Many of you have heard of all the drama that I recently went through trying to find a simple pack of old-fashioned marbles for a Science project that my daughter Bree had to do. The project was to create a roller coaster with a loop and a hill and then make sure that the marble traveled through the entire coaster, loop, hill and all. After getting the materials I searched high and low, from store to store looking for the marbles that I used to play with when I was a little girl. Family Dollar – nope, Dollar Tree – nope, Walmart – nope, another Family Dollar, another Dollar Tree, CVS and Walgreen – I came up with a nope on all accounts. A simple pack of marbles. Everyone wanted to tell me that the “craft marbles” would serve the purpose, and yes, maybe they would but that’s not what I wanted. I wanted the colored marbles that came with a chunky and a cat eye. Had I become so obsessed with finding these marbles – maybe, but the revelation received will far surpass the obsession. I continued my search and ended up finding a pack at a store in the “hood” – thank God for the hood – that’s where you have to keep it real! Please don’t mistake the hood for the ghetto; there is a difference. The hood is where you don’t rush to remove life for “something better.” It’s where you go when you want to remember from where we came. The hood is where our people were able to be themselves. It’s where we can sit on the porch sipping sweet tea or something stronger, play spades, listen to “real” music and wave when friends or strangers passed by.
This experience of not being able to find the marbles that I used to play with taught me a valuable lesson; it taught me that we have become so far removed from things that were simple. We've been so busy "moving on up" like George Jefferson that we've forgotten to take with us the simple things in life. Gone are the days of playing marbles, jacks, hop scotch and jump rope. These were inexpensive games that required concentration; games that became the backbone of many life lessons learned. Marbles were like shoes, every child had their own. When you came with a challenge you’d better be ready to lose your stash. I remember I had a plastic tub full of marbles and for me to lose meant either you had to be good or I was having a bad day. The game taught you how to focus on your mark and it also taught you how to have a steady hand; hmmm what a wonderful, simple way for the makings of a good surgeon yet it was also an example of life because it taught you that there is a risk because your opponent is there to take everything. As for jacks – jacks taught us concentration, hand-eye coordination and how to count. It was a basic game of throwing a small ball in the air and picking up jacks from one to whatever number you were on and then catching the ball after one bounce. Later you added in creativity – throw the ball in the air, pick up the jacks, tap, and then catch the ball after one bounce. Gosh I was good at that game too. The value of jacks is to teach us that you have to keep your eye on the ball and that even though you sometimes find yourself juggling it doesn’t mean that your dreams can’t be caught. Hop scotch. I sometimes still see the markings of this game from time to time; it’s good to know that kids are still enjoying it and that it’s still around. The greatest lesson taught in this game was to focus on throwing the rock or object into a square, jump to it and pick it up all while balancing on one leg – this game taught children how to balance and how to stay within the square. Maybe if we spent more time playing this game we would be able to teach them the concepts needed to balance the many things they would go through in life. And finally there’s jump rope – really there’s no need to explain the value of jump rope; what child doesn’t need the exercise that comes with increasing your heart rate. Jump rope also brought out our creative side through twist jumping and double dutch. In jump rope we learn how to jump through the hoops thrown at us in this fast paced life that we’ve created for ourselves.
Simple games…valuable lessons…What I learned this week was that all of these games held great lessons that I believe contributed to what have helped elevate the intelligence of my generation. It was also this eye-opener that made me realize how important it is to take a step back into time and show my children what simple fun is like. This may be just what Shay needs to teach her how to focus in school and it may be what Bree needs to help her understand that the simple things in life are sometimes the most enjoyable. What I learned by searching from store to store is a lesson that we all need to learn; the lesson of spending time with each other. Wii is fun, but WE is better. It is WE that brings out the bond in a family; that’s my lesson. TGBTG
~Stay Prayed Up!! CLICK ON THE LINK
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
A SOLDIER'S STORY
13 dead 30 wounded. He was a psychiatrist but his mind was troubled. He was a Major but he was unable to lead. Many would have you believe that his religion was the reason, maybe, but maybe not. It takes a lot to be a soldier; it takes almost as much to be a soldier’s wife. No one knows the life we both have lived unless you've been there, done that. Do I regret it? – No. If given the chance would I go back tomorrow? – No.
“Boo, my unit is being deployed to Kuwait in 2 weeks.” I’d seen it happen to others but when I heard it in my own house then it became real. I heard a scream but I thought it was in my head until my neighbors ran through the door – I was crying, hyperventilating and pleading with God. We were in Germany and I’d just lost my mother 10 months earlier ~ life seemed so unfair. I found myself in the same daze that I was in when I came home to bury my mother; things were cloudy. I felt like I was losing my mind. I was forced to stay or risk losing housing if I came home. Stressed, depressed. That was my story…
He came over for dinner; a friend we’d met at Fort Bragg, N.C. In the Army you’re family and we look after our own. We met because we all lived in the same apartment complex and like family we found each other when we got overseas. They lived about two hours away but when you’re overseas that’s like being as close as Atlanta to College Park – we would pack a bag and spend the weekend; they would do the same. When they found out he was being deployed they had to send their 3 kids home to Alabama because she worked nights. Daily she cried for two reasons; her husband was going to war and she had to send her children home. They flew alone – they paid the cost – the military will only pay if you have orders. That was Malone’s story…
It played out like a scene from Army Wives. She was the wife of a Navy Seal with a young son about 5. She seemed a little ditzy to me; not the normal type of friend I would be drawn to. I often wondered why her husband could go to work in civvies and why he had a beard; my husband later explained. I can’t remember how we became close but I do remember sitting in her kitchen most mornings helping her search the newspaper. It became a habit; the least little article may have held a clue of his assignment. I realized that the ditzy was really her early afternoon bottles of wine; red eyes not from the wine but from crying every time her son asked why didn’t daddy say goodbye or tell him that he wasn’t coming home. He never told her goodbye. She would sit by the door waiting, sometimes he came, most times he didn't. Like Pam from Army Wives she left too. That was Karyn’s story…
It was her first child. A soldier married to a soldier. He was our homeboy and I was supposedly the only person that he ever saw his wife comfortable around; I made her laugh. She was pregnant when we met; they were having a little girl. Later he found out that he was being deployed even though he was soon to be a father, they prayed that he wouldn’t be sent before his child was born; he wasn’t, his orders said that he would leave 5 days after she was born. She was a new mom, prepared to watch her daughter crawl without her husband; 3 weeks after giving birth her orders said that she would leave after her 6 week check-up; they gave her 3 days to take her newborn to her mom. That was Lawson’s story…
He’d only been home a month. As they strolled through the PX a male soldier spoke, she spoke back thinking nothing of it. On the ride home he questioned her about the guy; she wasn’t sure what he was talking about. By the time they arrived home the conversation had turned into an argument, the argument turned into a fight. With hands clasped around her neck he forced her to the balcony threatening to throw her over onto the ground 15 feet below. PTSD was not an option back then; he was sentenced to 10 years. That was Eduardo's story…
Why am I saying this, well it’s by no means justification for the actions of the Major at Fort Hood nor am I making an excuse for him. When I think about him I don’t see the Muslim terrorist that he’s being labeled; I see a stressed individual that took the coward’s way out to prevent being deployed. I can’t tell you what he must have been thinking, but I can tell you what might have been going through his head the day before. Stress, Depression, Fear… Yes, life in the Army can deal you a hand that some days you can handle and some days you can’t. It can send you off to war in your right mind but bring you back depressed. It can send you off an innocent person but bring you back with blood on your hands. It can send you off trusting of others but bring you back looking over your shoulder. It can send you off with laughter in your heart but bring you back with tears in your eyes. In our minds once a soldier, always a soldier…to us the real meaning of the U.S. Army is (Uncle Same Ain’t Released Me Yet) ~Fort Hood, TX 2001-2003(Retired) TGBTG
I am a Soldier. Serving Proudly, Standing Tall.
I fight for freedom, by answering this call.
I do my job knowing the thanks it sometimes lacks.
Say a prayer that I'll come home.
It's me who has your back.
Author Unknown
~Stay Prayed Up!! Click on the Link
“Boo, my unit is being deployed to Kuwait in 2 weeks.” I’d seen it happen to others but when I heard it in my own house then it became real. I heard a scream but I thought it was in my head until my neighbors ran through the door – I was crying, hyperventilating and pleading with God. We were in Germany and I’d just lost my mother 10 months earlier ~ life seemed so unfair. I found myself in the same daze that I was in when I came home to bury my mother; things were cloudy. I felt like I was losing my mind. I was forced to stay or risk losing housing if I came home. Stressed, depressed. That was my story…
He came over for dinner; a friend we’d met at Fort Bragg, N.C. In the Army you’re family and we look after our own. We met because we all lived in the same apartment complex and like family we found each other when we got overseas. They lived about two hours away but when you’re overseas that’s like being as close as Atlanta to College Park – we would pack a bag and spend the weekend; they would do the same. When they found out he was being deployed they had to send their 3 kids home to Alabama because she worked nights. Daily she cried for two reasons; her husband was going to war and she had to send her children home. They flew alone – they paid the cost – the military will only pay if you have orders. That was Malone’s story…
It played out like a scene from Army Wives. She was the wife of a Navy Seal with a young son about 5. She seemed a little ditzy to me; not the normal type of friend I would be drawn to. I often wondered why her husband could go to work in civvies and why he had a beard; my husband later explained. I can’t remember how we became close but I do remember sitting in her kitchen most mornings helping her search the newspaper. It became a habit; the least little article may have held a clue of his assignment. I realized that the ditzy was really her early afternoon bottles of wine; red eyes not from the wine but from crying every time her son asked why didn’t daddy say goodbye or tell him that he wasn’t coming home. He never told her goodbye. She would sit by the door waiting, sometimes he came, most times he didn't. Like Pam from Army Wives she left too. That was Karyn’s story…
It was her first child. A soldier married to a soldier. He was our homeboy and I was supposedly the only person that he ever saw his wife comfortable around; I made her laugh. She was pregnant when we met; they were having a little girl. Later he found out that he was being deployed even though he was soon to be a father, they prayed that he wouldn’t be sent before his child was born; he wasn’t, his orders said that he would leave 5 days after she was born. She was a new mom, prepared to watch her daughter crawl without her husband; 3 weeks after giving birth her orders said that she would leave after her 6 week check-up; they gave her 3 days to take her newborn to her mom. That was Lawson’s story…
He’d only been home a month. As they strolled through the PX a male soldier spoke, she spoke back thinking nothing of it. On the ride home he questioned her about the guy; she wasn’t sure what he was talking about. By the time they arrived home the conversation had turned into an argument, the argument turned into a fight. With hands clasped around her neck he forced her to the balcony threatening to throw her over onto the ground 15 feet below. PTSD was not an option back then; he was sentenced to 10 years. That was Eduardo's story…
Why am I saying this, well it’s by no means justification for the actions of the Major at Fort Hood nor am I making an excuse for him. When I think about him I don’t see the Muslim terrorist that he’s being labeled; I see a stressed individual that took the coward’s way out to prevent being deployed. I can’t tell you what he must have been thinking, but I can tell you what might have been going through his head the day before. Stress, Depression, Fear… Yes, life in the Army can deal you a hand that some days you can handle and some days you can’t. It can send you off to war in your right mind but bring you back depressed. It can send you off an innocent person but bring you back with blood on your hands. It can send you off trusting of others but bring you back looking over your shoulder. It can send you off with laughter in your heart but bring you back with tears in your eyes. In our minds once a soldier, always a soldier…to us the real meaning of the U.S. Army is (Uncle Same Ain’t Released Me Yet) ~Fort Hood, TX 2001-2003(Retired) TGBTG
I am a Soldier. Serving Proudly, Standing Tall.
I fight for freedom, by answering this call.
I do my job knowing the thanks it sometimes lacks.
Say a prayer that I'll come home.
It's me who has your back.
Author Unknown
~Stay Prayed Up!! Click on the Link
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