alexis in the city

non-Absentee

(Two-star promotion, Yokota Air Base Japan, 2007)

Upon finding out I was raised military and had a dad who traveled a lot for his job, I recently had someone ask if it felt like I had an absentee father, to which I responded: not at all. Running the numbers in my head I’ve figured that my dad was probably gone around 30-40% of the time growing up. Sure, I remember it being “just us girls” a lot - like in the great hurricane of ‘95(ish), or the during the epic blizzard of ‘97(ish) - and I remember days or weeks going by not being sure if Dad was out of town or not; he worked long hours anyway, so it was sometimes hard to tell! Yes, there were some pretty significant differences - like the moving every two years, or the deployment of ‘01 - but overall I felt like my dad just had a job.

It was a job, a career, a lifestyle that he loved, but not a job that took him away from us, or a job that he in any way prioritized over his family. My dad’s passion for his work, and his prioritizing of family is one of the biggest “life lessons by osmosis” that he taught me. Through his example I saw that it was important - and also possible - to dedicate your life to something you love, both professionally and relationally.

I have no idea how he did it. But my childhood memories aren’t of dinners grabbed on the fly and eaten alone, or missed milestones or a lack of involvement. They’re memories of family meals, reading before bedtime, endless hours helping me with math homework, my parents cheering me at sporting events, dad coming home early to take pictures of me before prom. If anything, when it came to family activities, my parents could be accused of beating a dead horse - which is why I still hate bike rides and I’d rather gouge out my eyes than go camping. (But hey, they tried.:) )

I’m not at a phase in life where I’ve had to make tough prioritization choices yet, but when I am, I hope to find I’ve picked up some of that by osmosis, too.

Off we go, into the wild blue yonder

I don’t have much to say that hasn’t already been said about the service of our veterans or the debt our nation owes the people who choose to spend their lives protecting us. I will say that being an Air Force brat has given me an opportunity to see just a fraction of what this service looks like for the people who dedicate their lives to it, and for that I’m immensely grateful. It’s not always pride and parades, sometimes it’s tragedy and funerals, or the minutia of day-to-day life; but having that spectrum of experiences as an integral part of my life is something that continues to define me even as my direct connections to the military grow more elastic.

I’ve also been lucky that the direct connection I do have - my dad - has rarely caused the fear or panic that I know many military families face. Since my dad’s time is spent in hearings and meetings, and rarely directly involved in conflict, my military experience has likely been different from than the experience of many others. I’ve had opportunities to do things like speak to wounded veterans at Walter Reed and visit servicemembers who were working on holidays - experiences that have proven to be memorable, pivotal moments in my life. The brat community is a culture all to itself and one I’m proud to be a part of.

Ok, so somehow I made this post about me, when I really wanted to just say a few words of heartfelt thanks to our veterans - those who have served and those who still do - from the perspective of someone who’s been privileged enough to see some aspects of their service in a personal way.

Patriotism, 9/11 and Guantanamo Bay

I get perhaps disproportionately defensive when people question two things about me that I hold sacred: my faith and my patriotism. I wrote this post last year in response to a comment I saw that people who wanted to close Guantanamo Bay prison had forgotten 9/11. The Gitmo debate has faded from the headlines but as we near the ninth anniversary of 9/11, I think the points still stand.

I do not wish this post to be a delineation of why I support closing Gitmo or how I feel about torture. I’ve already explained all that here and elsewhere. I do wish to point out how absurd and offensive this conclusion is in general, and to me specifically. In general, it shouldn’t take much common sense to determine that remembering and mourning 9/11 is not mutually exclusive with wanting to shut down a detainment camp.

Perhaps it shouldn’t, but it upsets me GREATLY that someone would infer that a political and/or humanitarian stance would remove any and all sympathy, empathy, pain and suffering in regards to that tragic day.

Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I take it personally. 9/11 hit close to home for me, in a sense. I don’t mean to put myself on the same par at all with 9/11 survivors or people who lost friends and family - I’m not at all trying to equate my experience with theirs. But it was none the less traumatic for me in a way it probably wasn’t for many people: my dad was deployed when we engaged in operation Iraqi freedom. He was sent to Saudi Arabia to help command the satellite/space aspects and operations of the war, so he wasn’t on the front lines and in terms of war it was probably the safest place he could be. But I was 18, away from family at college, and I was scared. We didn’t know when he was coming home and there was that frightening nagging thought that none of us wanted to articulate: “what if he’s NOT coming home.” I remember that thought. I remember scrounging through magazines and newspapers looking for references to my dad’s base and his operations. I remember getting emails from him - and hoping I would continue to get them.

I remember all that - even now my hands are shaky, my heart is beating fast - I will NEVER forget. To say that I ever could, simply because of a political position I’ve decided to hold, makes me angry. It reduces the fright and the memories to nothing, based simply on partisanship. It infuriates me that my dad’s - and my family’s - sacrifice and uncertainty during those times could be so easily written off.

To say that I have forgotten just because I support closing a prison is completely unfair - and completely inaccurate.

my dad is awesomesauce

The great thing about blogging is you can write sentimental posts for people in lieu of gifts ~ j/k, I took my dad out to dinner as his father’s day gift last time we visited. On mother’s day, I posted a tribute I’d written for my mom several years back so for father’s day, I wanted to resurrect this post I wrote last year. It’s a list of reasons why I’m grateful for both my parents, but I still found it applicable as a tribute to my dad!

1. they taught me i could be anything, do anything, have anything i wanted. i don’t remember anything ever being too crazy, too ambitious too … whatever.  i always had (and still have) a strongly-held belief that i could accomplish what i set my mind to, thanks to the encouragement of my parents.

and they went beyond just telling me i could do something. when i played sports, i don’t think my mom ever missed a game (and my dad was always there if he was in town). when i was a cheerleader my mom learned the cheers. whether i was competing in piano guilds or pageants, they were driving me, practicing with me, giving me the tools i needed so i COULD actually accomplish anything. (and, looking back, i accomplished a lot for a kid!) this type of support was especially impressive considering my dad was gone probably an average of 25-40% of my childhood … yet i never felt like he wasn’t there for the things that mattered.

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I don’t care what you guys say - MY mom is the best!

I wrote this note for a project my parents’ chaplain put together for military moms on Mother’s Day a few years ago. Since I hadn’t posted it on the blog, I thought now was an appropriate time to do so. Love you mom!

As an Air Force Brat, I grew up with a pretty privileged, sheltered life. Of course, I didn’t realize it then – and sometimes still forget how blessed I was, and am. It wasn’t till I went away to college that I began to uncover the idyllic tendencies of my upbringing.

It came as news to me that some people’s moms hadn’t always been there to answer the phone when they forgot their homework (and subsequently bring it to school for them). Or that most people’s days DIDN’T start with a home cooked breakfast and prayer before school – as they did for me – or get capped off with reading the classics (some of my favorite childhood memories). I also discovered that, post 1950’s, it wasn’t super-common for families to all sit down to dinner together – but we did, even if we had to wait till 8 pm, when dad got home from work.

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