Last week's essay

As I promised, here is the essay that I wrote for my composition class last week.  I wanted to wait until the grade was posted before I put it here.  I got 84/ 100 points.  I didn't know that a title page was required, and the instructor said I didn't explain enough of the concepts that were unfamiliar to readers.  She said I included good descriptions and feelings, but a lot was left open, like "underway" . . . um, if it's an essay about an experience in the Navy, do I really have to explain what underway means?

Oh, well.  I'm still proud of it.  I almost wish it could have been a longer essay.  There was so much more that day.  The channel fever, for one.  My dad and sister were there with as Tigers, and we had to search the pier for my mom and my aunt.  There was another search to find my ex and my boys.  They were tired and cranky, as was my ex, but there aren't enough words to finish explaining how it felt to see them after six months.  Maybe I didn't pick the right topic.  I wanted to write about something that would allow me to introduce myself to the class and the instructor, and something I didn't have to research or think about to hard.  I know this because I felt it.  I lived it. 

All right, that's it.  Enough intro.  Here it is:

Sights, Sounds, and Feelings of Homecoming

Generally speaking, sailors don't like dress whites.  I actually hated them.  The dress whites are hard to iron, uncomfortable, and don't stay clean for more than five minutes.  But there is one occasion that I didn't think about arguing even once.  I was happy to wear my dress whites for my first homecoming. 

Underway, I avoided being outside.  It was depressing to go out and see nothing but open ocean all around.  This day was different.  When we sneaked a look, we could see land.  We weren't quite there yet, but we knew that it was home.  When it was time, I dressed in my whites.  They were clean and pressed.  My neckerchief was rolled and tied.  My dress shoes were shined.  It was an inspection ready uniform,  but I wasn't going to an inspection.  After six long months, this was the best birthday present that a mother could receive. 

The USS Ronald Reagan can reach speeds over 35 miles an hour.  Standing in formation, waiting anxiously to get home, we believed that the ship could not go any slower.  The wait was nearly agonizing as we stood there straining to watch the base come in to view.  There were hundreds of sailors in a line around the flight deck, and each of the upper island decks.  As we stood, waited, and watched, music was played over a sound system. 

Patriotic music could have been played, but someone decided against it.  Instead, songs were played to make us think of what we were headed to.  There were songs to pump up the sailors waiting to get home.  I remember California, Here I Come.  Some of the songs got us excited, and some of them were emotional.  I had never heard Mom, I'm Coming Home before.  When it was played, I listened.  So did those around me.  I had been determined not to cry, but there were the tears in my eyes.  It had been a long six months, but I had made it.  I was proud of myself, and I knew that my mom, who was waiting somewhere on that base, was proud of me, too. 

To this day, I get chills thinking about that feeling.  It swells inside me like the crescendo of an orchestra.  Finally, we were there.  We could see the crowd, hear them screaming.  There were signs, balloons, flags, and so much love I could feel it.  The music had stopped.  The sailors were all still and silent.  I had thought the crowd couldn't get any louder, but I was wrong.  A single shot rand out.  A shot that everyone heard which meant that we were really home.  That shot sent the first line to the pier to moor the ship.  Once it had been secured, the whistle was sounded.  Cheers rang out from the crowd and the sailors on the flight deck. 

It seemed to take hours to tie up the ship, but I know there was much more that had to be done.  Finally, a liberty call was sounded with personnel being allowed to leave the ship in order of rank.  The time waiting became a blur.  I don't remember hearing the call.  I know I carried more than one bag with me, but I don't remember it.  The walk down the stairwell is a long one, and scary when you're not empty handed.  I don't remember it, either.  I barely remember walking through the crowd to find my mom.  It became a blur.  Somehow, she was there.   

And then, so were my children.  I had not seen them in six months.  A fear of every parent who is in the military is coming home to a child that does not recognize them.  I had longed to hold and smell my children for six months while also fearing that at the ages of one and two, they would not know me.  When at last they were in front of me, I felt a joy that no one outside the military can understand.  They were warm and sticky and both of them smelled like heat and baby wipes.  They were fussy from being in the sun without being able to play, eat, or nap.  None of that mattered to me.  My ex-husband was annoyed, but I thought that their whines had never sounded more beautiful. 

The day went on.  There was a celebratory dinner and lots of storytelling.  I was on leave and I relaxed for a few days.  Those days are a blur.  What I remember, and will never forget, are the feelings of anticipation, excitement, pride, and joy.

I have been out of the Navy for two and a half years.  I do miss the pride of being a sailor, but I am now a proud veteran.  With the exception of a few sleepovers, I have been with my children every night for the last two and a half years.  I enjoyed being underway, but that was doing my job.  There was nothing harder than leaving my children to go, and whether it was two days, two weeks, or six months, there has never been anything  better than coming home. 


*********


So, that was it.  Please, let me know what you think. 

For now, I'm out. 

Peace, quiet, and bed! 

Another song that gets to me . . .

If you skip down and see what the song is, you're going to think I'm nuts.  I'm mostly a country music girl.  I like some pop, and a little bit of hip hop.   Very little rock.  Seriously.  So why is this a song that gets to me?  Why am I writing this on Memorial Day?  Of course there's a story . . .

When I left on my first deployment, Z was six months old.  JR was about a year and a half.  It killed me to leave them . . . especially since N and I were divorce-in-progress.  I had no idea what was going to happen to them in that six months.  It wasn't just because I had no control over what they were fed and and how they got to play . . . it was because I couldn't see them, tuck them in, kiss them, spoil them, or fix their hurts . . . for six months.  But I left because it was my job.  I was a sailor.  Sailors are on ships, and ships belong at sea.

For that six months, I could count the pictures that I got on my hands.  I had very few phone calls to my children . . . and not just because they were expensive, but because of the time difference, bedtimes, and because they still didn't really talk.  It was more like lectures and b*tch sessions from N when I had a phone card, tracked the time difference, and stayed up and waited for a phone.

So when it was time to come home, I was ready.  I wanted my babies.  Just like any returning service member, I was worried that they wouldn't recognize me, or that I wouldn't recognize them, but those were minor details.  I knew they were out there.  I was in dress uniform, standing on the outside of the "island" on the USS Ronald Reagan.  Not only were my boys out there, but my mom and my aunt, too.  My dad and my sister weren't waiting for me.  They were on board as my "Tigers".  That's another story.  But as I was out there, and my shipmates lined the flight deck in dress uniform, I felt proud.  I was anxious to get there.  Nervous, scared, and excited - all rolled up into one emotional me.  As we came around and Coronado came into view, "they" began to play music over the 1MC (Or was it the 5MC?  Brandy, correct me because I know it's not the 1MC).  Even if I have the wrong number, it was basically music on loudspeaker for everyone to hear.

They played quite a few songs.  Only two I remember.  "California, Here I come" . . . and "Mama, I'm coming home". . . by Ozzy Osbourne.  It was the first time I had ever heard the song, and it stuck with me.  I was coming home to my mom, and I was a mom coming home to my children.  A few of the lines really stick out, like "Here I come, but I ain't the same"  and "Hurts so bad, it's been so long" . . . then there was "I've seen your face a hundred times, Every day we've been apart, I don't care about the sunshine, yeah, Cuz Mama, Mama, I'm coming home" . . . . So, do you have chills yet?   Think about it again with the music and lyrics somewhat distorted through the sound system.  Remember that your family that you haven't seen in six months is out there, and getting closer.  There's balloons, flags, and they're all cheering.  That's what I think of, and how I feel every time I hear this song. 

Ozzy Osbourne
Mama, I'm coming home

Times have changed and times are strange   
Here I come, but I ain't the same   
Mama, I'm coming home   
Times gone by seem to be   
You could have been a better friend to me  
 Mama, I'm coming home     

You took me in and you drove me out  
 Yeah, you had me hypnotized  
 Lost and found and turned around  
 By the fire in your eyes    

 You made me cry, you told me lies   
But I can't stand to say goodbye   
Mama, I'm coming home  

 I could be right, I could be wrong  
 Hurts so bad, it's been so long  Mama, I'm coming home    
 Selfish love yeah we're both alone  
 The ride before the fall   
But I'm gonna take this heart of stone   
I just got to have it all  

I've seen your face a hundred times  
 Everyday we've been apart  
 I don't care about the sunshine, yeah   
'Cause Mama, Mama, I'm coming home  
 I'm coming home    

 (solo)    

 You took me in and you drove me out   
Yeah, you had me hypnotized  
 Lost and found and turned around   
By the fire in your eyes    

 I've seen your face a hundred times   
Everyday we've been apart  
 I don't care about the sunshine, yeah  
 'Cause Mama, Mama, I'm coming home  
 I'm coming home  
 I'm coming home  
 I'm coming home 


As the notes end, it all stays quiet for a minute.  We're so close that you can see people, instead of just a crowd.  You start looking for your people. . . and then you hear a shot.  No, no.  It's the shot line being sent from the ship to the pier.  And the crowd goes wild, because at last, it's official.  We're home.  The whistle blows, and we are in port.  Wipe the tears away.  It's a good day.  Wave your flags, grab your bags, and hurry up and wait to get off of here. 

How about one last detail?  For our country's newest Aircraft Carrier's Maiden Deployment, we could have pulled in on the Fourth of July.  What a celebration, right?  But we didn't.  We waited two whole days to come in on July 6th.  Why?  It's Nancy Reagan's birthday.  She referred to us as "her ship" and "her crew".  I would have liked to be home two days earlier, but getting off the ship and getting my boys back was the best birthday present that I've ever had! 

Well. . . I can't believe I stayed up this late writing.  And I didn't even say anything about what we did this weekend - and it was such a great one!  I guess those are posts for tomorrow.  


It's time for peace and bed. 

Memorial Day 2010

I'll blog about the day, and how great it was tomorrow . . . but for now, I'm thinking of something else.

Heather blogged today about her love of America and her dislike of "our song".  She thinks it's time to ditch the old Lee Greenwood "God Bless the USA" and get something new. 

I, on the other hand, love this song.  Come on . . . how could you not get chills?  Maybe over and over again, it can be a little much.  And perhaps it does something more for me because I was in the military.  I don't forget those who died.  And I would gladly stand up next to you (or for you, and you can sit down) and I would defend this country.  Over and over again.  I tried to get the full lyrics, but for some reason, none of the lyrics sites will let me highlight or copy.  Well, anyway.  You get the idea:    

And I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free.
And I wont forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.
And I gladly stand up,
next to you and defend her still today.
‘Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land,
God bless the USA.

Perhaps it is time for something new.  There is another patriotic song that I love.  Well, there are lots.  But one in particular that I've been hearing now and again lately. . .  It's "Some gave all"  Perhaps America isn't quite ready to embrace another country song by Billy Ray Cyrus.  I will say another singer could do it better. . . but it does have a message that hit me with chills the first time.  It's similar to that "all for one and one for all" three musketeers thing.  Anyway . . .      


Love your country and live with pride
And don't forget those who died. America can't you see. . .

All gave some and some gave all
And some stood true for the red, white and blue
And some had to fall
So if you ever think of me
Think of all your liberties and recall
Some gave all

There are so many more good ones, really.  I could get chills from most of them, in the right mood.  Even the National Anthem gets me.  I do get chills, especially after being on the Honor Guard on the ship.  Taps chokes me up, too.  On bugle or trumpet, it will get to me every time.  Once you've been a part of a burial at sea, or been in dress uniform and held a flag for the anthem, you'll never think of them quite the same way.

Okay, I'm about done reminiscing.  What's your favorite patriotic song?  Is there a memory with it?  Let me know.  Seriously, leave a comment and tell me. . . .  


And, in closing . . . Happy Memorial Day . . . to all Veterans, Active Duty, and to family members who have lost loved ones in service to our country.  None of you are forgotten.