Knottie's niche

I have moved

2009-10-12T08:03:00.000-07:00

Due to the generosity and encouragement of Greta and Wendy I now have a domain and website to host my blogs.. I hope to see you all there http://knottiesniche.com/

10 Knocks

2009-10-04T11:40:00.000-07:00

This morning 10 families received knocks on their doors and two men in Class A uniforms faced them. The phrase every military family dreads was spoken " We regret to inform you..." 10 hearts have stopped beating, 10 lives have ended far too soon. 10 families worlds have come to a halt, their hearts have shattered and the path to the "new normal" has begun.

I want to scream at the President that his lack of action and rules of engagement are killing our men. I want to shake the politician's who seem to think this is some kind of game and our military are the pawns. I want to shout "THESE ARE PEOPLE YOU ARE GETTING KILLED SO YOU CAN GET BETTER POLL NUMBERS"

The United States Military is the best there is.. they always get the job done if they are allowed to do the job. They do their job with honor also. They don't need senseless rules of engagement to hamper their efforts. They know right from wrong. The recent ROE were set to make the US more popular in world opinion... well they just make us look weak and they are getting our men killed!

This is war.. not politics! We need to listen to our generals on the ground not some bean counter who never had the balls to walk into a recruiting office let alone serve this country in uniform.

Mr. President.. you have blood on your hands.. the blood of 10 men today because you refuse to take the action necessary. Stop the dog and pony shows and start doing your job sir!

Ten American troops were killed at the weekend in two surprise attacks that caused alarm in Nato’s US-led coalition.

In one, hundreds of insurgents attacked a pair of isolated outposts in eastern Afghanistan, killing eight US soldiers and several Afghan policemen in the deadliest battle in 15 months. Scores more Afghan policemen were reportedly captured by the Taleban.

In the other an Afghan policeman opened fire on the American soldiers with whom he was working in central Wardak province, killing two and injuring three.

Take Luck

2009-10-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

A lot of families have that special phrase or word that just says it all. It's almost like a code for I love you, be safe, I miss you, be careful all in one little word or phrase... for me and Pokey that phrase was "take luck".

We had been listening to a Brian Regan CD in the car on the way back to Ft. Campbell from my dad's house on the last visit we had with him before he deployed. "Take Luck " is one of his skits and we all thught it was hilarious. Somehow 'Take Luck' seemed fitting as my phrase to say to Pokey. He logged off before I could type it that last conversation...

Some of the others guys in his unit immediately knew it was from a comedy skit when I would sign my emails with it. They too had enjoyed it. But I never told them that it wasn't just a humorous reference to a comedy skit.. I never told them it was my special phrase and good luck charm to my son.

To this day when I talk to a soldier I tell them to 'take luck'. And I hope they do. Now though it's more than a phrase of many meanings that I would say to my son. It's my way of saying my son is watching over you now. He has your 6 soldier.. so take luck.

"Soulless Muslim Bastards"

2009-09-26T20:23:00.001-07:00

** WARNING** this blog entry may offend you. But I believe we don't have the right to not be offended, so if it does too bad.

During his time in Iraq, Micheal often referred to the enemy as "soulless muslim bastards" . At the time it bothered me. I had always felt that as humans we are basically good. It would be some months after he died before I truly comprehended what he was saying. It took conversations with people who had been in Iraq and the watching of videos of those in Palestine for me to "get it".

It comes down to the muslim culture is a culture of hate.. so much so that the hate has eaten the very souls of these people. When you see videos such as this you understand that from birth these people are taught nothing but pure hate.

Is there a way change the next generation? When the children as young as 3 years old have had their minds so poisoned? I'm a mother.. my life has been centered on raising my children. the thought of hurting a child sickens me. But I am at a loss as to how to change the mindset of these children who are so damaged by this type of hate... have they too lost their souls to hate at such a young age?

No amount of "talking" is going to change the perspective a culture that knows nothing but hate and murder. And anyone who does not standup against it is as guilt as the culture itself of the hate and violence. It's called passive violence and it is the most dangerous kind.

Before you all start sending the threatening emails... I know there are those in the culture who want to change it. My son's "terp" Vegas is an example. But unless they stand up and denounce the lies and hate and violence they are just as guilty as the ones who set IEDs, launch RPGs and walk into the presence of others and blow themselves up to be martyrs.

Mr. Falvey

2009-09-22T11:25:00.000-07:00

This morning I had to drive up to the high school and pick up my sick daughter. At the stop light I looked my rear view mirror and saw that the Vice Principal Mr. Falvey. We both parked and got out of our cars at the same time. He then said to me " Are you trying to make me cry?' You see on the back of my car are several stickers in memory of Micheal and Mr Falvey was close to my son.

I remember the first time I met Mr. Flavey. It was parent teacher conferences Micheal's Junior year and David's Freshman year. Both the boys had him for English. The conferences here are not scheduled you just go during the hours they set up and meet with teachers as they are available so he had no idea who I was. " You belong to Tiffany ******" was his greeting to me. " No.. I'm Micheal and David Phillips Mom" He became very serious and said "I'm so sorry" then laughed. We then went over the boys work and he stated how bright they were. Of course they had their problems. David was sarcastic and Micheal was unfocused. Nothing I didn't know.

Micheal's senior year Mr Falvey become the vice principal and they some how grew a mutual respect and somewhat close relationship. I got a call from Mr Falvey a few weeks into Micheal's senior year from Mr. Falvey telling me he was so proud of Micheal. Micheal had gotten jumped at lunch by a kid and just stood there with his hands raised laughing asking the kid if that was all he had. Micheal loved to fight so for him to not fight back took a great deal of self control.

While Micheal was in bootcamp he wrote Mr Falvey. And every time Micheal came home on leave he would head to the high school to visit Mr Falvey and another teacher he was close to. I'm not sure Mr Falvey realize what a great influence he was on Pokey. And to this day Micheal's letters and one of his dogtags are hanging on the wall in Mr Falvey's office.

The day after Micheal died the first person to knock on our door was Mr. Falvey, in tears. He told us that he had already had the flag lowered at the school and in his hand were the letters Micheal wrote him. Throughout the next few days Mr Falvey stood between us and the media who tried so hard to find us thru the school. He gave interviews , with our permission and blessings, about Micheal. He kept the media and others from intruding on our grief at that time. He also made the arrangements for our other children to be out of school for an extended time without it hurting their grades. He took care of us.

So today he asked me if I was trying to make him cry and he meant it. Then we spoke for a couple of minutes. He told me another student who had join the military had written him but he couldn't open the letter. I told him he should. He said he wanted this one to come home. He said he will write him back but not open the letter. I suppose we all have our superstitions.

19 months later and this man still grieves for my son and has not forgotten. I don't know how to comfort this man or thank him for all he has done and still does for us.

If there are angels on earth this man is one.

Pokey's Poker Run

2009-09-20T11:15:00.001-07:00

Bright and early Saturday morning we went to the local VFW where the local National Guard dawgs were holding sign ups and starting the poker run being held in the memory of our son. After a week of rain we were glad to see the sun shining. I took the 3 large pictures of Micheal we have so that those riding would be able to see his beautiful smile and remember we are doing this for his brothers. The run was to raise money for Wounded Warriors Project.

These are a great group of men and women. There was another Gold Star father who rode with us also. Lots of hugs were given. The local police gave us an escort to the first stop of the run. It was eerie... I followed the bikes in my car to the first stop and the police were behind me. For a moment it took me back to March 2008 and the day Pokey came home. It was hard to fight the tears.

The first stop was the Veterans Home here in town. A lot of the men came out to see the bikes and just hang with the riders. All of the riders took the time to thank each of the veterans for their service and answer thier questions about the bikes.

My husband and the rest of the riders then headed out the next stop. I went tot he last stop which is another Veterans Home in a town about 30 miles away. I spent most of the day there greeting riders and talking with the Veterans there.

One gentleman in particular grabbed my ear and we sat and talk for quite a long time. Mr Cooper collects hats and pins and I offered to contact a few organizations and have them send some things to him so he gave me his address. then he asked me if I would write him letters. I told him I would be honored to. And I gave him my address so he could write me also. As we talked he asked about my son.. he didn't realize that the Poker Run was being held in memory of my son. He then shared a great deal of his life story with me. I got the feeling it was something he doesn't do often and I was glad to be able to give him an ear to listen as he purged some of his demons.

After the last group of riders got to the stop I headed back to town to attend the BBQ being held for the riders. It was great to be able to sit and talk with the group. The gentleman who won the pot broke the tradition of donating the winnings back to the charity the ride was being held for and called my youngest son to the front and gave him the money. I then asked my son if he wanted to keep the money or give it to Wounded warriors Project. He gave it back. I was very proud of him for that. Not many 11 yr olds would have done that. I will be giving him the same amount to spend out of my own packet.

Next year we will be doing it all again. There was some discussion of holding it for another charity and I along with a few others will be looking for one we find worthy. Not that Wounded Warriors isn't. But we kind of want to spread the generosity of these riders.

I was very proud to have my son's name on this ride. It was for me a way to continue to carry on his fight by continuing to take care of his brothers in arms the best we can.

New Look

2009-09-19T19:17:00.001-07:00

One of my readers mentioned they have trouble reading the pink/red tints so I changed it.

Full write up on the Poker Run tomorrow.. tonight I am exhausted.

Ang..

More Abuse of Military Families

2009-09-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

It was a nasty evil thing to do back during the Vietnam war. People would call families claiming to be the military and tell their son had been killed and the family would later find it was a lie. Mental and emotional abuse and torture of the worse kind. Well what once was old is new again... but still just as evil and heartless. Only this time the media is being compliant.

Calls are being made to families and the words no family with a soldier wants to hear are uttered " We regret to inform you"... Only to find out their soldier is alive and well. It's done to break morale and inflict injury on the families. Not only that but on our troops also. Now instead of our soldiers being able to completely focus on their mission they have the burden of worrying about something like this happening to their loved ones who are suppose to be safe at home.

Ray Jasper of Niagara Falls says he was camping Sunday when he received a call on his cell phone from a woman who said she was a military liaison. He says the woman told him his son, Staff Sgt. Jesse Jasper, was killed in action Saturday.

The father says he later called military officials to get details of his son's death and was told that his son is alive. Ray Jasper says the officials couldn't explain the earlier call.
Full Story Here

Now I can imagine the emotions this man went through. The complete and utter shattering of his world. And whoever made that call intended for him to suffer. It was not a PRANK. It was a intentional infliction of mental abuse and emotional pain on this man and his family. I am not sure what laws are in affect to punish this but they are not strong enough.

The Media, CBS News in this case, is reporting this hideous behavior as a mistake of the military. Well It wasn't! I know for a fact the military will not call a family to deliver this type of news. Even if the family is not home they will either stand guard until they return or find them and go to them. They tell the family by looking into their eyes. Telling the families is one of the most difficult jobs in the military and my heart goes out to the causality officers who perform it.. also my respect.

Another version of these calls is to tell you your loved was wounded.. usually these call request a verification of the soldier's social security number and then the soldier's identity is stolen. If these people are not oblivious to the family's suffering they are just as evil.

These types of calls and attacks on the families of our troops are terrorism in themselves. I am getting very angry and sick of the abuse put up on our troops and their families...

It's time to get VERY LOUD about it and start fighting back against these type of terror tactics and abuses of our troops and their families. Again this is an attack on our military and their families! I can't say it strongly enough. This is ABUSE and Terrorism!

Note: A similar incident happened at Ft Campbell last fall where two men actually went to a woman's home and falsely told her her husband was killed. http://www.blackfive.net/main/2008/11/imposters-posin.html

Spc. Micheal "Pokey" Phillips Memorial Poker Run

2009-09-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

Next Saturday, Sept. 19th 2009, is the Spc Micheal "Pokey" Phillips Memorial Poker run. Sponsored by the local Guard Dog organization. This organization is made up of National guardsmen who have served and still do. The proceeds will be going to the Wounded Warriors Project.

We were approached by these wonderful people a few months ago and asked if they could honor our son by holding their annual poker run for wounded warriors in our son's name. At each step of the way they have asked for our input and made sure that we were ok with all they have done. Each stop of the poker run route has a military connection. VFWs, American Legion Halls and both the local veteran hospitals. I feel these stops are incredibly fitting.

If you can make it I will be at the start table and at several of the stops through out the day. I will also be at the last stop for the BBQ at the National Guard Armory in Ardmore, OK.

It's Coming Home.

2009-09-09T14:30:00.000-07:00

few days ago I wrote of a man who had left a message on my son's legacy page. Well I was wrong about him being the 4th man.. turns out he is the man who pulled my son from the vehicle.. but that will be another blog. Today I need to write about the plaque the engineers made and placed over the Company'sbarracks honoring my son.

On March 23rd 2008 I wrote this on my myspace blog:

An Easter Gift
Current mood: grateful

I received a gift I was not expecting and am so touched I am not even sure how to react. My son’s best friend in his squad was online with my husband this morning. It seems the Engineering team my son was escorting on their own time ( which is so little and precious where they are) made a plaque to honor my son and placed it above his company barracks at their new FOB. I am just so touched that these men would do this for them and him. This has truly touched my heart.

I am in contact with several of Micheal’s unit. It is comforting to know they are safe and well. Having them in my life is healing. They are all becoming more and more a part of my family. My son was blessed to know and work with such outstanding men. And I am honored that they have allowed me to care about them also.

I was so touched when the guys told me about the plaque. It meant a great deal to me. I found out yesterday this man who had left the message is one of the men who made and placed the plaque. It was something he had wanted to do for my son, for my son's brothers and for me. He had wanted it to come home to us. After our conversation I wondered about getting that plaque home.. so today I made a call to my son's company. One of my guys was on CQ and answered the phone. ( I love when one of mine answer the phone) and went to find someone in charge. I spoke with the LT about the plaque and how I would like to get it home. As much for myself as for the gentleman I spoke with. It was his intention all along for it to come home with the guys. I think he and I both need it to come home. SOOOOO anyway a few hours later the First Sgt calls. He is going to contact the company at the FOB and make arrangements for the plaque to come home. Timing is everything because they are getting ready to dismantle the FOB. No promises are being made but I know an effort is being made.

Now to decided where to place this plaque here stateside. Keep in mind it is quite large. We will either put in the local military museum or the museum at Ft. Campbell. This will be decided later. And all parties will be included in that decision.. and that includes my guys getting a say in it. I am also going to work on getting the gentleman who made it to be with us when we receive it. I'm gonna have to see if we can get the Army to help us with that one....

I do want to just touch it.. sounds silly but I think I need to run my fingers over the lettering.

The 4th Man

2009-09-05T11:14:00.000-07:00

I found this post this morning on one of the many memorial pages for Micheal:

Mike, It's been the greatest honor of my Military career to have met you. I only wish I would have had the chance before pulling you out on 24FEB08. I will always honor you as a hero!

It was signed and an email address given. I have written the gentleman.

For over a year now I have tried to find out who else was in the vehicle with Micheal. I know 3 of the 4 others who blessedly walked away from the blast. the 4th man was not with Micheal's unit. They were giving him a ride. I don't know if the man who left this is that man but I think maybe he is. When I told a friend about having possibly finding that 4th man they did not understand I was thrilled. I now have the chance to thank and possibly, if needed, comfort him. But more than that this man had a hand that day in helping my son.. giving him a chance to survive. He and many others worked so hard for my son that day. I know now that the 1SG and others truly thought they were sending my son to be fixed. The fact that Micheal spoke with them gave them hope. I have to think that the news that Micheal had died and that his body was too broken to fix had to be devastating to them because they did have that hope. They had no prepared for that. they had prepared for him to be fixed and sent home to heal and become one of our many wounded warriors.

Micheal's father and I have a different way of looking at somethings involving Micheal's death. I have the need to know everything.. a minute by minute account. His father on the other hand does not.. and is in fact against to some extent. For me though it is important to know who was there, what they did, what Micheal said. All of it. Which kind of takes me back to the report we received last month and whether or not to read it. fact is I know there is so much not in that report that is truly more important for me to know.

So I am going to go against the advice of some and seek out a few people and ask some questions I need answered. I am torn because I don't want to bring pain to others by asking the questions but I need to know. I need to know what his last words to the surgeon were. I need to know what Mungo told Lee that Lee felt so strongly I should hear but would not tell me unless it was face to face. I want to know why Meza never told me about his burned legs. I need to know if Micheal had the same foreboding feeling I had in the days before and if he mentioned it to anyone....

I know in my heart that the answers will not change anything but maybe it will make it easier for me to cope with all of this. What answers I have gotten have reassured me in a way that I cannot put into words. But somehow the knowing of what happened that day helps.

****Update**** a little research on the person who left the message and I now know he was a member of the Engineering team Micheal was escorting.. not a passenger in Micheal's Humvee. So now I'm excited to ask about the sign they made for the barracks they named for Micheal.

Abuse by the Media

2009-09-05T08:27:00.001-07:00

Yesterday evening I was told about L/Cpl Joshua Bernad. I had read his name in the DoD releases and knew he had been killed fighting in Afghanistan. I did not know that the AP wire service had made a decision to release pictures of this young man after he had been injured. The family begged them not to release the pictures. Sec. of Defense Gates sternly advised them not to release the photos... but they did it anyway. No concern or care about the emotional impact this would have on the family who is already grieving and in so much pain. My heart broke for this family. Then I became furious. I refuse to link to the pictures. I will respect the family's wishes on that matter.

Joshua is my son's brother... they served the same Nation. They wore different uniforms but they shared a like minded pride and need to protect the innocent and free the oppressed. Joshua's family is now on the same painful path of grief I am and share with many others... they too are now my family. My heart goes out the Bernard family.. for the loss of their son and for the abuse they are now suffering at the hands of the AP wire service. I stand beside them in there grief and this fight.

I am truly tired of the abuse put upon our military members and their families. I am all about the Constitution and the 1st Amendment. It is what my son stood for and fought for. I have been known to state often that we don't have the right to not be offended but this is not about offending someone.. this about inflicting intentional pain on them. It's about emotionally torturing the families and this man's fellow soldiers. it's about taking L/cpl Joshua Bernard's dignity from him. And it was most assuredly intentional. No argument is sufficient for this behavior. This is not about the "public needs to know". This is about tearing down the morale of our troops and their families.

It is time for the military to pull out embedded reporters. I hate to say that because there are some who are very good and respect the troops a great deal, like Michael Yon. But when this type of thing happens repeatedly it's time to go back to morning briefings on the events of this war and controlling what is shared. To protect our troops and their families.

As a military family, as a nation, we must stand together and share our strength. We have to become more vocal in how our Fallen are exploited and find a way to stop it! Their loss of life in combat does not make them open to the public to be used and abused in death for others personal agendas. As it stands right now the families of the Fallen have very limited say in how their soldier's name and images are used. A few states have passed laws to stop them from being used for financial gain. But anyone can use the names of these men and women for their political agenda. even when the person who's name being used was against the agenda. Even when the family says NO... and we can't do a damned thing.

My son died for this country... that does not make him the property of anyone else. It makes him an American who deserves respect, honor and his dignity. And the same goes for every single man and woman who has ever served.

I'm Depressed

2009-08-31T20:00:00.000-07:00

I have always believed that admitting a problem is the first step in overcoming it. So I am admitting I suffer from depression.
Some of the symptoms of depression are:

Loss of interest in normal daily activities
Feeling sad or down
Feeling hopeless
Crying spells for no apparent reason
Problems sleeping
Trouble focusing or concentrating
Difficulty making decisions
Unintentional weight gain or loss
Irritability
Restlessness
Being easily annoyed
Feeling fatigued or weak
Feeling worthless

There are a few others but only these apply to me. I'm not suicidal or in physical pain. I'm just depressed. I have been for a long time now. And I am fighting it tooth and nail. My husband is depressed too. So most people would assume we have a very gloomy life. We don't. We have each other and the years of love we have built are probably the only thing that sees us through. I hate that I am this way. I don't want to be. It affects just about every aspect of my life.

Often I am told I should see the doctor and get a prescription for anti-depression medication. But to me that is just another way of pretending I don't feel like this instead of dealing with it. that and the side affects of some of those drugs scare me more than the depression itself.

Now don't get me wrong my depression is not so bad that I can't cope or function. I do every day. I get up and get the kids to school, clean my house, write, cook, chat with people online.. I even laugh and joke around. But underneath the surface is a sadness and anger I can not seem to shake. It may never go away.. and in a small way i hope it doesn't. I am however learning to cope. And as much as it all hurts sometimes.. the hurt is better than not being able to feel anything. I was numb long enough, now is the time to feel. And to learn to own these feelings and not allow them to own me.

Flowers and Pinwheels

2009-08-24T10:08:00.001-07:00

It's been bugging me for a while. The flowers on Micheal's grave were in need of replacing. I don't go out there as often as maybe I should. It's very hard for me to go. But then it's hard for me not to go. I want to visit Micheal at his barracks room not his graveside. I miss him so damned much. I couldn't find the black silk roses I usually buy and mix with white ones. The local store that carried them, doesn't anymore. I was told by an other store it would be Halloween before they carried them. So today I went and bought some dark red silk roses with white baby's breath and took them out to the cemetery. It was hard to not take him his black and white roses. It just didn't seem right. He so loved the checkerboard black white thing. I managed to find one black and one white rose that were out there that were in good enough shape to add to the red ones. His pinwheel was missing. I'm sure the strong winds from recent storms carried it off. I will have to get a new one.

It's funny the little things I feel I have to do for Micheal. The black roses, the rubberband and even the pinwheel. Outside looking in some would not understand and may even find it insulting. I mean how many people would get that Micheal loved black. It was his favorite color and that the black roses are not an insult. The pinwheel even few would get. There is a picture from Iraq that inspired that. I had printed the picture out and had it sitting in the livingroom for weeks before I saw the pinwheels on the headlights of the Humvee. And then the picture of Micheal playing with those pinwheels showed up. And I knew that he had put them on the Humvee and drove it with those on it. That was confirmed when listening to his guys stories. Command wouldn't let him actually leave the camp with them on the Humvee though. But for one day he had pinwheels to be silly with. I don't know who sent those pinwheels but I am grateful to them. Who ever they are they sent my son a smile in the shape of a pinwheel.

Over Dramatic?

2009-08-16T14:16:00.000-07:00

My daughter thinks I am being over dramatic... I just read and signed her World History class syllabus. Unit 2 is " The World of Islam". I have a problem with this. My first and largest concern is the teacher who is teaching this class is a liberal hippie anti-war problem. She was often corrected for teaching revised history by my son Pokey. And once she even tried to give him detention for his opinion that war protesters during Vietnam were Hippies. I explained to the school that my children will not be punished for their opinion. He never served the detention and she was caught in a lie about having called me about his "behavior". I do not trust this teacher to teach this topic objectively. She hates the military and I just know in my bones she will try and make the Muslims into gentlemen farmers who had their land stolen and are just fighting to get it back. BLARG!!!

My daughter is of the opinion that I am being dramatic because I will be going to the school and asking for more information. I reminded her that in Afghanistan today they passed a law that said husbands can starve their wives if they refuse to have sex. This is a culture that treats women and children as possessions to be used and abused. This is a culture that has no respect for life on any level. Death to them is honor. This is the culture and religion that took my son from me. So yes I am fuming.

I will be going to the school and requesting a full outline of the unit and how it will be presented. I will not allow the Muslim world to be glamorized or made into the victims. Which is what I truly fear will happen in this classroom.

Football...

2009-08-12T19:46:00.000-07:00

The last family get together before Pokey deployed was at my Dad's house. We all had a great time. We spent 4 days hanging out and generally doing family things like BBQing, celebrating birthdays, roasting marshmallows and on Sunday afternoon we watched football. The Packer game to be specific.

A love of football is something Pokey and I shared. We loved the Packers. He spent a large chunk of his childhood living in Wisconsin and in fact just blocks from Lambeau field. I discovered football in my 20s. I thought all good wives should learn about the game to make their hubby's happy. Funny thing is I love football more than my hubby. He can take or leave it. I'm the one who yells if someone walks in front of the TV during the game.

Now I talk about this because a friend was comparing rugby to American football and it got me thinking about how much I enjoy watching football. Then I remembered a story on of the guys told me when they got back. It was in the middle of the night in Iraq and everyone was sleeping when Micheal's team leader was walking through the barracks and found Micheal in the community room watching TV. "Phillips what are you doing? Why aren't you sleeping?" "It's the Packers!" As if that explained everything. LOL Well it was the play offs. A couple of the guys have mentioned rivalries they had over football with them. And how when their team lost he made sure the headline was on their pillow for them to find. It makes me smile to know that even in that hellhole he had football.

With football season right around the corner I know that with every Packer's game I watch I will be thinking of Micheal and hoarse the next day. Hmm wonder if he has any pull on helping them make it to the Superbowl again? ;)

Go Pack Go!

The Report Came ( follow up)

2009-08-10T15:09:00.000-07:00

Well Thursday morning I received a phone call from the Sargent who was suppose to deliver the report. He was not going to be able to make it until Friday due to a family emergency. Trust me for us family always comes first so this was in no way a problem. When I realized this man was going to drive a 4 hour round trip to hand me a report I felt really bad so I made arrangement for it to be picked up be some people I trust who were going to be going to Ft Sill where this gentleman was.

The report finally made it to our hands Sunday morning... it sat on my husband's desk unopened till later that evening. My husband "had to read it". I found him sitting quietly alone in the office reading it. When he was done he told me he did not recommend I read it. He says there is nothing in it we don't know or haven't figured out but it reopens the wounds. But he has made of couple of statements that have my mind reeling. Like how hard my son's brothers fought that day to "protect Micheal". It wasn't until February I realized they were taking incoming fire. Reading it has obviously upset my husband and he is having a difficult time processing it and dealing with the re-opened wounds.

I know there are things we know that aren't in that report. The fact that Micheal's First Sgt never let go of his hand and comforted him isn't in it. Micheal turning to him and smiling and saying "hey 1SG" isn't in it. What my son spoke to the surgeon isn't in it. the hundreds of people who came to the graveside and mourned for my son with us isn't in it.

I'm still not sure when or if I will ever read it. But it's now tucked away where it is out of sight and I hope that will help get it out of my husband's mind.

Instant Messages

2009-08-08T17:46:00.000-07:00

I've kept ever single instant message conversation I had with my son while he was in Iraq. I knew when something bad had happened because the first thing he would ask is " What is everyone doing?" Sort of a roll call making sure we all were doing exactly what we were suppose to be and that his foundation was in place. I thought of that question as his life line question. On the days when nothing horrible happened there he would start the conversation with " How much is in my account?" He had become a penny pincher and I was glad of it. Prior to his leaving for Iraq he spent money as if he had an endless supply.

Reading back through the conversation I found one we had had on my birthday.. just 12 days before he was killed. He had forgotten of course. He remembered the day before and gave me a bunch of shit about being old and 40. But on my birthday just 24 hours later the days had run together for him once again and he had forgotten. His friend reminded me. He felt bad but proceeded to give me more crap about being old. I told him he would be 40 someday and I had a good memory. He told me he would never be 40. I got on him about talking about dying.. He told me he knew he wouldn't live till 40 but he didn't want to die there. Honestly I had forgotten about the conversation until a few days ago when I went back and re read the conversations.

I actually had gone into read the last one I had with him. Just 24 hours before he died. He was worried about coming home on leave. Wasn't sure he could handle being around a lot of people. We had decided not to tell anyone expect a select few he would be home until he was ready to be around people. He was glad that I understood. How could I not? He had already told me he had the "jumps" and a few of the things he had seen there. I know there was more but like every soldier he didn't want us at home who loved him to worry. Be concerned yes. Care yes but not worry.

One of his friends there told me later that he had come back to the barracks that last night happy he had gotten to talk to me and his Dad and in the best mood he had been in in awhile. I am just glad he knew we understood and loved him and just talking to us online could make him happy...

Psychic Readings..

2009-08-05T20:38:00.000-07:00

Some people believe in psychics and some don't. Rarely is there a in between view on the topic. Well I have always believed that the veil between life and life after death is very thin. And I believe that those who pass reach out to us when we need them.

The day Pokey came home he began letting us know he was with us and ok. Several things happened that I just knew were his doing. The one that made me laugh was when he picked on his Dad. Fozzy was in the kitchen cooking his comfort food, ramen noodles with eggs in it( YUCK), anyway... the door on the hot water heater closet opened. Fozzy looked at it and thought it was weird and turned back to cooking, 3 seconds later it SLAMMED shut and scared the heck out of all of us. Fozzy cussed his beloved son and left the kitchen. hehe I know it was Micheal messing with him. The next day I went out to try and find something black to wear to the funeral and to escape on my own for a little bit. While i was gone my Uncle had cleaned the kitchen. the first thing I noticed when I walked into my kitchen was the clock on the microwave was working. I was frozen. I guess the look on my face told my brother something was not right. when he asked what was wrong I said the clock on the microwave.. he said yeah it was driving Uncle Sam nuts so he set it. What they didn't know is Micheal had dropped the microwave helping us move and the clock never worked after that. In fact the display didn't work at all. I just believe he fixed it. There were a few other incidents. I shared these stories to explain that I do believe it is a thin veil... and I believe some people are much more able to hear those on the other side of that veil.

A few weeks ago I started listening to the Blogtalk radio show " Gay Psychic". I've listened to Blogtalk for some time now and I must say this is one of the most positive and friendly shows on blogtalk. The host and his listeners are just very kind and positive. This is why I decided to call in and ask if the person I lost had anything to tell me after listening to several shows. Now granted there are "psychics' who are only out to bilk people and will do a reading then tell you you need a private reading for a certain amount of money. This in not the case with this gentleman. He does private readings but I have never once heard him ask for money from anyone so for all you that think negatively... I've heard it.

The reading..
while waiting on the phone I knew my mother-in-law who passed years ago was gonna get involved. It was just who she was. And one of the first things I was asked was if it was a woman I was trying to contact. I was then told that the woman was with my son and laughing. Her way of saying she was happily with her grandson in my mind. She truly loved Micheal and did not get enough time with him. I was then asked if he wore black glasses. the answer to this is is yes. Micheal always choose black frames. the thing is not a single picture of him online is he wearing his glasses. In all of them he is wearing his contacts.Next I was asked if he was bald... No but being very blonde and having a military very short hair cut it could appear that he was. The message Micheal sent to me was "Stop being a worry wart" which amused me because he use to tell me that all the time when I would be mom and tell him to be careful. He also told me to "Smell the Rose" . When Micheal was very young I had cancer. It really made me slow down and appreciate life and I use to say it taught me to "smell the roses". For some it sounds like a cliche being used but knowing my story and the conversation I had with Micheal about my having cancer I understood it. I was also told he was fine. And that the number 3 kept coming up. I couldn't figure out what the 3 was until the following day when I was looking for a photo in one of my folders and my mouse slipped and clicked on the picture of the Memorial they unveiled at Ft. Campbell in February. Each incident that took a life is marked with a star. Micheal's incident was the 3rd incident. His star on the monument is 3. I found a great deal of comfort in this reading. In fact the following evening for the first time in a very long time I had a feeling of joy and peace.

To Read or Not To Read

2009-08-05T19:43:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I will finally receive the AK 15-6 incident report detailing the day my son was killed. I requested it 18 months ago. The first copy was lost before it got to me. When things like this are delayed I have always found that the information comes to me when I am ready or need it. I will admit though I am absolutely terrified to read this report. But there is also a part of me that wants to tear right into it and read every word. I'm very torn.

The fact is I probably know 95% of what is in the report. Micheal's guys have been good about answering our questions. But there are still some what I call Rule 32 questions. Rule 32 being "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to". I have never asked about Micheal's specific injuries. I have a good idea but I am content with the surgeon telling me he died of internal injuries. I also know there are parts they will have blacked out for security reasons. Like the names of the bastards who killed my son. I was told I had to wait 5-10 years for that information. Now honestly a year ago I would have gone hunting if I had had those names.

So tomorrow a SGT will drive for a couple hours to hand us a report. It is standard procedure to hand deliver these reports. Which is somewhat telling in itself. And I will either open it up and read it or I will put in a drawer with my son's things. One thing I will know and find comfort in is.. I will now have the choice to read it or not. As will the rest of the members of our family. And years from now it will be available to my son's nieces and nephews if they want to know a little more about their Uncle Pokey. And maybe it will keep them from romanticizing death in war. I think that is a big part of why I needed this report.

I know my husband is against too much information. Knowing doesn't change anything. But for me knowing helps me come to terms a little easier. As much as it hurts sometimes it is like I am cleaning the infection out of my soul. The scars will remain forever but if I don't purge some of this the pain gets far too intense. And sometimes the only way for me to purge is to make myself hurt by facing the things I often work hard to avoid.

Two Flags for Pokey.

2009-08-01T20:49:00.000-07:00

For most Americans when they see the flag they think of the US and all it stands for. For some seeing it reminds them of all the men and women who fought to make and keep this nation what it is. I suppose the same is true for all nations people when they view their flag. It is a symbol of pride.

I have flown a flag on my house with pride in my nation, it's history and with hope for it's future for a long time. But now more than ever when I look on it I can not help but think of all those who have fought and died to make this country what it is. It's more than a symbol to me. It is what my son stood for. What he believed it. It stands for freedom, liberty, and sacrifice. Nothing comes for free. There is always a cost. And the price of this nation is the blood, sweat and tears of those who believed in it so strongly that they fought and died for this nation and trying to give a small piece of it to others around the world.

On July 4th 2009 a Pennsylvania National Guard unit stationed at Taji Iraq flew a US flag in honor of my son. This was arranged by a dear friend, Sgt. Steven Ryersbach, who I met through my adopting soldiers habit. Today the flag arrived in the mail. I now have two flags that honor my son. And both hold as much meaning as the other. One was from a grateful nation given to me at my son's funeral and the one that came today was from his brothers who never met him. But who stand for the same things he did. By doing this for me I am comforted to know that my son is not forgotten. That even in Iraq there are men who never knew him and never met me except through emails that remember him. His spirit lives on in these men and all those who serve. They share a common mission and values.

What the person who flew this flag and honored my son does not realize is that July 4th, 2006 was my son's first official day of bootcamp... his first official day of being a soldier. He had been in a holding unit until that day although he had arrived at Ft Benning several days before.

So now each morning as I step outside to fly my flag I am going to do it with more emotion than ever. As it flaps and snaps in the wind I will hear the voices of the past, present and the future. And I will remember that a man in Iraq cared enough to give me this gift. And I will remember my son and be inspired.

Ask My Mom How She Is

2009-07-27T13:25:00.000-07:00

Sent to me by My dear friend Rachael McLamb..

Ask My Mom How She Is

My Mom, she tells a lot of lies
she never did before
From now until she dies,
she'll tell a whole lot more
Ask my mom how she is
and because she can't explain,
She will tell a little lie
because she can't describe the pain.
Ask my Mom how she is,
She'll say "I'm alright"
If that's the truth, than tell me,
why does she cry each night?
Ask my Mom how she is,
she seems to cope so well.
She didn't have a choice you see,
nor the strength to yell.
Ask my Mom how she is,
"I'm fine, I'm well, I'm coping"
For Gods sake Mom, just tell the truth
just say your heart is broken.
She'll love me all her life,
I loved her all of mine.
But if you ask her how is she
she'll lie and say she's fine
I am here in Heaven.
I cannot hug from here.
If she lies to you don't listen,
Hug her and hold her near.
On the day we meet again,
we'll smile and I'll be bold.
I'll say, "You're lucky to get in here, Mom
with all the lies you told!"
- author unknown

Talking to Pokey

2009-07-26T10:51:00.001-07:00

I woke up late this morning and as I was coming out of my room I heard my youngest son talking away. About the time I was in the hall and about to step into the livingroom where he was I heard him say"Pokey" and I stopped. He was talking to his brother and I didn't want to intrude or embarrass him. I listened as he told his brother about the pictures we have hanging on the wall to remember him. It then got quiet and I stepped into the livingroom.. I should have waited. As I stepped in I saw my youngest standing at Pokey's memory table touching a picture of his brother and telling him quietly he missed him. When he turned and saw me he smiled and tried to act like he was just there. I didn't say anything. I knew I had interrupted a private conversation and I felt bad. And I want him to be comfortable and have these conversations with his brother. If it helps him to talk out loud to Pokey I will not stop him or allow anyone to shame him for doing it.

Micheal and Anthony were buddies. When Micheal was home he would make sure to to take his little brother out to ride go carts, get icees, go to lunch. He always made sure to give Anthony a day of attention. Even on short weekend visit Pokey made time. And Anthony looked up to Pokey and looked forward to their times together. It was amazing how Anthony would light up when Pokey said " Come on Tojo let go do something". Micheal told me to buy a Hi Ho Cherrio game for Anthony for Christmas so they could play when he came home. For a while it was all Anthony would talk about. How he was gonna beat his Pokey at Hi Ho Cherrio. Pokey talked about it too. He would ask if Tojo had been practicing and I would tell him that Anthony cheats.

When Micheal died we weren't quite sure how to explain it to our youngest. He is not your typical kid you see. He is mildly retarded with developmental delays. So at 9 ( when we lost Micheal) it was like trying to explain what had happened to a 4 or 5 yr old. We avoided the usual " He's sleeping" explanation at the advice of a grief expert. We told him that a bomb had gone off and hurt Micheal really bad and that he had died. But that he was in our hearts and always with us. Anthony thought on this for few minutes and then put it together. He told us and others that a bomb had broken Micheal's body and it didn't work anymore. But that Micheal was everywhere now.

Often we forget that no matter how young a child is they hurt and miss those who have died also. It was very important to me that all of Micheal's sibling had a say in the funeral and were allowed to grieve as they needed to. That included the youngest. So when we were driving to the visitation and he started sing a song he made up as he sang about and to his brother we slowed the car down and let him have the time he needed. And when a year and a half later I find him standing in the livingroom talking to a picture of his brother I let him. And I keep in mind it is healthy that he feels he can talk to his brother.

And the occasions when he needs to talk to one of us about Micheal we let him and try to answer his questions honestly but on his level. And I allow him to say what ever it is he feels or thinks. He has said that Pokey being gone "sucks" and he has expressed his anger at the bad guys. Just as there is not right or wrong way for adults to grieve the same is true for children. It's their grief and they get to do it their way. The difference is they need our help because they don't always have the words to express themselves. Sometimes we need to listen to what's not being said. I'm lucky with my youngest though.. he makes it easier to help him because really has very few filters.

I'm glad Anthony talks to his brother.. it breaks my heart but I'm glad he has found a way to keep Micheal with him.

People Come and Go

2009-07-23T23:50:00.000-07:00

When we lost Micheal we were flooded with people coming with comfort and offers of help. The day after the funeral though the house was quiet. No more visitors or calls. My husband called it the vacuum. And I understood to some extent. Grief is a messy business. People don't know what to say so they say nothing. Just so you know saying the wrong thing is not nearly as bad as saying nothing. Unless you say something really stupid like " It could have been worse" and yes I have had that said to me.

Over time the very few people who stuck around are still here. And I do mean very few, as I can count them on one hand and have most of my fingers left over. All of them were my husband's friends from before who include me now too. I have manage to meet new people. Some who have been through the lose of a loved one. Some who are military and get it a little better than most. I allowed myself to become attached to a few of them but suddenly a few months ago they just up and stopped contact. Now knowing I was a mess I didn't really blame them. But then again I do. I was awaking up and thrashing about in pain and no one seemed to care. Oh I had my family but everyone else shut me off and went on about their lives. I know now I can't trust or depend on anyone. People have proven once again it's about what I can do for them. When I came very close to a nervous break down and was barely functioning and couldn't do for people they were suddenly too busy for me. When I was alone in a hotel room in Chicago there was no one answered my call. When I spent days wondering aimlessly there was no one responded to my IMs. I was not worth their time or trouble. I was an option. And better yet a used up option. People I had thought were my friends were gone.

So now weeks later I have a clearer view of where I stand. I stand firmly with my family. I have a lot of acquaintances and a very very select few friends that I share with my husband. I know I won't be getting a "how's it going?" or "Let's do lunch" call. And I know it will be a very long time before I allow anyone in my life again.

I have to admit this is a hard path.. and one no one should have to walk alone. I know I'm not truly alone. I have my husband and kids. But honestly there are times when I wish I could pick up the phone and call someone who is there for me to BS with, bounce ideas off of or cry on their shoulder. We don't always get what we want though. Even my husband get that there is family and then there is true friends. And sometimes you need a friend over family.

Waking up...

2009-07-17T14:01:00.001-07:00

I was out running errands this morning and the John Mayer song “Dreaming with a Broken Heart” came on. Now I have heard this song 100s of times but today the words hit me different. “When you’re dreaming with a broken heart the waking up is the hardest part.” Never have truer words been spoken. When Micheal was killed my heart broke. It’s not the kind of broken heart you recover from either. And mentally and emotionally we all sort of shut down and went into a numb dreamlike state in a self defense survival mode. Over time the numbness wears off and you begin to wake up. It’s hard to explain but you know that twilight place between asleep and awake.. where you are aware of everything going on but you don’t really comprehend it fully and you can’t react to any of it??? That is almost what it was like emotionally for me when I heard Micheal had been killed. I understood what had happened. I knew what it meant but I couldn’t deal with all the emotions involved with it. When you’re in the emotional sleep you don’t want to wake up because even though you are aware of what is happening, you know waking up means fully comprehending and having to deal with it. You fight waking up because it’s safer and easier to roll back over and sleep.
I am finally waking up and the full impact of all of this is hitting me. My broken heart is now shattering and all the emotions I was aware of but could not fully comprehend are now flooding through me. I managed to stay in the twilight by working on one project after another. I now know that no matter how many projects I work on, no matter how many words I type… I can’t sleep any longer. This is not a sudden thing.. it’s been happening for a couple of months now. And for people in my life it was quite confusing because my responses to things changed. I was lashing out in stupid ways because I didn’t want to wake up. I am just not myself. Even though a part of me realized what was/is going on and tried to explain it I couldn’t because although I knew I was not being myself, I really didn’t know why until my husband pointed out I was waking up. I will get back to some kind of ok and normal again I’m sure. But for now I’m learning all over again how to do this while emotionally awake.
Waking up with a broken heart truly is one of the hardest parts of this path.

Rubberbands....

2009-07-09T12:55:00.000-07:00

Everyone has a habit that is a little different or strange. That little thing that they do that make people wonder why they do it. Pokey always wore a rubberband on his wrist. Not sure why or how it started. It was just something he had done since early high school. About the same time he became "Pokey". He would say it was lucky and a handy weapon. He could be in a tux and have a rubberband on his wrist. The first box i sent him in Iraq I asked his brothers and sister if they wanted to add anything. Pokey's youngest brother handed me a rubberband. "He needs his rubberband". So I wrote on it.. " from Tojo for luck" (Tojo is the nickname Pokey called his youngest brother) I look at videos and pictures of Pokey in Iraq and sure enough he has that rubberband on his wrist. In January he asked me to have Tojo send him another one cause the one he had was wearing out. So I bought a bag of rubberbands and decided to send him a bunch.. all with messages written on them from his friends and family. I remember the day he got them. Said they made him smile but he would only wear the one from Tojo.

When we heard the news one of the first things we did was put a rubberband on our wrists. All of us. Everyone that knew and loved him. No one had to explain it. When his friends came to see us they were wearing them. It was too soon to have the memorial bracelets to wear so instead we wore the rubberbands and checkerboard vans. Another of Pokeys "things" If he wasn't wearing combat boots he was wearing checkerboard vans. I bought a pair for every member of the family to wear to the funeral. Anyway back to the rubberbands... We made sure a rubberband was placed on his wrist before he went to his final resting place. We also asked friends over the internet to wear one the day of his funeral in memory.. I got a lot of pictures of rubberbands on wrist. It was very comforting.

A few weeks after the funeral his things arrived from Iraq. In them was a baggie full of the rubberbands I had sent in January. Among them was the first one Tojo had sent.. stretched and dirty. He had kept it. and now I have it with his things.

To this day everyone in the family still wears a rubberband on our wrist along with the black memorial bracelets that bare his name. Every once in awhile someone will ask about it.

When they unveiled the Memorial at Ft. Campbell each family had the opportunity to place something at it in memory... you got it, I placed a rubberband. My escort, Sgt Ritter, smiled and said " He always wore a rubberband. I never knew what that was about." And I told him about his habit and Tojo sending one for luck. I found out recently that every Sunday no matter what Sgt Ritter makes sure there is a rubberband placed on that memorial at Ft. Campbell for me. One of his brothers told on him. What he doesn't know is how much that small act means to me. He knows I can't go and do it so he does it for me. And he remembers and honors Micheal with that small act once a week. How does a mother repay this act? It seems so small but it is so large. And because only those who truly knew my son would understand it, it means all the more that this young man thought enough of my son to go to this trouble... to place a rubberband for him once a week.

Funny how something so simple and common can hold so much meaning.

The Gold Star in the Window...

2009-07-06T20:59:00.000-07:00

@RTRViews: Have I told you lately what an incredible person you are? I'm praying for the 7 families. You are my inspiration.

I received this message on twitter from a very kind man who I admire and respect a great deal. I have heard similar things from others and every time I do I want to say: No I'm not special. I'm not incredible, I'm just a mom taking care of my son by taking care of his brothers. It's my son and the men who served with him and others like him who should inspire you. The men who volunteer to go fight a soulless enemy and sacrifice time with loved ones, risk injury and life to better the world and free people to live without fear that should inspire all of us. It's men who come home with life changing injuries and keep trying and accomplishing so much that should inspire every single person in world.

My message has not changed. I have always supported our military. I have always done things beyond a bumper sticker to show that support. I've always encouraged others to do one act of substance , like senidng a box, to show they care about our troops. The only difference is now people listen to me. They listen because now I have a Gold Star hung in my window. I have said that it hurts to think that Taps had to be played for my son before people saw him as the hero he was. before they realized the courage and honor it took for this young man to dedicate his life, even a small part of his life to military service during wartime. But he believed in his mission and it was something he saw great value in. So as I said in my first blog here.. he invested his coin of life in it. I realized I had a voice of a Gold Star mom and was listened to months after my son died. I also realized that it comes with great responsiblity. My voice has changed but not my message.

Happy 4th of July

2009-07-04T12:41:00.000-07:00

Just like most Americans we are planning a BBQ and a trip out this evening to watch the fireworks. But I want to stop for a moment and remind everyone why we celebrate this day. Independence Day.. On July 4th 1776 the first Continental Congress drafted the Declaration of Independence. It would be several more years of fighting before we become an independent Nation. But many felt it was of such value to fight for our freedom and independence. And just as our military members and their families make sacrifices today to secure our freedom and freedom of others around the world our forefathers did.

When I sit and look at the fireworks tonight and in years past I am always reminded of the line from the Star Spangle Banner " The rocket red glare and bombs bursting in air gave proof through the night that our flag was still there" and I am remind of all the men who have fought for our Independence and freedom in this country. And I am grateful.

Now I don't want to be a downer on this day of celebration. Because today truly is a day to celebrate and be joyous. So please go out.. celebrate the birth of this great Nation but do with a little humbleness for all those who provided and maintain it.

Be Safe.. Be Happy.. Take Luck

Trips, Airports and Troops.....

2009-06-26T22:29:00.000-07:00

We took our 15 yr old daughter to the airport today. This is the first time she has flown and the first time she has been away from home for more than overnight. HUGE step for her.. and me. She's going to have a grand time with her Uncles in San Fransisco. I'm glad we could give her this trip. I'm proud of her for being independent and courageous enough to fly across country on her own. Sounds simple enough but it can be pretty scary the first time for a young person. She's growing up.. before I know it she'll be off to college and on her own. I worry about her and her brothers as much as I did Pokey in Iraq. Some people think it is strange because he was being shot at and had people trying to blwo him up but no where in the world is safe. And I worry no less about the 3 I have here at home than I did him. it's a different kind of worry maybe....

Being at the airport putting my child on a plane was hard. Not only is the airport we took Pokey to when he was shipping off to Ft. Campbell for the first time but there was a ever growing crowd of Air Force personnel waiting to welcome home a unit from Iraq. Family members joined them. I shook a few hands and thanked the group. I never mentioned my son. Only said I was an Army mom. I refused to put a cloud over their joyous moment. I spoke to a grandmother who was caring for her 16 month old grand daughter. The little girl was so beautiful and happy. She gave me smiles and hi-fives. She had not been held by her mother in 10 months. I wondered if she would recognize her mom. And I had to stop myself one more time and remind myself of the sacrifices those who serve make. We too often forget that those who are deployed miss out on things like first steps of a child and how huge a sacrifice that is. I simply wanted to hug each one of these men and women and tell them thank you personally... but at the same time I did not want to infringe on their moments with their families. So I stood back and watched after I told the group waiting to please tell them all thank you from an Army mom...

It seems really simple but it does mean something to tell these men and women thank you. And it reminds us when we do thank them of all we are thanking them for and all they missed and gave up to do the jobs they do..

RIP

2009-06-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer today. Michael Jackson also lost his life. My heart goes out to the families of these two celebrities. It truly does. But as I sit here watching the non-stop coverage of their deaths I have to wonder how many people who have their facebook, myspace and twitter status set to RIP to these two people can name just one Fallen soldier who fought to insure their freedom to have the careers they had. Or for that matter one living soldier.

As I allowed myself to be drug into a debate on how great Michael Jackson was for "changing music forever" and how he did so much to "feed the hungry" I question how society can not see all our troops do to change the world and free people who are hungry to find a means to feed themselves. As a society we truly look to the wrong people as role models. we look to be entertained and forget about the realities of life. The reality that there is truly evil in our world. Maybe that is why we put so much emphasis and time into celebrities. because they help us hide from reality. I know that people during the depression would say they went to movies to get away from the reality of their own lives. But we have become so emersed in being entertained and hiding from reality that entertainers have become our heroes. And I don't see it changing until we are so far gone and lost so much freedom that we are forced to face reality and look at those who battle to keep us safe and free as the heroes they are. the truly scary thing is how close we are to that point. Not the seeing our military as heroes but things being so bad we can not ignore them and hide from them anymore through entertainment. We can't hide from reality... No matter how much music we play, How may movies or TV shows we watch. No matter how many celebrities we swoom over... reality is still there and at some point we must face it fully and deal with it. No matter how painful or scary it is.

Chili Mac

2009-06-07T21:19:00.000-07:00

The last conversation I had online with Pokey was mostly about his R&R. He was due to come home for 2 weeks in May. One of the other guys had just gotten back and Pokey was worried we were going to have some huge party for him. He didn't want anyone to know when he was coming home. Wanted to decompress for a couple of days with just the family. I had no problem with the idea of not sharing him with the world for a few days. One of the things he asked was for me to cook chili mac. Now chili mac is poor mans food. macaroni noodles with chili dumped in and stir. Of all the things I have ever cooked I was amused he wanted chili mac. But he asked for it so I was gonna make it. Well I have not been able to cook chili mac since he was killed. I still can't. it's a stupid thing but I had planned to make it for him and knowing he won't be here to eat it is just too hard for me. It's weird the little things that get to me. Like cooking the meal he asked for.

There are other little things that I avoid. It seems silly when I look at it but maybe it's normal. I am not sure I know what normal is anymore though. I just know its not what it once was. There are movies I can't watch. And others I can't watch enough. I won't eat peach jelly beans. They were his favorite. I bought a case of peach soda once and was out the store before I realized I couldn't mail them to him. I sat in my car and cried. The big reminders, the obvious one are easier. It's the little ones.. like chili mac and peach jelly beans that are so much harder. You don't prepare for the little things.

Tonight my other children requested Chili mac for dinner tomorrow. I don't want to tell them why I don't want to make it. I don't want to open the wounds they have too. So I have encouraged my daughter to help out tomorrow and cook dinner. They will have chili mac. But it will be awhile longer before I can make it for them.

Remember How He Lived

2009-05-25T12:38:00.001-07:00

So often over the past month people have dwelled on how Pokey died. Yes he died in combat serving this country. But in doing so they have forgotten how he lived.

Those who knew Pokey have only to take the time to remember who he was. His smile, his laughter, his bizarre sense of humor. But also that he was sensitive caring person who would stop and help the elderly man load his groceries. Who would make the bigger kids stop picking on the littler ones. He had a work ethic that few his age had. When there was a job to be done he pitched in and worked hard till it was done. Pokey hated being idle. He had to be doing something. either goofing off with his friends or volunteering to take on some chore just so he could be doing something. Some would have described him as hyperactive but he wasn't he was just a doer. He had to be doing something. I think it was because he was quite intelligent. Pokey savored life. He valued it in a way not many his age do. Oh he had moments or sadness like we all do but he never allowed those moments to consume him.

When I think of Pokey or others who have given their lives in service of this country I try to think of how they lived. I like to hear the stories of how these young men and women lived their lives. What made them smile, what made them mad. Who they were and how they touched the lives of people around them.

It is a wonderful thing to know their names and remember thier sacrfice. But it is a better thing to remember how they lived and let that inspire you.

Pokey lived with honor, courage, and hunger for knowledge and laughter.

Memorial Day

2009-05-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

To far too many Americans Memorial day means a long weekend, BBQs, sales and lazy fun days with the family. Somewhere along the line we forget the reasons we can have all those things. We forget to stop one for just one day and do what we should do every day.... Remember those who laid down their lives to insure our freedoms. We hear often the phrase "freedom is not free" but I think all too often we only hear the words and not the meaning of those words. We take for granted the men who were willing to give their todays for our tomorrows. Men who know and believed there are things in life worth fighting and dying for. Values that a price can not placed on. Their blood spilled and now nurtures the roots of this Nation.

These men and women, who serve our Nation in the military, do not know me personally or you personally yet they put their lives on the line daily to protect our rights and freedoms. Stop and think about that.. be humbled that perfect strangers are willing to do this for you. Perfect Strangers died for your freedoms. And the only payment they would ask is that we remember them.

I ask each of you who reads this to please take the time to attend a Memorial Day service or to look up the names of those who have fallen and read about the men and women who gave theirs live. Remember them this weekend... be grateful and be humbled that there are people in this world who were and are willing to pay the price of freedom. Place a flag out to remind others. Teach your children and grandchildren the history of their freedoms and about the men and women who gave it to them. But most of all... Remember

Happy Birthday Pokey......

2009-05-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

May 17th 1988 at about 3 am Micheal Eugene Phillips was born... he looked exactly like his father. He was promptly dubbed 'Pete" by his Grandma Barb. He would remain "Pete" until he was 3 yrs old. He came into the world quietly. He didn't cry, he just wanted to sleep. His quietness would not last long.. he made a very loud and lasting impression on every one who had the honor of having him touch their life.

From the time he could talk he showed a love of airplanes. He could spot them when they were just specks in the sky. He could also spot a Wendy's from a mile off in the dark. LOL Pokey loved aircraft. Especially military aircrafts. By the time he was 12 he could tell you what it was and the history of any military aircraft that ever flew. When Micheal was interested in something he became obsessed and learned all there was to know about it. History was his next love. He could not read enough of it. Not just the US side of history either. He read Russian, German, Japanese history also.

One of my favorite little kid memories of Micheal was when he was about 3. He came in from outside and ask if he could play with his tonka trucks in the dirt. I didn't think anything of it. Boys are suppose to play with their trucks in the dirt so I said yes. I didn't know the neighbor had left their hose running and the dirt was mud..lots of mud. A few minutes later I went to check on him and he was covered head to toe in this mud. He stopped and look like he was gonna get in trouble. But he instant brightened when I laughed and asked if he was having fun. "Yes mama".. he played in that mud for the next 2 hours. As happy and content as a kid can be. I remember thinking this was a moment that I wanted to never forget...and I haven't.

Micheal was the kind of person who hated bullies and it drove him nuts to see someone excluded unless they had treated people badly and deserved to be. So the new kid in school usually got taken under his wing and introduced to his friends. And Pokey had many friends. From every high school clique you can think of. He hung out with the football players, the "wrecking crew", the band geeks and the garage band crowds. Mostly though he hung out with the skateboarders. Cody in particular. I always blamed Cody for their escapades and Cody's mom always blame Pokey. Basically they were both very creative, shall we say, and fearless kids but didn't always think beyond the initial plan. The both join the military after graduation. Cody joined the Navy and is in Iraq right now. He volunteered... he said he owed it to Pokey. Another one of Micheal's inseparable friends was Mike. Mike was a year ahead of Micheal and had been in the Army for almost a year when Micheal left for boot camp. Mike is like a son to me. He is getting married in a few days. Now Mike and Micheal did their fair share of mischief too. There was no way you could be in the room with these boys and not have tears streaming from the laughter. They would make complete fools of themselves for a laugh. Micheal carried that talent to the Army. His men all independently have told me he would say or do just the right thing to make you laugh no matter how shitty the situation. He received a Distinguished Member of Regiment award for his ability to keep Morale up. I guess what I am trying to tell everyone is Micheal was a smile maker.

When I think about about Micheal and pull the memories out I just don't know which ones to share. There are so many. I remember him shooting bb guns at his grandpa's house when he was 8 or 9. Or him lining hot wheel cars up in perfect rows when he was a toddler. I remember the high school kid who was mad as heck he had to go to wal mart with Mom and Dad cause he got in trouble and I made him be my best friend and go every where I went. Arms crossed and head down pouting mad.. till his Dad grabs one of those fake fur rugs swung it around his shoulder yelled Captain Fur Cape and ran down the aisle.. sudden Pokey was laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath. I know darn well the next time he went to wal mart with his friends he did the same thing. I remember the adult man who came home on leave and took my brand new car in the middle of the night to Dallas and called at 4 am because he was lost....I was furious. Not only that he took my car but that he called when there was GPS built into the dash. I remember being so mad at him till he put his head on my shoulder the next day and said " Are you mad mommy? don't be mad mommy" that look and that voice.. I couldn't stay mad. I remember the little boy who would crawl up in my lap and turn the pages to Mercer Meyers "All By Myself" book.

I remember the day he was born. The day we brought him home. The joy and love he brought to us. I remember how proud I was of him on the first day of school. So many smiles. So much love and laughter this one person brought to so many. For Micheal, life was a celebration. Today is his birthday.. He would have been 21. Old enough to finally drink a beer legally. Funny he was old enough to go to war but not drink a beer. So tonight I will go downtown and meet with others who knew and loved him. One of the local bar owners is opening up just for us and we will share our stories of how Pokey made us smile and laugh. We will celebrate him and how he touched so many lives. On this day I have made the choice to celebrate my son and his life...tomorrow I will go back to mourning him.

The funny thing about the last picture is his grandfather had absolutely no idea Pokey was behind him and we were all laughing and my dad had no idea why....

May

2009-05-15T09:02:00.000-07:00

May is probably the hardest month of the year for me. most people think it would be February the month we lost Micheal but May holds so many reminders for me that is it like a constant scratching at the scars. And I know I am truly not myself during May. With Mother's day, armed forces day, Micheal's Birthday, and memorial day all one weekend after the next it is just plain difficult. add to that May was the month Micheal was scheduled to come home on leave. We had a lot of plans for those 14 days. His brother's State Track meet, graduation, his birthday. So many things that were just left undone or partly done. Yes his brother ran the state meet but his heart wasn't in it. And yes his brother graduated. But there was no birthday party, no hugs, no celebration with Micheal.

This is the second May I have had to get through and it is harder in some ways than last year. I not as as numb I guess and in some ways more alone. I know now that the people I thought were just scared to call last year really just don't care. Others have stepped back from me this year. I can't blame them. It's hard dealing with the overly sensitive over reactive scary lady. What really hurts is that I know I have been acting completely out of character but they just stepped back instead of seeing now more than ever I needed them. Even if I am yelling and pushing them away...

Mother's Day

2009-05-09T20:36:00.000-07:00

This is the second Mother's day I will face without Micheal. I was warned by a very kind and loving woman last year how hard it would be. She too had lost her son but to a drunk driver. So last year I was prepared. I suppose I am again this year.

Last year, a few days before Mother's Day a delivery truck pulled up and I received a bouquet of Lilies. The card "From Your Boys in Company B" My son's brothers who I had not yet met had remembered me. It made the day easier. It is one of my most cherished mother's day gifts. Not the flowers... but that these men in a combat zone had taken the time to remember me. This year my phone is all ready buzzing with text messages. And pans for visits in a couple of weeks.

I have every homemade card and gift my kids ever made put away. I remember the text message from my son David last year (He was in his bedroom and I was in the kitchen) telling me he loved me and he would wash my car. Seems unusual but David does not show emotion so it was so very him to do it that way. It made me happier than if he had spent a $1000 on a gift.

My youngest made me a birdhouse at school this year. I will hang it on the porch in the morning and look at it daily when I go out to drink my morning coffee on the porch.

My daughter... she will make her famous chocolate chip pancakes.. I don't have the heart to tell her I hate pancakes. and I will end up cleaning the kitchen up afterwards. LOL and Tomorrow night we go watch her choir concert and I get to sit in the audience and be proud of her. She has an amazing voice...she didn't get it from me.

Tomorrow is Mother's day. I will try and pretend it is just another day for the most part. But I know I will get hugs and Happy Mother's Day from my kids. Only Micheal's will be missing. And I will pull out the box when I am alone and go through all the cards and gifts from past mother's days that he made me. I will dust his table and maybe get the nerve up to go out to the cemetery. By the end of the day I will be emotionally and mentally preparing for next Sunday... It would have been Micheal's 21st birthday.

Funny at the one year mark people told me I had faced all the first and I had for the most part. But I think the seconds are a little harder. I'm not as numb now. And no matter how long it is...there will be firsts that Micheal should be here for that he won't be.

Yep.. tonight I am feeling sorry for myself. Just a little. I get to do that a few times a year....

Just talk to me....

2009-04-27T11:20:00.000-07:00

I was asked to write an article on how to interact with Gold Star families. My first thought was just talk to them! So often people are so afraid to say the wrong thing or have no idea what to say they say nothing at all. That hurts worse than the poorly worded phrases we have heard repeatedly.

In the Beginning:

When Micheal was killed one thing I heard too much of was how strong I was. In that moment I was so numb that I could not respond to anything. It truly wasn't strength but numbness. later knowing I was expected to be strong made it very hard for me to take my moment in time to openly and truly grieve for Micheal. my younger children were told to be strong for us. Which was unfair to them. they had lost their hero and big brother. they did not need to be strong they needed to grieve and hurt too.

It was like being in a foreign country in a fog with no map or language dictionary. I had no idea how to do it so I did the best I could. I was given advice on how to deal with loosing Micheal but for each of it is different there are no rules are right way to grieve. for that matter there is no real wrong way to do it either

Something one of the guys said to me probably bugged me more than anything else said. i have heard it from others to. "You are taking this so well." Or "I'm glad you are recovering so well." Fact is I am not taking the death of my son well. I am just not behaving badly. When you loose your child or anyone you love for that matter you don't recover or get over it. It's not a cold or the flu. You don't recover. This pain is now a part of who I am. I have learned to cope with this "new normal" and live again but I will never accept my son's death. I understand it. I know he is gone but I do not and will not accept it.

Most of the people we knew before Micheal's death are no longer a part of our lives. By their choice. Not sure if it was guilt or fear that made them walk away but most did. Only one civilian friend remained. the rest that stayed were military. That hurt a great deal. Back to the saying anything is less hurtful than saying nothing at all.

And Now
When new people meet us now and find out Micheal was killed in action they are not quite sure how to respond. Condolences are of course given but beyond that they stammer away. Congressmen Charlie Dent of PA responded best of all the people who were told about Micheal. He sat down next to me and said.. tell me about Micheal. And I did. Fact is I like to talk about Micheal. I also like hearing other peoples stories about him. And I honestly do not want to hear how someone is against the war. I still support the troops and their mission. By tell me how it was wrong to be in Iraq and we just went for oil, you are telling me my son died for nothing and in vain. Well I don't believe that nor do the Iraqi people who are grateful to our troops for their new found freedom.

It really comes down to I am still me. I still love coffee so ask me to go for some. I still love books so recommend one. And I still love my son so talk or ask about him. Don't ask me about his injuries or how he died.. ask me how he lived! As much as I miss him. as much as it hurts to know he is gone, as empty as that place in my heart is... I am that PROUD of my son too. He inspires me. And of the other gold star families i have met I know their fallen loved one inspires them too. Let us tell you their stories and be inspired by these men and women. If hearing the story of our loved one is too much... then ask us about something else. Our grief is not contagious but our inspiration just might be.

A mission to focus on.....

2009-04-19T14:56:00.000-07:00

Had no choice but to go shopping today. Just picked up a couple of things because I still avoid Wal-mart on Sundays as much as possible. It just takes me back....

Anyway I ran into the only other gold star mom in town. Her son-in-law was killed in al Anbar 3 years ago. She asked me how I can be so positive in such a short time. As my last blog stated I have tried to find my smile again. And when I really think about it I have been amazingly blessed in some ways this past year also. As much and I miss my son and hurt that he was taken from me I am that proud of him also. It is that pride in him that drives me. I have told people often that Pokey is my inspiration and that I hope he and those who served with him will inspire them also.

Sgt. Lewis, who knew my son well, told me just a couple days after we lost Micheal that is was easier in theater to loose a man because they had a mission to focus on. It would be some time before I told him that his word saved me from the deepest part of the depression I battled. I kept in touch with a lot of Pokey's brothers in arms. For a while they thought it was a gratitude thing. In some ways it was but in a larger much more important way they and all those who serve became my mission in life. I explained it to my son's brothers like this. My job was to be a mom and take care of Micheal as best I could while he was in Iraq. That meant being supportive, positive and sending the hugs in a box we call care packages. Micheal's job was to take care of the men he served with. when Micheal was killed he couldn't do his job anymore. Nor could I do mine. So I am now doing Micheal's job for him. I try to take care of his brothers and sisters in arms as best I can. It doesn't matter to me if the service member ever knew Micheal... the military is one big family in my eyes. I do as much as I can to help them. Whether it be sharing the positive news of all they do, send care package, talk to them on the phone, or try to get laws passed to protect them. My favorite part of my job is when I get to take care of our Wounded Warriors. These are some of the most inspirational people you will ever meet. Their positive outlook is heart warming. It is also a remind to me every day that if they can fight to over come what ever wound they have I can fight too. And I do look at some of what I do as carrying on my son's fight to rid this world of bullies. God he hated people who picked on the weak and defenseless. No I am not saying our military men and women are weak and defenseless. However they can't always get or bring attention to things I can as a civilian. I have been given an opportunity to be a voice. It is a gift in my eyes and I hope I am using it well.

I love our military. they have seen me through a very hard year and then some. I must give back to them. I must honor Pokey and all those who have fallen. I can't do anything more for my son now but mourn and honor him. I however can make a difference in the lives of those returning home. Especially our wounded.

Hug a soldier today.. tell them thank you. Hug the spouse or parent of a soldier today and thank them also. Those who love those who serve, serve too.

Finding a Smile Again

2009-04-14T20:58:00.001-07:00

So here I am a little over a year since the knock on the door and my world fell apart. Some days I have learned to smile and even laugh again. Not as completely as I once did but still they smiles come now. And sometimes they come with guilt.

Two very wise men have touched my life in the past month or so. One gentleman was with the SAS and he spoke of how he lives his life so that in the next he can look into the eyes of those friends he fought beside who did not come home and tell them without a doubt he did his best to honor them. The second gentleman was a WWII veteran, Medal of Honor recipient and 99 yrs old. His words struck my heart through. " We can only mourn our fallen. We honor them by taking care of those who come home especially our wounded" It is those two thoughts, beliefs, that I have tried to live this past year by. Although only recently put into words for me.

We knew the moment they spoke the words that day there was no more we could do for Micheal but mourn and grieve. Which is why our first question was " Was anyone else hurt?" from the looks on the Sgt and Chaplain's faces I don't think it is a question they get often. To this day I am grateful now on my son's brothers were seriously hurt. Although I have found out since that some of the injuries they received were not as minor as they would have likes me to believe. All the same I have hug each of them and they are safely home now.

The smiles come more frequently now. Laughter is not as forced as it once was. I suppose we have found that place in life other Gold Star families have described to me as "the new normal". I have found myself on a path that I actually enjoy. In a way I share it with Micheal... I wish he were here truly.... but he does inspire me in what I am doing now. And I think he is sitting up there grinning and putting people and events in my life that will help me heal and grow.

Thanks Pokey.. I love you. I would trade it all for one more hug kiddo.

Thunder and Lightening.

2009-03-27T21:03:00.001-07:00

It is days like today I think of Micheal a lot. Thunderstorms rolling through. He would have been out in the middle of them. I have a more than a few thunderstorm related memories of Micheal.

When he was very little, not more than two, we lived in northern California. Well thunderstorms were very rare. One night one came through. It was a good one. Big booms and flashes of light. I went to the back of the house to his room to check and make sure he was not scared. There he stood in his crib the curtain pulled back jumping up and down yelling "Do it again, do it again". Then it would thunder and lightening and he would laugh. Seems he loved thunderstorms from the very start.

He loved the rain even without the thunder. It meant puddle stomping. Oh I remember he would drag out his old shoes and beg to go on a puddle stomp walk. We had so much fun doing that. How may kids get encouraged to stomp puddles and try and splash mom?

Years later we would move to the midwest where thunderstorms were common. Micheal would beg to go out and play in them. I would let him go out in the rain but not if there was lightening. Once he was a teen I gave up trying to keep him inside during storms. He learned though. He, his brother and one of their friends went out into the yard during a bad storm. Being tough guys proving they were not afraid of some thunder and lightening... till the lightening hit a few yards away. All three came running it the front door at once. Getting stuck like something out of an old 3 Stooges show. And yelling Mommy mommy mommy. After that they elected to stay on the porch.

Just a very few short years later when it would rain he would get a chair and go sit on the porch, usually alone. He would just watch it and listen to it. Sometimes he would be so deep in thought he would not realize someone else had sat down on the porch too. I learned very quickly to just sit and wait for him to see me there. The discussions were random in those moments. Sometimes serious, sometimes mundane. They were mom and son moments.

The day they brought Pokey home there was a light mist. My husband called in "infantryman weather". I think he found some comfort in it. That night a tremendous thunderstorm came through. It was as if he sent it to make sure we knew he was alright and with us. The next day there was 5 inches of snow. My youngest kept saying Pokey sent it for him. My youngest loves snow as much as Pokey loved thunderstorms. I have to think Pokey sent it. The very next day,the day of the funeral, the weather was clear and sunny and 70 degrees. It was the most bizarre 3 days of weather I have ever experienced.

I still love the rain. I tell people I love the rain because it hides the tears. To some extent that is true, but it also takes me back to times in my memory that make me smile remembering the excited toddler yelling "Do it again", the teen who could not resist being in the middle of it, and the young man who would sit on the porch and almost mediate as he watched it.

The Dover Ban

2009-03-19T14:09:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was visiting Washington DC. It just so happens that the day after I met with Congressman Duncan D Hunter and discussed the loss of my son, the Dover ban Policy and taking steps to protect the names of our fallen from being used by organization that disrespect and exploit them, Sec. Robert Gates lifted the Dover ban for media to photograph the flag draped caskets of our Fallen Heroes as they came home to Dover. Of course there was the whole “with the permission of the family” clause in the lifting of the ban. Sounds like they are giving the family a real voice in it right?

Let me explain how it works….

Two men in uniform knock on your door at any given hour. They then very professionally and politely tell you the most devastating news of your life. Someone you love has been killed in a horrific manner. then they offer condolences and their sorrow. Then they lay out a stack of forms you must sign. You have no idea what the forms are you just know you want these people to leave so you can fall apart and start the grieving process in private. So you sign what ever they lay on the table. You can’t comprehend the words even if you do read them. So here is their idea of giving the family a choice… laying a press release in front of them knowing that they will sign anything at that moment. Some choice.

It is a process that will take advantage of many people’s mental and emotional state in that moment of the most extreme grief a human can be in. It has been over a year and quite honestly I still have no idea what my husband and I signed that day or in the following days.. with the exception of one form. But I only remember that because it was quite possible more devastating to be asked to sign it that the original news of my son’s death.

Now the Department of Defense wants to fly families to Dover to be present when their loved ones arrive there. Sounds like a caring move until you think about the emotional state of the families. From experience I can tell you that all you want to do is look at them one last time, run your fingers through their hair, touch their eyes and lips. And when they fly these families to Dover that is going to be what they want, to see their loved ones. But when our Fallen get to Dover they are not coming home to their family to be laid to rest but to their military family to be honored, and lovingly cared for and prepared for that final journey home. Our Fallen are in no state for their loved ones to see them when they arrive at Dover. That is one of the reason they are taken to Dover.. so the men and women who REQUEST to work there can painstakingly care for them and prepare them to come home one last time. The ceremonies and care of our Fallen at Dover are done with Honor. To have the families there is in my opinion psychological torture of the family. It will be more devastating than anyone who has not been through this can comprehend.

I waited a week for my son to come home to me. I was told when he had arrived at Dover. I knew he was with his military brothers and sisters and I knew they were taking care of him. The wait was hard and emotionally draining. But it was also a period of time to get the emotional support of family, friends and the community. A time to plan our last good byes, his funeral. At the end of the wait watching his casket with the flag he fought to defend draped over it come off the plane at our local airport was intensely emotional and personal. More so than the funeral. It was the moment I knew there was going to be no apology that it had been a mistake. It was the moment I saw the shear angry and pain on my other son’s face and my heart broke once again in to so many pieces I don’t think I will ever be able to truly put them all back in place. It was also the moment I knew my son was finally home. We welcomed him home and said goodbye in that moment.

I’ve heard the arguments for lifting the Dover Ban:

Freedom of speech. Taking a picture of the caskets at Dover is not freedom of speech. Freedom of speech means you get to say what ever you think about the GOVERNMENT.
The Cost of war. We need people to know the human cost of war. Well by God anyone with a brain can read the names and know they were real people why do they need to intrude of the dead and their families? Do they not realize they are costing the families more? These familoies just paid the ultimate price of war and some want to make them pay more by invading their grief and using their loved one as nothing more than a prop for a picture. That not only have we given the life of our loved ones, a piece of our hearts and souls but they are taking the one last thing we have the dignity and privacy to say our last good byes? Price tag that!!

Honoring the Fallen is an other argument I have heard. Well I want them honored too. They deserve it but respecting them and their families and the intimacy and pain of their coming home is how you do that. There is time for memorials and tributes later.. honor them and their families by giving them the right to grieve and get through the devastating process without intrusion. All the photos and fanfare is is a painful reminder of those keeping score and who look up on our nation’s Fallen as a weapon to be used for politic gain. If you ask those taking the pictures or looking at them on the news the name of one of those Fallen Heroes, who’s flag draped casket they have to have a picture of, a week later they couldn’t tell you. But they can give you the numbers. Well Spc Micheal E Phillips was not just a number or a casket covered with the flag of the nation he loved. He was a man who loved and was loved. Who believed in something beyond himself and knew it was worth fighting and dying for. And so are the others who have fallen. Give them the peace of knowing their families are respected not preyed up on in their time of grief.

The way our Fallen Heroes should be honored and remembered....

JSS Shulla Iraq

2009-03-07T18:15:00.000-08:00

JSS Shulla Iraq was turned over to the Iraq security forces on March 2nd, 2009. It is not a story you will hear on the main stream media. It was a positive story and more proof our military accomplished their mission in Iraq. More proof we have won in Iraq.

This story jumped out to me for one very special reason, Shulla is where my son and his Company were located in Iraq. Once one of the most dangerous places and home to the Mahdi Army. There was a time when the citizens feared leaving their homes. Now they are opening new restaurants and shopping in flourishing market places. They are taking over their own security and becoming more independent. I know my son had a hand in that success. He and his brothers, who I know think of as my own family, gave this gift to the people of Shulla and all over Iraq.

My son came home March 2nd, 2008 and one year later the people of Iraq came home to a new found freedom in the town of Shulla. He did great things in Iraq... they all have.

The barracks in Shulla Iraq named for my son.

"That's a When I Get Home Story Mom"

2009-03-06T11:09:00.001-08:00

Pokey never told us much about what was going on in Iraq of a personal nature. He would mention little things or funny stories. I think he told his father more than he told me. He would often say he took pictures or this or that happened but "That's a when I get home story". Obviously he never got to tell us his stories. His band of brothers share some. They are still careful about what they share though. I don't think they quite yet understand that no matter how scary they think it is for me to hear I have faced the scariest part. And also they have put those stories away so they can adjust back to life here. Some day they will pull then out again when it is safe for them too and share them with me then.

It is hard for me to know there was a facet of my son I will never know. I will never know the combat soldier. The man he became while he was in Iraq. Not saying he wasn't a man before but I know being there and fighting for what he believed in, gave him a strength of character and a perspective on life different than anything he could have had here in the civilian world. In fact in our last conversation he admitted, in his way, he had changed and he was scared that his friends here would not understand who he had become. He had grown up in a way that most will not in years and years of life. I know it was being there and the " when I get home" stories that made him into the man he had become.

But regardless, there is a part of me that wants to know what it was like there for him. Oh I know I will never fully understand because I was not there. But I want a better insight. I need to know what his life there was really like. I think, just may be, that gift has been given to me. There is a movie coming out "Brothers At War". when I first heard about it was leery. Hollywood is not kind to our military. But investigating a little told me the producer was a man who loves our troops and I knew this was going to be a good film. Having seen the trailer and clips it hit me.. these are my son's stories that he was going to tell me when he got home. No not his personally but his all the same.

I have to stop now and then when people touch my life these days or things happen to me. I have to stop and realize that all my questions, all my need to know, is slowly being answered. I have to think Pokey is asking God for a special favor of letting him put the right people and events into my life as I am ready for them.

24 Feb 2009 One Year

2009-02-23T14:09:00.000-08:00

At 10:05am Baghdad time 24 Feb 2008 an EFP (explosive formed projectile)was fired up on the second vehicle in the convoy. It hit the driver's door. My son was the driver. The medic attended to him on sight. Once stable enough he was medivac'd out to the 86th CSH ( combat surgical hospital)where a team of surgeons worked on him. He died in surgery at 11:31am Baghdad time. For 1 hour and 26 minutes he fought his final battle. The others in the vehicle received minor injuries.

At approximately 1pm ( US CST ) two men knocked on my front door. I was at the store shopping when my son called to tell me they were in my livingroom. I knew.

In the past year my family has experienced pain so deep that it is impossible to put into words, joy that we feel guilty for having, people who have amazed me, anger with no outlet, and an emptiness there is no way to fill. I chose to dwell on the amazing people.

Joe, who reminded me early on to look to my son for strength and later imparted the wisdom to let the memories of my son inspire me.

Sgt Lee, who brought my son home to me and then became our friend.

Cliff, who IM'd with me from a hospital in Baghdad and made it ok to have a conversation not about my son. And who told me I don't fight fair. ( We mom's don't)

Doc Strong, Who did everything possible to save my son then had the courage to come to us and sit across from us at a table. Opening himself up to any possibility but giving us comfort.

Howie, Tommy and Peg, Who have all given me a chance to use this voice of a Gold Star Mom to make a real difference. And who answer the phone when I call at any given hour and need to just talk.

Jenn, A BTR host who gets fighting mad when she even thinks someone's word may hurt me. And that makes me smile every time.

Ron, who befriended me and encourages me to continue to write my heart.

Bravo Company 1/502nd, All of these men and their families who accepted us as one of their own and who make sure my son's stories are heard by us. Who embrace us and call me Momma Ang.

CPT Ussery, who took the time to invite me to his home and then shared the details he somehow knew I needed to move forward. His and his wife's friendship is one I will cherish. ( I still want to steal his dog though)

Those Marines and Soldiers who served in Iraq who helped me understand that those who we fight in Iraq are not like you and I. I now know what Pokey meant by "soulless Muslim Bastards" They were raised on hate and evil has truly taken their souls. And that my son and all those who fought there truly made a difference in this world.

There are so many people that have touched my life in this past year. People I know I would not have met had it not been for losing my son. As much as I love these people and the gifts they give me, the price was so very high.

I miss Pokey.. Nothing and no one will ever change that. I want him running through the door yelling Mooommmyyy! and asking what's for dinner. I want him here to run my finger through his hair and have him tell me to stop. I want him to fight with his sister. Then laugh because she gets mad so funny. I want him to take Tony for icees and pickles. I want him to trade CDs with David then complain David has his CDs. I want to make his damned chili mac for him like he asked me to. Of all the food in the world why chili mac was what he wanted me to make for his homecoming I will never know. There will be no 21st birthday party. No wedding. No late night conversations. No making new memories. What we have are a blessing and we hold them dear.

I want my baby home... But a year ago they came and told me he wasn't going to ever come home again. And since that moment a part of me still screams for them to take it back. He's gone but he still inspires me. He still gives me strength and courage. And every once in a while he still lays his head on my shoulder.

I love you Pokey. I miss you more than words can say.

"I was told to call you"

2009-02-20T14:15:00.000-08:00

A few months back I got a call I was not expecting. It was a soldier who served with my son and who had come home after being injured. I could tell he was scared to call me. He and I had not emailed but one of the Sgts. had told him he should give me a call. Later the Sgt got an ass chewing for tell this young man to call me without knowing first hand what kind of reception that call would receive. Not every family is prepared to talk to the men their loved ones served with.

But anyway.. I talked to the man for some time. He is a very kind person and we hit it off. Later I got to meet him when I went to the Homecoming. He spoke of my son but never in any details. So when I heard a story from my son's commander I was floored.

This man was my son's gunner. He was on the gun the day my son's vehicle was hit. He never told me. Nor did he tell me that because there was incoming fire he stayed on the gun to lay cover so that my son could safely receive medical attention. keep in mind the vehicle was on fire. this man stood with his legs burning to make sure the Medic and others could safely attend to my son. He did not leave that gun until there was no other option. He was doing his job. That is what he was trained to do. I don't give a crap how much training you have it is take HONOR and COURAGE to stay in a burning vehicle on the gun to make sure that others are safe. I was told that the others in the vehicle received minor scratches etc. No one ever mentioned this man's burned legs. My heart cries thinking about what this man did. No one person that day deserves more credit than another. They all did their jobs and did them well. But I have this imagine in my head of him on that gun, flames around his legs, waiting until they could safely move my son before he relented. He gave my son part of the chance he had to live. His cover fire, the medic's incredible skill, the team effort and speed of which that got my son to the hospital... all adds up to Pokey had a chance because of these men. It was a flicker of hope. And no one.. NO ONE.. can ever say they did not do everything to save him. I can find peace in knowing that. It is something I have known from the start. But hearing stories like this brings home the humbling fact. And if you ask them.. They were just doing their jobs.

"Who is he angry at?"

2009-02-16T13:07:00.000-08:00

I spent five days at Ft. Campbell for a Memorial dedication and just hanging out with the guys of my son's company. I had many good times I will be writing about but one particular conversation with my son's Company commander burns in my memory. It was not a serious in depth conversation but it set me to thinking.

The CPT. had asked about how my family was doing in all this. I am always honest about the different stages we are all at. With this man I let him peek behind my carefully constructed walls. I made the statement that my son David had finally turn the corner and was moving beyond the anger and starting to learn to cope with the pain. He asked me " Who is he angry at?" And I told him that was just it there is no one to be angry at. You are just angry with no one and no where to direct it at.

The more I think about that statement the more I realize I too hold a great deal of anger. Not directed anger, just anger. I know it's there just below the surface but I also know it would do no good what so ever to allow it to surface. In some ways I use the anger to fuel what I do. I refuse to succumb to it and allow it do more damage that what is already done. It's a hard concept for some people to grasp I suppose. How can a person be anger at nothing and everything?

I suppose also that anyone who knows me or has meet me would be shocked to find out that within me is a rage so hot that it would scare most people if I allowed it to show. How can anyone with that much rage not release it? I am not sure how to be honest. I just know I keep it carefully guarded. I allow it to release in small burst which i work hard to turn the energy of into something positive. I use it to research cases that our Military men and women are not getting a fair shake. I use it to be involved in politics so that maybe just maybe the right people will lead this country and not allow this to happen to another family.

Who is he angry at?... no one. The anger is simple there. we are just angry at the emptiness in our lives. And I hope my family wisely softens the anger with good works.

It happened in Iraq.. did you hear?

2009-02-03T12:38:00.000-08:00

I received this in email this morning. I was joyous in reading it but at the same time angry. Why email? Why is this not on the front page and the mainstream news? This is a VICTORY! My son laid down his life as did so many others. American men and women made sacrifices to make this happen so where is the “Job Well Done!” from our nation. Where are the heads hung by those who did not bother to vote in our own national elections? I don’t care if you supported our reasons for going into Iraq or not you cannot read this and not see that something amazing and wonderful has happened. The people of Iraq now have a voice and they are using it. Thank you Marines, Soldiers, Airmen, Sailors and the families who stayed strong here at home for them. You made a difference in the world. You created REAL HOPE and REAL CHANGE.
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I took off all identifying info to protect this Brave American Marine and Hero who sent this! I am also forwarding to Fox News in hopes they will report the story. I truly believe the work and sacrifice these brave American Heroes are doing in Iraq will ensure Iraq as our ally, unless Obama pulls them out and screws it all up! With all my heart, to my Son, who served 4 tours, and all his comrades, Thank You and President Bush for your perseverance. Little Iraqi children sleep safer in their beds because of your selfless sacrifice. I have no doubt you have secured a safer future for my grandchildren and yours. This news should be ringing all over the world! You Are Heroes, Every Single One of You! I hope this email gets passed all over the world!

General George Washington left us with this warning and Americans should take heed:

“The willingness with which our young people are likely to serve in any war, no matter how justified, shall be directly proportional to how they perceive the Veterans of earlier wars were treated and appreciated by their nation.”

Beverly Perlson
The Band of Mothers
www.thebandofmothers.com

I don't suppose this will get much coverage in the States as the news is so good. No, the news is unbelievable.

Something didn't happen in Al Anbar Province, Iraq, today. Once the most violent and most dangerous places on earth, no suicide vest bomber detonated killing dozens of voters. No suicide truck bomber drove into a polling place collapsing the building and killing and injuring over 100. No Marine was in a firefight engaging an Al Qaida terrorist trying to disrupt democracy.

What did happen was Anbar Sunnis came out in their tens of thousands to vote in the first free election of their lives.

With the expectation of all of the above (suicide bombers) they walked miles (we shut down all vehicle traffic with the exception of some shuttle busses for the elderly and infirm) to the polling places. I slept under the stars with some Grunts at Combat Outpost Iba on the far side of Karma, and started driving the 200 miles up the Euphrates River Valley through Karma, Fallujah, Habbiniyah, Ramadi, Hit, Baghdad and back here to Al Asad. I stopped here and there to speak with cops, soldiers, Marines, and most importantly, regular Iraqi men and women along the way. It was the same everywhere. A tension with every finger on a trigger that broke at perhaps 3PM when we all began to think what was almost unthinkable a year ago. We might just pull this off without a bombing. No way. By 4PM it seemed like we'd make it to 5PM when the polls closed. At 4:30 the unbelievable happened: the election was extended an hour to 6PM because of the large crowds! What are they kidding? Tempting fate like that is not nice. Six PM and the polls close without a single act of violence or a single accusation of fraud, and nearly by early reports pretty close to 100% voted. Priceless.

Every Anbari walking towards the polling place had these determined and, frankly, concerned looks on their faces. No children with them (here mothers and grandmothers are NEVER without their children or grandchildren) because of the expectation of death. Husbands voted separately from wives, and mothers separately from fathers for the same reason. In and out quickly to be less of a target for the expected suicide murderer. When they came out after voting they also wore the same expression on their faces, but now one of smiling amazement as they held up and stared at ink stained index fingers.

Norman Rockwell could not have captured this wonderment. Even the ladies voted in large numbers and their husbands didn't insist on going into the booths to tell them who to vote for.

One of the things I've always said was that we came here to "give" them democracy. Even in the dark days my only consolation was that it was about freedom and democracy. After what I saw today, and having forgotten our own history and revolution, this was arrogance. People are not given freedom and democracy - they take it for themselves. The Anbaris deserve this credit.

Today I step down as the dictator, albeit benevolent, of Anbar Province . Today the Anbaris took it from me. I am ecstatic. It was a privilege to be part of it, to have somehow in a small way to have helped make it happen.

Semper Fi.
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED

Back To Ft Campbell

2009-02-02T06:31:00.000-08:00

In a few days I will be making yet another trip to Ft. Campbell. The official reason is to be present for a memorial dedication. The Army honors their own in many ways. I remember touring the existing Memorials when we were there in may of 2008. I found great comfort in knowing that those who have fallen are remembered and honored. I found bittersweet comfort in knowing that my son's name would someday join the names of so many honorable men and women.

The unofficial reason for my visit is much more joyous. I get to go hang out with my soldier son's. The text and phone calls increase daily as they call and check to make sure Momma Ang is really coming. It does my heart good to know they are as excited for me to come as I am about going. So far the best stories are about how the NCOs and officers announcing I will be there and a chorus of "Yes we know" goes up and it causes confusion. I suppose it is odd that I keep in touch with these men as much as I do. But I love hearing about the new girlfriends. The new houses and cars. I find comfort in knowing that when things are not going so well that they know they can call me for advice and comfort. Few people understand how and why I love these men so very much. Even the ones I haven't met yet. I am really looking forward to meeting the newbies who just got to the company. Yes they too are part of the family.

Not sure exactly what all I am in for when I get up there but at least now I know who my escort is likely to be and it made me smile. He is one I haven't gotten to hug yet because he came back after the rest. And he is not quite sure what to make of his friend's mom. I know how men hate dealing with tears and hysterics. I hope he realizes I am not like that. Oh the tears are there but they are mine. I know they will come at the memorial but the rest of my visit will be to celebrate my son, his friends and life.

I'm excited! It's like getting ready to go to a family reunion.. in fact that is exactly what this trip is. Hmmm I may have to make it a yearly thing! nahhh Once a year is so not often enough for hugging my sons.

DOOGET!!

2009-01-24T09:50:00.000-08:00

Dooget! It means nothing and everything. It's a made up word my son and his best friend made up in high school to mess with teachers heads. They thought it had some big bad secret meaning. When in fact it meant nothing at all. It was basically their battle cry.

I remember running into another mom at the store and her having a fit cause her youngest son had picked up this new word and was using it constantly. Drove her nuts cause she didn't know what it meant. When she said dooget I busted up laughing. Once I explained it meant nothing at all it was just a word that my son had made up she laughed too.

This spring my son's best friend and partner in chaos is getting married. I have the honor of making the grooms cake ( that's a southern tradition) It will be in the shape of a military name tape with the word Dooget on it.

I suppose the point of me writing about a word is to tell you all my son laughed all the time. He was quite creative in messing with people in ways that really did no harm. Dooget was one of those ways. It is a word we now use to express emotions of all types. A little way of remembering and honoring my son. I suppose Dooget is part his legacy. So the next time you stub your toe or get really happy.. try dooget on for size. And think about the young man who always smiled and made the word up.. to drive the adults in his life just a little more nuts. ;)

" Dear John Doe"

2009-01-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The U.S. Army apologized on Wednesday for sending 7,000 letters addressed to "Dear John Doe" to the relatives of U.S. soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The letters, printed by a contractor and mailed in December, were intended to inform family members about private organizations that offer assistance to those who have lost relatives in Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom.

http://www.reuters.com/article/domesticNews/idUSTRE50674G20090107

Ok I got one of these letters. And I was amused and actually giggled when I opened it. I knew right away it was a typo. Oops shit happens. The fact of the matter is there was a ton of resources made available to my family in this letter. It was one more thing the Army has gone out of their way to do for my family. Since the very beginning of this ordeal the Army has gone above and beyond for us.

My gripe is: How come the media has to jump on this issue? Where are they to tell about all the wonderful supportive things the Army has done for the families of the fallen? Once again their bias is showing. Once again they don't dwell on the fact the Army is gathering resources for families of the fallen but only that the letter that provided those resources had a typo. They beat a path to find that one family member who wants to be a victim and get attention for themselves. Why didn't the media ask me what I thought of it? Or what I thought of the Army calling my home to apologize and then realize I didn't need or want and apology. I wanted to instead thank them for going above and beyond once more in providing me with information. That turned into an hour call with a commanding officer who I am very much looking forward to hugging in a few weeks.

Too anyone listening. I LOVE THE ARMY! And they are my family now. The Army has never been anything but respectful to me. Of all the things for a person to get their undies in a bunch about a typo is just not it. If you people think "Dear John Doe" is bad you should read the letters addressed from the Anti-war types some families of the fallen have gotten.

The Moments

2009-01-06T14:45:00.000-08:00

Most days I put on a pretty strong front when it comes to Pokey. I talk about him and share who he was as much as I can. I miss him ever second of every day but there are moments when the emptiness overwhelms me. Usually it's just a moment. I will come across a picture and am reminded that no he is not still in Iraq doing the job he so loved or that he won't laugh again like he is in another picture. Today the moment hit me. Maybe it was dusting his things that tittered me over the edge maybe it is the constant harassment and allegations a certain group of people have bombarded me with lately. Maybe it's letting down the guard I have had up through the holidays. Not sure why but here I sat on the phone with a dear friend and all I wanted to do was go hide so I could have a good cry and miss my son. So I got off the phone and had my moment.

Why am I sharing this with you? Simple.. many people have gotten the idea I have no emotions about my son. That I am simply cold and unfeeling. They mistake private with cold. When it comes to my tears those are mine and mine alone. I do not display them publicly. In all honesty I don't even call my dearest friends to share my tears. Never once have I nor will I. I also want others to know that even though some people think I am this incredibly strong person. As I said it's just a front. I am just as human as anyone else and the pain and hurt is just as real to me. I was once told I was handling this all so well... I am not handling this well. I just chose not to behave badly.

So I am now back to being Knottie and helping with homework, researching the guest for tonight's show, planning an article that has to be written for tomorrow, preparing to put content up on another website and cooking dinner.

If I keep busy enough the walls stay in place longer and I have fewer moments.

Waiting for Pokey

2009-01-03T19:24:00.000-08:00

I don't think about the day Pokey came home much. But tonight something has triggered the memory and emotions. There is a movie out called "Taking Chance" I read the story years ago and it was emotional then. http://www.ehowa.com/features/takingchance.shtml Years after reading "Taking Chance" I would find comfort in the memory of those words. I knew my son was not coming home alone. He would have one of his brother's with him, looking out, caring for and honoring him. I knew this because I had read LT Col Strobl's words.

On Feb. 24th, 2008 my son, David, was home alone. My husband was at work. My daughter had gone to church and my youngest and I were at walmart doing the weekly shopping. When my son David called I thought he was going to ask for flaming hot cheetos. I answered the call with "I have your cheetos in the cart already" and laughed. He was so serious and scared. " Mom two guys from the army are here' No not recruiters. I knew then. Oh I tried to convince myself they came when they were hurt but I knew better. I called my husband to met me at the house.

"On behalf of the United States Army, We regret to inform you, Your son Micheal E Phillips was killed this morning when the vehicle he was driving encountered an IED." For some reason I remember their words exactly. I turned and hugged my son and he for the first time in a long time hugged me back. A few minutes later my husband arrived and they repeated the words. After the paperwork was signed and offers help and comfort were made and we were told what the next step would be they left. A short time later my daughter came home. I will never rid my memory of her wail begging for it to be a mistake.

Then the waiting began. People came. They brought food and flower. The family arrived and we all waited together. We planned the funeral. Cried with his friends. Answered phone calls from his brothers in Iraq. But still time seemed to have stopped. We waited for Micheal to come home to us and hoped with every fiber that the wait meant they made the mistake my daughter begged for. The waiting is the hardest part they say and they are right. The numb of shock slow starts to wear off while you wait. You have far too much time to dwell on the memories, the lost dreams. All you can do is sit and wait and hope that someday you remember the words people are speaking in those day because in those moments you comprehend so very little. You just wait...

7 days we waited before we loaded into a limousine and drove to the airport. We were escorted by PGR and sheriff dept. I have no idea how many but the line was at least a mile of just the motorcycles. We stood in the hangar and wait the final few minutes for the plane to land. The honor guard took it's place and the door opened on the plane. A flag draped casket emerged and my son was home. No mistake. We closed ranks and breathed in deep to get through the moment. It was in my mind the hardest moment we have faced so far. The hope was gone but he was home. I will never forget the look of anger on David's face. Pure hot anger. He too realized it was time to face the truth... he had lost his brother and best friend. Our Pokey would not come home to parties and hugs. But to a funeral and tears.

The waiting was over....

Rate Your Year

2008-12-30T23:19:00.000-08:00

A favorite blogger titled his daily blog today " Rate Your Year Here" and it got me thinking. Of course my first thought was it was "my year was cursed". And it was but I also had to stop and think about all the blessings. You see this same blogger asked a question the other day to which I responded, " Curses and blessings usually come hand in hand".

So here I sit thinking about the horrific pain I have endured and am learning to live with this year. The black hole in my soul that is so empty it is painful. I think about my other three kids and the pain they too endure and the helplessness I feel at times when I can not make it better. I think about my son's father's words..."I lost my son and my legacy". I think about the men who fought and lived beside my son and their pain. You see they loved him too. As much as I did with a bond I will never know. The curses...

And I think about all the love and caring we have all received. Some from strangers who I will never know again. Some from people who this tragedy brought into my life and who have now become fixtures. I think about the bond and relationships I have built with my son's brothers. Truly an extended family I may never have gotten to know as I have except for our shared grief. The blessings...

I also have to look at where this path is taking me. In the process of learning to live with this pain, for it never heals, I have explored this new voice I have and how best to use it. I have found strengths and talents I did not know I had. And I have found joy again in doing work I never would have considered before. The reward of finding something I both enjoy and can help my son's brothers doing is more than a person could hope to be blessed with.

So how do I rate my year? My year was cursed... and curses and blessings come hand in hand.

The Gift of Giving

2008-12-27T12:40:00.000-08:00

I was speaking recently with someone regarding charities that support the troops. There was a remark made that the government should take care of it all. What this person (who has a heart of gold and truly cares about the troops) forgot is that by doing something through private charities we are not only taking care of our troops we are showing them Honor, Respect and Love. These are things that can not be provided through a government program. It's about the service these programs provide but more so it is about the love from the people involved. It's the connection that is made by giving of yourself that is the true purpose of these charities.

For myself the work I do for the troops is healing. Shortly after my son's death I had a Solider tell me.. "It's easier when you are over there. You have a mission to focus on." It was then I realized I needed a mission to focus on. My mission was simple. Take care of my son's military family. It started with his platoon.. I soon realized I have quite a large military family and it is not just one branch but 5 branches. Some I can give to directly some indirectly but all I do is for my family. And by giving to them I have also received so much. I have made friendships I cherish. Those are more valuable than words can express. I have received a sense of purpose also. I never planned on getting anything back for my mission but I have gained so much.

There is a gift you receive when you give to others. BUT you must give freely without expectations to truly get the rewards from it.

Christmas 2008

2008-12-23T13:49:00.001-08:00

I spent a little of Christmas with my Army family last night. As most you know the troops in Afghanistan and Iraq asked me to help coordinate a few blog talk shows together and put on a 6-hour message read. The first two hours the troops were unable to log on but during the 3rd two hour session we were able to read as many of the messages as I could pullout of the very active chatroom. Some were not showing on my screen and I feel terrible about missing those. All in all it was funny and in a small way I got to spend some of my Christmas with these phenomenal men who I think of not just friends but family. I like taking care of my family and for me that was what doing the Troop Christmas show was all about. I hope they enjoyed the shows as much as we did. I look forward to putting together more for them in the future.

In a small way my son was with me last night. This will be the second Christmas I will not be able to hug him. Of course last Christmas he was safe and being silly with his guys. Waking them up and blessing them all with a candy cane. And I thought that it was just a matter of time before I could hug him and make his favorite candies for him again. Chocolate covered pretzels. I didn't make them this year. Maybe next.

Christmas this year is all about ghost. Pokey's ghost.. He is everywhere. I hear his voice as a small child asking to help frost cookies, or if Santa knows he was good. I hear him as a teenager begging for this or that to be under the tree. I see him laying on the couch watching Christmas Specials. I see him peeking out the window looking for the snow. I want to reach out and touch him but I know I can't. I will never run my finger through his hair again or feel his head on my shoulder as he comes up behind me. I'll never look into his eyes and know he is lying because his smile is so big both sets of dimples show. He is not here... but yet he is everywhere in this house.

Do not cry for me this Christmas. I have the memories of all the past Christmas' to inspire me. And I want them to. I want to be able to bring a little joy to others and hope that the memory created is one they will hold for many Christmas'. Because in the end it is not about trees, lights, presents or shiny things.. it's about creating memories and sharing joy.

Merry Christmas from me and my Santa's Helper

Ask ..Just Ask...

2008-12-20T14:25:00.000-08:00

One of my son's former teachers dropped by today. Magazine in hand... " Have you seen this?" There it was.. my son's picture. His bright smile. He was in the lined up of Fallen. The first fallen in Oklahoma this year. Now while I am glad he and the others are being remembered and honored, imagine if I had not been in my livingroom when I saw that but at the Doctors office or the nail salon. No one asked me if they could use my son's imagine. No one warned me I may open up a magazine and see my son staring back at me. Do these people not realize how hard something like that is on the families? How it blindsides us and knocks the very strength out of us? And to top it off they are making money by adding my son's picture to their magazine. Did they offer to donate anything to a troop supportive organization in his name? I don't want the money but by God if they are going to make money off his picture the very least they can do is help his brothers and sister out.

If you are going to honor the fallen... start by respecting the families and the emotions we face every time our loved ones imagine and name is used. Don't blindside us.. talk to us and at the very least warn us.

Christmas With the Troops

2008-12-16T06:13:00.000-08:00

About a week ago I was asked by a Solider in Afghanistan what I thought about doing a blogtalk radio show for the troops. A show that the guys who are way from home this Christmas could send in messages and have them read, request songs and hear greetings from home. Instantly I was smiling. One I was thrilled with the idea and two honored that those who are serving would ask me to be involved. They had already contacted one host and I was able to help bring 2 other shows on board with this project. I want to thank the man who's idea this was, Cpt Kevin, for not only thinking of this but for involving me. Please if you can join us... it should be a fun and touching evening.

Three Blog Talk Radio shows are banding together to air a six hour Christmas show that is all for the troops. Chandler’s Watch, Buffman and Wrench and Do the Right Thing are going to broadcast back to back to back on Monday December 22nd starting at 6pm CST for our men and women in Iraq, Afghanistan and any of our military who will not be home with family this holiday season. The show will include music, guest and reading messages from and to the troops.

We have a special email address set up for the troops to email a message to their families to us that will be read over the air (internet). Christmas4troops@yahoo.com (All emails will be deleted after the messages are saved.)

We will also have some celebrity guests coming on to send a message to the “guys”. Not meaning to drop any names but so far we have:

Tim Colceri The psycho door gunner from Full Metal Jacket

Kevyn Major Howard Rafterman from Full Metal Jacket and Founder of Fueled by the Fallen http://www.fueledbythefallen.com/

Congressman Duncan Hunter Capt. Duncan Hunter is a Veteran of OIF and OEF

Evan Sayet Comedian and Political Speaker

Dr Blogstein

The RumbleJetts

Soldier's Angels

Kaye Johnston from the Sugar Plums

Paul Maurtuano "Paula Abdul Stalker Song"

Slidawg and the Ramblin Rednecks

Victoria Jackson from Saturday Night Live

International Comedian David Naster

Dr Danger American Stuntman

Debra J Smith Informing Christians

The Reasons for Going to War

2008-12-10T16:24:00.000-08:00

Joint Resolution to Authorize the Use of United States Armed Forces Against Iraq stated 22 reasons why the United States went into Iraq
(in order written in the resolution)

1. Iraq’s past war of aggression and illegal occupation of Kuwait in 1990.
2. Iraq’s failure to abide by the unequivocal sanctions agreed to after 1991.
3. Iraq’s history of possessing chemical and biological weapons and advanced nuclear weapons development program (and failure to prove complete destruction of such weapons)
4. Iraq’s flagrant violation of the cease fire
5. Iraq’s attempt to thwart efforts of weapons inspectors up until 1998
6. U.S. Congressional resolution conclusion that Iraq was continuing WMD programs in 1998
7. Iraq posed a continuing threat to the national security of the U.S, international peace and security in the Persian Gulf regions
8. Iraq continued to possess and develop a significant chemical and biological weapons capability
9. Iraq supported and harbored terrorist organizations
10. Iraq engaged in brutal repression of its civilian population
11. Iraq refused to release, repatriate or account for non-Iraqi citizens wrongfully detained by Iraq, including an American serviceman
12. Iraq failed to return property wrongfully seized from Kuwait
13. Iraq has demonstrated capability and willingness to use weapons of mass destruction against other nations and its own people
14. Iraq has demonstrated hostility toward and willingness to attack the United States by attempting to assassinate former President Bush
15. Iraq has demonstrated hostility toward and willingness to attack the United States and Coalition Forces by firing on many thousands of occasions on US and Coalition Armed Forces enforcing United Nations resolutions
16. Members of al Qaida are known to be in Iraq
17. Iraq continued to aid and harbor other international terrorist organizations, including organizations that threaten the lives and safety of American citizens
18. The attacks of September 11, 2001 underscored the gravity of the threat posed by the acquisition of weapons of mass destruction by international terrorist organizations
19. Iraq’s demonstrated WMD capability (noted above), willingness to use WMD (noted above) and the risk to use or provide such weapons to terrorists (noted above)
20. UN Security Council Resolution 678 authorized the use of all necessary means to enforce UN SC resolution 660 and subsequent resolutions
21. The Iraq Liberation Act (Public Law 105-338) expresses the policy of the US to support efforts to remove the current Iraqi regime from power and promote the emergence of a democratic government to replace the regime
22. It is in the national security of the United States to restore international peace and security to the Persian Gulf region

I hear a lot of how the war was wrong or all about oil. I hear both sides of the issue parading reason after reason out for why we are in Iraq. But it truly comes down to the men and women who are there and their personal reasons for joining the military and going. For some who serve the reason is on that list. Or it's a variation of one or more of the reasons in the resolution passed by our congress. For some the reason for going is not on the list. And whether you agree or disagree with the war in Iraq you have to look beyond the politics to the personal reasons of each man and woman who has made the choice to serve.

For Pokey the reasons were more along the lines of #10 and #18

10. Iraq engaged in brutal repression of its civilian population: Micheal hated bullies. Despised people who preyed up on the weak. He felt is was the height of cowardice. When he read about the treatment of the Kurds he was truly upset. He saw the similarities to the treatment of the Jewish in WW2. When he chose to go infantry the mom in me kicked in and I did my best to talk him into an other "safer" MOS. Linguist school in Montery CA sounded lovely. After a few days of me hinting and pleading he look me in the eye and said "Mom, You taught me to stand up to bullies. I'm going infantry." I never said another word about it. One of the reason Pokey went to Iraq was to stand up to the bullies and help those oppressed by them. I think that has happened. Today you see Iraqis shopping, going to schools, voting. It will be a slow process for them to gain their confidence but now they have that chance.

18. The attacks of September 11, 2001 underscored the gravity of the threat posed by the acquisition of weapons of mass destruction by international terrorist organizations 9-11-01 pissed my son off. Being a history buff he saw the dots and connected them. Although just like every other American he was surprised by the act carried out that day he quickly put together the events leading up to it in order. And he knew if we ignored or appeased this act it would only embolden those who did it to bring more to our shores. It would be years before he could join the Army but I think the desire to began that day. And you know what.. US soil shores have not seen an attack since then.

Those were his reasons. I don't know maybe he had more. I'm sure he did but those are the big ones. So if you believe Iraq was all about oil.. great you believe that. Maybe for some it was. But for every man and woman fighting the reason are different. So if your reasons for the war don't justify it then they don't but for those who's reasons do they went and fought.

Why I Tell My Story

2008-12-09T07:20:00.000-08:00

Last night I was called some pretty nasty names. No worries as I have been called worse by better. But they stated also that I am in denial about my son's death and that I am simply seeking sympathy. This I take issue with.

My son was well read in history and knew more clearly than most why we had gone to war in Afghanistan and Iraq. He knew it was a just war and that it was a honorable and valuable fight. He also knew that fight may cost him his tomorrows. He was willing to take up the fight. I could do no more than support and love him.. So I did.

Having gone through what I have I can assure you there is no way to be in denial. The realities brings it home. The flag covered casket coming off the plane, Taps being played, guns firing. Once you have experienced these things denial is not going to happen. Trust me my son's death is very real to me.

Seeking sympathy from others is not what I am doing either. I feel sorry enough for myself most days that I don't need others to add to it. And the oh poor me mind set I could adopt I see as something that will only dishonor my son. So yes I do have moments when I pity myself and my family for their loss. But I stop and think also how blessed are to have had our lives touched by Pokey. It wasn't long enough but I had him in my life and for that I do not have any regrets.

So why do I speak out so much. Why do I tell Pokey's story, my story? Because to most Americans he and the others who have fallen are nothing more than a name on the list of dead. And for others, these men and women who have lost their lives in combat are seen as pawns in a game that were sacrificed to a less that noble cause. They see those still fighting as unthinking uncaring men who do nothing more than they are ordered. Well that is not true. Our Military men know why they are there. They see the reasons up close and personal every day. It is a just battle, fought with honor. They are making a difference in the lives of people who lived in fear and without hope for far too long. So I speak out.. so that maybe just one more person will stop believing the war is not personal. That those fighting it are anything less that real people who love, laugh, cry and hope.

There is another reason I speak out. It is my way of thanking my son for his gift. The gift of those who served with him who have touched my life. It is a gift that I have found that is I care for it and give it attention it grows. I now have military men and women who never knew my son touching my life. I find a great deal of joy and strength in them. I have people who never served, but simply love this country and want to support those who guard, it touch my life. And I have had those who are angry and mean and hurtful, touch my life. Every person has a lesson to teach us.. So even those who are not nice and say hurtful, vile things to me and about my son.. have taught me something.

I'll share my story as long as I think it will make those listening see those fighting and those fallen as real. And to those who do not want to hear my story... Don't listen.

One I wrote a while back...

2008-12-07T18:04:00.000-08:00

August 8, 2008 - Friday

He’s a hero now..

When Micheal was killed one of the things people said to us often, to comfort us, was that he was a hero now. They are right, he is, but I want to ask them why did he have to die for them to realize he was a hero. To me to walk into a recruiting station and join the military (any branch) during war time takes courage and honor that is sadly rare these days. My son became my hero the day he signed the papers. I remember that day clearly. Sgt. Markham his recruiter would not let him sign at first. He stated quite clearly and honestly that we are at war and by joining he would be deployed to an active war zone in either Iraq or Afghanistan. My son understood where his job would take him. And for reasons so few people understand he had to go and do the job he choose. You see Micheal scored pretty darn well on the ASVAB and we encouraged him to go to linguist school. He had a nature ability to pick up languages. But no he wanted infantry. He wanted to make a real difference and in his mind the best way for him to do that was to fight up front. To stand between the evil and the oppressed literally.

So now I sit and wonder why it is that we have to bury a hero before they are seen as one. I've met so many heroes in the past few months. Most of them served along side my son. The men who email me almost daily to make sure I am doing ok. Me sitting here in a air conditioned house who can go to the store and buy what ever I desire at any time they worry about while they are doing without. Depending on the grace of others to send them snacks and toothpaste. These men who put on so much gear in the ungodly heat to go out into the streets of a foreign land to protect and free people they don't even know. These men and women who work so hard to contain the violence so it doesn't re visit our shores.

Then there are the heroes I meet in the recruiting station. Young people who have decided to join the military and go and continue this fight for freedom. They only have an inkling of what they will face yet they proudly tell me the jobs they have picked and how they are studying hard to increase their test scores. There is a pride and honor in these recruits you just don't see in the eyes of the kid heading to work at the local warehouse. Don't get me wrong I respect anyone who is willing to go get a job and make their way in the world but joining the military is different. Especially in this world today.

My son D is going to college this fall. I am proud of him more than he knows. And the fact is when his brother was killed he considered joining the Army and finishing the job his brother started. But it was not his path. If it is still something he wants a year from know I will support him in it. In a way Micheal's brothers and sister are heroes too. I come to that because when one member of the family joins the whole darn family joins. No we didn't face the dangers and hardships that Micheal did but we faced an emotional roller coaster only military families understand. Pride, Joy, fear, anger, hope, hopelessness. A part of each of us died on Feb 24th . There is a hole in our soul that will never heal. And we each fight from going into that hole. We help each other in that fight. We take turns being strong for the other.

I still don't understand why these men and women have to have taps played for the world to see the heroes they are. Or to step up and support the families that love them and give a part of their hearts to the military when their loved ones join. Funny thing is every single man and woman I know in the military would laugh at me for calling them heroes.. to them.. they are just doing their jobs. Which makes them even more heroic to me.

Do we still set a plate?

2008-12-01T06:21:00.001-08:00

"Do we still set his plate? Do we still set his chair? Do we still buy him gifts and if we don't did we not care?" ~ Winter by Bayside

The holidays are here and as much as I thought I was prepared I'm not. Thanksgiving has come and gone and we are now counting the days until Christmas. Last year I had two trees in my livingroom. The family tree with the ornaments collected and made over the years and a silver tree with red and blue balls on it and a yellow ribbon to top it. I called that one Pokey's tree. He spent Christmas in Baghdad waking up the barracks and blessing his brothers with a candy cane.

This year I am not sure what to do. Part of me wants to skip the shopping and decorating and all those things Christmas. Just hearing the carols playing over the speaking today broke me. But Pokey loved Christmas. He loved the lights and the cookies. He would be the first one to break out the Christmas carols and movies. Mannheim Steamroller was his favorite.

I know we will have Christmas, we have a young one who needs it, but it’s the damned empty stocking hanging with Pokey’s name on it that is killing me inside. It’s the chocolate cover pretzels I make every year that Pokey loved and the ornaments he made I will hang. He is here in the middle of it all but not here, at the same time. And I just can’t seem to balance it in my heart. And I am mad as hell about it. He should be here.. sneaking cookies and peeking under the tree.

Pokey's Last Victory

2008-11-19T08:46:00.000-08:00

A few months ago we met the medic who worked on Pokey that day. He did an amazing job making sure my son had the best chance to live and got him to the surgeons alive. He told us that he had never know anyone so strong or who had fought so hard to live. Those words did not really fully hit me until I heard

“ He looked up at me, grinned and said ‘Hey’ ”

These were the words I heard from the amazing man who had held my son’s hand as they drove him to the medivac. This man never let go of my son’s hand from the moment the medic and he got to the seen until they put Pokey on the helicopter. He had tears in his eyes as he told me. I don’t think he will ever know how healing those words are for me. My son smiled. He wasn’t scared. Yes I realize he was in shock but to the very end he was true to himself and shared a smile with those who were with him. They broke his body beyond repair but they did not break his spirit, they didn’t break him. It is that grin that I see as my son’s last victory.

There were so many men who were a part of that day. The medic who worked so hard to make sure my son had a chance and gave it to him by getting him to the ER alive. The platoon Sgt who sprinted from the rear of the convoy to the front and then took charge to secure the area and make sure no one else was hurt and the men focused their attention on their jobs. The 1SG who held my son’s hand that day. The medivac team who got him to the ER in minutes and comforted him on the way. The surgeons who worked so hard to save him. They all worked so hard and did their jobs perfectly. I know they see it as a failure but in my eyes it was not. How can these men put their hearts souls, blood, sweat and tears into saving my son and be anything less than heroes to me.

The days that followed we got bits and pieces of the story. Within hours we finally had our first question answered... no one else had been hurt. The emails and calls came from Iraq. Reaching out to comfort us but to also find comfort from us. That was the beginning of the gift of these men in my life. A letter arrived telling me that if it had been anyone else my son would be the one to rally everyone and bring a smile back to the company and that in a way he had done just that as they all sat and shared stories of the things my son had done to relieve the tension and make those around him smile. I heard so often “He could make us laugh no matter how shitty the situation”.

In the end my son won a small victory for them all by grinning and saying “hey”. Now I need to help those who loved him too, see that he won. That yes his body was broken but not his spirit and that his spirit is in them and that it is ok for them too to smile and live life.

They're Home...

2008-11-16T09:43:00.001-08:00

On Nov. 11th we packed our car and loaded up the family to head to Ft. Campbell. The men my son served with were on their way home from Iraq and I was finally going to get to meet and hug these men who have become so important in my life.

As we drove on Veteran's Day I thought about how lucky the people in this country are to have the men and women of our military. Between it being Veterans day and where we were heading I had no choice but to see things from a perspective most Americans fail to look at. We drove without fear of IEDs. There were no check points. We could stop along the way and not fear snipers or suicide bombers. When we were hungry we had a multitude of options. And I knew without a doubt that these freedoms and this security are due fully to the fact we have such an outstanding group of people who made the choice to wear the uniform and defend these things.

I realized also.. we have WON in Iraq. Yes we are still there. Yes there is still some fighting. But it is safer in Iraq for American troops than civilians in Chicago these days. The foundation of what we set out to do is set. Our goals met and the lives of the Iraq people will be better. They are now tasting freedom. And anyone that wants to argue and diminish that victory and take that from these men and my son can try. But facts are facts. No one but these men and their leaders can claim that victory.

As I watched the plane filled with America's finest land my heart leap and broke all in the same moment. I knew that from my son's Company he would be the only one not walking off that plane. But in a way few will ever comprehend, the last part of my son did get off that plane. His spirit is in each of them and with them he came home too.

The one thing that stands out the most from this trip is as I stood standing and talking to one of the men of my son's platoon I felt a tap on my shoulder. As I turned, I saw them all. They had gathered together to find me. There was a line of men who had smiles and hugs for me. I was introduced to family members as their "Army Mom". They still have no idea what a gift they are to me. There will be more meetings an more stories to share. There will be laughter and tears. But once again I saw the strength and selflessness of these men. My heroes.. my soldier family.

Home

2008-11-09T11:04:00.000-08:00

When I announced early on after my son's death I would be at the homecoming of his fellow soldiers I received a lot of reactions. From how strong I must be to how crazy I am for putting myself in to a situation that would surely bring me more pain. What most did not understand is that early on I had been given one last gift by my son. The gift of these men who had a bond with him that I will never know but that I see, appreciate and respect. a part of him is with each other them.

In just a few short days the men my son lived, worked and fought beside will be home. Deployment has ended and they are all returning safe to the loving arms of their families. My son will be the only soldier from Bravo Company not walking off the plane this deployment. A fact that both hurts me deeply and relieves me. They all honored him by staying safe and coming home. Just as they assured me.

I will be there when these men walk off the plane. I will stand quietly in the background as they hug their families. I will wait my turn to finally meet and hug the men who have become so much a part of my life. And with each of them I will have one more part of my son home. Because he is with them. A part of him is in every single one of him and they are bringing the last part of him home with them. So in a way my son too will be on that plane.

Other Gold Star moms who attend these homecomings assure me the healing this will be for me. Of course as I look at this world of Gold Star Parent I have been thrust into I see that those who are best at living with this incredible pain are the ones who opened and accepted the gift of the men who shared the bond of brotherhood with their sons. They see our loved ones spirit is a part of each of these men and by embracing them we are embracing a part of our sons.

The down side to all this is I can not longer escape into fooling myself he is just in Iraq working anymore when my missing him becomes unbearable. I miss My Pokey so much and to have to accept the last reality that I will never hold him or hear his voice again is devasting the final thread in my rope of strength...

2008-11-05T12:39:00.001-08:00

Mr. Rice

2008-10-29T09:04:00.000-07:00

Over the past few weeks while I educated myself on the candidates running for office in my state I have come across several statements you have made concerning our involvement in the Iraq war. You have made statements such as there was never and is not now Al Qaeda in Iraq. Which is a bold face lie as even the 9-11 commission confirmed Al Qaeda was in Iraq before the attack on this country on 9-11-01. You have called Iraq a civil war and a waste of our troops time. Again belittling and minimizing the efforts they make there. You've called for surrender and state recently we have lost in Iraq. What you don't seem to understand is that everytime you make minimizing, belittling and unspportive statements about the mission our troops are on in Iraq you insult the men who are fighting there. You are telling the families of the fallen their son's and daughter's died in vain. I can not and will not stand for that to be said of any of our Fallen!

When you so completely insult the troops and demoralize them with your words you can not truly respect them. It makes reading a tribute to our fallen on your politcal website hollow and insulting to me. I read my son's name on your site and wonder how you think belittling what he died for can in anyway make it ok for you to falsely pretend to even care. I am almost positive that if I asked you face to face who Micheal Phillips is you would have no idea. You certainly have no idea the kind of man he was no do you even understand the spirit of the men who fight and thoe who have died for this country. And that makes your so called tribute nothing more than a political show.

Sharing

2008-10-24T10:56:00.000-07:00

When my children were younger I taught them to share. I never thought that I would in my adult life have to learn that lesson again. My son Micheal does not belong to just me anymore. He belongs to this Nation. His life was given as a gift so they could continue to be free and live without fear. More and more I find his name on memorials and websites. For the most part they are tributes. Some are using this gift to further their causes or to make a statement against everything my son stood for and valued in life. There is nothing I can do about that.

Today another piece of my son was given. This time to the community I live it. I received a call from a friend telling me the man was there to add my son's name to the monument on Main st. He is the first soldier from this town to be lost in war since Vietnam. The 4th from the county. I watched as the man sandblasted my son's name onto the wall. And I could only say.. I don't want it to be there. But it is there and I know that he will be remembered.

Sometimes it is very hard to share the memories of my son. But I do it. Not with everyone because there are those who use it to hurt me. When I do share him I hope that he will stop being just a name on a list and become a real person to those who listen. And through him the others who have given their lives for this Nation will also be seen as the real men and women they were.

He is my son but he is also the son of this Nation. It is something I am slowly learning to not only accept but appreciate. I have to share him because he made a choice to share himself with this Nation. Even is he had come home, a part of his life was given to the people of this country. He took a big responsibility on when he made that choice. He knew the risks. He also knew the value of that choice. I hope some day more people understand that gift and it's value. A gift given by so many who wear our Nation's uniforms.

The Dark Things

2008-10-19T22:09:00.001-07:00

The darkness is coming again. I feel it like a slow moving fog coming over me. The hurt is more intense, the anger more encompassing, the sadness numbing. I slowly being to feel like I am on the outside of the world looking in. I just want to hide from it but know that it is part of me now and one can not hide from oneself. I try to push it down but it is so strong. I know why it's coming this time at least. That's something. Knowing why helps me fight it.

In a few days my second born will be 19. He is suppose to be the younger brother. But his older brother is and will forever be 19 now. I pray that in time I will get better at this. I have accepted the pain never stops or heals but I need to get better at dealing with it. I can not selfishly slide into these abysses and neglect my family and life. I can not be weak I have too many people to take care of.

Sunsets

2008-10-17T17:57:00.000-07:00

Iraq is the shittiest place on earth but it has beautiful sunsets- Pokey

It's the Little Things

2008-10-13T06:35:00.000-07:00

This poem is floating around the net. It is pretty powerful.

The Path I Have Chosen Must Be Taken Alone (Author Unknown)
You stay up for 16 hours, He stays up for days on end;
You take a warm shower to help you wake up,
He goes days or weeks without running water;
You complain of a "headache", and call in sick, He gets shot at as others are hit, and keeps moving forward;
You put on your anti war/don't support the troops shirt, and go meet up with your friends, He still fights for your right to wear that shirt;
You talk trash about your "buddies" that aren't with you, He knows he may not see some of his buddies again;
You complain about how hot it is, He wears his heavy gear, not daring to take off his helmet to wipe his brow;
You go out to lunch, and complain because the restaurant got your order wrong,He doesn't get to eat today;
Your maid makes your bed and washes your clothes, He wears the same things for weeks, but makes sure his weapons are clean;
You go to the mall and get your hair redone, He doesn't have time to brush his teeth today; You're angry because your class ran 5 minutes over, He's told he will be held over an extra 2 months;
You call your girlfriend and set a date for tonight, He waits for the mail to see if there is a letter from home;
You roll your eyes as a baby cries, He gets a letter with pictures of his new child, and wonders if they'll ever meet;
You criticize your government, and say that war never solves anything, He sees the innocent tortured and killed by their own people and remembers why he is fighting;
You see only what the media wants you to see, He sees the broken bodies lying around him.

It's powerful by itself. One version has pictures add to it that really make you stop. But then you talk to a soldier and they say little things that if you are listening.. truly listening... make you think. I had one of those conversation with one of my son's brothers in arms. Sgt. L and I were chatting on the instant messenger. (I am blessed that I get to talk to several of my son's company regularly.) As always the topic of coming home came up. I asked what he was looking forward to the most expecting the typical my family, a beer or quiet answer. I got "porcelain toilets" and "clean sheets". I laughed a little then it occurred to me that yeah he had jokingly replied that but it was also a fact. I had to stop and look at my life and take in all the things I and others take for granted. Little things like porcelain toilets and clean sheets. We never think about it. But if you've ever been in a port a potty you they are nasty and smelly and no one really wants to use them. But we don't ever stop to appreciate the clean porcelain toilets with running water in our homes. And we change our sheets as often as we like. Knowing we can wash the ones we've just removed or pull another set out of the closet.

What else do we forget to appreciate in life? Do you appreciate your young child interrupting you to show you the drawing he made for you? Or being able to drive to the corner store for a candy bar when ever you want? Or being able to stumble to the kitchen during the commerical break to raid the frig?

Take a minute today and look at your life and see what you have.. the little things we take for granted that those who protect us from the evil of this world do not have.

Oct. 8th 2007

2008-10-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

A year ago today was the last time I hugged my son. I thought it was the last time for 15th months. I didn't know at the time it would be the last time ever. If I had I would have never let go.

We had spent the weekend together as a family. Had bonfires and birthday parties. Grilled out and watched the Packers play. Laughed took hundreds of pictures which I know were not enough.

That morning he was sitting on the counter in my dad's kitchen, lost in thought and feeling like crap from all the shots he had gotten a few days before. We were talking about everything but his deployment when out of no where he stated " I can handle loosing my legs but not my arms" His brother's reaction was "Are you nuts?' "He's and artist and you're a runner. " I pointed out. It was the only time the possibility of him getting hurt was ever really brought up.

That afternoon we left my dad's house and headed back to Ft. Campbell. We stopped and ate at a chinese buffet he loved. Then we went to Wal-mart and picked a few things he was going to need. Razors, socks, some good pens. He was so particular about his pens. Artist are I suppose. We wondered around the store being a little silly and putting off the inevitable good byes.

I didn't have a driver's licenses at the time and could not drive on post so in was in the wal-mart parking lot in Clarksville, TN that I hugged my son for the last time before my husband drove him back to post. I tried to fight the tears but in the end they won and streamed down my face. All I could think was how much I was going to miss him. He told me he would be ok. And I told him it wasn't that. I had faith in him, his team and his training.. it was that I was gonna miss him so very much.

I found out he had been killed 4 months and 16 days later.. Ironically while at wal-mart. His brother called me and told me two men from the Army were at my home.. and I knew.

The Coin

2008-10-03T13:11:00.000-07:00

“How do we spend the coin of our life?

Some choose how they want to spend it, some have the choice made for them.
The bravest people I know have put the coin on the table, willing to cash it for what they believe.

For fate reasons unknown, some have it cashed, while others are able to pick the coin up to be played again.

How do you want to spend the coin of your life?”-Steve in NC

I read this a few days ago and it struck something within me. For months now I’ve asked myself how to play the cards I’ve been dealt. It wasn’t until I read this and put my thoughts into terms of a coin that I realize I had something valuable. Something I could cash in or horde.
My son realized he had a coin to spend. He chose to invest his coin. He invested his coin in the Army. In return he would get training, education and the bonds of friendship that very few know or and even fewer understand. He invested it in his country and himself. It was a high-risk investment. He lost his life making that investment and from the outside looking in people will think he lost on that investment. I don’t.
The investment he made has had a great many other coins come from it. Many people received them and many of them are now holding a coin asking themselves.. How would this man, whose investment gave me this coin, want me to play this coin?
I realized also that in giving me this coin my son has given me another gift. It is the knowledge that we have more choices than spending or hording the coin.. we can also invest it.
So here I sit with this precious coin and I have to figure out how to invest it. How can I best lay this coin on the table of life so that it touches the most lives in the most positive way. And I realize to do that I must share my son and his story with the world.

Welcome to Knottie’s Niche… the story of an Army Mom and her son.