We want to wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and a better New Year, from beautiful Basrah, Iraq. That’s right. While you guys are enjoying a torrential amount of snow, we’ve been blessed to be on the sandy (currently quite muddy actually) beaches of Iraq. We are currently serving in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and this is our Christmas message to you!
From Dave’s world:
This year I have a lot to be thankful for such as my wife, family, friends, and my health. But not my recruiter, he promised me world travel, and sandy beaches. Little did I know when I signed up over thirty years ago that the sandy beach would be here in Iraq without water? This past year has been filled with highs and lows. My top 10 combined list of highs and lows on deployment. (Low first/high last)
# 10 Low - missing Josh’s graduation from Basic Training
# 9 Low - missing our 22nd wedding anniversary
# 8 Low - missing my Grand baby
# 7 Low - missing my better half
# 6 High - the fact that I’m not out on patrols or the gate
# 5 High - I have a roof over my head and a dry place to sleep
# 4 High - indoor plumbing
# 3 High - sharing this deployment with my niece Jessica
# 2 High - sharing this deployment with my daughter Jacki
And number 1 is being on a deployment with fellow soldiers and our contractor friends who are going through the deployment with us. It’s kind of like the movie “Play it forward”. Sometimes you’re there for your fellow soldier when they are down, and sometimes they are there for you. Sometimes the only thing that can get you through the day is a swift kick in the butt from one of the guys or gals that you work with.
I truly am thankful for my family, and our friends that continue to support us in this barren land so far from home. I’m even more thankful that my last ride with the U.S. Army is coming to a close in 2010. I will never look back at my time and not feel a sense of pride and honor for serving my country. I’m ready for Josh and Jacki to become the next generation of soldiers as I get ready to walk away from my final formation.
Let me just say that what we have back home as Americans is not something that should be taken lightly. Seeing the world up close and personal has me proud to be an American! The next time someone around me talks about how bad life in the states is should come here to learn what life without the good old stars and stripes is all about!
From Jacki’s world:
This year has truly been a unique experience for me. Few 19 or 20 year olds can say that they are veterans of war and few soldiers overall can say they have been privileged to serve alongside their father. I feel honored to have been asked to partake in something that’s bigger than me. I’m 20 years old and I am a part of an elite group of people who put their lives on hold for a year without question or hesitation. It’s a rare and beautiful experience indeed.
I have been provided with a classroom that has limitless boundaries as I have learned lessons that it takes some people a life time to learn. I have learned the immense generosity of the American people, as care packages from people I have never met or from people I have known all my life arrived. I have learned to appreciate the small things, like blue jeans and clean water. I have learned to treasure the moments with family, be it far away in a sandy place or within the realm of Skype. I have learned the value of true and lasting friendship. I have learned that I’m privileged to be an American and to be blessed to have all the opportunities I have.
I have a couple months left here before I start living real life again. I can’t wait to slip on a pair of blue jeans or a dress and heels. I’ve got a whole list of things I’ve been waiting to do. It’s about time I start living like a normal 20 year old, or as normal as it gets for me =]. I’ll be starting college in the fall (destination undecided). I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up (thank goodness I strayed from my first career of choice [grandma clown of all things] way back in the day). I just want to kind of live in the moment for a bit when I get back. Take the time to adjust and to learn to make my own choices again.
My father and I hope that you and yours also had a year worth remembering, too. That good fortune and good health has found its way into your hearts and into your home. Please continue to keep the troops in your thought and prayers as this holiday season comes closer. Prepare for a belated New Years upon our return, in traditional Crotteau fashion.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Just breathe. You will never live this moment again.
My family and I used to spend a lot of time transforming our home into a little winter wonderland. My dad became a master over the years at decorating outside, complete with a mini-manger scene and the occasional penguins skating on a pond of Plexiglas. He would recruit any one of us to help in the transformation outdoors. However, it was the decorating inside of our home that always held my attention.
We’d always pull down huge totes full of Christmas supplies. My earliest memories of Christmas involve my parents pulling out each of ornaments, calling our name so we could claim our little ornaments to hang on the tree. We always ooh and ahhed over the same ones. The Santa Clause head or the ornament my dad made when he was a wee little fella. I remember heeding my mom’s instructions to ‘put the ugly ones’ on the back of the tree, and being slightly offended when the ugly ornament in question was a gobble of sparkle and glue that I had made what feels like ages ago. After delicately positioning each ornament into its new home, we would gather around and sing Silent Night for a video camera, swaying as we sang a bit off key.
In the last couple of years, we’ve stopped putting everything up, running out of room to hang jingle bells and shelves to put lopsided snowmen on that Josh had created in 4th grade. As Darcie and Matt moved out of the house, the whole tradition of everything kind of started to dwindle. Our lives started picking up and it started being a struggle to find a time that didn’t conflict with everyone’s schedules. It’s hard to slow down time for a growing family of 6. And that’s ok, because after all, it’s not about the twinkling bulbs, the lopsided Santas or even the ornaments. It’s about what’s left when all of that is packaged away again until next year.
I look around at the cubicles in my office, each trying to recreate a semblance of home. If I pop my head over my cubicle block, I see a sea of tinsel, multicolored lights and stockings. It’s quite a tribute to the holiday spirit. Most, if not all, of the supplies came from around the United States as people took the time to slow down and think of someone other than themselves, a great foundation of holiday spirit. And while decorating our cubicles doesn’t completely emulate those memories we have of home, it is awfully nice to try and get close.
Unfortunately, for many soldiers, Christmas is just another day of work. It’s not as if it’s not recognized that it is a holiday, but it’s just hard to celebrate when there is still a job that needs to be done. Some sections have afforded their soldiers a partial day off, but the mission continues to drive on in their absence. And while as kids (even maybe as adults), the most exciting thing was to wake up and find that Santa Clause had come and gone and left in his wake a slew of presents. For most here, the most exciting thing will be marking another day off of their calendars. It’s another day done, and only a handful more to go.
That’s not to say that I still won’t cling to a bit of normalcy… Tonight I have grand plans of attending Christmas Mass at the chapel here on post. And tomorrow I’ll be spending Christmas Day dinner with my family away from family. It’s not easy being away for the holidays, but forming a little family like ours here in Iraq definitely makes it a bit easier.
I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. Take the time to slow down for a moment and immerse yourself in the holiday spirit. This kind of reminds me of a quote my mom and dad have on their bedroom wall at the cabin “Just breathe. You will never live this moment again.”
We’d always pull down huge totes full of Christmas supplies. My earliest memories of Christmas involve my parents pulling out each of ornaments, calling our name so we could claim our little ornaments to hang on the tree. We always ooh and ahhed over the same ones. The Santa Clause head or the ornament my dad made when he was a wee little fella. I remember heeding my mom’s instructions to ‘put the ugly ones’ on the back of the tree, and being slightly offended when the ugly ornament in question was a gobble of sparkle and glue that I had made what feels like ages ago. After delicately positioning each ornament into its new home, we would gather around and sing Silent Night for a video camera, swaying as we sang a bit off key.
In the last couple of years, we’ve stopped putting everything up, running out of room to hang jingle bells and shelves to put lopsided snowmen on that Josh had created in 4th grade. As Darcie and Matt moved out of the house, the whole tradition of everything kind of started to dwindle. Our lives started picking up and it started being a struggle to find a time that didn’t conflict with everyone’s schedules. It’s hard to slow down time for a growing family of 6. And that’s ok, because after all, it’s not about the twinkling bulbs, the lopsided Santas or even the ornaments. It’s about what’s left when all of that is packaged away again until next year.
I look around at the cubicles in my office, each trying to recreate a semblance of home. If I pop my head over my cubicle block, I see a sea of tinsel, multicolored lights and stockings. It’s quite a tribute to the holiday spirit. Most, if not all, of the supplies came from around the United States as people took the time to slow down and think of someone other than themselves, a great foundation of holiday spirit. And while decorating our cubicles doesn’t completely emulate those memories we have of home, it is awfully nice to try and get close.
Unfortunately, for many soldiers, Christmas is just another day of work. It’s not as if it’s not recognized that it is a holiday, but it’s just hard to celebrate when there is still a job that needs to be done. Some sections have afforded their soldiers a partial day off, but the mission continues to drive on in their absence. And while as kids (even maybe as adults), the most exciting thing was to wake up and find that Santa Clause had come and gone and left in his wake a slew of presents. For most here, the most exciting thing will be marking another day off of their calendars. It’s another day done, and only a handful more to go.
That’s not to say that I still won’t cling to a bit of normalcy… Tonight I have grand plans of attending Christmas Mass at the chapel here on post. And tomorrow I’ll be spending Christmas Day dinner with my family away from family. It’s not easy being away for the holidays, but forming a little family like ours here in Iraq definitely makes it a bit easier.
I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. Take the time to slow down for a moment and immerse yourself in the holiday spirit. This kind of reminds me of a quote my mom and dad have on their bedroom wall at the cabin “Just breathe. You will never live this moment again.”
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Momma I'm a star
As most of you know, last week my dad and I experienced our 15 minutes of fame. Literally, I think it all added up to about 15 minutes. For those of you who don’t know, last week as part of our Thanksgiving celebration, 4 different news stations interviewed us. Our schedule looked something like this:
9:00 AM ET --> The Crotteaus with MSNBC
9:30 AM ET --> The Crotteaus with CNN
11:15 Am ET --> The Crotteaus with KMSP-TV in Minneapolis
11:30 AM ET --> The Crotteaus with WCCO-TV in Minneapolis
I think with the MSNBC one, they called my mom up. Which was so wonderful. My dad and I try to emphasize how important the family is in this whole adventure, because so rarely are they included in this side of things. Too often, the soldiers get all the glory and the family is kind of hidden in the shadows. It was so nice for my mom to get in on the action for once.
In between our first two interviews, we had Thanksgiving dinner. Our little family away from our families joined us. If I had to spend a holiday away from you guys, I’m glad that I had them to spend it with and they had us.
The company was great, and the food wasn’t too shabby either. Granted, I steared clear of the “suspicious” looking food… you know. The stuff that looks like it was capable of having camel parts lurking within, like the stuffing. The turkey was actually pretty decent. I haven’t had anything but chicken since I’ve gotten here, so it was a pleasant surprise. That’s not to say that I’m going to start stepping out of my little chicken coup, if you will. Because I’m still adamanant that those burgers they say are made of “beef” are actually made of camel. I just can’t find anyone to verify that.
Anyways, if you guys weren’t able to catch us on T.V. and you wanted to, my friend Deidre found the links and sent them to me:
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73955
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73965
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73966
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73952
I think I should add a disclaimer and let you know that it was very hard to hear. That should explain a lot of the weird faces I think…
I hope that you guys had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Two more holidays (Christmas and New Years) and my dad and I will be home!!!
I. CANNOT. WAIT.
<3 Jacki
9:00 AM ET --> The Crotteaus with MSNBC
9:30 AM ET --> The Crotteaus with CNN
11:15 Am ET --> The Crotteaus with KMSP-TV in Minneapolis
11:30 AM ET --> The Crotteaus with WCCO-TV in Minneapolis
I think with the MSNBC one, they called my mom up. Which was so wonderful. My dad and I try to emphasize how important the family is in this whole adventure, because so rarely are they included in this side of things. Too often, the soldiers get all the glory and the family is kind of hidden in the shadows. It was so nice for my mom to get in on the action for once.
In between our first two interviews, we had Thanksgiving dinner. Our little family away from our families joined us. If I had to spend a holiday away from you guys, I’m glad that I had them to spend it with and they had us.
The company was great, and the food wasn’t too shabby either. Granted, I steared clear of the “suspicious” looking food… you know. The stuff that looks like it was capable of having camel parts lurking within, like the stuffing. The turkey was actually pretty decent. I haven’t had anything but chicken since I’ve gotten here, so it was a pleasant surprise. That’s not to say that I’m going to start stepping out of my little chicken coup, if you will. Because I’m still adamanant that those burgers they say are made of “beef” are actually made of camel. I just can’t find anyone to verify that.
Anyways, if you guys weren’t able to catch us on T.V. and you wanted to, my friend Deidre found the links and sent them to me:
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73955
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73965
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73966
http://www.dvidshub.net/?script=video/video_show.php&id=73952
I think I should add a disclaimer and let you know that it was very hard to hear. That should explain a lot of the weird faces I think…
I hope that you guys had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Two more holidays (Christmas and New Years) and my dad and I will be home!!!
I. CANNOT. WAIT.
<3 Jacki
Monday, November 23, 2009
Miss Jacki, what happened to your leg
Every day when I walk to work, the gate guards stop me and ask “Miss Jacki, what happened to your leg? Are you hurt?” Every day, I laugh and say, nope. I’m fine. They look at me confused and kind of tilt their heads “But then why do you walk so funny?”
I don’t tell them why. It’s hard to explain to someone who does speak English, let alone explain to someone who doesn’t speak English as their native language, that I accidentally sat on my own straightner. My own hair straightner that I had turned on to 430 degrees and then gently set on my bed just moments before it collided with my bum.
Well, that’s not technically correct. It would probably be more accurate to say that it collided with my upper left leg, right where the leg and bum meet. Bum. That’s a stupid word and I’m not sure why I’m using it.
Regardless, this happened a week or two weeks ago, I’m not really sure anymore. And ever since then I’ve had to exert caution as I complete the simplest tasks, like walking to and from work, going to the bathroom (can’t sit normal on the toilet seat for fear that my laceration will come in contact with the thousands of other things that have touched the toilet). For awhile, when I sat the wrong way in my desk chair (that is, I didn’t sit on my right hip), my laceration would meld with my pants, which would stick to my chair… and I would have to carefully separate my pants from my chair and then my pants from my laceration (what I call it so I don’t have to say my self-inflicted burn).
My own father has taken it upon himself to mercilessly mock my new strut, as he drags one leg and then hops a little. My colleagues watch as I slowly shift out of my seat, impatiently waiting for my laceration and pants to separate from their warm embrace. I’m sorry to interrupt their romantic moment, but I’ve got things I need to do. Even in the shower room, I get questions. I’m not sure why their eyes are averted to a place so near my bum (there I go again with that word), or how to answer. They just wouldn’t understand…
I can’t quite explain how I burned myself so far up on my leg (I was wearing shorts) or how I could have been so absentminded. I’d like to attribute that to my old age. I feel like it’s a valid excuse.
I guess if the worst wound I get here is from a hair straightner, I’m probably doing alright…
<3 Jacki
P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I just looked at my makeshift countdown (It’s on my computer and it’s called the donut of misery). I have approximately 77.56 days left here give or take, probably give.
I don’t tell them why. It’s hard to explain to someone who does speak English, let alone explain to someone who doesn’t speak English as their native language, that I accidentally sat on my own straightner. My own hair straightner that I had turned on to 430 degrees and then gently set on my bed just moments before it collided with my bum.
Well, that’s not technically correct. It would probably be more accurate to say that it collided with my upper left leg, right where the leg and bum meet. Bum. That’s a stupid word and I’m not sure why I’m using it.
Regardless, this happened a week or two weeks ago, I’m not really sure anymore. And ever since then I’ve had to exert caution as I complete the simplest tasks, like walking to and from work, going to the bathroom (can’t sit normal on the toilet seat for fear that my laceration will come in contact with the thousands of other things that have touched the toilet). For awhile, when I sat the wrong way in my desk chair (that is, I didn’t sit on my right hip), my laceration would meld with my pants, which would stick to my chair… and I would have to carefully separate my pants from my chair and then my pants from my laceration (what I call it so I don’t have to say my self-inflicted burn).
My own father has taken it upon himself to mercilessly mock my new strut, as he drags one leg and then hops a little. My colleagues watch as I slowly shift out of my seat, impatiently waiting for my laceration and pants to separate from their warm embrace. I’m sorry to interrupt their romantic moment, but I’ve got things I need to do. Even in the shower room, I get questions. I’m not sure why their eyes are averted to a place so near my bum (there I go again with that word), or how to answer. They just wouldn’t understand…
I can’t quite explain how I burned myself so far up on my leg (I was wearing shorts) or how I could have been so absentminded. I’d like to attribute that to my old age. I feel like it’s a valid excuse.
I guess if the worst wound I get here is from a hair straightner, I’m probably doing alright…
<3 Jacki
P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I just looked at my makeshift countdown (It’s on my computer and it’s called the donut of misery). I have approximately 77.56 days left here give or take, probably give.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Jacki Wacki Pudding Pie
Our family loves when Dave gives us letters instead of cards. Here is the letter he wrote to Jack on her 20th birthday
Jacki Wacki Pudding Pie,
I need to add a disclaimer right up front that protects me in the event that my memory failed me. To the best of my ability the facts below are what I believe to be true. Your mother may say that the details might not be exact, or names have been changed to protect the innocent. What is true is that you hold a portion of my heart that is reserved for you and you alone.
What can I say from the moment of your birth to your recent deployment with your old man you have continued to make me proud! Back before you were born your mother wanted to give me the greatest gift ever and that gift was to experience the birth of a baby. I wasn’t as eager as she was and I was content with my kids. Your mother was pretty persistent and I couldn’t say no. 9 months later and a great pregnancy you were born. Your mother maneuvered through the 9 months and radiated the beauty of an expectant mother. She absolutely glowed and I (we) so enjoyed the whole pregnancy. Everything from you kicking me in the back, the ultrasounds, or the doctor’s checkups I tried to be there. Actually the kicks in the back when she lay behind me should have been an early indicator of what lay ahead.
The day you were born was very hectic for me. My old boss Pete was on me to get some work done before I could rush home to take your mom to the hospital after the call. I understand Pete’s issues today, but back then I didn’t. When I finally got out of work to get your mom, we rushed to the hospital for the delivery. I was starved and half heartedly mentioned that we could hit the drive though on the way there. It probably wasn’t the thing to say to a woman in labor. Did you know that you can’t get on East bound 94 from 35W going south? I found it out that day. If memory serves me it was snowing and traffic was heavy.
All I can say is witnessing the miracle of birth was the most amazing thing that I had ever seen. I’m not sure how good of a coach I was but I did my best. The sound of you crying and the cutting of the umbilical cord are all things that I will take with me to the grave. Your mom gave me one of the greatest gifts that day that a couple can share. Do you remember in Lion King when the King brought his baby up on the rock and held Simba up in the air to announce to his people the birth of his child? They could have very easily gotten that scene from me. I was that proud that together we could make such a beautiful baby! I’m sure that by this time in your life you’re thankful that you got your looks from your mom and the thick dark hair. I’m sorry to say you got my eyes and my melon that your long thick hair covers so well.
As the old radio commentator Paul Harvey would say “and now the rest of the story”. After you were born the nurse came to see if there was anything that your mom needed. Keep in mind your mom was exhausted and was in and out of sleep. I said yes there is one thing, and it was that she was really hungry. I’m not sure what kind of sandwiches they were that they brought her, but they were good.
It seems like the past has gone by so fast it seems like just yesterday you crashed and burned trying to take your first step. In fact Aubrey makes me think of you as a baby. The innocence, the curiosity, and the inquisitive mind are some of the things that you still carry with you today. I can remember the writing on the walls in the bathroom with your favorite marker, to one of your first loves that you had after your dad told you he couldn’t marry you. Remember him; his dad was a business owner his son and you had so much in common. He worked in the family junkyard and you collected junk. In your Mom and dad’s eyes it was a match made in heaven.
All kidding aside I believe you got the best of your Mom when it comes to a temper and her uncanny ability to solve problems, and just maybe some of your dad’s compassion when it comes to dealing with life. From day one you acted as the go between amongst your siblings and have always made those around you feel special. It’s like you had a built in magnet when it came to befriending kids. It still happens today when we stand together in church. Some baby somewhere in the pews around us is trying to make eye contact with you. Don’t take this wrong but you truly are a babe magnet! In fact one of the fond memories of my mom that I still have is of her holding you. I don’t have a lot of memories of her anymore but her eyes sparkled the day she held you.
You have truly been blessed to have had grandparents in your life. Your relationship with Harry I’m sure will be some of the best memories you will treasure always. It’s funny that sometimes you and Harry act like sisters instead of the traditional granddaughter grandmother role. I’m sure you will share stories with your kids of their Great Grandmother and just maybe you will tell them that you served in the war with their Grandpa.
Maybe you’re already learning some of your dad’s lessons of life. You seem to have discovered from your old man that if life gives you lemons you have to make lemonade. If you and Zack need me to talk to you about Chinese proverb #86 I’m ready and willing (You know the one about the birds and the bees). Every time I crave Chinese I think of you and our talks. Every time I eat fish or see fish I think of you. And every time I see a baby with beautiful brown eyes I find myself thinking of the day you were born. I think back to the treasures that God has given me and thank him for entrusting me with one of his greatest creations.
In closing I want you to know that the day you surprised me with your intent to join the guard was scary for me. I didn’t want to see you or any of my kids have to serve your country. Your logic of using my words against me came into play that day. You said “Dad you always told me that if you want to complain about what’s wrong in this country you have to participate in some form or another”. I tried to talk you out of it and when that didn’t work I encouraged you to look at the Air force. Once again you showed your stubborn side (Sibell Trait) and did what you wanted. I guess the years of being the peacekeeper at home would only transform to being a peacekeeper here in Iraq. I know I don’t show it as much as I would like but I’m glad you’re here with me. There is a part of me that wants you to be home making a mess in the kitchen, or throwing the switch in your bedroom that turns it from clean to disaster in seconds. To be in this far off place so far from home. Every time our neighbors act up I wonder where you are and if you’re safe.
Let me just say this “Jacki I am so proud of you and the Lady that you have become”. Your days of being a teenager are behind you now; your future is what you make it. Somehow you’re going to have to find a way to achieve your goal of being a circus clown, grandmother! My last piece of advice for you is this “Dance to the music as if no one is watching you, and stop and smell the flowers along the way!”
I love you Fish always and forever!
Dad
Jacki Wacki Pudding Pie,
I need to add a disclaimer right up front that protects me in the event that my memory failed me. To the best of my ability the facts below are what I believe to be true. Your mother may say that the details might not be exact, or names have been changed to protect the innocent. What is true is that you hold a portion of my heart that is reserved for you and you alone.
What can I say from the moment of your birth to your recent deployment with your old man you have continued to make me proud! Back before you were born your mother wanted to give me the greatest gift ever and that gift was to experience the birth of a baby. I wasn’t as eager as she was and I was content with my kids. Your mother was pretty persistent and I couldn’t say no. 9 months later and a great pregnancy you were born. Your mother maneuvered through the 9 months and radiated the beauty of an expectant mother. She absolutely glowed and I (we) so enjoyed the whole pregnancy. Everything from you kicking me in the back, the ultrasounds, or the doctor’s checkups I tried to be there. Actually the kicks in the back when she lay behind me should have been an early indicator of what lay ahead.
The day you were born was very hectic for me. My old boss Pete was on me to get some work done before I could rush home to take your mom to the hospital after the call. I understand Pete’s issues today, but back then I didn’t. When I finally got out of work to get your mom, we rushed to the hospital for the delivery. I was starved and half heartedly mentioned that we could hit the drive though on the way there. It probably wasn’t the thing to say to a woman in labor. Did you know that you can’t get on East bound 94 from 35W going south? I found it out that day. If memory serves me it was snowing and traffic was heavy.
All I can say is witnessing the miracle of birth was the most amazing thing that I had ever seen. I’m not sure how good of a coach I was but I did my best. The sound of you crying and the cutting of the umbilical cord are all things that I will take with me to the grave. Your mom gave me one of the greatest gifts that day that a couple can share. Do you remember in Lion King when the King brought his baby up on the rock and held Simba up in the air to announce to his people the birth of his child? They could have very easily gotten that scene from me. I was that proud that together we could make such a beautiful baby! I’m sure that by this time in your life you’re thankful that you got your looks from your mom and the thick dark hair. I’m sorry to say you got my eyes and my melon that your long thick hair covers so well.
As the old radio commentator Paul Harvey would say “and now the rest of the story”. After you were born the nurse came to see if there was anything that your mom needed. Keep in mind your mom was exhausted and was in and out of sleep. I said yes there is one thing, and it was that she was really hungry. I’m not sure what kind of sandwiches they were that they brought her, but they were good.
It seems like the past has gone by so fast it seems like just yesterday you crashed and burned trying to take your first step. In fact Aubrey makes me think of you as a baby. The innocence, the curiosity, and the inquisitive mind are some of the things that you still carry with you today. I can remember the writing on the walls in the bathroom with your favorite marker, to one of your first loves that you had after your dad told you he couldn’t marry you. Remember him; his dad was a business owner his son and you had so much in common. He worked in the family junkyard and you collected junk. In your Mom and dad’s eyes it was a match made in heaven.
All kidding aside I believe you got the best of your Mom when it comes to a temper and her uncanny ability to solve problems, and just maybe some of your dad’s compassion when it comes to dealing with life. From day one you acted as the go between amongst your siblings and have always made those around you feel special. It’s like you had a built in magnet when it came to befriending kids. It still happens today when we stand together in church. Some baby somewhere in the pews around us is trying to make eye contact with you. Don’t take this wrong but you truly are a babe magnet! In fact one of the fond memories of my mom that I still have is of her holding you. I don’t have a lot of memories of her anymore but her eyes sparkled the day she held you.
You have truly been blessed to have had grandparents in your life. Your relationship with Harry I’m sure will be some of the best memories you will treasure always. It’s funny that sometimes you and Harry act like sisters instead of the traditional granddaughter grandmother role. I’m sure you will share stories with your kids of their Great Grandmother and just maybe you will tell them that you served in the war with their Grandpa.
Maybe you’re already learning some of your dad’s lessons of life. You seem to have discovered from your old man that if life gives you lemons you have to make lemonade. If you and Zack need me to talk to you about Chinese proverb #86 I’m ready and willing (You know the one about the birds and the bees). Every time I crave Chinese I think of you and our talks. Every time I eat fish or see fish I think of you. And every time I see a baby with beautiful brown eyes I find myself thinking of the day you were born. I think back to the treasures that God has given me and thank him for entrusting me with one of his greatest creations.
In closing I want you to know that the day you surprised me with your intent to join the guard was scary for me. I didn’t want to see you or any of my kids have to serve your country. Your logic of using my words against me came into play that day. You said “Dad you always told me that if you want to complain about what’s wrong in this country you have to participate in some form or another”. I tried to talk you out of it and when that didn’t work I encouraged you to look at the Air force. Once again you showed your stubborn side (Sibell Trait) and did what you wanted. I guess the years of being the peacekeeper at home would only transform to being a peacekeeper here in Iraq. I know I don’t show it as much as I would like but I’m glad you’re here with me. There is a part of me that wants you to be home making a mess in the kitchen, or throwing the switch in your bedroom that turns it from clean to disaster in seconds. To be in this far off place so far from home. Every time our neighbors act up I wonder where you are and if you’re safe.
Let me just say this “Jacki I am so proud of you and the Lady that you have become”. Your days of being a teenager are behind you now; your future is what you make it. Somehow you’re going to have to find a way to achieve your goal of being a circus clown, grandmother! My last piece of advice for you is this “Dance to the music as if no one is watching you, and stop and smell the flowers along the way!”
I love you Fish always and forever!
Dad
Hey guys. It's been a turbulent couple of weeks with a lot of ups and downs and everything in between. I've thought to myself every day "boy, I should probably write a blog." And yet I just couldn't. Nothing really came to mind. And then I received an e-mail from Josh, so you can thank him for this bad boy!
I remember that one of my first blogs came a year and six days ago, on veterans day. I remember feeling like I hadn't really done something worth being thanked for. That there were people more fitting to be thanked. And now, I guess I'm sort of one of those people. It's a weird feeling being 20 (that's right, my birthday came and went... I'll talk about that in a later blog) and knowing that I am truly a war veteran now. I've served in Operation Iraqi Freedom, and I'll probably serve in support of Operation Enduring Freedom soon enough. I'm 20 years old, and already I'm part of a very elite group of people. A group of selfless people who spend a year away from home in the hopes that just maybe they can make a difference (or maybe they're just banking time because they're forced to. I’d like to think it's the former.)
That being said, I received a pretty wonderful e-mail from my little brother. He sounds a lot like me 1 year ago. Coming up, he'll have served a full year in the military, and he is just 18 years old. Already, he's a part of something bigger than himself. It's weird because he said a lot of what I said a year ago. Here's part of his e-mail:
"...last wednesday was veterans day, and for the first time since i joined I felt apart of something bigger. A few kids who knew what I'd done over the summer came up to thank me. I remember asking myself, "what have I done?" and then it occured to me that it was veterans day. At first I felt bad, because really what have i done, nothing. I made the choice to join, I've went to basic, I go to RSP once a month, but in reality thats nothing. There are so many more soldiers who have given so much more then me. Brent Cook gave his life, dads given nearly thirty years of his life. In 11 days I'll be celebrating my first year. Wow, nothing at all. I guess not only do I want to say happy birthday, but I also want to say thanks. From one soldier to another, thanks for having my back. From brother to sister, thanks for supporting me through everything. And lastly, friend to friend, You'll never realize how much you do for me. It means alot Jack.
I love ya Jack, stay safe,
Josh
I'm a little wiser now. And I realize that while Josh hasn't served overseas and that one year ago, when I wrote my blog, I hadn't either, I realize that me and Josh both gave up an awful lot. We gave up the summer before our Senior year. We gave up one precious weekend a month that most kids spent partying and getting drunk, because it's the cool thing to do. We gave up going to college like our friends did/will do. We gave a lot up, just to be a part of something that was more important than it all, more important than being a “normal teenager.” And we stand to give up a lot more every time we are deployed. That’s not to say that we won’t take away a handful of very important friends or experiences. Through our own eyes, we’ve seen those unbreakable relationships form when you join a part of something bigger. The sense of brotherhood and belonging you suddenly obtain, simply by slipping on your uniform one weekend a month or a year of your life. It’s one of the most empowering feelings, really.
Thank-you for deciding to take a path less traveled by your peers, and for giving up a lot more than you even realize right now. I love you to, Bud.
<3 Jacki
I remember that one of my first blogs came a year and six days ago, on veterans day. I remember feeling like I hadn't really done something worth being thanked for. That there were people more fitting to be thanked. And now, I guess I'm sort of one of those people. It's a weird feeling being 20 (that's right, my birthday came and went... I'll talk about that in a later blog) and knowing that I am truly a war veteran now. I've served in Operation Iraqi Freedom, and I'll probably serve in support of Operation Enduring Freedom soon enough. I'm 20 years old, and already I'm part of a very elite group of people. A group of selfless people who spend a year away from home in the hopes that just maybe they can make a difference (or maybe they're just banking time because they're forced to. I’d like to think it's the former.)
That being said, I received a pretty wonderful e-mail from my little brother. He sounds a lot like me 1 year ago. Coming up, he'll have served a full year in the military, and he is just 18 years old. Already, he's a part of something bigger than himself. It's weird because he said a lot of what I said a year ago. Here's part of his e-mail:
"...last wednesday was veterans day, and for the first time since i joined I felt apart of something bigger. A few kids who knew what I'd done over the summer came up to thank me. I remember asking myself, "what have I done?" and then it occured to me that it was veterans day. At first I felt bad, because really what have i done, nothing. I made the choice to join, I've went to basic, I go to RSP once a month, but in reality thats nothing. There are so many more soldiers who have given so much more then me. Brent Cook gave his life, dads given nearly thirty years of his life. In 11 days I'll be celebrating my first year. Wow, nothing at all. I guess not only do I want to say happy birthday, but I also want to say thanks. From one soldier to another, thanks for having my back. From brother to sister, thanks for supporting me through everything. And lastly, friend to friend, You'll never realize how much you do for me. It means alot Jack.
I love ya Jack, stay safe,
Josh
I'm a little wiser now. And I realize that while Josh hasn't served overseas and that one year ago, when I wrote my blog, I hadn't either, I realize that me and Josh both gave up an awful lot. We gave up the summer before our Senior year. We gave up one precious weekend a month that most kids spent partying and getting drunk, because it's the cool thing to do. We gave up going to college like our friends did/will do. We gave a lot up, just to be a part of something that was more important than it all, more important than being a “normal teenager.” And we stand to give up a lot more every time we are deployed. That’s not to say that we won’t take away a handful of very important friends or experiences. Through our own eyes, we’ve seen those unbreakable relationships form when you join a part of something bigger. The sense of brotherhood and belonging you suddenly obtain, simply by slipping on your uniform one weekend a month or a year of your life. It’s one of the most empowering feelings, really.
Thank-you for deciding to take a path less traveled by your peers, and for giving up a lot more than you even realize right now. I love you to, Bud.
<3 Jacki
Friday, October 2, 2009
Toxic Camel Spit:
Let's see... its been about 3 weeks or more since I last posted. I know I know. Shame has been brought upon my family and I will be stricken down with a lightning bolt. I've already been scolded by a handful of people that "your vacation is over. Time to get back to writing." Funny... I was sure that this place was the exact opposite of a vacation... cough cough HARRY. But alas, she's right. The parents are back from a long weekend away, and it's time to get serious again.
That's right. My dad was gone for about 2 and half weeks... and it really did feel like my parents were away for the weekend and I had the WHOLE house to myself. It's not to say I didn't miss him, but it was nice to savor the sense of freedom that his leave entitled me. It sounds weird, I know.
I can tell you that I loved sleeping in on Sundays, my one day of rest, instead of waking up early to go to church. I lose a lot of sleep during the week and his leave allowed me to sleep in a little on Sunday. Once again, shame on me. But in the battle of early mornings and sleeping in, sleeping in will usually come out triumphant. As I tried to explaining to him upon his return, when I got to church it's like him waking up at 1 in the morning to go to work. To this he responded, "Well, I really appreciate you making that sacrifice. It means a lot to me." What could I say to that?
Needless to say, I did go to church that Sunday morning. And I was extremely exhausted. But I was there. Maybe not bright eyed and smiling, but rather yawning and teary eyed. He gets what he gets.
We did have a nice Sunday though. We ended up going to the new bazaar. I'll have to post some pictures later, I don't have them with me right now. But it's called the Oasis, and I think it lives up to it's name. It's nice to have something new here. As I've said before, it so often feels like groundhog day, and a little mixup is a pleasant surprise.
I think the most exciting thing there was the camels. I have been around Iraq enough to really see a camel, and I was lucky enough to see one up close and personal. Lucky me. I'd like to think as my dad went to snap the picture that the camel was merely offering a friendly greeting...instead, I think that it was it's vicious attempt to target me. It clamped down on my noggin, and as the camel handler laughed and I watched as nobody came to my rescue, I thought... death by camel. That's how I'm going to go? Death by a fricken camel? It finally released my head from the jaws of death, leaving only a trace of toxic camel spit as a reminder of what it is capable of.
And that is about what I've been up to. I told my mom that it is very difficult to come up with interesting material here, making it hard for me to write something. I always say this, and I do mean it, but I'll work on it. Pinkie promise.
<3 Jacki
That's right. My dad was gone for about 2 and half weeks... and it really did feel like my parents were away for the weekend and I had the WHOLE house to myself. It's not to say I didn't miss him, but it was nice to savor the sense of freedom that his leave entitled me. It sounds weird, I know.
I can tell you that I loved sleeping in on Sundays, my one day of rest, instead of waking up early to go to church. I lose a lot of sleep during the week and his leave allowed me to sleep in a little on Sunday. Once again, shame on me. But in the battle of early mornings and sleeping in, sleeping in will usually come out triumphant. As I tried to explaining to him upon his return, when I got to church it's like him waking up at 1 in the morning to go to work. To this he responded, "Well, I really appreciate you making that sacrifice. It means a lot to me." What could I say to that?
Needless to say, I did go to church that Sunday morning. And I was extremely exhausted. But I was there. Maybe not bright eyed and smiling, but rather yawning and teary eyed. He gets what he gets.
We did have a nice Sunday though. We ended up going to the new bazaar. I'll have to post some pictures later, I don't have them with me right now. But it's called the Oasis, and I think it lives up to it's name. It's nice to have something new here. As I've said before, it so often feels like groundhog day, and a little mixup is a pleasant surprise.
I think the most exciting thing there was the camels. I have been around Iraq enough to really see a camel, and I was lucky enough to see one up close and personal. Lucky me. I'd like to think as my dad went to snap the picture that the camel was merely offering a friendly greeting...instead, I think that it was it's vicious attempt to target me. It clamped down on my noggin, and as the camel handler laughed and I watched as nobody came to my rescue, I thought... death by camel. That's how I'm going to go? Death by a fricken camel? It finally released my head from the jaws of death, leaving only a trace of toxic camel spit as a reminder of what it is capable of.
And that is about what I've been up to. I told my mom that it is very difficult to come up with interesting material here, making it hard for me to write something. I always say this, and I do mean it, but I'll work on it. Pinkie promise.
<3 Jacki
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Exploited for a pretzel, of all things:
As I have said before, women have a lot of power over here. The wink of an eye or a flash of pearly whites can go a very, very long way. I make a habit of consciously not doing the aforementioned things. It’s not fair to toy with these poor boys, especially when they have no idea how to defend themselves. In the wrong hands, the tactics of a female can turn a man of dignity into a malleable substance that will do anything at the beck and call of those wrong hands.
While it is true that I do not engage is this “psychological” war fare against the opposite sex, I can tell you that I have been schooled in the art of working what you got, so to speak. I won’t name names, because I’m not here to present a platform to expose my fellow females. They are good people that have merely been given too much power, and I cannot fault them for that.
So, as the story goes, I was walking out of the internet café, which is a prime location for night life here on COB Basra. In the vicinity of the internet café, there is an Auntie Anne’s pretzel stand and a couple of volleyball courts. Auntie Anne’s happens to have the best pretzels in town, and they are a welcome treat.
My friend, who shall not be named, had already weaseled* the poor pretzel boys out of 2 free pretzels and a drink. After sharing her bounty with the people around her, she got a little greedy and asked for my assistance in acquiring more pretzels. “The trick,” she said with a gleam in her eyes, “Is to ask for the pretzels and when they bring it to the window, pull out your credit card. They will tell you that they only accept eagle cash, and then you say ‘Alright, well, I guess I don’t need a pretzel anyways.’ To this, they will say you can just have the pretzel. This plan is fool proof, Jacki!”
I was doubtful and suspicious, to boot. It seemed so simple and really, so conniving. I begged and pleaded for someone else to go. I just couldn’t take advantage of my feminine qualities. I did a fake out, pretending to walk up there, only to walk back after the appropriate time had passed to tell her “Aww shucks! They weren’t there.”
I thought I was in the clear. Instead, she plopped down in front of the pretzel stand and I plopped down with her. Before I knew it, she was flashing her pearly whites and giggling. A grown women! Giggling, of all things! And from there, those poor pretzel boys never stood a chance. I won’t say that I didn’t enjoy my cinnamon and sugar pretzel with caramel and freshly squeezed strawberry lemonade… because obviously I am ALWAYS a fan of food. But I did feel a little guilty. And now that I know what I am capable of, well. Quite frankly, I’m fearful for the opposite sex. It will probably start off small, something like “Hey there big guy, would you mind carrying this bag for me?” and then escalate to something else. I can’t think of what, maybe picking up my laundry or something… but I have learned a very dangerous trick. Not even a trick. More like a trade.
Hope this e-mail finds you all well!
<3 Jacki
While it is true that I do not engage is this “psychological” war fare against the opposite sex, I can tell you that I have been schooled in the art of working what you got, so to speak. I won’t name names, because I’m not here to present a platform to expose my fellow females. They are good people that have merely been given too much power, and I cannot fault them for that.
So, as the story goes, I was walking out of the internet café, which is a prime location for night life here on COB Basra. In the vicinity of the internet café, there is an Auntie Anne’s pretzel stand and a couple of volleyball courts. Auntie Anne’s happens to have the best pretzels in town, and they are a welcome treat.
My friend, who shall not be named, had already weaseled* the poor pretzel boys out of 2 free pretzels and a drink. After sharing her bounty with the people around her, she got a little greedy and asked for my assistance in acquiring more pretzels. “The trick,” she said with a gleam in her eyes, “Is to ask for the pretzels and when they bring it to the window, pull out your credit card. They will tell you that they only accept eagle cash, and then you say ‘Alright, well, I guess I don’t need a pretzel anyways.’ To this, they will say you can just have the pretzel. This plan is fool proof, Jacki!”
I was doubtful and suspicious, to boot. It seemed so simple and really, so conniving. I begged and pleaded for someone else to go. I just couldn’t take advantage of my feminine qualities. I did a fake out, pretending to walk up there, only to walk back after the appropriate time had passed to tell her “Aww shucks! They weren’t there.”
I thought I was in the clear. Instead, she plopped down in front of the pretzel stand and I plopped down with her. Before I knew it, she was flashing her pearly whites and giggling. A grown women! Giggling, of all things! And from there, those poor pretzel boys never stood a chance. I won’t say that I didn’t enjoy my cinnamon and sugar pretzel with caramel and freshly squeezed strawberry lemonade… because obviously I am ALWAYS a fan of food. But I did feel a little guilty. And now that I know what I am capable of, well. Quite frankly, I’m fearful for the opposite sex. It will probably start off small, something like “Hey there big guy, would you mind carrying this bag for me?” and then escalate to something else. I can’t think of what, maybe picking up my laundry or something… but I have learned a very dangerous trick. Not even a trick. More like a trade.
Hope this e-mail finds you all well!
<3 Jacki
Friday, September 4, 2009
Well, another day in the life for me here. I swear, I am living the ground hog day movie. Every day, I wake up and life carries on the same way as the day before. It's hard to keep track of the day and I'm always sure it's Monday, or at least that's what it feels like. I wake up at the same time, only to fall asleep and wake up 3 minutes later. I even fall asleep at exactly the same time. I eat the same meals and I see the same faces. I have the same routine when I get to work.
And even despite all of that, I'm thinking about staying here for a little bit longer. I would like to say it’s because I love the scenery and the people (which isn’t a lie) but quite honestly, I'm kind of afraid of coming home. I know that I still have everything there... family... friends... the works. But I'm afraid to come home to place that has changed and well, knowing that I have changed too. It's pretty scary just thinking about transitioning back to civilian life. Every morning I wake up and reach to make sure my rifle is still laying beside me, and I can't picture a life right now that I don't sleep with my rifle or that I don't instantly reach into my pocket to put on my "cover" or a hat. I can’t imagine waking up to a loud noise and not thinking it is anything but a mortar attack.
I think that I just feel like I’ve spent so much time away leading an abnormal life compared to my peers, going back and being normal just seems scary right now. I know that I wanted to carve my own path and go through life in my own way. That's not to say that it is always on the back of my mind that the rest of my friends back home are going back to their sophomore year of college this week, and they have already started their lives. When they turn 20 this year, they will be in their sophomore year of college and will know where their life is going. They'll have decided their major and the like. And me well, I’m still in limbo because I haven't had the opportunity to start the rest of my life. I turn 20 in November, and I have no idea where I'll end up, what I'll be doing when I rejoin the real world. And well, they, they have a pretty good idea that they will be the best teachers and nurses out there (I have no doubt that they will excel in anything they do). And while they move forward with their lives, I make corrections on reports about tactics that are killing U.S. soldiers. While they calculate mathematical equations in their classes, I’m sitting here calculating the casualties of an explosion that occurred on the next FOB over. And while they fall asleep in their beds from a long day of school work and other things that occupy their day, my eyes and ears stay alert. Even when I’m drifting off to sleep I can hear the faint sound of a missile, real or imagined. It’s the darndest thing.
And for some reason, I just can’t get myself to apply to any schools. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why I was resisting applying... because it was something that I thought I had wanted for myself. And I sent one of my best friends an e-mail of other plans I was looking into and this is what Courtney said to me:
"… And to be quite honest it's hard for me to picture you in college (that's probably not because you aren't supposed to be there, more just because you have never taken a normal route in life, and Jack I love that about you)…After the life you have been living and are going to be living in the next couple months, it's hard to think that you could just go back to a college type life style..."
I know that I’m not alone in feeling like my life has yet to start. There are other people here, like my friend Prince, who has yet to start his life. I know this because one night he wrote this to me:
“And, if I may ask, did you have a college first tag that you waived to go on this deployment? Because I did, and sometimes I worries me. In six months I shall be 20, see, and then, well I won't be a teenager no more. I'll just be a young man with no college education, working an entry level job in a faceless corporation. You know, I took this deployment because I didn't want to go through the whole big-fish-in-a-suddenly-large-ocean thing when I went to Bard College and its rich kids private school thing, and, because I assume you also chose to forgo some awesome college for a while, I'm asking if you ever, uh, well think that you're missing out or falling behind the curve on the whole "path" to yuppie-American success? Because I do. I think about a lot of things, though, so maybe I'm just crazy. Also: Did you know that if you put your PIN number into an ATM machine, you might get the HIV virus?”
I guess I have a lot of decisions to make in the next couple of months. And I know that no matter what I decide, I’ll have all the support I’ve ever needed in Minnesota. I think just writing this puts things into perspective for me, and just helps me to get my thoughts in order. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
<3 Jacki
And even despite all of that, I'm thinking about staying here for a little bit longer. I would like to say it’s because I love the scenery and the people (which isn’t a lie) but quite honestly, I'm kind of afraid of coming home. I know that I still have everything there... family... friends... the works. But I'm afraid to come home to place that has changed and well, knowing that I have changed too. It's pretty scary just thinking about transitioning back to civilian life. Every morning I wake up and reach to make sure my rifle is still laying beside me, and I can't picture a life right now that I don't sleep with my rifle or that I don't instantly reach into my pocket to put on my "cover" or a hat. I can’t imagine waking up to a loud noise and not thinking it is anything but a mortar attack.
I think that I just feel like I’ve spent so much time away leading an abnormal life compared to my peers, going back and being normal just seems scary right now. I know that I wanted to carve my own path and go through life in my own way. That's not to say that it is always on the back of my mind that the rest of my friends back home are going back to their sophomore year of college this week, and they have already started their lives. When they turn 20 this year, they will be in their sophomore year of college and will know where their life is going. They'll have decided their major and the like. And me well, I’m still in limbo because I haven't had the opportunity to start the rest of my life. I turn 20 in November, and I have no idea where I'll end up, what I'll be doing when I rejoin the real world. And well, they, they have a pretty good idea that they will be the best teachers and nurses out there (I have no doubt that they will excel in anything they do). And while they move forward with their lives, I make corrections on reports about tactics that are killing U.S. soldiers. While they calculate mathematical equations in their classes, I’m sitting here calculating the casualties of an explosion that occurred on the next FOB over. And while they fall asleep in their beds from a long day of school work and other things that occupy their day, my eyes and ears stay alert. Even when I’m drifting off to sleep I can hear the faint sound of a missile, real or imagined. It’s the darndest thing.
And for some reason, I just can’t get myself to apply to any schools. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why I was resisting applying... because it was something that I thought I had wanted for myself. And I sent one of my best friends an e-mail of other plans I was looking into and this is what Courtney said to me:
"… And to be quite honest it's hard for me to picture you in college (that's probably not because you aren't supposed to be there, more just because you have never taken a normal route in life, and Jack I love that about you)…After the life you have been living and are going to be living in the next couple months, it's hard to think that you could just go back to a college type life style..."
I know that I’m not alone in feeling like my life has yet to start. There are other people here, like my friend Prince, who has yet to start his life. I know this because one night he wrote this to me:
“And, if I may ask, did you have a college first tag that you waived to go on this deployment? Because I did, and sometimes I worries me. In six months I shall be 20, see, and then, well I won't be a teenager no more. I'll just be a young man with no college education, working an entry level job in a faceless corporation. You know, I took this deployment because I didn't want to go through the whole big-fish-in-a-suddenly-large-ocean thing when I went to Bard College and its rich kids private school thing, and, because I assume you also chose to forgo some awesome college for a while, I'm asking if you ever, uh, well think that you're missing out or falling behind the curve on the whole "path" to yuppie-American success? Because I do. I think about a lot of things, though, so maybe I'm just crazy. Also: Did you know that if you put your PIN number into an ATM machine, you might get the HIV virus?”
I guess I have a lot of decisions to make in the next couple of months. And I know that no matter what I decide, I’ll have all the support I’ve ever needed in Minnesota. I think just writing this puts things into perspective for me, and just helps me to get my thoughts in order. Thanks for listening to me ramble.
<3 Jacki
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Welcome to the Team!
My mom sent me an e-mail the other day telling me that they had made it to "the gates of hell" (little does she know that hell is 5,000miles across the ocean where her daughter and husband sweat in the 79%humidity and 120 degree weather :/) safe and sound . Well, I'm sure the trip was anything but sound. I know how it is when those two are together... the laughs and girlish giggles (amazing for women of their vast maturity (ahem cough cough age)).
It seems like just yesterday my mom, dad, and brother had come to support me as I graduated my basic training. I was so excited as my family came to the field, late I might add. I was panicked as I couldn't find them. It was such a relief when I finally did, and my mom just hugged me. She was crying, and of course I wasn't. I'm tough for that shi... stuff. Ok fine. Maybe my eyes overflowethed a little bit. But any factors could have contributed to that.... Just saying.
What I remember the most though, was driving home in the backseat. I wasn't awake for much. I slept through well-over half the drive. But the few moments I was awake, I remember glaring at Josh. "STOP looking at me like that!" I would yell. He just kept staring at me with this lopsided grin. Then he had the audacity to eat his sandwich like a slob... with only one side of his mouth. He had taken this too far. Between the stares and the sandwich stains on his shirt, I was quickly reminded of how home would be.
It wasn't until his jaw started locking up that I started to feel a twinge of guilt. The hospital stop in Chicago, Illinois really did me in. As many of you know, Josh had gotten Lyme's disease which had resulted in his Bells Palsy. I remember him laying on the bed and pretending like he was dying. It doesn't sound funny, but me and Josh laughed so hard as my mom scolded us.I'm glad his face didn't stay like that.
I don't know why I just wrote all of that, probably because when think of Josh with his face all lopsided, it reminds me that things could always be worse. No, but really, in all reality, it reminds me of the fun me and Josh have. Even at the weirdest and most inconvenient times. It's hard to believe that my little brother who I used to playlegos and Lincoln logs with, the same brother that I could never make eye contact with in church for fear of bursting out in inappropriate laughter and the same brother with the lopsided face... just graduated from Basic Training. That he'll be turning the big 1-8 come September 5th. And that he's really my jumbo little brother now as he towers over me. I'm still stronger, smarter, funnier and better looking though, of course. But still...Congratulations little jumbo brother on graduating from Basic Training... with a straight face and all =] Welcome to the team!
<3 Jacki
It seems like just yesterday my mom, dad, and brother had come to support me as I graduated my basic training. I was so excited as my family came to the field, late I might add. I was panicked as I couldn't find them. It was such a relief when I finally did, and my mom just hugged me. She was crying, and of course I wasn't. I'm tough for that shi... stuff. Ok fine. Maybe my eyes overflowethed a little bit. But any factors could have contributed to that.... Just saying.
What I remember the most though, was driving home in the backseat. I wasn't awake for much. I slept through well-over half the drive. But the few moments I was awake, I remember glaring at Josh. "STOP looking at me like that!" I would yell. He just kept staring at me with this lopsided grin. Then he had the audacity to eat his sandwich like a slob... with only one side of his mouth. He had taken this too far. Between the stares and the sandwich stains on his shirt, I was quickly reminded of how home would be.
It wasn't until his jaw started locking up that I started to feel a twinge of guilt. The hospital stop in Chicago, Illinois really did me in. As many of you know, Josh had gotten Lyme's disease which had resulted in his Bells Palsy. I remember him laying on the bed and pretending like he was dying. It doesn't sound funny, but me and Josh laughed so hard as my mom scolded us.I'm glad his face didn't stay like that.
I don't know why I just wrote all of that, probably because when think of Josh with his face all lopsided, it reminds me that things could always be worse. No, but really, in all reality, it reminds me of the fun me and Josh have. Even at the weirdest and most inconvenient times. It's hard to believe that my little brother who I used to playlegos and Lincoln logs with, the same brother that I could never make eye contact with in church for fear of bursting out in inappropriate laughter and the same brother with the lopsided face... just graduated from Basic Training. That he'll be turning the big 1-8 come September 5th. And that he's really my jumbo little brother now as he towers over me. I'm still stronger, smarter, funnier and better looking though, of course. But still...Congratulations little jumbo brother on graduating from Basic Training... with a straight face and all =] Welcome to the team!
<3 Jacki
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I love you Mom.
We chose this life that we are living right now. We chose to sign our name on the line to a cause we believe in. We do three months of basic training, followed by however long AIT takes. We’ve chosen to miss birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, all in the name of a cause that we believe is more worthy than all of that… even more worthy than missed memories.
We choose this life, but for some, this life chooses them. For those that are chosen for this life, they watch as their loved ones sign their name on the line to a cause they may not yet believe in. They ship their loved ones off to basic training and write them countless letters. They anxiously await for their arrival home from AIT. They take one for the team and spend their birthdays, anniversaries, and even holidays with out their loved ones.
And yet, it’s the ones who walk into the battle knowing and accepting the fight that receive all the recognition. How often have you seen a story on an American hero, that wasn’t in uniform? How often do you see a mom who lost a husband, a daughter, and two sons receive a care package to let them know that they are cared for? That somebody believes that they are just as much a part of the fight for freedom?
It’s easy to take for granted the people who wait for me back home. To know that they are there for me when I call at odd hours of the night. To know that they will snap those pictures so I don’t miss out on a weekend at the cabin or a night out with the girls.
It’s harder to realize that those people didn’t ask for this. They are silent heroes, who bear a burden that they never asked for, but yet never complain. And this is for them. For those calls they’ve answered and for the unyielding support they have given to the soldiers. I ask that you keep them in mind when you think about American heroes.
(I love you Mom.)
<3 Me.
We choose this life, but for some, this life chooses them. For those that are chosen for this life, they watch as their loved ones sign their name on the line to a cause they may not yet believe in. They ship their loved ones off to basic training and write them countless letters. They anxiously await for their arrival home from AIT. They take one for the team and spend their birthdays, anniversaries, and even holidays with out their loved ones.
And yet, it’s the ones who walk into the battle knowing and accepting the fight that receive all the recognition. How often have you seen a story on an American hero, that wasn’t in uniform? How often do you see a mom who lost a husband, a daughter, and two sons receive a care package to let them know that they are cared for? That somebody believes that they are just as much a part of the fight for freedom?
It’s easy to take for granted the people who wait for me back home. To know that they are there for me when I call at odd hours of the night. To know that they will snap those pictures so I don’t miss out on a weekend at the cabin or a night out with the girls.
It’s harder to realize that those people didn’t ask for this. They are silent heroes, who bear a burden that they never asked for, but yet never complain. And this is for them. For those calls they’ve answered and for the unyielding support they have given to the soldiers. I ask that you keep them in mind when you think about American heroes.
(I love you Mom.)
<3 Me.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Hello to all. I’m ashamed to admit that it’s been a little bit since I’ve wrote one of these bad boys. So have some updates for you all:
1. I was promoted. That’s right… this is SPECIALIST Crotteau writing this. I feel so empowered. I am having a little trouble answering the phones. It usually goes a little something like this. “G2X, this is PFC… sfasdfsafsdfxxxbdsgfasd. Sorry. This is SPC Crotteau speaking how can I help you sir or ma’am?” So that’s fun. I’ll get used to my new and improved title, but for now I’ll just sound like a baboon on the phone. Also, as far as my promotion ceremony goes, I can tell you that I begged, pleaded and downright implored my father not to make a big deal out of it. PFC to SPC is an automatic promotion, and I really just wanted to have something quiet… a couple people. When I told my dad this, he said “A couple people? Is 3 or 4 ok?” Why yes dad. 3 or 4 is fine. So when 13 or 14 people came from his section alone, I was a little dumfounded. Clearly, something was lost in translation… on his end of course. I should have expected this. It’s not like just one “aunt” or “uncle” could come. They ALL had to be there. It was nice of them to show up and support me, but combined with the people in my section, we had a full house. The exact opposite of what I wanted. Go figure.
2. New shift! I work from noon to midnight now. I expected that I would be working more (on my last shift we got done with our work at midnight and had time for “personal advancement.” This is code for surfing the internet and watching movies) because I would be in when all the action, so to speak, was happening. Instead, I have been working on my chess skills. Let’s just say that at this point, I am only accidentally good. While many of the people in my office think I know and calculate my moves 3 ahead or whatever you’re supposed to do, I’m just moving. Boy do I have them fooled. I’ll get purposely good soon and then they won’t even know what hit them. Boo-yah!
3. I have fallen in love. Head over heels in love. You guys are the first to hear it. I love my ham and provolone cheese sandwich with a couple of cucumber slices to top it off. I have him for lunch and dinner. I just can’t get enough of him! I usually toast him… and he is DELICIOUS! Just thought you guys should know…
That’s really all the interesting stuff that’s going down in the hood (Basrah). Now that I’m getting used to my new shift, and the novelty of chess is wearing off, I’ll be writing more. Lucky you guys =]
Hope this finds you guys healthy and happy!
Sending my love from Basrah to home,
Jacki
p.s. Today I got a card that read “Hang in there… sometimes life hands you lemons, but then you can make lemonade.” I opened the inside and read “Of course, sometimes life pulls down your pants, runs a power sander across your naked butt, then pours lemon juice on your raw, abraded buttocks. In that case, a cool citrus drink wouldn’t really help, but darn it… you’ve got to hang in there anyway!” This made me laugh unbelievably hard. It’s pretty much put into words what I live by. So thank-you Travis!!! The card brought a laugh from the rest of my office too =]
1. I was promoted. That’s right… this is SPECIALIST Crotteau writing this. I feel so empowered. I am having a little trouble answering the phones. It usually goes a little something like this. “G2X, this is PFC… sfasdfsafsdfxxxbdsgfasd. Sorry. This is SPC Crotteau speaking how can I help you sir or ma’am?” So that’s fun. I’ll get used to my new and improved title, but for now I’ll just sound like a baboon on the phone. Also, as far as my promotion ceremony goes, I can tell you that I begged, pleaded and downright implored my father not to make a big deal out of it. PFC to SPC is an automatic promotion, and I really just wanted to have something quiet… a couple people. When I told my dad this, he said “A couple people? Is 3 or 4 ok?” Why yes dad. 3 or 4 is fine. So when 13 or 14 people came from his section alone, I was a little dumfounded. Clearly, something was lost in translation… on his end of course. I should have expected this. It’s not like just one “aunt” or “uncle” could come. They ALL had to be there. It was nice of them to show up and support me, but combined with the people in my section, we had a full house. The exact opposite of what I wanted. Go figure.
2. New shift! I work from noon to midnight now. I expected that I would be working more (on my last shift we got done with our work at midnight and had time for “personal advancement.” This is code for surfing the internet and watching movies) because I would be in when all the action, so to speak, was happening. Instead, I have been working on my chess skills. Let’s just say that at this point, I am only accidentally good. While many of the people in my office think I know and calculate my moves 3 ahead or whatever you’re supposed to do, I’m just moving. Boy do I have them fooled. I’ll get purposely good soon and then they won’t even know what hit them. Boo-yah!
3. I have fallen in love. Head over heels in love. You guys are the first to hear it. I love my ham and provolone cheese sandwich with a couple of cucumber slices to top it off. I have him for lunch and dinner. I just can’t get enough of him! I usually toast him… and he is DELICIOUS! Just thought you guys should know…
That’s really all the interesting stuff that’s going down in the hood (Basrah). Now that I’m getting used to my new shift, and the novelty of chess is wearing off, I’ll be writing more. Lucky you guys =]
Hope this finds you guys healthy and happy!
Sending my love from Basrah to home,
Jacki
p.s. Today I got a card that read “Hang in there… sometimes life hands you lemons, but then you can make lemonade.” I opened the inside and read “Of course, sometimes life pulls down your pants, runs a power sander across your naked butt, then pours lemon juice on your raw, abraded buttocks. In that case, a cool citrus drink wouldn’t really help, but darn it… you’ve got to hang in there anyway!” This made me laugh unbelievably hard. It’s pretty much put into words what I live by. So thank-you Travis!!! The card brought a laugh from the rest of my office too =]
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Gardening Shears-
Some days, I feel as if I have contracted the black plague or the swine flu. It’s the oddest feeling. I think I’ve pinpointed the source of this disconcerting sensation. What has grey hair, goes by the alias of “Davis” or Dad, and is a Sergeant Major in the U.S. Army? DING DING DING! We have a winner. Now, it’s not so much the whole dad part about it that catches people, and by people I mean the opposite gender, up.
It’s more the title. I should have this expected from the first time I went on a real date. He handed my date a list of “10 Rules to Dating a SGM’s Daughter”. I begged my date not to laugh. “For the love of god! Do you know what you have just done? You NEVER laugh. It only encourages him.” But he couldn’t understand…
Fast forward to when me and Doug started dating. Doug was blessed to find a very large set of gardening shears. This was a warning from my dad. Something along the lines of “You hurt her, and I will neuter you.” Really pleasant, right? I don’t know if it was before or after that warning that Doug found multiple copies of “the rules” strategically scattered throughout his room. I blame my first date for this…
Fast forward to now. My dad has become so advanced in his “scare” techniques. The guy only has to know that my dad is a SGM and he visibly backs away. This makes it very difficult to have any friends of the opposite gender, let alone acquaintances. In fact, the other day I made an innocent joke to my dad about the opposite gender, and he threatened utilizing my “aunts” and “uncles” as undercover spies. Is nothing sacred anymore?
But what really cinched this feeling of some highly infectious disease, was the other night when I was in the computer lab. I was talking to the person sitting next to me. Innocently chatting about cars and volleyball and whatever else came to mind. He lives in St. Cloud and so he knew of the area where our cabin is. I mentioned that when my dad retires, my parents will eventually move up to the Osakis area. After saying that… I could see in his eyes that he was catching on. “What does your dad do?” I looked at him… nervous to answer. “He’s in the army.” “Still? What unit is he in?” I hesitated. “34th Id…” “Wait… is he… here?” I answered, more hesitantly than before. “Yes…” “What? Is he like a SGM or something” He said with a laugh. “Yes….” And then, he scooted away. Just like that. He moved his chair over. And looked at me, with panic in his eyes.
And from here on out, if anyone asks… my dad is an accountant. Accountants just don’t strike a sense of fear into people like SGM do. I’m joking… but don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.
It’s more the title. I should have this expected from the first time I went on a real date. He handed my date a list of “10 Rules to Dating a SGM’s Daughter”. I begged my date not to laugh. “For the love of god! Do you know what you have just done? You NEVER laugh. It only encourages him.” But he couldn’t understand…
Fast forward to when me and Doug started dating. Doug was blessed to find a very large set of gardening shears. This was a warning from my dad. Something along the lines of “You hurt her, and I will neuter you.” Really pleasant, right? I don’t know if it was before or after that warning that Doug found multiple copies of “the rules” strategically scattered throughout his room. I blame my first date for this…
Fast forward to now. My dad has become so advanced in his “scare” techniques. The guy only has to know that my dad is a SGM and he visibly backs away. This makes it very difficult to have any friends of the opposite gender, let alone acquaintances. In fact, the other day I made an innocent joke to my dad about the opposite gender, and he threatened utilizing my “aunts” and “uncles” as undercover spies. Is nothing sacred anymore?
But what really cinched this feeling of some highly infectious disease, was the other night when I was in the computer lab. I was talking to the person sitting next to me. Innocently chatting about cars and volleyball and whatever else came to mind. He lives in St. Cloud and so he knew of the area where our cabin is. I mentioned that when my dad retires, my parents will eventually move up to the Osakis area. After saying that… I could see in his eyes that he was catching on. “What does your dad do?” I looked at him… nervous to answer. “He’s in the army.” “Still? What unit is he in?” I hesitated. “34th Id…” “Wait… is he… here?” I answered, more hesitantly than before. “Yes…” “What? Is he like a SGM or something” He said with a laugh. “Yes….” And then, he scooted away. Just like that. He moved his chair over. And looked at me, with panic in his eyes.
And from here on out, if anyone asks… my dad is an accountant. Accountants just don’t strike a sense of fear into people like SGM do. I’m joking… but don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Salsa Dancing
There I was cocooned In my room on my night off. I had kind of ditched out of the festivities that many soldiers were taking part in outside. There was a barbeque and a brass band playing, also spectators had gathered to watch volleyball. I however, was just glad it was finally my night off. It's how I gauge how much time has lapsed here. I don't think in terms of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and so forth... I think in terms of I've had 5 days off, so I've been here 5 weeks.
Anyways, I was settled in... watching some trashy teen drama that I haven't been able to stop watching since I've gotten here (I'm almost done with the entire series... 4 seasons down baby! WOOOO!). When I hear my door open, and my roommate comes in with a smirk and offers a “really” sincere “I'm so sorry....” I could tell that she wasn't all that sorry as our friend Cody followed behind her. Clearly, he was here on a mission and he had dragged innocent Weezy (my roommate) into his plot.
“No. No. No. I said no.” I said at the sight of him. I knew why he had come... in all my days of living, after those fateful dance classes offered at J&L where I learned that I was not only a graceless dancer, but that I could do a mean bear crawl... complete with the “rawring” you would expect to come out of said bear. Needless to say, I rarely danced after that. So, in recap, I don't dance. I'm an awful dancer. While I can appreciate the grace that my friends have while dancing (all of them were also in dance and two of them have continued to pursue their passion through college), I cannot, for the sake of others, allow myself to dance. It's just downright cruel.
Anyways, my dear friend Cody, had come by to teach me to salsa dance. Salsa dance... of all things. Every time he has asked, I have effectively thwarted his efforts. “I don't dance.” “I have to work.” “I have to bake cookie with my grandma.” “Tonight is my night to wash my hair.” “I have an ingrown toenail.” And clearly, I was not effective enough. Because, tonight, he sneak attacked me... and taught me how to salsa dance. I feel like if I were to step outside... pigs would fall from the sky. Hell (Iraq) will have frozen over.
Regardless, now I have to go to salsa dancing at Echo's (it's a bar without the alcohol that would normally make it a bar). I have run out of excuses.... and besides I don't think he was buying them anyways.
Anyways, I was settled in... watching some trashy teen drama that I haven't been able to stop watching since I've gotten here (I'm almost done with the entire series... 4 seasons down baby! WOOOO!). When I hear my door open, and my roommate comes in with a smirk and offers a “really” sincere “I'm so sorry....” I could tell that she wasn't all that sorry as our friend Cody followed behind her. Clearly, he was here on a mission and he had dragged innocent Weezy (my roommate) into his plot.
“No. No. No. I said no.” I said at the sight of him. I knew why he had come... in all my days of living, after those fateful dance classes offered at J&L where I learned that I was not only a graceless dancer, but that I could do a mean bear crawl... complete with the “rawring” you would expect to come out of said bear. Needless to say, I rarely danced after that. So, in recap, I don't dance. I'm an awful dancer. While I can appreciate the grace that my friends have while dancing (all of them were also in dance and two of them have continued to pursue their passion through college), I cannot, for the sake of others, allow myself to dance. It's just downright cruel.
Anyways, my dear friend Cody, had come by to teach me to salsa dance. Salsa dance... of all things. Every time he has asked, I have effectively thwarted his efforts. “I don't dance.” “I have to work.” “I have to bake cookie with my grandma.” “Tonight is my night to wash my hair.” “I have an ingrown toenail.” And clearly, I was not effective enough. Because, tonight, he sneak attacked me... and taught me how to salsa dance. I feel like if I were to step outside... pigs would fall from the sky. Hell (Iraq) will have frozen over.
Regardless, now I have to go to salsa dancing at Echo's (it's a bar without the alcohol that would normally make it a bar). I have run out of excuses.... and besides I don't think he was buying them anyways.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Red Bull Article
The Crotteau TeamBy: Sgt. Frank Vaughn on: Tue July 28, 2009 04:02 pm CDT (124 Reads) ..
Sgt. Maj. David Crotteau, currently serving in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom as the senior enlisted leader of supply and services for Multi-National Division-South and 34th Red Bull Infantry Division, has what he calls “a little piece of home” in Iraq. His daughter, Pfc. Jacki Crotteau, an intelligence specialist, is also serving in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom with the 34th Inf. Div. at Contingency Operating Base Sgt. Maj. David Crotteau, currently serving in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom as the senior enlisted leader of supply and services for Multi-National Division-South and 34th Red Bull Infantry Division, has what he calls “a little piece of home” in Iraq.
His daughter, Pfc. Jacki Crotteau, an intelligence specialist, is also serving in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom with the 34th Inf. Div. at Contingency Operating Base Basra.
The two spend as much time together as they can when not working. They eat breakfast and dinner together almost daily and go to Sunday church services together weekly.
Jacki, a former editor-in-chief of The St. Francis Crier, her high school newspaper, credits her military service to two things: an impulsive decision on her part and the influence of relationships developed with other Guardsmen as a result of her dad’s 30-year career in the military.
“Guard is family,” said David. “The people I have served with for many years are like aunts and uncles to Jacki. I tried to talk her into joining the Air Force, but the Army was all she knew.”
As for the impulse of her decision to join the Army, Jacki said she had to do something. “I didn’t want to go to college right away. I figured the military would give me experiences that college couldn’t.” One of the things Jacki has experienced here in Iraq is the need to work harder to establish her own identity. She said having her dad here, especially given his rank, kind of casts a shadow that she works hard to step out of. Her hard work has paid off. “I considered myself a people-person before the military,” Jacki said. “But I find it much easier to talk to people now.”
Still, Jacki said she wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. “It’s a good starter deployment,” she said. “I feel privileged because I have a hands-on experience being deployed with my dad.”
David said the deployment has strengthened the bond he has with his daughter. “Our family is used to me being gone, but Jacki more closely identifies with the sacrifices I’ve had to make in my military career,” he added.
This deployment hasn’t been easy on everyone, however. Susan, David’s wife and Jacki’s mother, has a house all to herself now, something she’s not used to.
“I have four children,” David said. “Two are grown and out on their own, Jacki’s here with me, and I have a son in basic (combat) training right now.”
“Mom is doing her part too now because the whole house is empty,” Jacki added. “My brother’s in basic, we’re here and she’s all by herself.”
Jacki said her mother had one thing to say about her and David being here together. “I’m really jealous!”
Monday, July 27, 2009
Davis and Jack
(some names have been changed to protect identity)
Since I was little, I remember anxiously awaiting spring. I couldn't wait until the first real Saturday of the season... when I could wake up extra early and jam into the car with other eager family members. The passengers were the spotters, impatiently scanning the road for a beacon of hope as the driver would also scan, but less fervently.
When someone finally saw our beacon of hope, a neon sign proudly proclaiming "GARAGE SALE!" they would yell "Turn here! Turn here!" We would do a sort of drive by... see what there was to offer. And of course, we would almost always stop. Do not judge a sale by it's appearance, I was raised to believe. A treasure was always waiting to be found.
And still, although the methods in Iraq are slightly different, the tradition continues here in glorious Basrah. Maybe we'll be driving along in the car, when suddenly, Cheryl spots a chair. DAVE STOP! And alas, there is the finely constructed chair, which will later be used for viewing movies... or rather sleeping through them. At that same "sale" I was also blessed to find my night stand. With a bit of dust off, my little find is now fully stocked with snacks and entertainment... all within an arm's reach of my bed.
But the best find, for me, as of yet, was actually spotted by my dad. While my room had a chair (acquired from the tent I used to stay in...I'm hoping I can smuggle it home somehow) and my nightstand and even a foot locker (it came with the room), it lacked any drawers to put my precious few possessions into.
I cannot tell you how I obtained the Rubbermaid drawers, but I can tell you how two individuals, named Davis and Jack, obtained the aforementioned drawers. Davis showed Jack theses drawers that were on a large overhang that was about 10 feet from the ground. Davis and Jack searched for a ladder, but to their dismay, they found none. So, Davis decided to stack some paper boxes and with the help of what appeared to be (of course I wasn't there, but so I was told) some super kind of Spiderman powers, Davis climbed up onto the ledge. This was shocking to Jack, because she... he... had never seen Davis climb like that. Davis got the set of drawers and dropped it down to Jack and climbed back down just as nimbly as he had climbed up. Then Davis and Jack left the building, but Davis realized that Jack didn't have her... his... umm..."special defense mechanism" on her... him... and so Davis darted back inside before Jack could remember where she... he... had left it. And Davis came back and said that he couldn't find it. That's when Jack realized that Davis's running had been in vain... because Jack hadn't left it in the building.
Apparently, Davis and Jack are also quite the little garage salers,apparently =]
I hope you guys are doing well. It's 2:30 A.M. on Tuesday morning here.Last night I went to choir practice. It went pretty well... I guess next Sunday I'm doing a very small solo. I tried to explain that I haven't done this stuff since I was in 10th grade... but it seems they have selective hearing. So, wish me luck on that. It isn't a big deal... but I will probably still be nervous.
Since I was little, I remember anxiously awaiting spring. I couldn't wait until the first real Saturday of the season... when I could wake up extra early and jam into the car with other eager family members. The passengers were the spotters, impatiently scanning the road for a beacon of hope as the driver would also scan, but less fervently.
When someone finally saw our beacon of hope, a neon sign proudly proclaiming "GARAGE SALE!" they would yell "Turn here! Turn here!" We would do a sort of drive by... see what there was to offer. And of course, we would almost always stop. Do not judge a sale by it's appearance, I was raised to believe. A treasure was always waiting to be found.
And still, although the methods in Iraq are slightly different, the tradition continues here in glorious Basrah. Maybe we'll be driving along in the car, when suddenly, Cheryl spots a chair. DAVE STOP! And alas, there is the finely constructed chair, which will later be used for viewing movies... or rather sleeping through them. At that same "sale" I was also blessed to find my night stand. With a bit of dust off, my little find is now fully stocked with snacks and entertainment... all within an arm's reach of my bed.
But the best find, for me, as of yet, was actually spotted by my dad. While my room had a chair (acquired from the tent I used to stay in...I'm hoping I can smuggle it home somehow) and my nightstand and even a foot locker (it came with the room), it lacked any drawers to put my precious few possessions into.
I cannot tell you how I obtained the Rubbermaid drawers, but I can tell you how two individuals, named Davis and Jack, obtained the aforementioned drawers. Davis showed Jack theses drawers that were on a large overhang that was about 10 feet from the ground. Davis and Jack searched for a ladder, but to their dismay, they found none. So, Davis decided to stack some paper boxes and with the help of what appeared to be (of course I wasn't there, but so I was told) some super kind of Spiderman powers, Davis climbed up onto the ledge. This was shocking to Jack, because she... he... had never seen Davis climb like that. Davis got the set of drawers and dropped it down to Jack and climbed back down just as nimbly as he had climbed up. Then Davis and Jack left the building, but Davis realized that Jack didn't have her... his... umm..."special defense mechanism" on her... him... and so Davis darted back inside before Jack could remember where she... he... had left it. And Davis came back and said that he couldn't find it. That's when Jack realized that Davis's running had been in vain... because Jack hadn't left it in the building.
Apparently, Davis and Jack are also quite the little garage salers,apparently =]
I hope you guys are doing well. It's 2:30 A.M. on Tuesday morning here.Last night I went to choir practice. It went pretty well... I guess next Sunday I'm doing a very small solo. I tried to explain that I haven't done this stuff since I was in 10th grade... but it seems they have selective hearing. So, wish me luck on that. It isn't a big deal... but I will probably still be nervous.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Chinese Lesson #217
There are a few simple luxuries that a person can take for granted all their lives and then begin to covet when they are suddenly deprived from them. My dad has touched on this point before. I believe he wrote something in his blog about how he missed having his bathroom sessions interrupted by the pounding on the door by one of his children or his wife begging for him to hurry up. He missed having the cushioney soft comfort of some good ol’ Cottonelle. The time to leisurely read a book, if of course, it went uninterrupted by another person without the luxury of ample time.
And alas, there are things that I too miss from my bathroom experience and often think of fondly. And today, I decided to reunite with those oh so fond memories. Thus, I slipped a magazine into the back of pants, disguised from the eyes of a Judgy McJudgerson (for those of you who are not familiar with this terminology, a Judgy McJudgerson is a judgemental person... but just a fun way to say it) who may have been observing me. And slyly walked into the porcelain palace. Well, as sly as you can with the corners of a magazine digging into your backside.
I chose the last stall, as the perfect setting to read my People magazine. But alas, my peace and quiet was soon interrupted by the sound of another visitor’s boots. I listened as I heard them approach closer and closer. They didn’t stop. They just kept going… until they reached my stall. They fumbled at opening the door.
And then they opened it. To my shock and dismay, as well as their’s. They opened the door to find me with my magazine on my lap, one elbow resting on my knee, in the process of turning a page. She shut the door with a hurried apology, and then moved right next door. One could say we were neighbors.
I sat there, contemplating whether I should put the magazine down and get out of there before she did, or wait until she left, quite the difficult decision. I finally decided to just hurry up and get out of dodge. Either way… I can’t understand how my dad could miss an interruption in the bathroom… to me, it was dreadfully unwelcome… I think my neighbor and I both learned an important lesson tonight. She probably learned to knock, in case somebody was sitting quietly behind the door reading to their hearts content. I learned to lock the door I am quietly reading behind.
I feel like I should add that another thing that I’ve missed about my bathroom at home is my ability to keep my cell phone on me, in case an emergency should arise. I feel like this is an important point to make because somebody, and I’m not naming any names, has made it his goal in his blog to make sure that everyone knows about it. I believe it has been mentioned at least twice now… And all you are hearing is his exaggerated tale… which we all know is generally the only tale he tells. And while it’s true that some facts are similar, it is equally true that most are exaggerated. I won’t kick a dead chicken or whatever that stupid saying is… but just know that the bathrooms here are fully stocked with cheap toilet paper, so luckily I’ve never been in need of my cell phone in there… yet. But just in case, maybe I should get some walkie talkies or baby monitors… who knows when a crisis could transpire.
And alas, there are things that I too miss from my bathroom experience and often think of fondly. And today, I decided to reunite with those oh so fond memories. Thus, I slipped a magazine into the back of pants, disguised from the eyes of a Judgy McJudgerson (for those of you who are not familiar with this terminology, a Judgy McJudgerson is a judgemental person... but just a fun way to say it) who may have been observing me. And slyly walked into the porcelain palace. Well, as sly as you can with the corners of a magazine digging into your backside.
I chose the last stall, as the perfect setting to read my People magazine. But alas, my peace and quiet was soon interrupted by the sound of another visitor’s boots. I listened as I heard them approach closer and closer. They didn’t stop. They just kept going… until they reached my stall. They fumbled at opening the door.
And then they opened it. To my shock and dismay, as well as their’s. They opened the door to find me with my magazine on my lap, one elbow resting on my knee, in the process of turning a page. She shut the door with a hurried apology, and then moved right next door. One could say we were neighbors.
I sat there, contemplating whether I should put the magazine down and get out of there before she did, or wait until she left, quite the difficult decision. I finally decided to just hurry up and get out of dodge. Either way… I can’t understand how my dad could miss an interruption in the bathroom… to me, it was dreadfully unwelcome… I think my neighbor and I both learned an important lesson tonight. She probably learned to knock, in case somebody was sitting quietly behind the door reading to their hearts content. I learned to lock the door I am quietly reading behind.
I feel like I should add that another thing that I’ve missed about my bathroom at home is my ability to keep my cell phone on me, in case an emergency should arise. I feel like this is an important point to make because somebody, and I’m not naming any names, has made it his goal in his blog to make sure that everyone knows about it. I believe it has been mentioned at least twice now… And all you are hearing is his exaggerated tale… which we all know is generally the only tale he tells. And while it’s true that some facts are similar, it is equally true that most are exaggerated. I won’t kick a dead chicken or whatever that stupid saying is… but just know that the bathrooms here are fully stocked with cheap toilet paper, so luckily I’ve never been in need of my cell phone in there… yet. But just in case, maybe I should get some walkie talkies or baby monitors… who knows when a crisis could transpire.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Come home Dacki!
(I wrote this on Sunday. I think it's Tuesday now... I'm at the internet cafe and I just got off of my shift. Thought I would put these on really quick since I wrote them from my home computer and can't load them onto the work computer so I can send them to my Mom.)
She is under three feet tall and barely has any hair… and yet she is truly the one person who can make my heart swell and break it at the same time. She is quite the little person… let me tell you. Well, actually she's a big girl now.
Just after I left home, after struggling to help her get potty trained. I would like to say that my primary motive was to give her a little more independence... but also a slightly minor part happened to be that I was sick of changing her diapers. Fine. Now you know... but just after I left, she decided one morning to wake up and be a big girl. She was not going to be wearing a diaper any more. I'm so proud of her, even though I'm slightly agitated. It's almost as if she knew my secret motive...
She's also learned a couple of other things since I've been gone. Any time I call her, she surprises me with the new things she has learned. Last time we talked, she sang me “Rock-a-bye Baby” and “Lollipop”. Granted, she only knows a couple words of the song… and she can sing them over and over if prompted, but it’s pretty darn cute.
She’s always good for a joke too. “Hey Dacki… guess what?” What baby? “Chicken butt!!!!” Her clever joke is always followed by her joyful laugh.
But today, her opening line was “Auntie… when are you coming home? I want you to come home.” I can’t baby. “Why?” I have something really important I'm doing baby. And I miss you so much. But I can't come home just yet. I will though as soon as I can. “Please auntie? Come home?” She didn’t really want to talk to me much longer after that… I could tell that just as she had broken my heart, I had broken hers. And she doesn’t like to talk when she’s sad. Even now as I write this, it makes my heart hurt. I just miss that little girl so much.
Anyways, I’m just a chipper little thing tonight, huh? I guess tonight I’ve just got a lot sad things on the brain. Tomorrow is a different day. I’ll be going to church in the morning. I think I should tell you guys, that apparently, according to the choir, and I quote… I have some pipes on me. And they ain’t to bad either. So they invited me to sing with them at mass. I was pretty excited, to say the least. I have been called the songbird of my time…
<3 Me.
They weren't supposed to be ours to keep.
You've heard from the media the loss 34th ID MP have suffered. And now you'll hear it from me...
I was in my office when I first heard someone talking about it, shortly after the all clear had been given. We had been in hibernation in our office for last hour or so, waiting until those two words were spoken. An hour before, the alarms had sounded, INCOMING! INCOMING! For whatever reason, those words didn’t really register. Yes, I’m in war, but to me it wasn’t that kind of war. So, I heard the words, but I didn’t process them.
An hour or so later when the all clear was given, when people started talking about casualties… I once again didn’t really process the words. But, to me this just wasn’t that kind of war… so once again those words just rolled right through my body and I didn’t absorb them. Didn’t even think twice about them. It’s pretty awful that I heard the words “three casualties” and I don’t even process what that means.
It wasn’t until I went to meet my dad for breakfast, like we’ve done every morning. I could tell just by looking at him that something wasn’t right. First of all, he didn’t have a rubber band in his hand aimed at any of his neighbors. And he didn’t have that mischievous grin of a small child on his face. Instead, his face was solemn. I thought maybe he hadn’t slept well, with the alarms cutting into his sleep. And then he asked if I had heard. I said well, yeah. Didn’t everybody? That's the whole point of an alarm is to make people hear it. I thought about it… and than I said Dad… did somebody die last night? He said… yes Jacki. Three people died last night. I asked if it was anybody we knew… and he said no.
And a sigh of relief went through my body. And then I started thinking that it really was someone we had known. Because it was three of our brothers that had died. It could have easily been anyone of us. It could have been anyone I've known since I was a toddler. It could have been my dad, my aunts or my uncles. But instead, it was one of my brothers. And so I wasn’t really hungry anymore. Because all I could picture was what there families must be feeling. I knew what the military family was feeling, but we had only had them on loan, on the condition that we would bring them back to there families. They weren't supposed to be ours to keep, or Iraq's for that matter.
I will say that COB Basra is safer than most of the bases as far as stuff like this goes. I know that other bases have been attacked far more. And when the Brits and 10th mountain first got here, they had 100 attacks a month. They practically slept in their gear, even going so far as to build a protective shelter right next to where they sleep (called a coffin) so in the middle of the night, their safe haven was right there.
I think that the loss of those three soldiers hit us all. I can only ask that you guys keep their families in your prayers, and continue to keep us in your prayers.
I love you guys and miss you everyday. It’s times like these when I wish that I could just talk to you guys in person… because sometimes a phone call is just not the same.
I’m writing another blog after this, but I felt this deserved a blog of it’s own.
<3 Me.
I was in my office when I first heard someone talking about it, shortly after the all clear had been given. We had been in hibernation in our office for last hour or so, waiting until those two words were spoken. An hour before, the alarms had sounded, INCOMING! INCOMING! For whatever reason, those words didn’t really register. Yes, I’m in war, but to me it wasn’t that kind of war. So, I heard the words, but I didn’t process them.
An hour or so later when the all clear was given, when people started talking about casualties… I once again didn’t really process the words. But, to me this just wasn’t that kind of war… so once again those words just rolled right through my body and I didn’t absorb them. Didn’t even think twice about them. It’s pretty awful that I heard the words “three casualties” and I don’t even process what that means.
It wasn’t until I went to meet my dad for breakfast, like we’ve done every morning. I could tell just by looking at him that something wasn’t right. First of all, he didn’t have a rubber band in his hand aimed at any of his neighbors. And he didn’t have that mischievous grin of a small child on his face. Instead, his face was solemn. I thought maybe he hadn’t slept well, with the alarms cutting into his sleep. And then he asked if I had heard. I said well, yeah. Didn’t everybody? That's the whole point of an alarm is to make people hear it. I thought about it… and than I said Dad… did somebody die last night? He said… yes Jacki. Three people died last night. I asked if it was anybody we knew… and he said no.
And a sigh of relief went through my body. And then I started thinking that it really was someone we had known. Because it was three of our brothers that had died. It could have easily been anyone of us. It could have been anyone I've known since I was a toddler. It could have been my dad, my aunts or my uncles. But instead, it was one of my brothers. And so I wasn’t really hungry anymore. Because all I could picture was what there families must be feeling. I knew what the military family was feeling, but we had only had them on loan, on the condition that we would bring them back to there families. They weren't supposed to be ours to keep, or Iraq's for that matter.
I will say that COB Basra is safer than most of the bases as far as stuff like this goes. I know that other bases have been attacked far more. And when the Brits and 10th mountain first got here, they had 100 attacks a month. They practically slept in their gear, even going so far as to build a protective shelter right next to where they sleep (called a coffin) so in the middle of the night, their safe haven was right there.
I think that the loss of those three soldiers hit us all. I can only ask that you guys keep their families in your prayers, and continue to keep us in your prayers.
I love you guys and miss you everyday. It’s times like these when I wish that I could just talk to you guys in person… because sometimes a phone call is just not the same.
I’m writing another blog after this, but I felt this deserved a blog of it’s own.
<3 Me.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Where Ugly Girls go to get Pretty
I have never, in my 19 years of existence, felt like such a juicy piece of rare meet dangling in a lion’s den. I will claim to be neither an ugly nor a good looking gal, not that it would matter much. You just have to be a female to get attention here. It is the most peculiar feeling to walk into the DFAC (the dining facility) and have every set of eyes follow you. I feel the eyes on me, and I watch as eyes travel other female patrons of the DFAC.
I could put it another way, to paint the picture a little more vibrantly. My dad told me this morning that he could be carrying 10 duffle bags, sweating, and keeling over… breathing his last breath and nobody will give the old man a second thought. However, I could walk by with on duffle bag, barely breaking a sweat, and I have 10 guys offering their assistance. And yes, I am not ashamed to admit it, I have been known to work that to my advantage. Show a little sign of struggle… and I’m not the one hurting at night. It’s not my fault that I can see through their efforts… but that they have yet to see through my wily ways…
However I think the third bathroom stall from the left (I’ve made an effort to do business in every one of them, because I like to read the graffiti… don’t judge me=] ) said it best when someone thoughtful, and mature individual wrote “Iraq… where ugly girls go to get pretty.” Yep. That about sums it up.
Anyways, just thought I would share this bit of insight with everyone.
I’m working nights right now, complete opposite of my dad. But we do have dinner and breakfast together. We make do with the time we have, and even if it happens to be just a little bit… it is all the more precious because we are able to have just that little bit.
This Sunday we went to church, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out they had music there. My favorite part of church has always been belting it out to my favorite songs… and it had been a while since I had sang at all. It felt good to stand next to my dad and belt it out as if I was still home, singing in Harry’s church… although singing with the organ and elderly folks was a bit more trying for my vocal chords…
Well, I love you guys! Please feel free to e-mail me at jacki.crotteau@yahoo.com or at jacki.crotteau@iraq.centcom.mil either is the best way to reach me.
<3 Me.
I could put it another way, to paint the picture a little more vibrantly. My dad told me this morning that he could be carrying 10 duffle bags, sweating, and keeling over… breathing his last breath and nobody will give the old man a second thought. However, I could walk by with on duffle bag, barely breaking a sweat, and I have 10 guys offering their assistance. And yes, I am not ashamed to admit it, I have been known to work that to my advantage. Show a little sign of struggle… and I’m not the one hurting at night. It’s not my fault that I can see through their efforts… but that they have yet to see through my wily ways…
However I think the third bathroom stall from the left (I’ve made an effort to do business in every one of them, because I like to read the graffiti… don’t judge me=] ) said it best when someone thoughtful, and mature individual wrote “Iraq… where ugly girls go to get pretty.” Yep. That about sums it up.
Anyways, just thought I would share this bit of insight with everyone.
I’m working nights right now, complete opposite of my dad. But we do have dinner and breakfast together. We make do with the time we have, and even if it happens to be just a little bit… it is all the more precious because we are able to have just that little bit.
This Sunday we went to church, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out they had music there. My favorite part of church has always been belting it out to my favorite songs… and it had been a while since I had sang at all. It felt good to stand next to my dad and belt it out as if I was still home, singing in Harry’s church… although singing with the organ and elderly folks was a bit more trying for my vocal chords…
Well, I love you guys! Please feel free to e-mail me at jacki.crotteau@yahoo.com or at jacki.crotteau@iraq.centcom.mil either is the best way to reach me.
<3 Me.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Here at Last
I fumbled off the plane, anxious to meet my new adventure straight on. The air and the hot wind hit me, and for a second I was unable to breathe. Is this how hot it will always be? I realized an instant later that it wasn’t the Iraqi weather I was feeling… it was the exhaust from the plane, hence the reason I couldn’t breathe. That was a close one… for a second I thought I had taken a layover in hell. But alas, I was only breathing the deadly fumes of a military plane. Greaaaaaaaat.
I walked into the building where we would be briefed for the night, and to my excitement I found my dad and other members of my family holding up a sign that read Welcome Fish. I had to do a double take. I hadn’t expected to see my dad so soon. And yet, there he was. I was so overwhelmed… I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh or scream. I did a little of both, just in case.
They welcomed me with hugs and some very delicious peanut butter cookies. I wasn’t hungry, but who can refuse those bad boys? We had a short brief, and then SGM Kahlberg, allowed me to be released to my dad for the night. My duffle bags were gathered and off we went.
I wish you guys could have seen him that night. He just seemed so happy. He was finally able to share his “turf” with his fish. It was wonderful to just sit back and listen to him show me things I couldn’t see because of the dark of the night. I couldn’t stop smiling. It was almost unbelievable… I couldn’t believe I was here. In Iraq. With my dad. Of all things. I still wake up and think, I’m still here, right?
Anyways, it didn’t take long at all before I was up to my old shenanigans. At home, I could lose anything within seconds. And Iraq didn’t change that (unfortunately). As soon as I saw my dad, and after settling down a bit, I realized that I had left my Kevlar somewhere. The where was on a bus… and who knows where it was. Apparently my dad did… he hunted down the bus and came back smiling with my Kevlar. That was the first thing I lost.
The second, was my keys for my locker. It’s a key ring with three keys on it. I searched for an hour after getting back to my sleeping quarters. I took everything out of my locker, sure I had set it down somewhere. I put it all back in. And then took it all back out when I didn’t find it again. Finally, I gave up hope, feeling defeated. Only to shut my locker doors, and find the key in the lock. It’s just so typical…
Sometime soon I’ll have to get some pictures of my living quarters… let’s just say it’s not the best… but it could be worse. I live in a tent with 6 other females. We have normal beds and a locker to our names. We also commandeered some night stands. The living quarters are pretty nice… however our place is the farthest from work. Everyone else is within a half mile, and we happen to be about a mile and a half… so that’s pretty fun. For right now, I have a ride with someone who also got stuck in the slums. So it works out nicely.
I can’t get my mind organized right now, so sorry if this is all over the place. I’ll tell you guys more later about stuff. I love you all!
<3 Jacki
I walked into the building where we would be briefed for the night, and to my excitement I found my dad and other members of my family holding up a sign that read Welcome Fish. I had to do a double take. I hadn’t expected to see my dad so soon. And yet, there he was. I was so overwhelmed… I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh or scream. I did a little of both, just in case.
They welcomed me with hugs and some very delicious peanut butter cookies. I wasn’t hungry, but who can refuse those bad boys? We had a short brief, and then SGM Kahlberg, allowed me to be released to my dad for the night. My duffle bags were gathered and off we went.
I wish you guys could have seen him that night. He just seemed so happy. He was finally able to share his “turf” with his fish. It was wonderful to just sit back and listen to him show me things I couldn’t see because of the dark of the night. I couldn’t stop smiling. It was almost unbelievable… I couldn’t believe I was here. In Iraq. With my dad. Of all things. I still wake up and think, I’m still here, right?
Anyways, it didn’t take long at all before I was up to my old shenanigans. At home, I could lose anything within seconds. And Iraq didn’t change that (unfortunately). As soon as I saw my dad, and after settling down a bit, I realized that I had left my Kevlar somewhere. The where was on a bus… and who knows where it was. Apparently my dad did… he hunted down the bus and came back smiling with my Kevlar. That was the first thing I lost.
The second, was my keys for my locker. It’s a key ring with three keys on it. I searched for an hour after getting back to my sleeping quarters. I took everything out of my locker, sure I had set it down somewhere. I put it all back in. And then took it all back out when I didn’t find it again. Finally, I gave up hope, feeling defeated. Only to shut my locker doors, and find the key in the lock. It’s just so typical…
Sometime soon I’ll have to get some pictures of my living quarters… let’s just say it’s not the best… but it could be worse. I live in a tent with 6 other females. We have normal beds and a locker to our names. We also commandeered some night stands. The living quarters are pretty nice… however our place is the farthest from work. Everyone else is within a half mile, and we happen to be about a mile and a half… so that’s pretty fun. For right now, I have a ride with someone who also got stuck in the slums. So it works out nicely.
I can’t get my mind organized right now, so sorry if this is all over the place. I’ll tell you guys more later about stuff. I love you all!
<3 Jacki
Monday, July 6, 2009
Technical Difficulties
As I sat there dangling, my feet above my head, I thought to myself "So this is how I'm going to leave this world?" My ass was in the air, which was once the ground, and all I could feel was the pressuring building in my head. I watched as the girl's face across from me turned a bright shade of purple, and thought to myself "well, at least I won't be the only one." Tears started to squeeze out of my eyes, or as Harry put it once "My eyes overfloweth." I reached up, sure that it was my brain or some other form of body fluid oozing out. Nope. Just some good ol fashion salt tears. I wasn't crying, but the pressure had made my eyes water so bad, the tears had literally leaked out.
And this is what I was doing at around 9 o' clock this morning. I realize this is my second post of the day, but I forgot to tell you guys about this. This is what happens in the simulator for a military vehicle roll over. It was just plain awful. Granted, we were stuck upside down longer than usual because of technical difficulties (i love technical difficulties :/). Anyways, the whole point is to get unbuckled and exit the vehicle as safe as possible. However, as they tried to figure out the technical difficulties, I felt as though a blood vessel had burst on the right side of my forehead. Finally, after 30 seconds, they decided that we could complete the drill (this was just supposed to be a dry run and we weren't supposed to eject ourselves from our seat belts.
This is one of those training exercises that is potentially more danger than it's worth. Before we got in, they briefed us on what could happen... and let me just say I was looking for the nearest exit. As feet flopped around and I was kicked in the shoulder and rib by the "gunner," I thought to myself... there has to be a better way to do this than bruising a kidney or losing an eye. Apparently, not so much.
And that's about it. I'm going to get offline now and try to call home. Love you all and I'll post when I can!
And this is what I was doing at around 9 o' clock this morning. I realize this is my second post of the day, but I forgot to tell you guys about this. This is what happens in the simulator for a military vehicle roll over. It was just plain awful. Granted, we were stuck upside down longer than usual because of technical difficulties (i love technical difficulties :/). Anyways, the whole point is to get unbuckled and exit the vehicle as safe as possible. However, as they tried to figure out the technical difficulties, I felt as though a blood vessel had burst on the right side of my forehead. Finally, after 30 seconds, they decided that we could complete the drill (this was just supposed to be a dry run and we weren't supposed to eject ourselves from our seat belts.
This is one of those training exercises that is potentially more danger than it's worth. Before we got in, they briefed us on what could happen... and let me just say I was looking for the nearest exit. As feet flopped around and I was kicked in the shoulder and rib by the "gunner," I thought to myself... there has to be a better way to do this than bruising a kidney or losing an eye. Apparently, not so much.
And that's about it. I'm going to get offline now and try to call home. Love you all and I'll post when I can!
Just Call me Guns
Ello there mates! I'm being inspired by the Brits and Aussies I saw walking around today. I followed them for a little bit, memorized by their accents... I hope they didn't notice. I didn't even notice until I realized I wasn't where I was kind of lost.
Anyways, I've had the chance to talk to my mom and a couple of my friends from home. They all just seemed shocked that I seem so "happy," as they put it. I don't just seem happpy, I really am. I love this kind of environment where I meet so many diverse people. I'm just amazed how many people I've met who told me "if you ever come to "insert state here", you always have a home. Just give me a call." I think it's just wonderful.
I found out I can be quite the charismatic person. I even told a bus full of people when they asked how I was supposed to protect them when I hadn't recieved any ammuntion that they knew of, "Hey. You need not be afraid. I've got two guns, locked and loaded!" And flexed for a bus full of high ranking officers. They laughed so hard! And now whenever I see them around base, they say "Hey guns! How are you doing?" It's the greatest!
I'm just out to get a laugh out of anyone here. And for that, I think people see me as a breath of fresh air or at the very least I stand out from everyone else just dreading being here. I've already seem some of the people I spent time in Fort Benning with, and I was surprised that they remembered me. A lot of them have passed me their phone numbers, and not for the intentions of being a creepster (although there was one ungentleman worthy of the creepster title. but that is neither here nor there), but in the case I ever need anything while I was in country.
Anyways, by this time tomorrow, I'll be in Iraq. Or at least that is what I'm told. Granted, I've learned to take everything they tell me with a grain of salt, because it's bound to change within the hour.
I love you guys! Please keep me in your thoughts, as always. Laugh a little today, because I most definitely am =]
<3 Jacki.
Anyways, I've had the chance to talk to my mom and a couple of my friends from home. They all just seemed shocked that I seem so "happy," as they put it. I don't just seem happpy, I really am. I love this kind of environment where I meet so many diverse people. I'm just amazed how many people I've met who told me "if you ever come to "insert state here", you always have a home. Just give me a call." I think it's just wonderful.
I found out I can be quite the charismatic person. I even told a bus full of people when they asked how I was supposed to protect them when I hadn't recieved any ammuntion that they knew of, "Hey. You need not be afraid. I've got two guns, locked and loaded!" And flexed for a bus full of high ranking officers. They laughed so hard! And now whenever I see them around base, they say "Hey guns! How are you doing?" It's the greatest!
I'm just out to get a laugh out of anyone here. And for that, I think people see me as a breath of fresh air or at the very least I stand out from everyone else just dreading being here. I've already seem some of the people I spent time in Fort Benning with, and I was surprised that they remembered me. A lot of them have passed me their phone numbers, and not for the intentions of being a creepster (although there was one ungentleman worthy of the creepster title. but that is neither here nor there), but in the case I ever need anything while I was in country.
Anyways, by this time tomorrow, I'll be in Iraq. Or at least that is what I'm told. Granted, I've learned to take everything they tell me with a grain of salt, because it's bound to change within the hour.
I love you guys! Please keep me in your thoughts, as always. Laugh a little today, because I most definitely am =]
<3 Jacki.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Happy Belated 4th
Happy Belated 4th of July! I just arrived at my new home for next week, Camp Buering, Kuwait. It took quite a bit to get here, including the transport of 300 troops and around 70 contractors, well over 1,200 duffle bags, 2 pit stops in undisclosed locations, 23 hours of travel, and 2 convoy trips. It was, to say the least, pretty intense. However, I'm up and at em. We got here and the first thing I wanted to do was write you guys a quick note before anyone else wakes up and I won't have the chance. It's currently 4:55 am.
We actually arrived in kuwait approximately 7 hours ago. However, when we first arrived to Kuwait City, Kuwait, we had to wait for our armored guards to arrive. I was one of the guards on the bus, with my weapon and loaded rounds. They didn't anticipate any trouble, but just in case we had armed guards and then armed trucks also.
We arrived at a different base, only to have to wait once again for a different convoy to come pick a portion of us up that would be moving on immediately to Buering. I was one of the lucky few. And once again, I was chosen as an armored guard. Basically, it entails keeping your eyes pealed and making sure the driver keeps his distance for security reasons.
Anyways, we got here and went through two hours of briefings, and now most people are settled into the tent sleeping. I don't want to sleep because I'm afraid I won't be able to wake up until tonight... and then I'll never get adjusted to the sleep schedule :/
I have some pictures, but I'll have to transfer them to the thumb drive and bring them into the MWR (it's basically a 24-hour rec center for the troops. it offers free internet, movies, and all that sort of stuff).
I'm heading to mass here in a little bit. But I just wanted to jot something down quick to let you guys know I was thinking of you. Love you all and I can't wait until I can call!
<3 Jacki
We actually arrived in kuwait approximately 7 hours ago. However, when we first arrived to Kuwait City, Kuwait, we had to wait for our armored guards to arrive. I was one of the guards on the bus, with my weapon and loaded rounds. They didn't anticipate any trouble, but just in case we had armed guards and then armed trucks also.
We arrived at a different base, only to have to wait once again for a different convoy to come pick a portion of us up that would be moving on immediately to Buering. I was one of the lucky few. And once again, I was chosen as an armored guard. Basically, it entails keeping your eyes pealed and making sure the driver keeps his distance for security reasons.
Anyways, we got here and went through two hours of briefings, and now most people are settled into the tent sleeping. I don't want to sleep because I'm afraid I won't be able to wake up until tonight... and then I'll never get adjusted to the sleep schedule :/
I have some pictures, but I'll have to transfer them to the thumb drive and bring them into the MWR (it's basically a 24-hour rec center for the troops. it offers free internet, movies, and all that sort of stuff).
I'm heading to mass here in a little bit. But I just wanted to jot something down quick to let you guys know I was thinking of you. Love you all and I can't wait until I can call!
<3 Jacki
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Last Post on American Soil!
Well ladies and gentleman, this may be my last post for a bit until I get settled. I leave tomorrow for a really great and luxurious vacation spot tomorrow. I completely understand if you guys may become jealous, not everyone can go on vacation and just lose pounds, without a sweat. Well, actually, with a lot of sweat. An awful lot of sweat. Anyways, please. Don't be bitter. I can't help that I'll be so nice and toasty while you guys are merely comfortable in your 70 to 80 degree weather. I don't control fate, although if I did, I'd ensure that you too could enjoy in this fabulous destination. You will truly be missing out.
But OK. For real. I am very excited to go. I've waited so long for this, gone through so many hoops... I'm just excited to experience everything I can. Whether it's some crappy detail (it may actually be a crappy detail... for awhile they needed someone to take care of the latrines...) or an awesome mission, I'm prepared to take whatever is thrown at me (unless it is in fact contents of the latrines) and make the best of it. Yeah, sometimes I may have a horrible day. I may hate my life at the time. But my goal is to stay positive and to come home with new experiences that shape me into a better person.
Already, just one week into my journey I have learned so much from so many people. My goal coming here was to get through the training, and along the way meet many of the people that would be making that journey with me. I've had the pleasure of meeting so many wonderful... and sometimes just creepy (but aside from those ones... overall a great group of people) people. It truly has been a pleasure getting to know these people. They helped me to become a little more comfortable at the thought of setting out on this journey.
Anyways, my next leg of the journey starts sometime tomorrow. I have a 4:30 am wake up call, and our bags will be packed into a trailer by 6:30 am. I don't know what time we fly out, for security purposes. However, I am ecstatic to start this next leg of my journey. I can't wait to say hello to my dad. It will be so weird, seeing him there. I can't even believe all of this.
One more thing. You guys can always e-mail me at jacki.crotteau@yahoo.com or send me things at
Crotteau, Jacki
34th ID MCP (117)
APO, AE 09374
Well, it's already 1230. 4 more hours and I'm up for the day... good night all and sweet dreams. Wish me luck =]
<3 Jacki
But OK. For real. I am very excited to go. I've waited so long for this, gone through so many hoops... I'm just excited to experience everything I can. Whether it's some crappy detail (it may actually be a crappy detail... for awhile they needed someone to take care of the latrines...) or an awesome mission, I'm prepared to take whatever is thrown at me (unless it is in fact contents of the latrines) and make the best of it. Yeah, sometimes I may have a horrible day. I may hate my life at the time. But my goal is to stay positive and to come home with new experiences that shape me into a better person.
Already, just one week into my journey I have learned so much from so many people. My goal coming here was to get through the training, and along the way meet many of the people that would be making that journey with me. I've had the pleasure of meeting so many wonderful... and sometimes just creepy (but aside from those ones... overall a great group of people) people. It truly has been a pleasure getting to know these people. They helped me to become a little more comfortable at the thought of setting out on this journey.
Anyways, my next leg of the journey starts sometime tomorrow. I have a 4:30 am wake up call, and our bags will be packed into a trailer by 6:30 am. I don't know what time we fly out, for security purposes. However, I am ecstatic to start this next leg of my journey. I can't wait to say hello to my dad. It will be so weird, seeing him there. I can't even believe all of this.
One more thing. You guys can always e-mail me at jacki.crotteau@yahoo.com or send me things at
Crotteau, Jacki
34th ID MCP (117)
APO, AE 09374
Well, it's already 1230. 4 more hours and I'm up for the day... good night all and sweet dreams. Wish me luck =]
<3 Jacki
Monday, June 29, 2009
For the Love of God, Put the Needle Down!
Today started off to a great start... or something like that. We woke up at 530 and were out to formation by 545, only to be told at 630 that we weren't supposed to be there until 645... the schedule had changed. So that was great to realize I had lost an hour of sleep. I could deal with losing sleep though. That was the least of my worried today.
The most, however, was deeply rooted in the fact that I would be recieving shots. Not just a shot, but multiple shots. Anthrax, Small Pox, Typhoid, and a few other ones. I couldn't wait for Small Pox in particular, which they described as a "two prong needle and 15 jabs." Once again, I must emphasize they said jabs... not gentle pokes... but jabs. Maybe if they had worded it slightly less... scary, I wouldn't have been dreading it all day.
I begged the first lady, which gave me all of my shots except for the Small Pox, not to do it. For the love of god, I said, put that needle down. She promised me they wouldn't hurt. I told her that she was lying through her teeth... right to my face. And then I lightened up when I saw a large jug of candy. Hey... I said to her. If I play nice, what do you say you give me a pocketful of that candy of there. She laughed, and stuck a needle into me (not making any promises of a pocketful of sweet relief). She directed me to the small pox station, and as I left her booth, I looked at her as she nodded her head. And so, to the next booth I went with a pocketful of candy. A minor compensation for the pain I endured, I feel.
However, as I stood in line for the Small Pox... I watched as a lady came out with eyes streaming down her face... clutching her arm. This was going to get ugly... very very quickly. She was much older than I, and therefor should have been tougher. But alas, I went in after her. I don't want to say that the shot didn't hurt... because over the next couple of days it will start to blister and itch like a mother... nevermind.
Also, today, I met an alligator wrangler, ex drug dealer, a black lady named Deidre, and a black man named White. The alligator wrangler, who worked as a missionairy prior to becoming a contractor for the military, was my favorite. He spoke of penis fish (little fish that are attracted to urine and swin in "certain" places quite easily, but their spikes come out when trying to be extracted from said places) and wrestling alligators to the ground. Definitely an interesting man.
Anyways... hope this finds you all well!
<3 Jacki
The most, however, was deeply rooted in the fact that I would be recieving shots. Not just a shot, but multiple shots. Anthrax, Small Pox, Typhoid, and a few other ones. I couldn't wait for Small Pox in particular, which they described as a "two prong needle and 15 jabs." Once again, I must emphasize they said jabs... not gentle pokes... but jabs. Maybe if they had worded it slightly less... scary, I wouldn't have been dreading it all day.
I begged the first lady, which gave me all of my shots except for the Small Pox, not to do it. For the love of god, I said, put that needle down. She promised me they wouldn't hurt. I told her that she was lying through her teeth... right to my face. And then I lightened up when I saw a large jug of candy. Hey... I said to her. If I play nice, what do you say you give me a pocketful of that candy of there. She laughed, and stuck a needle into me (not making any promises of a pocketful of sweet relief). She directed me to the small pox station, and as I left her booth, I looked at her as she nodded her head. And so, to the next booth I went with a pocketful of candy. A minor compensation for the pain I endured, I feel.
However, as I stood in line for the Small Pox... I watched as a lady came out with eyes streaming down her face... clutching her arm. This was going to get ugly... very very quickly. She was much older than I, and therefor should have been tougher. But alas, I went in after her. I don't want to say that the shot didn't hurt... because over the next couple of days it will start to blister and itch like a mother... nevermind.
Also, today, I met an alligator wrangler, ex drug dealer, a black lady named Deidre, and a black man named White. The alligator wrangler, who worked as a missionairy prior to becoming a contractor for the military, was my favorite. He spoke of penis fish (little fish that are attracted to urine and swin in "certain" places quite easily, but their spikes come out when trying to be extracted from said places) and wrestling alligators to the ground. Definitely an interesting man.
Anyways... hope this finds you all well!
<3 Jacki
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A Display of Affection, or Something of the Sort
I forgot to tell you guys a fun little adventure that happened yesterday. So, I had packed my duffle bag to it's limits. I had shoved, jumped on, and did everything within my power to get my last items into my duffle. I secured the latch, assuring to myself that everything would stay in.
So, it was to my surprise, that as the conveyor belt brought our luggage, I saw my brightly colored bras strolling along side my duffle bag. Let me repeat. Alongside... not in... alongside. With General's and Captains to my right and left, I quickly gathered my belongings, wishing I had just let it keep riding around until everyone was gone and then picked it up. Instead, I heard a few snickers as I attempted to shove them back in... but to no avail. I had packed them once, but not again. I shoved them into my pocket and hopped on the bus.
I feel like this is a good way to catch guys. Show them a little preview perhaps? Maybe not... at least I didn't have a light pink grandma bra stored in there... cough cough... harry. Anyways, thought you guys might like to know about the first thing I did when I landed on Georgia ground... let's see what other shenangins I can get myself into.
So, it was to my surprise, that as the conveyor belt brought our luggage, I saw my brightly colored bras strolling along side my duffle bag. Let me repeat. Alongside... not in... alongside. With General's and Captains to my right and left, I quickly gathered my belongings, wishing I had just let it keep riding around until everyone was gone and then picked it up. Instead, I heard a few snickers as I attempted to shove them back in... but to no avail. I had packed them once, but not again. I shoved them into my pocket and hopped on the bus.
I feel like this is a good way to catch guys. Show them a little preview perhaps? Maybe not... at least I didn't have a light pink grandma bra stored in there... cough cough... harry. Anyways, thought you guys might like to know about the first thing I did when I landed on Georgia ground... let's see what other shenangins I can get myself into.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Leaving Home
I had set out today promising myself I would be a big girl, and not cry. That I would be the strong one, the comforting one and not let my emotions trouble the people I love. I would be the one to show them that it’s ok, I’m ok with this. I had even put make-up on to prevent what I now know is the inevitable.
And yet, and the first sign of tears from my mom, I too sprouted some of my own. I hated to see that she was upset, and no matter what I could do in that moment, I couldn’t fix it and it was my fault in the first place. I know she won’t see it that way, because she’s stubborn (naturally, she takes after her mother), but it was just one more bomb dropped on her after my dad, doug, and josh had left. I had joined them now.
I cried as we took pictures, documenting this monumentous day. Today, I wasn’t a little girl anymore, I was a soldier. Or at least for the next 9 months or so. It was definitely worthy of taking a couple pictures.
I hope I never have to endure a day like this again, although if it happens it happens. I couldn’t even look back and give a reassuring smile as I boarded the plan as I had intended to do. Instead, I boarded the plan sobbing, with my head hung low. This was my hello to a new world, and a temporary good bye to the old. I have to say it royally sucked. I felt more like flipping the new world the bird, but of course I’m a dignified lady, as you all know.
Anyways, I’m settled into my room at Fort Benning. It has two bunks and four wall lockers. My roommates are two girls named Beth and Jody. Tomorrow we have formation at 0830. And that’s about it.
I love you all and miss you already!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Today was filled with lasts, but tomorrow will be filled with beginnings.
I think I'm actually leaving this time. I don't think that I can get myself into anymore shenanigans in the next 12 hours before I leave for my plane. I shouldn't have said that... because now I'll probably find someway to get myself in trouble.
This has been a hard day. I have been waiting for tomorrow to come for sooooooooooo long, and now it's almost here. By all means, I am not scared. I have far more advantages than many are afforded on their first tour in Iraq or Afighanistan. I am, however, incredibly overwhelmed. Right now as I type this, I look at the piles of things that are still waiting to be packed (pat on the back to me for procrastinating this long...). It's unreal to think one minute I'll be in Minnesota, the next I won't. It's not like it's the the first time, nor will it be the last.
Today I found myslef acknowledging my lasts. My last time driving my car. My last time taking a shower in my own shower. My last time wearing civilian clothes. My last time to eat my favorite ice cream (gone fishin by kemps... it's delicious! you should try it if you haven't) Although today was filled with lasts, but tomorrow will be filled with beginnings.
It is an adventure that I am really looking forward to. I don't know what Iraq has planned for me yet, but whatever it throws at me, I will catch. Maybe not the first time, but definitely the second.
I ask that all of you guys keep me in your prayers as I start the first leg of my new adventure. I can't wait to tell you all everything I've learned and encountered!
<3 Jacki
This has been a hard day. I have been waiting for tomorrow to come for sooooooooooo long, and now it's almost here. By all means, I am not scared. I have far more advantages than many are afforded on their first tour in Iraq or Afighanistan. I am, however, incredibly overwhelmed. Right now as I type this, I look at the piles of things that are still waiting to be packed (pat on the back to me for procrastinating this long...). It's unreal to think one minute I'll be in Minnesota, the next I won't. It's not like it's the the first time, nor will it be the last.
Today I found myslef acknowledging my lasts. My last time driving my car. My last time taking a shower in my own shower. My last time wearing civilian clothes. My last time to eat my favorite ice cream (gone fishin by kemps... it's delicious! you should try it if you haven't) Although today was filled with lasts, but tomorrow will be filled with beginnings.
It is an adventure that I am really looking forward to. I don't know what Iraq has planned for me yet, but whatever it throws at me, I will catch. Maybe not the first time, but definitely the second.
I ask that all of you guys keep me in your prayers as I start the first leg of my new adventure. I can't wait to tell you all everything I've learned and encountered!
<3 Jacki
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
4 days until I'm Iraq Bound
I just got off the phone with my dad. I forget how much I miss him sometimes. Granted, it won't be much longer until I see him. Anyways, I just wanted to say that I feel so fortunate to be able to share this experience with him. I'll be able to keep him in line when his exaggerations get out of line... not that it ever happens or anything... And I'll never let myself forget the luxury I'll have while I'm there. Not many soldiers will be able to enjoy the luxury of kicking their dad's butt in a game of cribbage while in Iraq. Of course, after a few wins I'll have to let him win one too. I don't want to lower his spirits to much...
Just wanted to share what I was thinking. Only 4 more days until I'm Iraq bound... this should be mighty intersting...
One other thing. Here's some pictures of Aubrey I took a couple weeks ago. I'm quite fond of that little girl =]
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Just wanted to share what I was thinking. Only 4 more days until I'm Iraq bound... this should be mighty intersting...
One other thing. Here's some pictures of Aubrey I took a couple weeks ago. I'm quite fond of that little girl =]
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