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Five years ago, when we headed overseas to live in Hawaii, our pets did not travel with us.  At the time, the quarantine was long.  Our Siberian Husky, Czar was 12 1/2 and Hawaii would have been a torture for him, so he was given to a friend and ridiculously spoiled for the last year of his life.  Our Ragdoll cat, Magnolia also decided she loved the good life lavished on her by a dear friend.  So, for close to 5 years, we have had no pets.  When you must live as a renter, it is very difficult to keep pets.  It severely limits your choice of places to live.  So, we told the kids that when we returned to the States and owned our home, we would once again get pets.  Dale’s deployment delayed the fulfillment of the promise, but now that I’ve started, there’s no stopping.  Dale went with the children to choose fish.  They happily named them which I discovered was probably not a good idea after some fish died and had to be replaced.  I had somehow missed the time worn advice of “Never Name Fish!”  However, fish were not enough.  On Saturday, we will be bringing home a Golden Retriever puppy.  I have spent the last several months reading dog breed, dog training, dog care, and dog cleanup books.  The kids and I watched multiple episodes of the Dog Whisperer and on Saturday, we wandered lost through the aisles of the pet store choosing brushes, dishes, toys, leashes, etc.  Before Dale brought home Czar, our first dog, there was no preparation, no research, and no plan.  Reading all these books and watching all these shows, I have concluded that we did everything wrong with him.  Czar was never completely housebroken, he chewed up everything, and ran away every chance he got.  We loved him dearly, but here’s hoping I can do it right this time.  For the last month, I have felt like I am preparing for a baby.  Instead of nursing/formula, crib, and diaper brand decisions; I must now decide which dog food, kennel, and brushes are the best.  Dog food is very complicated now.  There is endless research on dog food nutritional value and endless personal reviews that alternate between “this food is excellent” and “this is rubbish, it made my dog sick”.  For now, I am going to feed him the food the breeder uses as well as a dog vitamin.  Yes, a dog vitamin.  In the midst of debating how much I’m willing to pay to ensure my dog has the proper nutrition, I’m feeding my children waffles with peanut butter, chocolate chips, and syrup for dinner.  And no, I didn’t give them a vitamin.

Last week was filled with art and music events at the school.  On Wednesday, Josiah and Abby played for their middle school band concert.  Josiah plays the baritone and Abby plays the flute.  They both started band 4 months ago and have improved greatly since.  Dale was able to hear the band play at chapel when he was home for R&R.  In fact the blog picture shows them wearing their band uniforms of white shirts and blue ties.  The band played Turkish March, March Militaire, Rock Island Express, and Jump Street Boogie.  For Jump Street Boogie, they donned gold satin vests, black shiny hats, and sunglasses.  I found it quite amusing.  I am now going to have them play Rock Island Express for halftime of Bears games to fire up the crowd.  The crowd, of course, is Zeke and I and the “Defense Defense” chant.  On Friday, I attended the Art Show with Abby and Gabe.  Gabe won a third place ribbon for 2nd grade with his colored paper flower pot and Abby won Honorable Mention for 6th grade with her drawing of an abandoned building.  The High School hosted the Art Show and the work of all the winners K-12 was displayed.  They had live music in each room.  A boy played piano in the main room and two girls played violin in the hallways.  Everyone was dressed up.  Gabe was happy to wear his tie.  Josiah, however, opted to stay home and watch Zeke rather than subject himself to another mandatory tie event.  The level of artwork was impressive.  One student’s scratch off artwork was phenomenal in the detail, some of the paintings were lovely, and the robot created out of junk was clever.  They served hors d’oeuvres and a lovely red punch.  Gabe in his crisp, clean white shirt wanted very much to have a glass of that tasty punch, but he was denied by his unfeeling Mother.

The previous owners kindly left a bird house hanging off my back porch awning and I have a direct view of it from my kitchen window.  Two wrens began padding their nest and worked diligently for days getting it just right.  A few weeks later, I walked out on to the back porch to hear the little cheep cheeps of baby birds.  I have been observing the parents endless trips to bring their hungry children food.  Their task may be more labor intensive than mine, but after 15 days they throw their children out of the house.  For me, the feeding routine lasts 18 years for each.  Two days ago, I looked out the window and saw the black neighborhood cat standing on the porch railing and reaching for the house.  I flew out the door like a mad woman, yelling and chasing her off.  We had previously been on good terms and I often requested that if she was going to wander about my yard, she could have the courtesy to kill a few moles.  I watched her stalk a mole once, but she didn’t kill it.  I read online that cats do not like to eat moles.  They taste bad.  I then decided that I must now take some action to keep her off of the porch railing.  I read online that cats won’t jump on things if they are wrapped in tinfoil.  So, I went outside and wrapped my porch railing in tinfoil.  I was then on cat watch and constantly looked out the window to ensure my defenses were in place and prepared myself to chase off all cat threats.  There are actually 2 black neighborhood cats.  They are both solid black with golden eyes.  One is fat, one is skinny.  So, when I saw her fat brother sitting under my bird feeder, I charged out the door yelling, “Get out of here! Get out of here!  Leave my birds alone!”  He ran off and I was feeling quite pleased when I looked up to discover my neighbors sitting on their back patio.  All of a sudden it dawned on me…Not only do I have my back porch railing wrapped in tinfoil, but I periodically come running out of the house like a nutcase.  “She’s mad,” I say, “Stark raving mad!”  I slunk back into the house.  The next day, I walked out on my front porch to discover a lovely dead mouse, freshly killed, and left neatly for me.  A peace offering.  Being a cat person, I couldn’t help but feel touched.  Our barn cat in Germany, Fruhliche would bring all kinds of things to me as a gift: whole dead mice, mice with their heads decapitated, just the head, just the tail, a mouse gallbladder, etc.  When she wanted to add some excitement to our lives, she would bring the mouse in live, let it loose, and then stalk and kill it.  I never knew that cats growled until I was woken in the dead of night and heard her growling at a mouse next to my bed.  It was a fearsome sound.  So, I knew this was an offering given in the hopes of reestablishing our peaceful coexistence.  Either that, or she was making a  trade for the baby birds.

Last Thursday night, I put out the garbage and there was a thick humid feeling in the air that midwesterners know to fear. Soon, a storm came into Stafford. The thunder was pretty intense and the lightning quite bright. I know tornadoes are not common in Virginia, so I wasn’t all that concerned. However, at 2300, I decided that the storm sounded bad enough to warrant me checking the National Weather Service online. Actually, being a Meloch, I can make up any excuse to check the weather. So, I logged onto the National Weather Service, entered my town of Stafford, Va and read the following, “A tornado warning has been issued for Stafford, VA. A tornado has been spotted, seek shelter immediately.”  Ignoring the urge to scream, I immediately ran upstairs, woke the kids and took them down into the basement. The power flickered once , the rain poured down, and I prayed. We all slept in the basement that night. Abby slept on Dale’s recliner and being a true Manry said it was a very comfortable place to sleep. Josiah slept on a pile of beanbags. Gabe inflated air mattresses for himself, Zeke and I. As I was laying on the air mattress, all I could think was, “I am so glad we are not moving this summer and I won’t have to sleep on this for 3 months.” The next morning, we discovered that the tornado struck approximately 15 miles away. We saw some of the damage of snapped trees and missing windows. However, last night we realized that spring was not done with us yet. Another storm came through that dumped 3 - 4 inches of rain on Stafford County. My clean gutters decided they preferred to be clogged and rain poured off them and soaked the ground which overwhelmed my basement walls. From 2100 - 0100 last night, I attempted to stop the water. Gabe, who goes on duty during storms, and Josiah hauled all the toys and rugs upstairs and got everything off the floor. Josiah didn’t complain with his Wii and DVR under threat. I had placed a large rolling garbage can next to the porch under the largest stream of water coming off the gutter and would periodically walk out into the pouring rain and haul it to the curb to dump it. I was quite the sight at 0030. I would then return to the basement and lay down multiple towels and wring them out into a large pail and then dump the water from the pail into the utility sink. That was exhausting work. I thought of all the people I had seen on the news over the years filling sandbags to stop a flood.  How they keep going is beyond me.  I was so tired, it was difficult not to give up and admit defeat.  Throughout this process, I was thinking of the Army’s favorite motto of “Work Smarter, Not Harder!”, but in moments of crisis, more efficient actions always escape me. At 0100, I was too exhausted to stand and went to bed praying that the water would not flood the entire basement. This morning, Gabe woke up and performed the damage assessment. The boy is destined to be an Engineer.  After dropping the kids off at school, I drove to the home improvement store and purchased Dale’s Father’s Day gift: a 12 gallon wet/dry vac. I put it together and tested it out to make sure it worked. I’m sure he’ll love it.

One week ago today, on 2 May 2008, MAJ Rick Biddle walked over from the Operations trailer and told me that SET 8 had been hit by an IED. SET 8 is based out of COB Speicher in Tikrit. The team had taken some USACE personnel on a project site visit along the Bayji to Baghdad Pipeline Exclusion Zone north of Tikrit. Among the personnel was Jim Lockard, a Project Manager working at GRN. At approximately 1000, Jim’s vehicle was hit by an IED and came under small arms fire from insurgents. The Aegis SET repelled the attack, pushed the insurgents back, evacuated the USACE personnel, and returned to COB Speicher. Jim died at the CSH as a result of his injuries sustained from the IED blast.

When I arrived in Mosul in August 2007, Jim was the Project Manager for the GRN healthcare clinics. For a couple of months, I spoke with him every Sunday during the weekly healthcare clinic conference call. I finally had the pleasure of meeting Jim in October 2007 when I went to COB Speicher for the Engineer Conference. I immediately liked Jim as everyone did when they met him.

On Wednesday, I traveled to COB Speicher for a memorial ceremony in honor of Jim. COL Pfenning spoke of his admiration and respect for Jim. Several other of Jim’s colleagues also gave remarks during the ceremony. They each consistently mentioned his love for his wife Maria and his two teenage daughters Danielle and Nicole. They also shared stories of his sense of humor. One of the speakers shared Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. In this passage, the Preacher says:

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

I reflected on those words of Solomon as the bugler played Taps at the end of the ceremony. I along with everyone else that had the pleasure of knowing him will miss Jim dearly. Each night my kids pray for the safety of everyone deployed to Iraq, Afghanistan and other places around the world. They mention me by name as well as others we know that are deployed. In Mosul, we will continue to honor Jim’s sacrifice every time we go outside the wire.

Rest in Peace, Jim Lockard.