Memorial Day.

A day for barbeques, picnics, and family fun. Too often that seems to be the only connection people have to this holiday, oh yeah, and it's the unofficial start of summer. A little bit of history:

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.

When I lived in DC I would periodically make trips to Arlington National Cemetery to visit my grandfather's gravesite. If you have never been to that cemetery, I strongly recommend it. It's a place of history, a place of remembrance, and a very sobering reminder of the cost of war.

Approximately 12% of the total U.S. population served in World War II. Less than 1% of the total U.S. population has served in these two wars which have lasted twice as long as World War II. I don't say this to encourage everyone to join the military, because I'll admit, I'm ambivalent about my own kids joining the military. I say this to make the point that these wars, despite their length, are not felt as personally as previous conflicts.

I think they need to be felt personally, and I'll admit, that's part of my reason for writing this blog. Almost 5500 young men and women have died since the start of these conflicts. Thousands more have been severely injured. I've, unfortunately, seen my fair share. I've also seen my fair share of young children who have been severely injured or killed. And when I say young children, yes, I'm talking about little Afghani kids who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Realistically, I'm at the age where I could be a father to the young U.S. troops who are injured or killed. These are kids, all of them.

We send them out as soldiers to do the bidding of our government, and I see them come into the hospital as kids. Scared, injured, bleeding kids. Kids peering up from their stretcher and trying to see their friend, calling out his name, wondering if he made it when the IED went off. Kids that are hoping and praying that they aren't the guest of honor at the next Memorial Day. And for every kid, there is a family back home, hoping and praying that they are never handed a folded flag. I cannot express how impressed I am with those kids. Words fail me.

So, I hope, that as you enjoy the unofficial start of summer, that you also take a moment and remember these kids, Americans, Afghanis, all of them.

Back to reality.

Is there ever a good time to die? I'm sure everyone has different opinions on that, but I know this, I'm thankful that my Aunt Nina died while I was home on leave. That sounds weird to say and it feels weird to write. Here's the basics - diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in 1985, former book editor at Newsday in New York, and more recently editor of Book World for the Washington Post. Incredibly sharp, witty, and more importantly, family. Ours is a family of readers, and she took it and ran with it. She'd been ill for years and in hospice since February. She took a turn for the worse the Monday after I got home, and then died on Thursday morning, May 6th, the day before here 70th birthday. I was hoping to be able to see her. I was not successful, arriving in DC hours after she died. However, that being said, I was able to be there for the funeral. I was able to see family. I was able to tell my daughter about her. I was able to see many great pictures of her life, which included great pictures from my grandparent's place, Mill Point, in North Carolina.

Life and timing are never perfect. There's never a perfect time to buy a home, never a perfect time to go back to school, never a perfect time to have a baby. This was pretty good timing.

So, I left home on a Monday morning around 8 a.m. and arrived back at KAF at 3 a.m. on Thursday. It was a long trip, but if you have a good book (as my Aunt would agree) then it makes travel much more palatable.

I get back to work which feels a bit like having my parole revoked...not that I know anything about that. When I started writing this a couple of days ago we were up to our ears in the final stages of the move into the new hospital. As of today, we moved into the new hospital. After the fun and games last night (type Kandahar Attack May 2010 in google and see what pops up), it is nice to be in a brick&mortar hospital that is rated as a bunker. While the leap in technology and facilities is amazing, I did like the tent/plywood hospital.

The best part about returning to Kandahar is without a doubt the fact that I have now entered the final stage of this deployment. The final stage that will end with another really long plane ride, followed by goofy giggles, grins and hugs from Naomi, Jonah and Ruth...and a bitter dog who wonders why she has to give up part of the bed. I can't wait!

Brief respite.

A perk of being deployed for over 270 days is that you get to take a couple weeks of leave. So, with the knowledge that time is scarce, here are a couple of thoughts/observations from my time at home.

1) 5+ hour flights jammed knee to knee on a C130 in body armor makes routine flights on airlines seem like flying 1^st class!

2) The fatigue and disorientation of 2+ days of flying is quickly wiped away by the look of wonder and joy on Naomi and Jonah’s faces.

3) For as long as I live, I will never forget the look on the kids’ faces when I came off the plane.

4) The first morning at home, I got up with the kids and let Ruth sleep. Naomi asked where Mommy was and I told her she deserved to sleep in after 7 months. Naomi’s reply: “But Mother’s Day isn’t until next week!”

5) The reintegration back into homelife happens pretty quickly. I’m already crossing things off the “To-do list.”

6) Washington, DC, is still one of my favorite cities. I’m glad we had the opportunity to share it with our kids.

7) Jonah gets it now. He gets that deployment means Daddy is gone for a long period of time. He doesn’t want me to go back to “Scanistan.” I don’t blame him.

8) If everything happens for a reason, then the reason I took leave at this time was to be back in the States so I could attend my Aunt Nina’s memorial service. I missed seeing her alive by hours. Damn.

9) I feel rather disconnected from the war after just a couple of weeks. It’s not a bad feeling, just weird. I’m guessing not much will have changed when I get back.

10) Ruth still seems sane after 7 months with the kids by herself. I’m not sure I would fare as well.

11) Our dog, Lilly, is underwhelmed with having to share the bed with me.

My next post will be back in Afghanistan. About 2 months after that I should be home. Naomi gets it. I hope Jonah understands.