Mental Compartments

One of the blessings of being in Iraq with no cell phone and slow internet service was single tasking. You may know that as concentrating on one thing at a time. Reading a book without interruption, writing without bobbing through 20 windows checking Twitter, three email services, and a dozen Web sites. Now that I am back, I am trying to keep myself from returning to multi-tasking, to the false efficiency of doing five things badly rather than one thing well.

When I was multi-tasking myself, I did not see as vividly how the act of multi-tasking seeps back into our minds and dissolves our mental integrity. One of the hallmarks of modern life is stuffing our many lives in compartments that do not touch each other. That can lead having multiple beliefs and assumptions that really do affect each other, but we keep them in separate places in our minds, as if our memory were a series of Tupperware containers keeping work, family, hobbies, beliefs in their own little worlds in our heads. That is how people can look at religion as a buffet--taking a little Bhuddism here; a little Christianity there; maybe believe in angels, but not devils; or believe in Heaven but not Hell; as if these complex systems of belief were nothing more than raw material for whatever makes someone feel good.

At this point you could be IMing a friend, watching American Idol, thinking 'Whatever, Dude.' But if you are still reading, I can tell you that being in the land that discourages multi-tasking let me see more clearly what it does inside people's heads.

When we were getting ready to go home, we got a briefing about medical benefits. The sergeant who was giving the briefing made it clear to us that he believes our country does not need health care reform. His politics are in one compartment. Five minutes later he tells us why Pennsylvania wants to be sure we all know about the benefits we have. When the Brigade that preceded us mobilized in 2007, 42% of the soldiers did not have medical benefits when they mobilized. Out of 4000 soldiers, 2320 had medical benefits, 1680 did not. These were not street people. They were not illiterate. But 42% were uninsured. The two thoughts that 'The Health Care System is OK as it is' and '1680 out of 4000 soldiers in this brigade getting deployed to Iraq have no health care' stayed in their own compartments in his mind.

It would be no good pointing out this contradiction. He would have an answer if challenged on this contradiction. He sees what his beliefs allow him to see and will bend what does not fit until it aligns with is belief. So if his political views tell him 'my side is right, the other is wrong' then no actual fact--not even 1680 uninsured facts--sitting in front of him will change his mind.

Commander Back at Work

Brad Powers got a new job. I am back at my former job, but with a new boss. Lt. Col. Perry was in the Patriot News (Harrisburg, Pa.) when he returned to work.



Rep. Scott Perry

Rep. Scott Perry of York County welcomed back to the floor of the Pennsylvania House
By JAN MURPHY, The Patriot-News

Following a year's absence while he was deployed to Iraq, Rep. Scott Perry, R-Dillsburg, was given a hero's welcome upon his return to the floor of the state House.

Perry, who was commander of the 2-104th General Support Aviation Battalion, seemed almost embarrassed by the standing ovation from his House colleagues, motioning several times for them to sit down.

House Speaker Keith McCall welcomed Perry and thanked him for "willingly ... putting yourself in harm's way. ... We're grateful for your safe return and very, very proud of your service to this great nation." But, he added, "It may take some time getting used to as you return here, Lt. Col. Perry, that people aren't going to be saluting you and calling you sir."

House Republican Leader Sam Smith, R-Jefferson, echoed the gratitude about Perry's service. He also commented on how difficult it must have been for Perry, who had a child born during his deployment.

Smith noted that last year's protracted budget impasse was a grind for those at the Capitol, but then said he'd think about Perry and another House member, Rep. Nick Miccarelli, R-Delaware County, who also was on a deployment in Iraq last year. He said that reminded him, "it's not so bad here."

Assigned Moral Lectures

Only officers gave the moral lectures I referred to in the last post. This made sense, because they are the ones who will punish us for infractions of the Army moral code. And in the same way every officer must be ready to lead soldiers at a moment's notice if they happen to be the highest ranking officer in any given place, any officer might be called to give us a lecture on morality.

My favorite instance of this--and I did keep a straight face through this mercifully brief lecture--happened shortly after we arrived in Iraq. A lieutenant in his mid-20s got assigned on short notice to give us one of these lectures. He is a very affable guy. In fact, just the night before this young man who was a hard-partying fraternity brother just two years before was telling a group of sergeants in the mess hall about a time when he and his girl friend were having sex in a room with several other couples. "This was not group sex," he said. "We were just one of several couples having sex in the same room."

The next morning he was telling a large group of enlisted men don't drink, don't have sex with anyone you are not married to, etc. He was serious. He had to be. At the end he did lighten up a little and said "Don't be stupid. Don't get caught."

Army Morality

In other posts I have said how strange, sad, and funny by turns our "morality" lectures were, especially during training for deployment.

No one was ever talking about a real moral code of any recognizable religion. The Army is the government and since our government separates Church and State, it would be wrong to impose any single religious view on the Army. So the Army makes it up.

Like every bad youth organization, whether religious or secular, the Army tries to use the sins of the spirit to keep us from the sins of the flesh. It uses cold-blooded sins to keep us from warm-blooded sins. In case you have not reviewed the Seven Deadly Sins lately, they are (from least to worst):
Lust
Gluttony
Greed
Sloth
Anger
Envy
Pride

Some lists switch lust and gluttony as the least, but all ancient lists are clear that the disreputable sins are the least and the arrogant sins are the worst. Sloth sits in the middle because it can be both physical laziness and spiritual laziness. So the sins of the flesh: lust, gluttony, greed and laziness are different from despair (spiritual laziness), anger, envy, and pride.

The sins of the flesh are those committed by those pictured on the pages of People magazine--too much sex, food, and money. The sins of the spirit are those committed by the readers of People magazine: hating, envying, and finally looking down on those who are pictured in People magazine.

Anyway, the Army tells us not to drink, have sex, and take drugs. First we are threatened in various ways, but then the poor guy who is giving the lecture appeals to our self-respect and says we are (or should be) better people than that.

But the Army does it with a lighter touch than a bad youth leader. Because nearly all of our morality lectures ended with something like a plea not to get caught. If you have sex, drink or whatever don't get caught.

Any real morality comes from the inside and shows its results on the outside. The only thing the Army can do is impose moral standards from the outside and hope for some appearance of obedience.

This is very funny on the subject of pornography. The Army bans pornography and makes a big deal of telling us how we can get busted, fined, lose rank, go to jail, etc. for possessing porn, especially on deployment. But the lectures on not having sex often end by saying something like, "Keep your porn to yourself, don't get caught, and wait till you get home for the real thing. In the meantime give yourself a hand."

Another Sign I am Home

This morning I called my wife from work to ask about our son Nigel. He had a two-hour school delay and I wanted to make sure it did not turn into a cancellation. In the course of our conversation Annalisa said, "The most fun thing we did. . .wait, fun is not an adjective. . .the thing that we did that was the most fun was . . ."

Later I talked to a friend from Belgium about a book project we might work on together. We were talking about the placement of object pronouns in French. I said French grammar was difficult on this. Brigitte said, "At least French has rules of grammar, English has no rules, only exceptions."

At midnight tonight my military leave ends which means I am off Title 10 active duty orders and back to being a Pennsylvania National Guard soldier. As of tomorrow I am really a citizen soldier again, not regular Army. I could, of course, be called up for duty, but in the near future that would only happen for a disaster in Pennsylvania or a neighboring state.

It is still strange at time to be home. All the more so with another foot of snow on the way Tuesday and Wednesday. I am really home, but I have not ridden my bike since Friday. I hardly missed a day riding in Iraq. Now I am forced to ride inside!! Not yet, but maybe tomorrow.

Who Makes Coffee for the Soldiers?

One of my favorite places in Iraq was the Green Beans coffee shop on Tallil Ali Air Base. I was a regular so I knew most of the staff. Like us, they worked at least 12 hours per day, six days a week and when one of them was sick, the others would work 18 hours to keep the coffee brewing 24/7/365.

Most of the baristas were from India and Nepal. A few months before I left, they hired Frederick Lameki, a young man from Kenya. Like the other members of the staff, Fred was well educated, but could make more money serving coffee in Iraq than he could in his home country. Fred greeted me loudly every time I saw him at Green Beans.

"Goooosemon," he would say. "What's happening?" Sometimes in his enthusiasm he would attempt to greet me with the complicated handshake he used greeting his younger favorite customers--then he remembered I was way too old for that and smiled at my inability.

Fred will be visiting America this summer--most likely New York City, but maybe other North East cities. Fred has 419 Facebook friends which, in his case, may actually reflect his ability to make and keep friends. Fred and I have one mutual friend on Facebook--Jessie Ramos. Fred introduced me to Jessie. She is from Texas, but not really. In fact she is not really Jessie, but more on her in another post.

Green Beans is one of my best memories of Iraq: good coffee, good people who work there, reading good books with no video in the building, and talking about books with other people who read.

Who Fought the War--And Is Back to Work

Spc. Brad Powers just after he landed at McGuire Air Force Base, New Jersey.


Spc. Brad Powers has a new job--already. While many members of Task Force Diablo are taking a well-deserved rest, the restless Powers is beginning a new job and a new career simultaneously.

In Iraq, Powers was a wheeled-vehicle mechanic in Echo Company. We were in fourth squad of the motor platoon. At various times I was Powers team leader and squad leader. At Fort Sill, Powers was also in my remedial PT (Physical Training) group. The 27-year-old Lancaster resident is big, strong and went to enough parties before mobilizing that he was marginal on passing the two-mile run. No one was happy in the remedial PT group--the training was Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday from 7 to 830 pm--but Powers never complained in my hearing. And like all but one of my remedial group, Powers eventually passed the PT test.

All the time we were training in Fort Sill and Kuwait and working in Iraq, Powers was taking college courses. During 2009 he completed a full year of college credit, the final year of classes toward a bachelor of science degree that qualifies him to work in safety management. He finished his last class just before Christmas in Iraq and was a awarded a Bachelor of Science degree while he was in Kuwait on the way to America in early January.

In addition to working on his degree in the evenings while working in the motor pool at Tallil Ali Air Base, Powers was sent to Garry Owen, a small forward operating base near the Iran-Iraq border. He kept working on his degree without interruption there.

With the degree in hand, Powers applied for a job on line with a Peabody, Massachusetts-based, firm with operations across the country. A few days after he got home, the morning after a welcome home party, Powers got a call asking if he could be on a flight to Boston in four hours. He said sure. Then they told him it was a Southwest flight leaving from Baltimore-Washington International Airport, 88 miles away.

He made the flight and apparently aced the interview because he got the job. Monday morning he flies to Boston for a week of orientation training then he starts work with clients along the East Coast. Powers said his company likes to hire veterans.

With every possible excuse not to complete his degree and get a job, Powers completed 30 hours of college credit during a one-year deployment and returned to get a professional job in a new career field when he could still here the echo from "Welcome Home."

Cooking

In several posts during the last year I wrote that the food we had in Iraq was great. Aside from really good bread we were very well fed. The amazing variety of fresh fruit and vegetables at every meal meant we actually were well fed in the nutritional sense. When I got to America I asked my kids to bring bakery bread to me at Fort Dix. Since I have been home, I have had good bread pretty much every day.

But it turns out I also missed cooking. In the last week I made dinner several times. When I make dinner it is more extravagant than my very frugal wife makes, but she doesn't mind because I do the work and cooking expensive food at home is still much less expensive than eating in a not-so-great restaurant.

One night this week I made a pork roast, mashed potatoes, and steamed cabbage. I make mashed potatoes with butter, whole milk and an old-fashioned potato masher--not exactly health food, but really good if you like potatoes. We also had celery with and without peanut butter, provolone cheese, jarlsburg cheese, and bread from a local bakery named "A Loaf of Bread." And very much unlike Tallil, my wife and I had wine with dinner that I got as a coming home present the week before. Just one glass for me--I had a two drink limit before deployment and now can get a small buzz from one glass of table wine. Two days later, dinner was the leftover pork, potatoes and cabbage along brie cheese and French bread and the rest of the bottle of wine.

Tonight we had apples, cheese, purple cabbage, Cappicola ham, fruit and nut bread from Philadelphia, and a really good rose wine that was also a welcome home gift. It really is fun to cut everything up and make the food look good on the serving plates--that's something you can't get in a buffet line.

Explaining Acronyms

Three of us were standing in the lobby today waiting for the fourth for lunch. In the five minutes before the fourth member of our group showed up (punctuality is very optional in civilian life) the subject of Army acronyms came up. The two women I was talking to had no connection to the military but knew that when F was the middle letter in an Army acronym, what word it referred to.

My favorite example of just how much acronyms replace words in the Army is the use of the acronym BFR when referring to a Big Rock. I could almost understand if it was an exclamation--"That's a Big F-ing Rock!" But it's not. A large rock is a BFR because it is more fun to have an acronym.

Then we talked about titles. I have a new title. Instead of Communications Manager, I am Strategic Communications and Media Relations Manager. If got this title in the Army, I would be the SCMRM. I then mentioned that in the Army everyone is in charge of something, even if it is just their own weapon and wall locker. So if you know someone is in charge and you don't know what their title is, everyone from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs to team leader can be called an HMFIC. That is the Head MF In Charge. MF is always the same in Army speak.

"You'll Get Back in Shape in No Time"

That's what the other guys I ride with were saying on Sunday, Monday and today. It was nice of them to say, but the truth is getting back to climbing hills is just as tough as coming back from breaking my neck. Hills that used to just look like hills now look like Alpine climbs.

On the 40-mile Sunday ride the two nasty climbs are about five miles from the start. But I was already gasping from riding up the long shallow hill at the start and the longer, steeper hill at mile 2. On the first big hill, the group slowed at the top for a stop sign just over the crest of the hill. There was no traffic, so I went through the intersection at 22mph and caught the group on the descent. On the next hill two other guys dropped to the back, so though I was lagging, I was not the caboose on the train.

From that point on I never stopped wheezing. We rode the rollings hills at a moderate pace--they talked I wheezed--until we crossed Rt. 222 on the south side of Lancaster. The pack sped up and stayed above 20mph for the next few miles. Just as we were about to turn up hill, I drifted back and watched the bright-colored group of a dozen riders disappear. Another guy was behind me. He said he was going to try to catch up; he never did. I turned back toward home at mile 18.

The next day I rode just 17 of 29 miles of the daily ride and it was very difficult.

I know i will get back in shape, but it will be months, not weeks till I can climb like I used to.

Back to Work

Today I took the 7:06 am train to Philadelphia. This is my first day back at work after just over a year. Annalisa and Nigel drove me to the train station (Annalisa actually did the driving) and I joined the big crowd that gets on the train in Lancaster--more than 150 of the nearly 300 regular riders of the Keystone train get on and off in Lancaster.

I saw a lot of faces I recognized. the faces looked a little older than when I left--which means my face looks older too. The 7am train riders are, thankfully, a very quiet group. They file onto the train. The regulars walk the length of the platform and sit in the last car. Sometimes there is no sound all the way to Paoli--two-thirds of the way to Philadelphia. The train was 15 minutes late this morning because we got behind a SEPTA local and could not go around it.

After leaving the train I walk across 30th Street and down into the subway station. The El train arrived a couple of minutes later. I rode eight minutes to 2nd Street then walked up Market to Fork restaurant. They bake bread every day. As I arrived the baguettes were just coming out of the oven. I love fresh bread.

I ate bread, checked out my new office and started a series for short meetings to get moved back in to CHF. I learned abut changes in the computer system, got my access card key back, heard about the medical benefits and started cleaning up email and voice mail.

I had a couple of meetings about plans for my work for the next few months and talked to many of my co-workers about Iraq and returning to civilian life. They all thought I looked very different in a blue pin-striped suit than in a camo uniform.

It's great to be back. I'll be going to New York on the 17th, Orlando on the 27th, maybe to Boston or Washington DC in between. I really am becoming a civilian very quickly.

Reality Check

One of the things I thought about doing when I returned home from Iraq was getting involved in local politics. Specifically school politics. I care a lot about education and thought I could be of some help just by being involved. My wife, Annalisa, said I could get involved right away by going to three simultaneous events at my son's school: Wharton Elementary School in Lancaster: dinner, Parent Advisory Council meeting, and Parent Teacher Organization meeting.

530pm--free dinner supplied by the school. Chicken fingers, mashed potatoes and applesauce for the kids, turkey, ham or roast beef "wrap" sandwiches for the adults. Water and iced tea were the drinks--no soda in school. Annalisa, Nigel and I got in line and ate at the green formica-covered tables that fold down from the walls in the gym. About a dozen families showed up for dinner.
6pm--we went upstairs to the library and the PAC meeting. PAC organizes events and support for teachers at the school. The only guys in the room besides me were a local bookstore owner in the audience, the head of the group, Nigel.
645pm--Annalisa and Nigel left for Nigel's basketball practice.
655pm--the meeting switched from PAC to PTO. The bookstore owner left. The meeting continued for another 45 minutes discussing PTO business and plans.

The 16 parents (14 moms, 2 dads) who attended the meeting were not attracted by the free food. I knew many of them, at least by sight. They are well-educated, involved in their child's education, encourage learning and reading by reading and learning themselves, are involved in the community, and are, therefore, not at all typical of the parents of Wharton Elementary or any other school.

In racing of every kind, you have to start to have a chance of winning. The people who show up are the people have influence. How we spend time and money are great indexes of what we really care about. It was interesting to see who really cares about education.

In Today's Sunday News

Jon Rutter wrote the final article about my Army adventure in today's Lancaster Sunday News (Local Section, Page 1)
Photos here


On the home front

Neil Gussman returns from Iraq, where he served the country in myriad roles, including base communicator.


Neil Gussman is back from the Army, at 56.

The Lancaster businessman has returned home after two years away from everyday midlife.

"Boy," the nontraditional sergeant quipped earlier this month, "it seems like I've been gone forever."

The military experience was rich, if sometimes exasperating, he added. And it was a lot different from his 12-year Army hitch that ended more than 25 years ago.

Back then Gussman was, among other things, a tank commander in Germany.

His more recent sojourn with the 104th General Services Aviation Brigade's Echo Company was covered in a series of Sunday News stories spanning nearly 2½ years. It included combat training at Fort Indiantown Gap and Fort Sill, Okla., followed by a 12-month tour in Kuwait and Iraq.

Gussman served at Tallil Ali Air Base.

He initially aspired to become a chemical weapons specialist and expected to pull weekend-warrior duty at Indiantown Gap. Instead, the Army activated his unit and deployed it to the Middle East.

There, as the war wound down, Gussman was given various tasks. He dispensed tools in the motor pool before getting assigned to photograph and write about life on the base.

His work appeared in several Army newsletters.

He loved the journalist job, especially flying aboard Black Hawk and Chinook helicopters during supply missions.

"The last few months have been really good," said Gussman, who downplayed the risk of living in a war zone.

"Hardly anyone fired a gun over there," he noted. "I fired my camera a lot."

Military life, examined
Still, Gussman admitted, "Iraq is more dangerous than New Jersey." Also, he wisecracked, the shampoo selection is scantier. And it's harder to obtain good fresh bread or feed his habit of following Formula One auto racing.

One of Gussman's first stateside projects will be to get himself to a New York City Jewish bakery.

He arrived in the United States Jan. 4, but could not immediately return to Lancaster, where his wife, Annalisa Crannell, and children have been holding down the fort.

First, Gussman and his friends had to go through three weeks of heel cooling at Fort Dix, the sprawling New Jersey Army base where overseas soldiers are processed.

It was a fit and squeaky-clean-cut Gussman who bicycled to the main gate on a recent Wednesday to greet some visitors. Dismounting and padlocking the bike to a post, the camouflage-decked soldier ducked into a car for a tour of his temporary digs.

GIs hiked here and there among low-slung brick buildings. The campus soil was sandy, the air piney. Big silver transports floated in and out of McGuire Air Force Base next door. Behind this purposeful facade, though, were grunts at loose ends.

A lone soldier slumped before a barracks TV, watching an episode of "Yes, Dear." In other areas, men and women were simply standing in line.

That was true at the M.G. Robert Mills Dental Clinic on Doughboy Avenue, where Gussman traded last-minute banter with some departing buddies.

Sgt. Jeremy Houck, of Lebanon, who turned 32 that day, reported helping Gussman with "the problems that young NCOs [noncommissioned officers] have, you know. It was hard to tame him down. I struggled through it."

Thirty-one-year-old Nickey Smith, of Connecticut, allowed that Gussman was a good man to share an air-conditioned trailer with, but a big contrast to Smith.

The younger soldier likes watching movies and listening to music in his down time. Gussman, who coordinated a book club in Iraq, prefers reading and writing.

"Nickey was worried about me culturally," Gussman said, and so he introduced Gussman to such films as "Full Metal Jacket" and "Batman."

"His typing skills put me to sleep every night," retorted Smith, who had not been persuaded to take up literature. "I read a blog [posting] or two of his," Smith said. "That was a book in itself."

Indeed, Gussman's latter-day Army life did not go unexamined.

He calculates that he's written about 75,000 words on his blog, armynow.blogspot.com, and recorded nearly 50,000 visitors since June 2008.

The site reveals Gussman's fondness for tallying. He figures he rode a succession of bicycles 5,200 miles while in Iraq, for example, competed in four bike races in the United States and the Middle East, read 15 books and bought hundreds of Green Beans lattes in Kuwait.

Gussman's work has attracted wide media attention; The New York Times profiled one of his stories this past Thanksgiving.

Lt. Col. Scott Perry, Gussman's commanding officer, tuned in with relish.

"Sgt. Neil Gussman is an eclectic series of mutually unsupporting disciplines, dichotomies and passions that somehow have blended into an exceptional communicative force," Perry wrote in the unit newsletter.

Back home, Scott Haverstick, Gussman's bicycle racing partner, also has been reading.

"Very interesting for those of us who would not be inclined to do anything like this on our own," Haverstick commented.

Haverstick said he admires Gussman but continues to puzzle over why his friend's desire to serve God and humanity "would manifest itself in this particular way.

"I hope he's done" with combat regions, said Haverstick, adding that he's also curious about Operation Iraqi Freedom's long-term effect on Gussman.

"Everyone seems to be changed by their tour of duty," Haverstick said.

Last week, though, Gussman seemed his usual eclectic self.

He said he plans to soon climb aboard a commuter train and return to work as a writer at the Chemical Heritage Foundation, an industry museum and library near Independence Hall in Philadelphia.

"I might write about some of the stuff I can't write now," he promised in his blog.

He'll have to get used to riding his bike without an M-16, and he can forget all about the 130-degree temperatures and blowing grit he faced in the Iraqi desert.

He'll stay in the Pennsylvania National Guard reserves until he gets booted at age 60. But he said he might head overseas again, if he could reprise his role as a journalist.

His unit will be activated next in 2012 — the year Gussman turns 59 — "which would be the absolute last minute I could go," he said.

"I would definitely go back. I know some of my friends think I'm crazy, but ..."

Back to Work

Before returning to work on Tuesday, I had a couple of articles to finish. On Thursday I finished an article for On Patrol: The Magazine of the USO writing on the train to and from New York. Last night I was writing my next column for "We're History" in Chemical Engineering Progress magazine. I am revising it now as the clock strikes midnight and will be up for another hour.
(Update through the magic of internet revision, I was up till 2:30am rewriting to include an explanation of why snails have blue blood.)
So I really am back to work--writing about weird topics at weird hours.

An Old Friend's View of an Old Soldier

On the way home from New York City Thursday night, I called Abel Lopez, one of my two best friends from when I was on active duty in the 1970s. If I haven't mentioned him before, Abel left active duty in 1978, a year before I did. He was the commander of the tank next to mine in Bravo Company 1-70th Armor in Wiesbaden. We talked a lot about faith and about life, the universe and everything when we served together and have kept the conversation up for past 32 years. 

Abel and I seldom see each other, but talk every month or two about our current views of the same things we talked about back in Germany. He went home to Chula Vista in San Diego County and became a Federal Fire Fighter. He recently retired from the fire department. I talked to Abel on the 100-mile drive from Trenton to Lancaster, from just over the Pennsylvania line to my driveway. If you think it is wrong to talk on a cell phone while driving you should stop reading now. 

Anyway, the first thing Abel asked when I got on the phone is what I think the summary of my year in Iraq is. "I don't know," I said. We talked for a long time. He, like my friend Meredith Gould, think I went a very long way to prove L. Frank Baum (Author of the Oz books) was right, "There's No Place Like Home." One of my goals in going to Iraq was to become less tied to the life of luxury I was leading. 

That didn't work. My previous posts on the things I have done, bought, etc. since my return to America make it pretty clear that self denial is not one of my strengths. Abel thought that if I write a book about this year, it ought to be for all the people he sees in California who get to be our age and think they can reinvent themselves. They need to figure out how to do the best they can with who they are. And given the considerable lengths I went to in finding out how much I liked my life, I could make fun of my self in a big way writing that book. It also fits with my sister's advice to write one of the currently popular "One Year" books. 

I do know now that joining the Army and serving in Iraq is a great way to clarify what you really want from life--at least it was for me. It also made very clear that goodness has so many forms that one life and one place can never support it all. It is yet another thing that draws me to life beyond this life. I love the beautiful, civilized, literate world I returned to. 

Today I went to the Evolution Table at F&M and enjoyed the conversation of 22 professors and local professionals about current developments in Life Science. Tuesday I return to work with co-workers who have an average of 2.2 college degrees. But I already miss the courage and laser focus I met every day among the men and women I served with in Iraq. I clicked my heels three times, I traveled a long way, but I can't figure out which end of the trip is Oz.

Adjusting to Beauty

Adjusting to being back "in the world" is an odd process with stops and starts. Today I was in New York. I drove to Trenton then hopped on a train and got to spend the day with several different interesting people. That part was just fine. But since these people were in different parts of the city I had several views of this vibrant metropolis.

The most jarring was the Brooklyn Bridge. I took the Park Street line to one of the most beautiful bridges in the world. I walked up the middle on the tourist path. There was a point where those cables sweep up in a beautiful arc--it is where the group of walkers are clustered on the right of the path in the photo above. At that point of the bridge I looked up along those cables. The sky was perfectly blue, not a cloud in sight. It was cold. The wind was blowing straight across the bridge deck at more the 20mph. The flag above the bridge pointed straight north.

I stopped and stared up for a long time. I walked a little further, but I was still staring so I stopped again. The bridge look so majestic and tall and clean. The sky line in every direction was brick and glass and steel. Planes and helicopters flew overhead. Boats made there slow way under the bridge in the shipping channel.

Everywhere I looked was a contrast to the low, dirt-covered, place I left. Trees and grass grew everywhere the concrete did not cover in New York. At Tallil the lawn was gravel. My senses were overloaded. I was in civilization. This is home.

Liars and the Dentist

Today I went to my own dentist for a check up and cleaning. They had a cancellation so I got in right away. As she was getting ready to clean my teeth the hygienist asked why I had not been in for more than a year after getting regular check ups. I told where I had been and she said, "That's the first excuse I have heard in a long time that I believe."

Then she asked me about how the war was going, but since she was cleaning my teeth while she asked, she answered her own question. "You never get the real story from the media. They just say what they want to. They make it up."

When she took a break I said I thought the media had a very tough job. "Many people they deal with are lying, shading the truth, and making things up. Reporters have to figure out what part of the things they say are true and why they are saying them. It would be like having patients who walked into your office, smiled and denied they had teeth. Or walked in with a broken tooth and said 'Nothing is wrong.' Or say 'flossing is proof that the government is trying to control our lives.'"

Going back to her earlier comment she said, "But patients do lie to me. I get people coming in after no check ups for five years saying, 'I was here last year.' and there records are right here on the counter. And people come to me with bleeding gums and say, 'I floss almost every day.'"

She went on to say that she can't tell the people who don't floss they are lying so she has to say something like, "Let's work on your flossing technique."

I came away with a new respect for the difficulties of her job. She also told me that when she gives the patients who neglect their teeth a thorough cleaning they go to the receptionist afterwards and say they do not want "that hygienist" because she hurts them. I hope looks at the media a little differently now that she knows how much news sources and dental patients have in common.

Adjusting to Life at Home

Yesterday on the training ride there is a place where we usually slow down as we turn from State Highway 441 onto a narrow road with a creek on one side and a steep tree-covered hill on the other. The hill is dark all the way up to a north-south ridge so if there is any sun it is bright on the top of the ridge and dark all the way down to where we ride the road. Just after we turned onto this road Matt Hollenbach said, "Neil, look up there, three deer, no four." I looked and there they were, right on the ridge line standing parallel to the road.

They were back-lit, standing still and silhouetted from their hooves to their horns. They could not be better targets if they wore orange vests with bulls-eyes. What I should have seen was how beautiful nature is here compared to the dust, rock and vermin that is nature in southern Iraq. But as I looked at the deer and the afternoon sun and the trees, my first thought was "Get off the ridge you idiots! One shot and you are dinner!"

I suppose it will take a while before my view of a natural scene does not include range, target description, and rules of engagement.

When I first returned to America after serving on the border in Germany, I would occasionally be driving along a country road and look at the fields and tree lines in front of me as fields of fire for a tank or see places where a tank could be "hull-down" with it's hull protected from direct fire but with a clear view for the gunner's sights.

Speaking of riding, I really prefer riding without an M-16A4 rifle on my back.

Back to Training Rides

On Friday I wrote about my first ride back with the daily ride crew. Today I rode farther and faster than on Friday. On the Friday ride at mile 20 my voice was gone and I was crawling up the hills. Today I rode fast enough to sort of keep up while the regular guys rode slower than usual. But even on the last nasty hill into Millersville I rode to the top of the hill steadily.

It will be a long time before I overcome a year of flat riding and get in shape for climbing hills. One additional incentive for me to get in shape for the coming season is a change in the age group divisions. For years the age groups have been even decades: 30+, 40+, 50+ and occasionally 60+. Next year the ages will be 35+, 45+ and 55+. I am 57, so I will be only two years older than the youngest guys in the race, not seven years older. So I won't be the old guy completely at the back of the pack. I might do OK in some races.

Combat Patch

One of the best things that happened to me in Iraq was covered under OPSEC until now. It would not seem like a secret, but we are in the process of being allowed to wear the combat patch of the 1st Armored Division. 4th Brigade of 1AD is in charge of the garrison at Tallil Ali Air Base/Camp Adder. When I served the last time I was a tank gunner in 1975 and a tank commander from 1976 to 1984. Although I was in tanks, I was assigned to mechanized infantry divisions so I always wore an infantry unit patch, never an armored patch. 

Now I can wear the 1st AD patch on my right sleeve. So after all these years, serving with an aviation unit in Iraq finally got me the opportunity to wear an armor patch. I wrote about the connection between 1AD and my unit on December 22 & 23. I already got a price for a tattoo. I have seen people get a unit patch tattoo on their arm where the patch would be on the uniform. But I am a bike racer. If I get the tattoo it will be in the middle of my right calf--the place where it is visible in a peleton.