posts though, and soon I will get back and begin posting and commenting.

UPDATE...
The best way to stay in touch with me at this point is through my myspace.
Message me there.

Owning An Image

2007-03-13T13:22:00.001-07:00

Note from the author: Once again my writing quickly sprawled from blog to mini-book. Here is a brief chapter description so if you are short on time you can choose what you would like to read within your time limits. "The Climb" details the first day of a recent SF, Army, and ANA mission I was on. "The Descent" highlights the spiritual insight I received while on the mission, what might be considered the blog part of the blog. The epilogue is short, but it's true. Day three was the worst day of the whole stinking mission, but I didn't go into why. As a special side note, I listened to my entire collection of The Clash music while recounting this adventure.

The Climb

I knew that the mission to Waygal (pronounced Whygall) would be a great one, because step one was an air assault. Air assault is the army way of saying, "You get to ride in a helicopter." The ride was a CH-47 Chinook. It carried me, my ANA (Afghan National Army) Squad, a Green Beret team, and some other Infantry soldiers from 10^th Mountain to Waygal. Even though we were still in the air I could tell we were in the wrong place; I could see snow on the tops of the mountains. I don't do snowy mountain tops, I like to look at them in pictures but not be on them. Any way there was no time to complain, besides who wants to look like a wimp when Green Berets are standing all around? So then there were some boring military formalities, and after all that I am pointed to the mountain that we are going to climb, and asked if the ANA would lead. So we take off and already I am well aware that I packed too much stuff. As I am walking away one of the guys in the 10^th Mountain squad says to another, "I'd say that is a 4 plus."

"On a scale of 5 or what?" Comes the curious reply.

"No four is as high as the scale goes."

Well that is "OK" I tell myself. I have climbed lots of things: houses, fences, trees, rocks, hills, I have even hiked a few mountains in Colorado. Now that my spirits were up my shoulders started going down, like I said earlier, I packed too much stuff.

I am not even going to try and explain how miserable a climb this mountain was. Honestly I thought to my self, I hope something terrible happens to me, like oh say a compound fracture to my femur! Anything that would make it so that I never have to climb up or down this mountain again. Well as luck would have it the only pain I had to endure was the pain of embarrassment at my slipping and falling, huffing and puffing, and wishing that everyone else wanted to take a break every ten steps like I did. So we get to this spot on the mountain and it is great, excellent security positions, excellent view of one of the valleys that we are supposed to watch. Map check. "Oh look if we go higher we can see BOTH valleys!" Did I mention how steep this mountain, it is like nothing I have ever climbed before. We are barely half way and I am already spent. So, on we go. Fortunately, for my mental health (and public image) I did not time this evolution.

Have you ever climbed a mountain? There at the bottom you have all the fun little deciduous trees that we surface dwellers are familiar with, as you get higher though they go away and are replaced with evergreen trees. This is generally accepted as the line: If you are experienced or with a trainer you go ahead an cross it. This line is not for the feint of heart. We crossed it. Our group was a one sided mix of military trained and those who grew up in the environment (7). Then there were the rest of us who have yet to be trained and more fortunate to grow up on solid, level, horizontal ground (14). The next line is when all trees stop, and you have rock. So after huffing, puffing, struggling, stopping, falling, and climbing. We finally get to the top.

I watched as the ANA commander was placing his troops into their security positions. The army squad leader is doing the same. I find a spot for my self and my interpreter, Omar. The sun was shining though the cloudless sky. The jovial banter of soldiers at work was pleasing my ears as I tried to scamper across the bare rock to the place I like for myself. As I crept along the most amazing thing happened. My ruck sack, the heavy one that I have been complaining about because I over packed, fell and proceeded to roll. "Watch out, watch out!" I shouted to those below. For not having eyes or any way of processing information a bag on the loose will seem amazingly competent. It dodged trees, launched itself to greater speed off huge rocks that I thought for sure would stop it, and it never got tired. So guess who has to walk back down and get the bag that he over packed?! My bag was still rolling about a quarter of the way down the mountain when a soldier in the rear guard tackled it. I was really grateful, and walked the rest of the way up with them.

Did I mention that the mountain was steep? To sleep I had to place my feet at the base of a tree, and I laid in-between my ruck sack and my assault bag. Inside my sleeping bag: Ahhhhh, a little slice of heaven. Despite the facts: The rock underneath me being an uncomfortable and knowing that rolling too far either way was certain doom it felt so good to lay down that night. (Did I mention that I over packed, yeah I had this great little travel pillow I got in a care package.) It was great, a hard days work behind me and a long night's rest in front of me. JES Princess tells me that she does not put the ALL the covers on me in the middle of the night, but instead I roll back and forth each time taking a little more with me, in short I roll around a lot in my sleep. Not this night. Every time my leg (or arm fell asleep) or I felt some muscle twitch I made an effort to wake up, gently roll, and then go back to sleep.

Where do you go to the bath room if you wake up in the middle of the night on the bare rock face at the top of a mountain? Ha, bet you thought I was going to answer that one huH?!

The Descent

The night was cloudless the stars were absolutely beautiful, and the moon was full and bright.

Up on top of that mountain the big dipper is BIG. Vincent VanGough's "Starry, Starry Night" cannot is nothing like what I saw. Every now and then I get a feeling I call "owning an image". I guess what I am trying to say is that something intangible becomes at least visible. Generally, as with this night, the images I "own" deal with creation, when I get to see just how creative the Creator is. I don't know if anyone else had their breath taken away by the sky dotted with so many stars and the snow capped mountains glowing under the full moon or not, but if they didn't they truly missed out.

Every time I woke up a dread of going DOWN the mountain then next day swelled inside me. When BOB (Big Orange Ball, the sun. . . duH!) finally rolled around the next morning we were already planning a patrol. When I agreed to move on and off the top of the mountain to patrol some of the local area it was before I saw the mountain. What a misery. Every Afghan at his heart is a billy goat, they are so quick up and down. I am still wondering, "if the town has electricity why not install an escalator?" Just before dark the night before a shepherd wandered though one of the ANA sectors, we challenged him and found out that some of his goats were missing and then let him pass. On the way down I noticed there was no trail (actually I couldn't help but notice it on the way up, that is part of what made even the level parts hard . . . no trail) and how difficult it would be to find something. Then the words of Jesus explaining the importance of his mission, by way of telling the story of a man with 100 sheep who lost one and went to find it flooded my mind. (Mat. 18: 11-13) Searching high and low across rugged and steep terrain looking for a cold separated possibly wounded animal. Our Savior related this story to how important each of his followers were to Him. He would be that Shepherd and each of us at one time (or 30 times) or another lost and alone on the side of some immense precipice without the will to move up and so overcome with fear that we cannot get down. (I have seen the importance of the shepherd to the flock once before here in Afghanistan but it was not as dramatic. We were set in on an OP {Observation Post} and could see this one guy with a huge throng of sheep all around him. It seemed if he took one step to the right or left even the sheep all the way to the front of the flock adjusted their path to be in the same exact way as his. Maybe that should have left a deeper impression all those months ago, when I first saw it. Imagine all the Christian sheep being in step with Jesus!)

So there I am gimping down the mountain trying to keep up with the soldiers who I supposed to be advising; who seem to enjoy taking a break until I get caught up with them and then starting again. But I am delighted as I walk with these two wonderful images to think about. Then my foot slips and as I spew out profanity as quick as I blink my left hand flails out to grab whatever might be sturdy enough to correct my balance. Wham-O, I caught a hold of a rock nearly the size of Delaware and before I finished swearing I was up on my feet with nothing to complain about. It only took a second to loose my mind but honestly without any exaggeration or hyperbole I was more terrified on the side of that mountain than I have ever been of anything in my life. It was that steep. It dawned on me, my God is a rock. Up until that split life-flash before-your-eyes second when I heard something about God being a rock I just thought of . . . don't laugh, the Prudential logo, you know . . . the Rock of Gibraltar. But now I have had in my hand a tiny piece of this enormous mountain. An enormous image of this tiny sentence. A view of God, His saving power, and the truth of all His words.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The patrols yielded nothing credible of any sort. Even the trip back up the mountain was uneventful. But as I went up the mountain a new fear began to dawn on me: Tomorrow I will have to go down the mountain with my over loaded ruck sack.

Epilogue

About 2315 I was awakened by the worst sound, approximately 5 rounds had just gone through the barrel a machine gun. The radio quickly rattled with questions. It turned out to be my soldiers firing at something they saw in the brush below their position. Unfortunately I could not just ask that. I had to wake up the interpreter climb up the rock face in the dark alert the ANA so they wouldn't shoot at me coming up the mountain, wake up their commander. Then begin to talk to them to sort everything out, re-explain the "Rules of Engagement", re-explain the importance of the Rules, and then go and report everything I learned and ordered to my leaders. Consequently it was 2338 when I crawled back into my little slice of heaven (sleeping bag). "WOW, I wonder why he noticed the time?" you may be asking yourself. Because as soon as I got myself propped up against the tree and wedged inbetween my bags a snowflake gently landed on my nose. A SNOWFLAKE! Now going down hill will really get interesting.

Kyle Please Don't Round Up My Word Garden

2007-02-16T07:13:00.000-08:00

I promise once I collect some thoughts worthy of my writing and sharing I will put them up!

3,2,1 . . .

2006-12-15T00:27:00.000-08:00

I am going to perform a disappearing act. I will be off line for a little while. I just wanted to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, and happy New Year. Hope that for everyone it is a good time! I will return as quick as I can.

Whose time is it?

2006-11-28T18:58:00.000-08:00

In Sunday night bible study, we have been progressing ever so slowly through Genesis. We discuss a lot the prevailing theme of people doing God’s will in their time. I thought of that when I read “Christianist” by Terry. Maybe there was something terribly wrong with those burned churches. Maybe it did outrage God. But He (God) has the cards, He knows when it’s the time for action. Waiting for God’s time is not any easier for us than it was for Sarai and Abram but with so many examples clearly spelled out, I am certain that His timing is the best time.

Recently a Chapel was dedicated on the camp. Lindsey Chapel, named in honor of soldier killed in action soon after the 41st took over operations in Afghanistan. (Note to self: having a chapel named in you honor is bad ju-ju.) Anyway, the building was just a B-hut. Like the one I live in but they built a steeple and a cross on the top. The inside was lined with wall covering instead of just painted wood and the floor was covered with wood looking linoleum. Couches, a podium, treated wood trim, pictures of the soldier who sacrificed his life, and a large cross hung at the front of the room. As you can imagine it quickly became the center of debate. Apparently Army regulation states that a building called a chapel has to be open/available to people of all faith’s. So the crosses had to come down. (The crosses can only go back up if they are “removable” so that if a non-Christian comes to worship the building can be set up for their faith.)

At the end of Bible study Sunday night this fella WENT OFF. He was irate. Several people acknowledged his anger and tried to talk re-explain the policy. The Chaplains Aid was there he tried, to no avail, also. The leader of the study explained the process that he went through and how he had prayed about it. The sweet southern words of Mrs. Wallace echoed inside my head until I couldn’t take it anymore and I just had to say “Jesus isn’t on the cross anymore.” They all looked at me with the same “what did the weird-o say” look on their faces that they usually do when I weigh in. So I went further to say that we don’t worship the cross. Finally everyone settled down. A church is just a building 5 or 6 days a week, up until a month ago that building was just unused barracks. It neatly replaces the conference room that we used prior to its construction, but it is still just a building. (Someone pointed out that the conference room didn’t have a cross either.) I don’t know why I keep babbling on, I guess that it just feels good to get some things off you chest.

The Award, The Reality, and The Occult

2006-10-30T01:33:00.000-08:00

Prologue
Be forewarned: This is long one. In fact I think I will divide it into chapters so that anyone who does not like long blogs can have an easy reference point to return to.

Chapter One: What Would William Wallace Do?
I have been given several moments of praise since deploying to Afghanistan. I have been given a coin from the Kansas State Sergeant Major. I received a considerable amount of verbal praise from my Squad Leader, Platoon Sergeant, and Platoon Leader. That culminated in receiving a coin from the Oklahoma State Sergeant Major, and another coin from the Adjutant General for the State of Oklahoma. Then the other day I got called down from the tower. I had noticed a growing number of my chain of command milling around. I didn’t know what for, but I had noticed the green folder synonymous with an award. So when I got down to where they were I was pleasantly surprised to learn the award was for me. William Wallace said “. . . I have been given nothing; God makes men what they are.” But I am going to brag a little because I think it will help me develop my point.

In the Army a “recommender” must provide a list of three achievements and then a citation. Notice I got the optional fourth achievement noted! Here are the achievements that earned me a second Army Commendation Medal.

1. SGT (Me) mobilized in 36 hours in support of Hurricane Katrina relief efforts to New Orleans, LA. As part of these relief efforts, SGT (ME) assisted in evacuating civilian refugees, and assisted the ASPCA/HSUS in evacuating stranded or abandoned animals. SGT (ME) worked in flooded and contaminated area’s entering buildings searching for casualties and survivors.

2. SGT (Me) performed an exceptional job by stepping up and taking over a squad of soldiers due to the inability of the existing squad leader to be mobilized. SGT (Me) ensured that all assigned missions were accomplished and that all squad leader duties were executed during the mobilization of TF (Task Force) Katrina.

3. After spending 3 weeks cleaning up after Hurricane Katrina, SGT (Me) continued to lead his squad through a second hurricane (Rita) knowing well what damage it could cause. Not being evacuated, SGT (Me)s’ dedication to duty was in the highest keeping with the Army and the Oklahoma National Guard.

4. SGT (Me) led his squad through countless houses in hazardous conditions searching for survivors of the flood/Hurricane Katrina.

Citation: Achievement while serving as a squad leader for 2PLT, Co C , 1-279 IN During TF Katrina relief efforts in New Orleans LA from 01 SEP 2005 through the end of the mobilization. He consistently set the standard, worked long hours, and displayed outstanding professional ability at all times. By leading by example through hazardous and degrading conditions, he was an inspiration to his subordinates. SGT (Me)s’ superior sense of duty to the 45th Infantry Brigade and the OKARNG (Oklahoma Army National Guard) reflect great credit upon himself, the 45th Light Infantry, the 7th Infantry Division, and the Oklahoma Nation Guard.

Chapter Two: What Would Napoleon Do?
So I saluted shook hands and went back to work. As I climbed up the stairs, I thought about the whole New Orleans experience. For some reason I thought backwards. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of the mobilization is that when I came back all I heard of was the racist Bush administration that LET this happen. (Special note to Rivendell friends, I am really glad that you trip was so much better than mine.) I think of the foul odor that took three washes to get off of me and my clothes. The awful heat until Rita came around, the miserable work, and working conditions. The constant moving until we got to the hostel, and later on the Hyatt. Long patrols, and longer nights standing in the middle of the street directing traffic away from our operations. By the end of my climb, it’s a pretty tall tower, I got to the part where I missed saying good bye to Jenni and Jeremy. I missed supporting my wife while she her best friend left for the peace corps. The overwhelming emotions drove my daughter to relapsed on her potty training. The tearful “discussion” when my wife saw the flowering story I invented and “discovered” I volunteered. During the deployment I re-enlisted much to her chagrin. Situated neatly in the middle of all that I missed my son’s birthday. Napoleon claimed that he could conquer the world if he had enough ribbon to make awards out of. In my tower seat now, I though about that for a minute. Awards and decorations they really push people on. Soldiers are the same; leaders are encouraged to publicly recognize the work of subordinates, through counseling, awards, and decorations. I thought as I sat in my tower about what Mel Gibson’s character said in Brave Heart. He was not confessing something deep or profound about God, he was saying that no matter what accolade he got he would not be led around because of it.

What if that award were the last line of my life? What if all my kids had to hold was a piece of paper that said “Your Pop was a good troop, we of the1-279 IN, the 45th Light SIB and the 7th ID are real proud.”

Residual pain for missing the birthday caught up with. Then I thought about how I missed this year’s birthday. Two in a row, some DaddyMan. What do I have to show for it? An Army commendation medal, not good enough. What about Afghanistan? How can I make up for missing birthday number six, saving Afghanistan? Not hardly, chances are strong he and his peers will still face duty this dirty, brown place when they are older enough to decide to serve. I sent him a flag for his birthday; it flew over our camp on Sept. 11. (Oh yeah, that reminds me I missed his first birthday too.) I hope that as he grows he will forgive and forget, or at least think of me as someone who felt passionate about building a better future for him and his generation.

I recently watched the National Geographic documentary “Witness 9/11" I think it is called. I almost vomited when that first plane hit, I have not seen it for a long time and I was really surprised how it affected me. I had to fight back tears several times, it was really weird. I don’t know why I am passing all this along, but I am under a cloud of guilt and I guess I just what to leave something of an apology for my son. If any of his mother’s skepticism rubs off it will probably fall on his ears like a poor excuse.

Chapter Three: What Would Jack Bristow Do?
As an anti-depressant I bought the entire 5 seasons of Alias. Watching each episode is like traveling back though a time portal. I remember the first episode I saw at Laura’s moms’ house. I remember when we first invited Eric and Amber over and found out they were addicted to the show too. So we started our own “fellowship”. . . that Kyle called a cult. Never mind that the lights were out and silence was required until the show cut to a commercial. Seeing; Sydney, Jack, Marshall, Weiss, Vaughan, Dixon, Sloan, Sark, Irena Derevko, and even that crazy North Korean “dentist” it was seeing all my old friends again. After Eric and Amber moved away, then Jeremy and Jenni shared our Sunday night addiction with us. Kyle and Cathy, Tony and Stevie, Curtis and Amber, in fact at one point in time or another everyone in the New Heights newly wed class had some over to watch Alias with us. One night my sister and her (at that time) husband came by and were so weirded out that they left us to our show, before it was over. Anyone who saw knows it was a good show, especially early on. Just as important as the show was the fun time we had with our friends before and after it came on. But just like all those fun filled Sunday nights, last night the screen went black, and the letters A L I A appeared in white on the black screen and the S was die cut and black. Over. Back to reality.

I fear becoming like Jack. He defended Sydney against all enemies foreign and domestic, he looked over her friends and always made sure he knew who she was leaving with and what time she was to return; here is a quote “If it is not obvious to you by now everything I do is in the service of protecting Sydney.” But he also defended this nation with such zeal that he often became the center of ethics discussions. Another quote, “Your consistent shortcoming, you should know this, is your naïve sense of morality. Evil must be destroyed, at any cost.” Jack was constantly gone to one shady “black” operation or another, leaving Sydney with a nanny or worse in the hands of Project Christmas. I already leave for long blocks of time and do things I can’t discuss outside the “office.” I already made foolish decisions based on my own selfish desire to serve my county. I don’t want my kids to grow up and have to wonder or guess about me or the content of my heart.

Epilogue
LDRSHIP is the acronym that soldiers are taught to help them remember the Army Values: Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage. “God please help me to remember that my country is not the entity that I owe these same allegiances to.”

“To LLE, JRE3, and LGE please forgive me of my patriotic zeal, my expedience to serve, and robbing you of my presence at a year and a half’s worth of holidays and gatherings.”

XOXOXO
DaddyMan

My thoughts on the American Jesus and some notes on Islam

2006-09-23T11:08:00.000-07:00

Up front let me apologize for the lack of on line writing. I have not given up, just run out of time handy for it. I have found some time for thinking about what is means to be a Christian in America. And I have read some blogs that raise questions regarding Islam and I thought I would throw my two cents in that direction.

Spurred on by the above picture (despite my best efforts to include the picture in the text you must click on that big blank frame above) I began asking myself:

!) Are protests, rallies, and laws the way a Christian should show there interest in the lives of “the lost”?

@) Does the definition/defamation of marriage matter if we are really pilgrims and sojourners?

#) Have I been used as a puppet for Republicans, are all Christians being so used? Have I let myself become a know nothing ditto. Have I become the gimmie vote to political pundits.

It seems like the answer is yes. Unfortunately. But what is the better option? I don’t have an answer yet. I have been a part of the “religious right” since y2k or maybe 2001. I have been an avid listener to talk radio, participated in rallies, and even volunteered at a candidates’ election office. Honestly I had never considered that creating a voting wing of Christendom was not part of the design of Holy Scripture. Hadn’t Ronald Reagan proposed that energizing Christians to get involved in the political process would create this awesome nation, a shining city on the hill, I think he called it. (I am too young to remember I read the book shortly before his passing.) Never once did I consider that this strategy might negatively influence towards those who we were trying to convert by creating a grossly inaccurate picture of Christ.

Last night I read an article Last night I read an article where the writer proposed citizens quit voting until people start running who are really interested in making a change start running. I thought that idea was silly too, but it reminded me of another story that I have written about a tree named Lee. (It was also on “A Cool Collection of Cool Stuff” that died and lost all of my creative writing.)

On Muslims. It is intriguing to me, that I don’t know anyone who had memorized the entire Bible. But in Islam they have a title for people who have memorized the entire Koran, Hasi. The word Haji is a title for someone who has made the journey to their holy city. It is imperative for Muslims to embark on this journey at least once in their life. I wonder how many Christians would save money or set aside time to make a perilous pilgrimage to ANY place mentioned in the Bible. How far would an American Christian walk to define his faith? And mind you not all of our historic landmarks are in combat zones. Crete, Malta, and Greece would make for interesting travel and maybe even mark your soul with the memory of what the first century church availed. Or if you are a little more daring Egypt, Israel, Syria, Lebanon and Macedonia may answer your call. Ever considered the poor, of course you have. In Tulsa it is hard to drive through an intersection without giving some thought to the disheveled figure on one ormore of the corners. You may have heard a challenging sermon or read something that softened your hear towards the plight of the less fortunate. Well in Islam they celebrate Ramadan. Roughly a month of day time fasting. No food, drink, sex, tobacco, alcohol, and only a little work. I thought this was a pretty stupid celebration, and couldn’t understand why they would look forward to it until I asked one of our interpreters why. “To help us remember the poor, and make us more thankful.” Yeah, it was an eye opener for me to. Now I am not trying to uphold or proclaim these precepts of their faith at all; I still stand firm in my faith that Jesus Christ is the son of God, and the only gate through which man can enter Heaven. However I think their zeal is something that we as Christian need to take notice of. Their religion is tightly coordinated with their lifestyle and I think Christians need to be challenged by that.

Star Wars quiz! This turned out alot better than the car quiz

2006-09-03T05:28:00.000-07:00

You scored as Mace Windu. You are most like Mace Windu. A celebrated Jedi master known for his unique combination of wisdom, temperance and foresight. You prefer the life of a scholar yet will charge into battle should the need arise.

You created and utilize the Vaapad form for lightsaber combat. It combines the usage of The Force for acrobatic speed and precision found in Ataru, the defensive to offensive channel found in Shien/Djem So and a concentration of emotion often seen as a sign for falling to The Dark Side.

You eventually are betrayed by Anakin Skywalker and are killed by Darth Sidious.

Mace Windu

96%

Anakin Skywalker

96%

Qui-Gon Jinn

86%

Luke Skywalker

82%

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Pre Death of Qui-Gon Jinn)

68%

Count Dooku/Darth Tyranus

64%

Darth Vader

61%

Darth Sidious

61%

Darth Maul

61%

Bastila Shan

61%

Darth Revan

57%

Yoda

57%

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Post Death of Qui-Gon Jinn)

50%

Exar Kun

14%

What Star Wars Jedi or Sith character is most like your personality?
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Pictures, new pictures

2006-08-31T07:15:00.000-07:00

Me at the top of my first mountain

The grim reaper in the rubble!! Go tell the Enquirer, supermom!!!

The climb

Me at the end of the day

Attack of the Hobby Monster Part Two

2006-08-27T22:11:00.000-07:00

The attack of the Hobby Monster Part Two.

I like everything that I do. I do pretty much everything that I like. All my life I have wanted to learn a fighting style. When I first got bit by the bug it was probably around the Karate Kid time frame, or maybe the first time the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles came out in the five part cartoon mini-series. Anyway, too bad for me, mom and pop did not have enough money to get me started in a class. Later on, when the bug bit again, they had already paid for braces. My future in professional fighting, ninja for hire, or stunt double industries looked pretty bleak.

Oh look a link for www.appletree.com .

There now that my mom is not reading.

Last week I started boxing lessons. OH YEAH! I learned my stance got comfortable with few punches practiced hitting the bag, learned how to breath, and how to block other peoples punches. OH! I ate it up! On night number two it was more practice on the fundamentals. Then I got to practice against the coach, an Army Drill Sergeant. He held up his hands with special gloves on them and I swung, and punched and swung and punched until my shoulders were so sore I could barely lift my arms. The coach yelled at me that I was not finished, even thought I was pretty sure that I was I kept on swinging.

Ok, so Friday night, I got to fight another sergeant who has been coming to he class too. I was so jazzed. We were fight number three. I watched two guys emerge as new stars while two others proved that two, two minute rounds was a little more that they could take. I put on the gloves while one of the coaches smeared Vaseline across my cheeks and eyebrows. I rehearsed the fundamentals through my mind as another student put the head gear on me. Other noises in the room subsided as I faced the wall shadow boxing. I know my opponent very well, he and I are friends and to be quite honest, I did not know if I could beat him. (There was no doubt in my mind hitting him would be very gratifying but I did not know if I could beat him.)

What had followed next was a blow by blow account of the fight, as well as I could remember it. But in preparing this document for blog publishing, the hobby monster struck again...

Just as innocently as the boxing class, it started with a piece of paper on the door of the DFAC (that is dining facility if you don’t speak Army). “Rock Climbing. xday morning at 0x00. I signed up. Why not it happened during my time off. The site was not far from our base. Italians were doing the teaching. We learned a couple of knots, how to belay from the ground, a little of how to rappel down, and the rest was up to us. I made my first climb up, and was immediately hooked. From a scant sixty feet above the ground I shot photos, caught my breath and realized I had forgotten everything the Italian sergeant had said about repelling down. “Just stick your butt out.” They cackled below me. It was great fun repelling. I was physically exhausted when I got down, but the descent had allowed me to catch my breath. All I wanted to do was go up again. Fortunately for me there was plenty of lanes to explore.

Can I get some help here? Is there a rehabilitation center for a boy that wants to do everything? I hope you won’t mind me listing my hobbies and interest. I like reading, and writing. I like learning about internal combustion engines, especially the ones on Harley Davidson Motorcycles, but I also enjoy motorcycles in general. I really like listening to music, but I also like trying to play it. I have a guitar and a harmonica with me that I am learning to play. At home I have four (other) guitars, a (old) banjo, a (small) keyboard, and two small bongo’s. I also really like exercise. My Dad and I have a treadmill, exercise bike, two weight benches, about 500 pounds worth of plate and dumb bell weight. Can I like anything else? I like to take my wife on dates. I love a good G.I. Joe battle, or a jaunt to the pretty pony princess castle with either or both of my children. I like shooting guns. I like drinking beer. I like talking about family issues, current events, politics, psychology, history, and military tactics. I like hiking with the kids or playing at the park. I even enjoy the challenges of doing my own house hold plumbing . . .

The list could go on . . . Someone help me. Give me a weapon to fend myself against this vicious beast. I fear that around every corner I turn another hobby may attack me. Need I remind you that twice I was attacked before I could publish this one article. HELP!

Lyrics: Preservation of Saints

2006-08-27T22:06:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been feeling a little bit nostalgic. (At the top of the mountain all I could think of was how much fun it would be if Josh was there; remembering all the things we climbed together. Houses, fences, trees, and what-not. At boxing I thought of Rob, being a wrestler and boxer, and how much fun he would have watching my attempts to learn how to fight.) When nostalgia happens I usually sit back and listen to the music that made my heart flutter as a young lad. This time I have been listening to The O.C. Supertones. I have never listened to their second album but before I left I copied it to my iPod from a friends collection. Anyway it is a great album and I really like this song call “Preservation of the Saints.”

Let me drown in an ocean of devotion
Let my joy be a service
and let my emotion
Let me be closer than your right hand
Tighter than your left hand
and let me be a Godly man

Till the day I die
Till the fire’s just smoke
I will go for broke
Till my last words spoke
If I limp then I will run with a limp
I win some and loose some but I make my attempt.

Chorus:
Last breath before the candle flickers out I will speak the name of Jesus (2x)

I will keep fighting to the knock out
even if I m knocked out
Hittin hard I’m hitting for the belt
The show will keep going
till my body buckles out
till my bloody knuckles carry us to heaven by the truck fulls

I will be as stubborn as a pit-bull
Neutral like a Nazi
Resolute like Ghandi
I will keep preaching till I choke out
Till I’m heaven in route.

Chorus (4x)
Trumpet solo
Instrumental Bridge

Let me drown in an ocean of devotion
Let my joy be a service
and let my emotion
Let me be closer than your right hand
Tighter than your left hand
and let me be a Godly man

Chorus (4x)

Afghan Independence Day

2006-08-19T09:44:00.000-07:00

Happy Afghan independence Day. I hope every celebrated in the customary manner by recklessly firing your automatic AK-47 off into the air.

If you read the geek mobile blog then you might like to see this picture. If you look closely over Jeremy's left shoulder you can see where I punched his window a few days before the wreck, I got a little excited while telling a story. I was going to pay him the cash to replace it the same day he wrecked it.

Mythical creature quiz.

2006-08-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

I missed out on the action hero quiz so bear with me

You scored as Dragon. Dragon: Now talk about a legend. These magnificent creatures are of many species. Some can be as large as the Earth itself, while others are as small as a mouse. One image that comes to everyone's mind is the large, fire breathing Dragons that loathed humans and loved to sleep on massive piles of gold. Not all dragons have a bad reputation. Most dragons are very wise, caring, and protective. It would make a person very lucky indeed to meet a dragon. Especially if they walked away untouched. I admire your wisdom, for you are the Ancient Dragon.

Demon

100%

Dragon

100%

Faerie

59%

Mermaid

50%

WereWolf

25%

Angel

25%

What Mythological Creature are you? (Cool Pics!)
created with QuizFarm.com

pictures

2006-08-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

Pictures of Kabul

Check out my flava sava!
upclose 1\2\3

V8 Race (I knew you wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it!)

A Cool Collection of Cool Stuff

2006-08-09T11:49:00.000-07:00

Since before I can remember I have had a really good friend named Ricky. He is a little stuffed raccoon wearing bib overalls and holding a shovel. I have loved him dearly all my life. (My wife is often jealous of my little stuffed confident and often when I place him in a position of prominence on our bed I return to find him across the room or under the bed.) There are only a few THINGS in this world I would truly mourn the passing of, Ricky is one. Another is a little grey disk. Written on the label is ‘A Cool Collection of Cool Stuff.” It used to house most of my writing and poetry. It logged most of all my poetry and short fiction, most notably the story of the Headless Stick Chicken. I got the disk one summer when I was at Summer Arts working on the “SA Times”, the publication of which is the culmination of the Summer Arts journalism class. I used the disk all through 3 summers, and all through high school to “permanently” store my most valued prose and poetry. It’s gone now. When I started this blog I named it in honor of my favorite character creation in the hopes of sharing the story of the Headless Stick Chicken with anyone who happened by, and to that end asked my wife to e-mail me the story. She attempted, but sadly failed. After locating the disk, she reported all the files empty. So I am sad. Really sad. A piece of my youth is now forever gone. I told my wonderful wife (who promised to stick by me through good times and bad) that I would probably just start this year over as if I were 14 in order to rekindle all the creative energy needed to re-create another cool collection of cool stuff.