Food

[NO PHOTOS ALLOWED IN THE DFAC. . .IT LOOKS LIKE A CAFETERIA]

The food in the Kuwait DFACs (Dining Facilities) really is better than Oklahoma. A lot better. The two DFACs serve the same food, but the one close to us has plastic throwaway plates and silverware. The one farther away has washable plates and real silverware. It even has a fountain between the chow lines.

But before I get to the food, the luxury DFAC also has the Sweat Nazi (SW). The SW is a really old school sergeant who believes this DFAC is her DFAC and acts like it. She is tall, never smiles that I ave seen and is constantly checking food on the serving lines and eying the soldiers in line. If you come in her dining facility with sweat on obvious on your clothes, you are ejected. Now this might seem to be a reasonable rule, but it gets very hot here.

Back to the food. In both DFACs you wash your hands upon entry. There are a half-dozen sinks inside the door along with reminders about cleanliness, about not putting headgear on the table and that weapons must lie flat on the floor. We sign in by scanning our ID cards, then choose the short order or main lines. At breakfast, the short order means scrambled eggs along with bacon, sausage, creamed beef, potatoes, and either pancakes or French toast. Main line adds omlettes and eggs to order to all of the above.

That's the hot food choices.

The next line is two-sided and is about 150 feet of fresh and dried fruit, coffee, juices, cereal, milk and other things like yogurt and cottage cheese.

For lunch and dinner, short order is burgers, chicken, grilled cheese and cheesesteak from a grill, plus fried chicken, pizza, fries and onion rings. Main line could be pork, turkey or beef roast, fish, pasta, ravioli, cooked vegetables, potatoes of various kinds and other hot choices. The second line is a 50 item salad bar, a cold meat sandwich line, plus all the drinks above. Tables seat 20 and are wooden.

The whole place is nearly cold with air conditioning. None of us will starve. And with all that, KFC, Subway, Nathan's, the pizza place and all the other fast food places seem to do a brisk business.

No one will starve here.

Happier in Kuwait than Oklahoma?

It's true. More soldiers today told me how much happier they are now that they are in Kuwait than they were in Fort Sill.

Not me.

I am sitting outside in 90-degree weather on a metal bench trying to get a decent internet signal. We have no internet in the barracks which, as I noted before are 78-man tents. The food is much better, I will grant that. But we are confined to a few square miles of hot sand and bad weather is forecast for tomorrow and Friday--that means sandstorms. We hear the sandstorms are so bad you can barely see to walk the 50 meters to the portajohns, let alone the 1/4 mile to the indoor plumbing or the chow halls.

But today I got a reasonable explanation from one of the fuelers in our unit. He said he has known about this trip for a year and a half and for him, he is glad to be one step closer to our final destination. He also said that in Kuwait he does not have to fight against temptation the way he did in Oklahoma. Back there normal life was just outside the gate. Beer was sold 1/4 mile away in the Post Exchange. In minutes you could be in a bar or at least drinking. Here in Kuwait the whole place is under General Order #1 so nobody drinks and if you go off post here, there is not going to be a bar right outside the gate.

Closer to the goal, further from temptation--that makes sense.

Complaining Against God

Tomorrow Remedial PT begins again as does regular PT. The basic drill is the remedial group has PT at 6am Monday - Friday, except 520am on Wednesday. The others have PT Monday-Wednesday-Friday. I caught myself complaining about remedial PT, not that I have to do it, but that I am in charge of it. Again, it is not the exercise, but it is a piece of human nature that I don't like.

So when that happens I am complaining against God. The piece of human nature I am complaining against is the universal tendency of people who know a subject but don't do it to be experts in it in their own mind.

So as soon as members of the remedial group knew they actually had to do a certain exercise, they immediately have their own grand ideas about what they should be doing for an exercise program. It makes no difference that they consistently have failed to meet the standard of fitness the Army expects--they know better.

Their view of the world extends to every part of life. Who is more strident than a fat, inert couch-potato fan about what the players on the field should be doing. Players know those decisions are complex and they are much less likely to condemn other players.

No one knows more about faith than people who talk about it, but do not actually suffer, sacrifice, care for orphans, and the other things that every faith holds in common as virtuous.

Is there anyone on earth who knows more than a political talk show host about how to run the government? It is interesting to watch the commentators who actually held office versus the ones who never held office. The former office holders may howl about their favorite topic, but they also know the limits of politics--they are former office holders and generally lost an election before becoming a talking head.

Since the tendency is universal, I am guilty of it myself whenever my knowledge exceeds my practice in any given field. Most every human tendency has a good and bad side. I would like to know the good side of this one.

In the meantime I will be hearing soldiers grumble that PT is to hard, too early, too much aerobic, not enough, etc. On the bright side, they do not have pulpits and radio shows to make their ignorance influential.

New Bike for Kuwait

This morning I bought a bicycle at the PX. It's a no-name mountain bike that is too small for me. It has front and rear suspension. I can't take it with me when we leave Kuwait. So why would I buy this bike? It's $99. I am going to give it away when I leave. I have paid up to $40 to rent a good road bike for one day in San Francisco, so $99 for two or three weeks seemed like a bargain. And if I give it to a local guy when I leave, there will be one more person who likes Americans--even if he thinks we are crazy.

There are only about four miles of paved roads and the whole base is flat, so it won't be a very varied workout. But it will allow me some solitude and something to do while we wait to find out what we are doing next.

Thursday we are supposed to get sand storms. Sandstorms mean we all stay inside the tent. that should be interesting!

Sandbox: Good and Bad

Saturday disappeared for us on a flight lasted from early evening Friday till midnight Saturday. Then unloading and loading baggage and travel to our new home stretched until 10 the next morning. At that point we got the very good advice to stay up until eight pm and get our bodies into local time.

By 2pm everybody was asleep (including everyone who gave that sage advice) in our new accommodations--a 78-man tent with no empty bunks. A couple of us went to the gym at 4pm. It's a 24-hour gym which is great. The food here is also amazing. Omelettes to order for breakfast, short order and regular food for lunch and dinner, midnight chow for late workers.

The internet is spotty, but not as bad as everyone said it would be. And there's lots of sand here.

William Tell without the Apple

One night I was in the dayroom playing pool when two young soldiers (under 21) decided to start showing off for two young women they are interested in. They were playing darts and throwing the darts way too fast and not very accurately. I was not paying much attention, but I saw one of the two throwing darts and noticed the other member of this demeted duo had his head against the lower half of the dart board with the top of his head touching the bullseye. I saw another dart hit the board above William-Tell-target-wannabe's head and said, "Stop that shit right now. There is now way you two are going to stick darts in each other while I am in the room." The target idiot moved away from the board and started complaining. Target said, "He got to throw darts at me. It's my turn now. How come the white guy gets to throw darts at me and I don't get my turn. It's prejudice." I told him to file an Equal Opportunity complaint. . .and put down the darts.

If You are Reading This, I am Overseas

We left Friday afternoon. By the time you read this, I should be 6,000 miles east of home.

Business Class Upgrade!!!!

Yesterday we left on the long flight to Kuwait. As with so many other parts of this journey, it was a long day of cleaning barracks and getting ready before we finally lined up to board the buses for the airport. When we boarded the buses I got one of the best surprises I have had in years.

We had known for several days that when we flew it would be on a commercial 747. This immense plane can seat more than 400 people with 80 or so business class seats, and sometimes a dozen first class seats. We heard the seating would be by rank, which meant I would be in the main cabin with 3-4-3 ten across seating. But as we lined up to go, our commander called five of us to the front of the line. He was going to give the top scorers on the PT test business class seats.

One of them was me. I took it. Three others turned the seats down, wanting to sit with their friends. I thought about sitting in back for about a millisecond, but I decided at 55 years old I will take whatever ribbing I get for sitting up front. The other guy who took the seat is older also. We sat together and decided our old selves would enjoy the ride up front.

Rattlesnake Rodeo

Yesterday, our last full day here in Oklahoma, we went to the town of Apache to be guests at the opening day of the annual Rattlesnake Rodeo--a carnival with rides and junk food like any other carnival, but the central attraction is the rattlesnakes.

First we go into a building with a ten by twenty foot by four foot high wooden enclosure. Inside the enclosure are two retired men in boots and coveralls carrying hooks. Also in the enclosure are 50 or so rattlesnakes piled and slithering against the walls and occasionally striking at the men when poked. The more talkative of the men tells us about the snakes, their venom, their rattles with a show-and-tell format that involves holding the angry animals behind their heads and showing them around to the spectators.

At the end of the presentation, the silent handler puts a half-dozen snakes in a box and sends them to the building next door--the snake butcher shop. So we all troop next door and watch as the handlers at that show select a snake, show its markings, then cut off its head with an ax.

The guy with the microphone headset then shows us how the head keeps biting while a woman in an apron hangs the rest of the snake above a sink. While he explains she guts and skins the snake and gets the $15 per pound meat ready to sell.

If I can hook up to one of the cameras in a few days, and if we get internet access, I'll try to post some pictures. In the meantime, you can watch a video on the blog site of one of the other soldiers in my unit.

Army Easter Bunny

Last month we got cases of Pop Tarts from somewhere. I heard it was test marketing. So last Monday, I could send my wife home with Triple Chocolate Pop Tarts and MREs left over from field training for Nigel. He was very happy with his high-calorie pile of treasures.

Saying Goodbye to Other Units

On Good Friday we were released to go on our four-day pass at 1400 hours. The other five companies that make up our battalion slept late in anticipation of a long day of travel.

Echo company was up and out in front of the barracks at 0520. During the 10 weeks we were training for deployment Echo did more soldier-skills training than any other company in the battalion. This is partly because we are the company most likely to do security and go outside the wire on the ground and partly because our commander wants us all to be up to Army standards on physical training and soldier skills.

We were the only company that got up before 5am for PT three days each week and the only one that had remedial PT three more days each week. We were the only company on the rappel tower, the confidence course and some of the other training I have written about over the last five weeks. In fact, complaints from the other companies led to us holding formation for morning PT 1000 feet behind the building instead of out front. They were complaining about the noise we made as a exercised.

But on Good Friday we formed up out front and yelled "Echo" at the top of our 100 voices as we formed up. The leader for the warmup calisthenics is a former singer in a Metal band. He growled out the cadence as we stretched and exercise.

Usually we run out toward the ranges. On this morning we ran behind the barracks, looped around the motor pool then ended with a complete half-mile circle around the barracks area. We sang cadence the entire time we were near the barracks.

Because of us, no one had to miss breakfast.

Then and Now: Barracks Rats

BARRACKS RATS IN NATIVE ENVIRONMENT


I am going to miss Fort Sill, Oklahoma. For those who are thinking, "You lived there 2-1/2 months, of course. . ." you should know that I am quite alone in my affection for our current duty station. In fact, at a meeting last night, several soldiers were delighted to hear about the kinds of video entertainment that is free at our next duty station. But eventually, they won't like the next duty station or the one after that.

They are barracks rats, a special sort of rodent who sits in his or her room and complains about Fort Wherever mostly because thy don't leave the room. I know I am a special case because I brought and borrowed bikes and rode almost 1,300 miles since our arrival. But other soldiers have walked, taken buses and seen many sights and enjoyed the mostly warm (and windy) weather since we arrived.

I am not sure, but the barracks rats may be worse now than before. In the 70s, there was only dayroom television and radios for entertainment, plus the completely outmoded books and conversation. With video games and personal computers, there are many more options for the sedentary soldier.

Post-Pass Blues

The barracks are as morose now as they were giddy on Friday. Last Friday everyone was getting ready to go home, have some of home come here, or at the very least, spend four days in quiet. Now we are cleaning, packing, and starting arguments over small things. We will be gone soon and home is very far away and everyone is acting like it.

I Watched a Zombie Movie--You Can Too

Some of you know my wife, Annalisa Crannell, is a professor at Franklin & Marshall College and the Don (Faculty Advisor) of Bonchek residential house. As part of her duties of bringing academic life into the residential halls, she hosts math and art seminars, the Evolution Table, and helps to organize the annual Humans Versus Zombies event at F&M each year. Humans vs. Zombies is a tag game on a grand scale in which Human players try to avoid being tagged by Zombies and becoming the living dead themselves. My wife is one of the profs who is actually in the game and could become a Zombie because many of the students who start as Humans will want to tag their House Don when they become Zombies. Here is a video by some of Annalisa's students on how NOT to become a Zombie.
It's almost 4 minutes long. I watched the whole thing!

Mrs. Hollywood in the Sunday News

Annalisa was the subject of an article in the Sunday News on Easter about a Sunday School class she will be teaching next Sunday through May 31. The Sunday News links expire quickly, so here's the text:


It all adds up to the 'God of Mathematics'
First female adult Sunday school teacher at Wheatland Presbyterian explores infinity ... and beyond


By Helen Colwell Adams, Staff Writer
How is Christian faith like mathematics?

The possibilities, as Dr. Annalisa Crannell sketches them, are nearly infinite.

Infinity itself, for instance.

"Mathematicians and Christians look at very similar kinds of things," Crannell, a professor of mathematics at Franklin & Marshall College, said. "We ask very similar kinds of questions. What does infinity mean? How do you resolve a paradox — how can God be three in one?"

Crannell will be opening that world of possibilities for an innovative Sunday school series at her church, Wheatland Presbyterian, April 19 through May 31. The series, "The God of Mathematics," is innovative for another reason.

Crannell will be the first woman to teach an adult Sunday school class at the Lancaster Township church, part of the conservative Presbyterian Church in America denomination.

"Having Annalisa and her husband, Neil Gussman … and their family here at Wheatland is a great blessing to us, and we are excited that she can use her considerable gifts in this way," Wheatland's pastor, Bruce Mawhinney, said. "She is an amazing believer and follower of Jesus Christ who not only talks the talk but walks the walk."

"I have a lot of support," Crannell said. "I have the feeling there are a lot of people who were trying to figure out how to make this happen and still be true to their values."
The logic of faith
Part of Crannell's understanding of God comes from metaphors of mathematics. John 1:1, for instance, says, "In the beginning was the Word."

"For math, everything flows logically from axioms," Crannell explained. Logic comes from the Greek logos, the "Word" of John 1:1.

"Because I know math and because I like axioms, I have a good picture in my head of how God can speak the world into existence."

Mathematicians believe in the extranatural, as Christians do.

"I believe in 2. There is no 2 in the world," Crannell said. Numbers aren't tangible or material; they are concepts.

"... In that way, math is not of this world. It helps me to understand something that's bigger than a material universe."

But when mathematicians change the axioms, "you change the universe," she explained. "… You change the kinds of things that happen in the world.

"When God spoke the universe into being, the way he spoke it formed us."

She'll be unfolding those ideas in the Sunday school series, which is open to the public. Topics include "Math and Metaphor," "Sizes of infinity," "Mobius strips and the Triune God" and "Symmetry, pattern and repetition."

Too much information? Crannell doesn't think so. "I'm used to dialogue with people who are math-averse," she said. "… How much math do you need to know? If you like puzzles, if you like doing things like Sudoku, then that's enough math."
The logic of submitting
It might seem counterintuitive for a respected female academic to belong to a church that holds, among other doctrines, that only men may serve as teaching and ruling elders or deacons.

For Crannell, it's a matter of biblical mutual submission.

"There are ways in which it's very countercultural to be a Christian at all," she said. "It's a faith that does ask you to submit … to something bigger than yourself all the time."

At Wheatland, an eclectic congregation "that really loves Christ," she said, "we're all submitting ourselves in various ways."

Plus, Crannell noted, "The church is the most segregated institution in the United States. One of the obligations we have as Christians is to try to fight that by placing ourselves with people" who think differently.

"It is very hard to do it. We need to look at people who have differences of opinion not as enemies we should shun but as people we should engage."

Crannell said the church has been enthusiastic about her series, planned after the governing Session voted to allow women to lead adult classes that do not involve teaching the Bible.

"Ordinarily our adult classes are taught by an ordained officer of the church — pastor, elders and deacons — but having a member like Annalisa teach this class is not really a new step for us at Wheatland," Mawhinney said.

"We have been planning on her doing this and trying to find a good place in our schedule for some time now. We try to use our members in areas of their expertise in our Sunday school ministry."

Crannell's membership at Wheatland is part of her faith journey.

"I came to faith very late in life, nine years ago," she said. She began attending church with Gussman, a convert to Christianity, to understand him better and found herself drawn to faith partly by math connections.

"Even atheists will talk of mathematics as something beautiful," she said. "It's something pure and holy."

For her, it's another way Christian faith is like mathematics.

"The God of Mathematics" will be offered at Wheatland, 1125 Columbia Ave., from 9:30-10:30 a.m. April 19 through May 31. For information, phone the church, 392-5909, or e-mail info@wheatlandpca.org.

More Mount Scott

On Friday I finally rode up Mount Scott which I reported four days ago. The view above is what I saw every morning as I walked to formation for 2-1/2 months. I could see it, but being restricted to Post, I could not ride it. So on Saturday while my wife took a nap, I went up Mount Scott again. On Saturday the winds were better and the temp was above 70 instead of the low 50s on Friday, so I went up in 27:10, almost three minutes faster than Friday. On Saturday and Sunday Annalisa and I ran on the flat roads near our hotel in Lawton. Today she agreed to do a "Ride and Tie" Relay with me. So we drove to Mount Scott, I got out of the car at the base of the mountain and ran up. She drove to the top, parked and ran down with the keys in her hand. Eighteen minutes later she handed off the keys as we ran past each other. I got to the top in 32 minutes, 5 seconds.

I love running uphill but I would have been a cripple if I ran down. Annalisa shows no ill effects from running down--even three miles down. She does not keep track of run times, so I don't know how fast she went, but it was a lot faster than I went because she had walked 1/4 mile back up the hill by the time I drove the car back down to pick her up.

Annalisa arrived at midnight Friday and goes home early tomorrow morning. My roommates would be worried we would be bored to death, because we have not watched TV or a movie or listened to the radio in the car since her arrival. She also finished reading Barack Obama's "The Audacity of Hope" to me as we drove in the car. I will be surrounded by noise tomorrow, but I have had more than 72 hours of peace and quiet. Ahhhh!!!

Then and Now: Kids and the Army

ERIC, RYAN and NIGEL underneath a C-130 on display at Fort Indiantown Gap.

One of my best memories of serving in Germany during the late 1970s was training on the countryside and meeting little kids. The kids, usually boys between 7 and 10 years old, but some girls also, would ride their bikes up from the villages where they lived to see our tanks. It always seemed to be up. We looked for high ground so we could set up observation posts. Our tanks would be below the crest of the hill and we would send an observer up to watch the approaches.

Soon after we had our tanks positioned on the hill, sometimes just minutes after, we would see two or three kids laboring up dirt paths pushing or riding their bikes toward our position. I could only imagine what it would have been like if a platoon (five) tanks parked on a hill near my house when I was a kid.

We were in the field the day after we arrived so the first time we had kids come up to our tank was just three days after our unit got to Germany in 1976. My tank happened to be lowest on the hill so the tallest boy walked up and waved. The three smaller boys with him followed close behind. My driver and I offered the kids C-ration chocolate bars. These round candy bars were made by Wilbur Chocolate in Lititz. It was years after I got out before I would eat their chocolate because those bars were so bad. They had to last at least three years which must have been a challenge, but they tasted like wax.

The German kids thought they were wonderful. "Soldaten chocolad!" they said to each other. We pulled them up on the fender of the tank and let the kids get inside and talk to each other on our helmet intercom. I let the big kid is the Commander's Override and traverse the turret. They spoke English well enough to ask if we wanted them to go to the store and buy food. I gave the oldest one (I think he was 9) a 10 Mark bill and they sped down the hill to the store.

As they left, the crew of the next tank over found out from my driver that I had given the kids money and they started laughing. "Nice going Gussman. You'll never see those kids again." I wasn't worried. The guys on the other crews got out their C-rations and started complaining about the getting stuck with canned ham and eggs or the grease that congealed on the Spam. Between bites they would yell, "Better eat your C's. Those kids are gone.

Almost an our later the kids returned. They had fresh bread, cheese, sausage, even butter, and two pfennigs change. We thanked them for doing such a good job shopping and gave them two boxes of C-rations and a handful of chocolate bars. They were thrilled. They happily sat on the fenders eating chocolate. They were saving the C-rations and it was almost dinner time.

I put our camp stove on the back deck of the tank so the other crew could see us while I cooked the sausage. My crew and I ate fresh German food sitting on the fender and the turret facing uphill to be sure the other crews could watch.

We held that position for two days. When the kids came back the next day, the other crew members ran down to see if the group of boys would like some more chocolate or to sit in their tanks. For the rest of the time we were in German on the countryside, the little kids on bikes gave us fresh food in return the green cans we were always ready to get rid of.

Last summer my sister brought her grandsons down to Pennsylvania. They spent a day with my son and I looking at tanks and trucks and artillery on Fort Indiantown Gap. I could not actually let them turn a tank turret or talk on an intercom since I am not in tanks anymore, but it was fun to show two little boys all that Army equipment. My son Nigel had been on these vehicles before, so he got to show Ryan and Eric where to put there hands when they climb up on a tank and be their Big Brother for a day.

Perceptions of Risk

I am in the middle of writing an article about perceptions of risk in medicine. Looking at how people perceive risk in medicine reminded me of my step father. My Dad died in 1982 and my Mom remarried 7 years later to a nice guy named Peter Sherlock who is a World War II veteran and a career Air Force sergeant. They were married until my Mom died in 2003. I have kept in touch with Peter since my Mom's passing. We talk every month or so.

Until August of 2007, every call with Peter would begin with him asking, "Are you still riding that damn bicycle?" Peter has a daughter my age who is an avid rider and who broke a hip in a bicycling accident several years ago. Peter thought bicycles were dangerous before her accident, but understandably became more strident after her accident. When I crashed in May 2007, Peter was beside himself when he found out I planned to ride again as soon as I got out of the neck brace.

But he hasn't said a word about bicycling since August of 2007. Peter perceives bicycling as very risky. But when I told him I re-enlisted, he was almost gleeful. He thought that was great. He said, "You won't regret it. Best job in the world." When I told him I was going to Iraq, it did not change his opinion at all. "You'll be fine," he said.

Obviously, lots of people perceive risk differently than Peter, but it is fun to call him and hear him be as "Rah! Rah!" as an 86-year-old can get on serving in the military. And he never asks at all whether I am "riding that damn bicycle."

Saying Goodbye to Fort Sill--The Bike

After I wrote the silence post I thought about how much I will miss riding on Fort Sill. According to my obsessive exercise spreadsheet I have ridden more than 1100 miles (1154, but who's counting) since we landed in Oklahoma. I can look at that as 82 hours of training, which it is, but more importantly as about 70 hours of solitude. I guess I have ridden 150 miles with the Chaplain and the other racer in our unit, but I am almost always riding alone. That means many hours of solitude and quiet. Without the bike, my life here would have been very different.

So with my final ride just days away, I have some bike updates. My usual loop is a 28-mile circuit around the artillery and machine gun ranges. Until Wednesday, I could not cover that distance in less than 1 hour and 43 minutes. But on Wednesday, we had calm air all day. So after the Rappel Tower, I road my usual loop as fast as I could almost giddy with the lack of wind. I covered the distance 11 minutes faster than ever before.

Today I tried to ride from Fort Sill to the Oklahoma City airport to meet my wife. She arrives at 1045pm tonight. We could not leave until 2pm and the airport is 90 miles away. If the wind had been west or south, I might have made it. But OKC is northeast of Fort Sill and the wind was out of the North Northeast at 15mph with gusts. By 315pm I had covered only 16 miles so I turned around and road west to Mount Scott.

Mount Scott is not exactly the Alps, but it is the highest mountain around here. It is also just off post so I could see it every morning since we got here, but not ride it. Today I went up the 3-mile, 9% climb that goes up 1400 feet to an amazing view of the entire area. The road wraps the entire circumference of the mountain as it climbs and ends right on top. It took 30 minutes to go up and five back down.

I passed a herd of longhorn cattle on one side of the road at the base of the mountain and a herd of buffalo on the other side. This is definitely a beautiful place in a dry, wild sort of way.

Silence is not an Option

At the end of every training session we have an After Action Review--as with everything else this is only referred to as an AAR. Usually we collectively are asked to give three examples of what was Outstanding, three things that should be Sustained, and three that should be Improved. Just as with civilian life, these sessions are supposed to be open to all comments.

But I got shouted down for my "Improve" comment.

After we finished six hours of rappel tower training we had an AAR. It was somewhat difficult to hear the leader because speakers on the tower had been blaring and continued to blare metal music. My Improve was shut the music off. If I had said change the music to country, hip-hop, or something else I would have divided the crowd. But suggesting that the sound be shut off was like suggesting we all dress in orange or blue or that we all become Vegans. Silence is simply not an option in this world. Even the people who don't like metal music wanted some kind of music. Our chow hall has big screen TVs on both walls, one on ESPN, one on Fox News during every meal. My roommates like Gangsta Rap and Horror movies. Other rooms are primarily Country or Metal with a preference for comedies or war movies, but there is no silent room.

This weekend when my wife is here we will not be watching TV, leaving the radio on all the time, or eating in restaurants that have big-screen TVs on the wall. While most everyone flies home, I will be staying in Lawton and enjoying four days of quiet.

When the rest of my unit returns to America, they will be looking for some form of entertainment they have been missing. I will want to be back in my very quiet home and back at my job in a very quiet museum with people who can do their work without 24/7 music. AAAHHHHH!

Once in a while people ask me if there is anything I miss, anything people could send me. If you figure out a way to put quiet in a postal package, please send it.