Homeland Security.

I remember it pretty clearly after 8 years. I was 19 and getting ready to leave for basic training. My mother was pretty anxious about the whole affair, as any mother would be. This was in January, 1997. Before terrorism was a household topic, before rapid deployments and shoe checks at the airport. I think her worries were more of an empty-nest thing rather than a fear for my life.

I was scheduled to report to the recruiter for training on Jan. 15th and I hadn't really laid out any plans for a farewell party. I was trying to keep it pretty low key. Two days before I needed to leave, at about 8PM, I unceremoniously told my mom that I was leaving and going to spend the last couple of days with my Dad. I hadn't mentioned this before, and I think she was a little blindsided by it. And to this day I sort of feel like an ass about it because I didn't do it to spite her, I just felt a need to be be near my Dad. Three or four days later she was the first person I ended up calling though.

Dad and I had a decent relationship. He was a little hard at times, but overall we got along really well considering that most of our time spent together was on weekends and days off since Mom and Dad were divorced. I think to a certain degree that we were both attempting to reclaim some lost time and do some male bonding. My last two days in Wisconsin were spent hanging out with Dad, taking a tour of the plant he worked at, and just being together. It was fun, but I think it felt forced by both of us.

I remember feeling a rush of fear in our last half hour as my dad drove me to the bus stop. It was a pretty quiet trip because I don't think either of us knew what to say. When we pulled into the parking lot, I saw my recruiter waiting for me so I grabbed my bag and turned to look at him, but I didn't know what to say. I think he felt awkward too, but he said "I'm proud of you", although I'm not sure exactly what he was proud of, as I hadn't actually accomplished anything yet. But it was probably what I needed to hear, and I believed it when he said it. All I could muster was "thanks", gave him a hug and I hurried over to my recruiter because I thought I was going to cry.

A four hour bus ride to Milwaukee, a three hour flight to Atlanta, and a two hour bus ride to Anniston, Al and home was gone. 8 years, 1 wife, and 2 kids later, home isn't home anymore. At least not for the moment.

I miss home, as I mentioned in previous posts. I miss summers like this and winters like this. I also miss the heritage and culture you find in goats eating grass on the roof.

I'm not sure what the future holds for me. All I do know is that while my body lives in Texas, my heart lives in Wisconsin.