Category Archives: West Point

Different Modes of Transportation

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Our family is experiencing new forms of transportation we never imagined. A year ago, we were a boring suburban bi-ped, mini-van/car/truck driving family. That has changed within a week. It is a contrast of worlds, with my son away at West Point and us here at home. Life often holds a lot of irony.  


Here are a few examples…
 

On Monday my oldest OS will be traveling by a Blackhawk helicopter to a new training site for Cadet Basic Training. A Blackhawk Helicopter travels up to 221 mph. This is part of the final leg of Beast. I know my boy is going to be excited about having this experience even if it makes his mama nervous, very nervous. 

On the other hand, I’m getting around differently. A non-electric wheelchair can travel about 3.7 mph. How do I know? I googled it. Since Saturday, thanks to a friend, I am traveling regularly by wheelchair when I am downstairs or out of my house. This might not mean much to you but until Saturday I’d been stuck at home. I hadn’t been outside since going to the doctor to learn I had a broken foot. On Saturday I traveled to Borders in a wheelchair! FREEDOM!  I was probably as excited to be among the public as Nate will be getting a panoramic view of West Point and its environs. 

Then on Tuesday I will hopefully receive my Rolleraid, which is the BEST Orthopedic Leg Support Scooter around. It will have a basket and a water bottle holder! Wahoo! Who knew that a week ago something like this would seriously make me happy? I intend on being as happy as these two folks pictured in their advertising. Wee! I hope to be whizzing around topping 5 mph in no time at all. 

 
Nathan is sleeping with a rifle by his side. It’s not good if he can’t find his rifle so he always keeps it close on the field. 

I’m sleeping with my crutches just an arm’s length away. It’s not good if I don’t have my crutches. That’s when I resort to hopping, crawling or scooting. 

My oldest OS has thrown a grenade.

My middle OS threw a football and will see the hand specialist on Monday. He might have torn two ligaments on his thumb. 

How bizarre!

Pity Party Continues…for 6-8 weeks

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Linda Ronstadt wrote a song, “Poor, poor, pitiful me.” I like singing Linda Ronstadt songs which is good because it looks like this is going to be my anthem for the next two months. 

 

I woke this morning after a fitful night of sleep. I felt fairly optimistic going into the doctor’s office, enough so that I thought about taking a couple silly pictures while on the way there.


My mood quickly changed after the doctor reviewed the x-rays. I have broken the fifth metatarsal bone. CRUD! Repeatedly the doctor told me I could put absolutely no pressure on my foot for 6-8 weeks. This is very problematic, how does that happen?

The biggest disappointment is that I will be going to West Point on crutches to see my son. I was going to drive to NY with my disabled mom and my two OS in two weeks. My husband started a new job and has very limited vacation time. Our plan was to meet him in NY and all go together. Now it looks like I’ll be packing a wheelchair for me, and perhaps one for my mom. Thousands of people attend A-Day, nothing is going to make me miss seeing my boy but never, in my wildest imagination, did I think I’d be greeting him in crutches. 

Next week the doctor puts a regular cast on my foot. I never thought a silly turn of the foot would land me in a position like this. 

Pity Party and YOU’RE INVITED

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Yesterday was the first day of school for my two OS. I picked them up in the carpool line and nearly lost my mind. It was a nightmare. I didn’t know where to go so I think I stopped my van in the traffic line. 

Consequently, mommies that were behind me gave me death rays out of their driver’s windows. (I thought I was in the middle school parking line but I might have been blocking the elementary school parking line, I’m still confused.) By the time my two guys came out of the building, 17 minutes later I was fit to be tied. They had sweet little smiles on their faces, I did not. It wasn’t a great way to greet your kids especially on their first day back to school. 

This morning I told my husband he was going to come with me to pick up the guys because maybe he could explain what I should do. He told me in a kind but firm way that he couldn’t because he had work to do. Oh, really???

That’s when I decided I’d sprain my ankle. That’ll teach him. 

While walking out of the house to get our sons, BY MYSELF, my foot and ankle rolled off my heeled sandals. Excruciating pain began immediately as I frantically hopped to ring the doorbell. Mark ran down the stairs and helped me inside.

I moaned and saw stars which was a problem since it was only 3:30 in the afternoon. So here I sit, unable to put any pressure on my left leg. I’m feeling sorry for myself and my puffed up foot. Misery, agony, despair.

Thusly, you’re invited to my pity party. So far my husband, two OS, my sisters and my mom are joining me. We could take random pictures of my foot. You could bring me a present. Be creative! I’m not too picky. It will be fun!

My husband bought me some flowers, is making dinner – grilled lemon chicken, couscous with toasted pine nuts and grilled asparagus. Feel free to share your ideas! I also like shiny, sparkly things. 


According to my google diagnosis, I believe I have sprained my anterior talofibular ligament. I’ll see the doctor tomorrow. I think the party will still be going strong though. Hope you can make it! 


Family Portrait, sort of…

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A few months ago, I was interviewed for a newspaper article. When the story came to print, I eagerly read it only to discover that the writer stated that I was the mother of two sons. My heart sank. How could he make such a mistake after I implicitly and proudly told him I had three boys??? For Pete’s sake, he and I shared a moment, he has three daughters, how could he be so dumb? It took me several weeks to write him because it bothered me so much but I eventually informed him of his error. Even though the journalist apologized, the damage was done. He didn’t know how much that hurt me. I am the mother of three sons!!! I’m screaming it from the rooftops!

Even though my oldest OS is far away, he is exactly where the Lord wants him. But that doesn’t stop me from involving my OS in family events. It’s just that now, well, I’ve just become quite inventive with incorporating my favorite soldier into gatherings. Said in my best Mr. T impersonation, “I pity the fool who makes that mistake again.”

During our family reunion, we enjoyed Sunday Service at the chapel in the mountains. We arrived promptly at 9am for the group pictures. 

When it was time for my mom’s brood to get our pictures taken, I didn’t want Nathan to be overlooked. It didn’t seem right for him to not join us. I had the solution, I grabbed the canvas USMA bag with his name on it and placed “Nathan” on the ground while the paparazzi snapped away.

Oh my, was Aaron thrilled when I asked him to “hold” his brother for the cousins photo! NOT! Thank goodness he’s such a good-natured guy who loves his mama. Sorry the picture is so small. Aaron is the tall guy on the left. He’s “holding” Nate! How sweet is that!

BCGs

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There is nothing glamorous or fashionable about Cadet Basic Training. It is gritty and not terribly pretty. At this point in CBT aka Beast, you’re worrying about squaring away your room, chewing in five bites and keeping a low profile with the cadre. Your attractiveness is not even on the radar. 


Today I offer proof that CBT is rough and not for the vain. I’m enlisting the help of my adorable son, Nathan…

New Cadet is currently sporting the fashionable Army eyewear affectionately known as BCGs. I discovered this picture of him today and it was taken during Wednesday night fellowship at Chapel. What are BCGs? 

Birth 
Control 
Glasses = BCGs

I guess they are called that because they are not terribly flattering. You don’t have to worry about the ladies when you’re wearing BCGs. Our son was dreading the BCGs and it’s the first time I’ve seen a picture of him wearing them. Now I see why. He’s still my pretty boy. He’s singing praises to the Lord and I don’t know of a more beautiful sight. 

Officer Christian Fellowship an oasis for a new cadet at West Point

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Yesterday we received two letters from our son and as you can imagine, it soothes my heart to hear from him.

One of the few things my son is doing which do not produce anxiety in my heart is Officers’ Christian Fellowship and for that I say “amen!”

On Wednesday nights, my son and interested NCs have a first name (their very own!) and are allowed to even find a bit of a personality! What a privilege! Most other times, New Cadets are not afforded such luxury. You and I take these things for granted but you don’t if you are a lowly New Cadet.

A place of smiles and fellowship, being refreshed by the Word of God, fresh cookies and caring people. If I were a NC, I think I would live for Wednesday nights.

That’s also where you will find Barry and Barb Willey with Officers’ Christian Fellowship. Each summer in Wednesday, they join the chaplains and after worship time, the cadets get free time to relax, eat sweets and drink sodas.

Then they can get in a line and the Willey’s take a head shot of the New Cadet along with anyone else they want and then Barb sends the pictures to anyone they choose.  What a treat! This is a wonderful ministry at West Point and it’s great that Nate has plugged into the community. Today we received a picture of our son from Barb. It was the first thing I looked for in my email box this morning.

Nate is smiling!

He looks happy!

He has friends!

I am overjoyed!

Last night apparently my son sought Barb out and made sure he got a picture. He even asked for his buddies to be in the picture which makes me want to cry, (I’m tearing up right now). I am so thankful for the Willey’s. I love their servants’ hearts, they are reaching out not only to the cadets and New Cadets but to their families. I am comforted knowing my son had a mama’s arms around him even if they weren’t my own.

According to Barb’s facebook, she was up until 4am downloading photos knowing eager parents would want to receive the photos. I can relate. Although I wasn’t up until 4am, last night I received a late night email from a student needing a “word of faith.” She was hurting and needed some encouragement. I wrote her back immediately because she needed to know someone cared.

Isn’t that what we all want? To know someone cares? I sure do! In a letter from our son, Nate wrote about how Colonel Cook’s sermon on Psalm 121 was so applicable. “I will lift my eyes to the hills, from whence comes my help?” He said, “it’s pretty cool when you’re at Trophy Point and you have hills surrounding you.”

Nate will always have beautiful memories of how God’s Word was so alive during his time at West Point.

The Lord is caring and providing for our son, he feels God’s presence in this place.

Maybe not when the cadre are screaming at him but he is finding a peace that passes understanding. God always cares, always understands, is 100% dependable. 

Today I lift my eyes and hands up to the Lord and offer a word of blessing upon friendships, old and new, near and far and the body of Christ working together for His glory and kingdom.

Update: Now, five years later, my oldest olive shoot, Nate knows even more intimately how the Lord and His Word can speak to a Soldier’s spirit. During his recent journey through Ranger School, Nate found God’s Word just as relevant and life-giving. I just love what he wrote on the inside of his cap!

Click Officers’ Christian Fellowship for more info about OCF and check out this facebook page OCF at UMSA!

 

Isaac and the Tender Tones

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We are soon leaving for a family reunion to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. My mother’s large extended family and the resulting very prolific brood will be gathering at cabins, hoping to avoid black bears and having wonderful fellowship together. Saturday afternoon, according to the official itinerary, we are having a talent show. After a short while of brainstorming, believe it or not, our gang has found a little bit of talent, go figure!

This weekend our family will be showcasing the following talents:

Aaron playing either the mandolin or the guitar.
Me demonstrating how to make a burp cloth – (the crowd will surely go wild!)
And then the musical sensation, Isaac and the Tender Tones which is quite possibly going to be the highlight of the entire time we are together. 

We are looking forward to the fun! I know it won’t be American Idol but it will be giggles galore and that my friends, is something we all could use!

Aaron will not be performing this talent but it is unique…

This One’s For You

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November 2007 I was a civilian mom with little interest in the military. That all began to change when my son walked into my bedroom one afternoon before Thanksgiving and announced he wanted to apply to West Point. Ok, I thought as I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn’t even know where the place was, I googled to learn West Point was pretty far away.  Hmmm…

Fast forward seven months and I’m quite familiar with where West Point is located. Got myself an EZ Pass as proof (I know West Point is located in NY but NJ tolls are a stinker!) It’s reality, I’m now the mama of a soldier. My son  is attending the United States Military Academy upon successful completion of Cadet Basic Training. The day my beloved son stepped away from my mother’s arms and into the Long Gray Line will serve as one of the proudest and saddest days of my life. Sigh…


Since my son has begun his 47 month journey at the United States Military Academy, I have been humbled by the kind and sincere people who have reached out to me.

 
To my mom who faithfully listens and pushes away her own feelings to allow me to have mine.

To my sisters, one who had tears in her eyes yesterday when she heard my son’s voice in the tape recorder listening to our 10 minute call from him last week. The other who despite a hectic schedule and a great disdain for writing letters is now sending her nephew hand-written notes. 

To my husband who reassures me that I’ll be ok even when I’m not sure.

To my aunts who send me Scripture and love.

To my two remaining OS who love on me real good and make me laugh and cuddle up next to me even though they’re nearly 12 and 14. 

To my friends who send cards, messages, phone calls and unbelievably ask me how I am doing, I hold those words close to my heart. My special friend Jenn has her own little warrior now as of July 8th but comments on all of my posts, almost without fail. 

And to countless strangers who are now in my family. 

I love hearing people’s stories. Some of you have been sharing your stories with me. From all over the world, people have been reading. Now, I know some of you are looking for “recon” that is, fodder for a certain New Cadet. Others are just curious. It’s been wonderful to connect with people from Russia, Chile, the Netherlands, Hawaii, Korea, Singapore, Egypt. The military weaves folks together. Our family has enlarged and we’re not even a month into it. 

Since most of you probably don’t read all the comments on my posts, I thought I’d share a small collection of comments I’ve enjoyed receiving.  

Today I simply want to share the post with you…these are from folks I will probably never meet personally but sense a kindred spirit nonetheless. 

Like this comment…

“As a ’92 grad who comes from a VERY close family like yours, know that the love you send does make all the difference. My dad wrote me a letter every day during my plebe year, just an anecdotal sentence or two as he drank his breakfast coffee. Some day, it was nothing more than a rant about the cat or a joke about my mom’s lasagna, but it was exactly what I needed to hear, on a consistent and caring basis. There were many times that those notes helped me remember who I was, and the the people who knew me best in the world believed in me.”

Another person shared,
“Our son is in the class of 2010 and is presently a first detail squad leader for “Beast” (yes, he was one of those cadets on R-Day). However, we consider it a miracle that he is there at all. You see, less than four months before his R-Day, he was accidentally stabbed in the chest with a hunting knife and underwent emergency open heart surgery. We nearly lost him. As a result, he was medically disqualified from the academy. Nevertheless, he didn’t give up. He worked hard to recover from his surgery and get back into shape. He applied for a medical waiver which was granted three weeks before R-Day. In spite of the pain from his surgery, he made it through “Beast” and His Plebe year. He is now going into his Cow year and has been on the Dean’s List every semester. I share this because we feel this story can serve as inspiration to others.”

And then this one which arrived today…

“I am a West Point grad from Class of 1975. One of the great things about West Point is the intensity of the experience, both good and bad. Your blog awakened that in me and brought tears to my eyes. My first month at West Point was really tough, the only reason I did not quit was because I could not bear the thought of going home and people thinking I could not cut it. So it does not surprise me that in the first phone call you got that weariness. Frankly, it took me twenty years after West Point to realize it, but it was true for me and is true for your son; he is in a great place doing great things and he will have experiences and friends that he will never forget. God bless him and your family. And to the cadre reading this, you too!”

I can’t wait to hear from more of you and hear your own stories. My sister urged me to start a blog over a year ago. She knew I liked to write so it didn’t take a lot of prodding. Writing is a release to me. A way to express and feel, the urge to write overtakes me at times. Words fascinate me. I collect them and I look forward to your comments and thoughts. 

Ten reasons why it’s better to be a dorky 6th grader than a plebe

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1. You are a higher form of life. There is nothing lower than a plebe (well, almost). Note chart.

2. You can enjoy unlimited chews. No one is counting your bites. You can even swirl food around in your mouth and it’s all good.Life Form Chart.v2

3. You can sass at your superiors (although still highly dis- couraged) and not have to do push-ups. You may suffer other unpleasant consequences but not push-ups.

P10300104. You can also pass gas and not have to tell everyone or make noxious fume hand signals in the air to everyone around you.

5. You have a first name and you have heard it said in the last 24 hours.

6. You can say “Hey!” “How’s it going?” “Hello, my friend!” or even make up your own salutation. These are just a sample of myriad greetings available to you as a dorky 6th grader!

7. Your bed can be slightly messy and you can sleep under the covers.

8. You do not have to memorize your mama’s dinner menu six days in advance.

9. You enjoy unlimited time for bodily functions! Woohoo!

10. You shower alone.

Four reasons it’s better to be a plebe than a dorky 6th grader

1. Cool uniforms with your name on them.

2. Better fireworks.

3. Honor, duty, country.

4. Huah. If you need a translation, you just don’t get it.

So which one is your personal favorite? Which one would be the most challenging for you???

Phone Call

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Let me offer a big shout out to the cadre, I understand I now have a “fan base.” I’m flattered, nervous, paranoid, gee, thanks… I’m watching every word I say for fear of more push-ups coming a certain NC’s way. 

After a weekend of waiting, we finally got the call from our son. Now I find myself in a foggy, numb state after speaking to him. Time passed so quickly, just 10 minutes of conversation, 600 seconds and poof, it’s over. 


I wished he sounded more happy but I’m glad we got to talk. This is not summer camp where he gets to hang with friends and play archery so I should have expected it. The tone in his voice sounded weary and perhaps a little grouchy. I think I’d feel the same way if I were in his shoes/boots/low-quarters. 

Days of waiting and now I feel blah. When he said, “I have a minute left.” I just kept telling him, “I love you, baby!” because I wanted to make sure I told him that before he had to go. The house is emptier without him, I feel sad in my mama’s heart. 

We tape-recorded the conversation which might sound really cheesy but considering I’ve already listened to it twice, I’m glad we did. My extended family can hear our conversation and I noticed I felt better after my mom heard his voice and tried to discern how he was doing.

I’d appreciate continued prayers for my son and the challenges he has ahead of him, some that are particularly difficult for a mom to even imagine. We are getting Army Strong one way or another and can do all things through Christ who strengthens me/us. 
Picture taken from West Point chapel. Shoes are not mine, they are the Superintendent’s.