News and Change in the Air

So much news this week! Nothing earth-shattering, and yet profoundly changing my world.

First, there is the news from granddaughter Jordan: her second child, our great-grandson, is soon to be born. Monday, perhaps. I'm sad because I have a full day and evening of storytelling booked! I'd rather be there when this little boy, grandson of my son Jon, is born. I saw in ultrasounds the way this baby's lip is like that of my son who left us in 2010, and I so want to be there to greet him, but contracts are contracts, so I will have to be patient.

Then there is granddaughter Haley, who signed up for the Army National Guard on Thursday. I am so very proud of her, and at the same time so worried. I thought, with my son (and her father) Derek nearing retirement that I would no longer have military family to worry about, but that will not be the case.

And yet, to know that young people like Haley still honor their country enough to serve...that is a feeling I cannot describe.

That's all the news, yet in my world, it's huge. I hope you will join me in prayers for these young women who  forge ahead and make the future their own.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Trampoline Chickens

The other day I wrote aboout Trampoline Man, the rooster my son found on his trampoline a few months ago. Trampoline Man is now the King of the Roost, having outlasted fifteen other contenders for that position.

A postscript to the story:

Two weeks ago Derek reported that a lone hen had found her way into his yard. His daughter Haley put the hen on the trampoline to keep her safe from their black Lab Jake, who was far too curious about the new visitor.

The next morning, the hen was clucking loudly so Haley went to check on her. She'd laid an egg on the trampoline. Scrambled eggs, anyone?

These are some of my hens, perfectly respectable ladies who know their place.

The following day, two more hens had joined the first. Jake seems to have given up. He's apparently resigned to the hen party in his back yard.



Where are the chickens coming from?



We have no idea, but apparently the trampoline is like an amusement park for poultry.




My hens know where to lay their eggs...except sometimes they miss the box. No one's perfect!

The Igloo: That Snow Project

The Igloo:


Construction crew: Derek (job supervisor), Jared and Haley (skilled craftworkers)

Materials: Snow, lots of it. Sleds for hauling snow. Hands for placing snow.

The interior: note the side light and the abundant floor and headspace.



What a neat project! It took Derek and his kids about 5 hours to build this, and when completed it stood well over 6 feet tall. When we saw it today, it had been melted and "condensed" by the rain, but was still sturdy and big.

Barn

Lift the latch,

Hand-forged or hand-hewn,

Come inside

to watch the stars above

in a barn 150 years old.

This is the barn on my son Derek's place. Handhewn beams and latches, put together with pegs instead of nails, it withstood the winds of time and change.

Don't you love it? Sometime soon I need to go inside and take pictures of the stars from the inside out. They are amazing. Think about the farmer who toiled with hand tools, but still had the artistic drive to cut those stars out of oak boards.

Why? Because they would be beautiful.

Now that's an artist.

Homecoming: Part 1

It was finally the day we had waited for: the 111th Combat Engineers of the WV Army National Guard was to arrive home from their mission at Camp Speicher, Tikrit, Iraq. Among the soldiers would be my son, First Sergeant Derek Ford, returning from his second deployment in the current war, and his third including the first Gulf War.



We traveled to the Air National Guard base in Charleston, WV to wait for the planes to arrive. At the base, shuttle buses waited to ferry us from parking to the hangar where crowds were already waiting for the troops.

Haley proudly wore the National Guard hat her dad gave her. She's his girl, no doubt about it.

Many families made posters and signs to welcome their soldiers home, like these placed along the fence leading to the hangar.

Then it was wait...and wait. The planes had been delayed by a bad storm in Minnesota, we were told. They would be an hour behind schedule. With temperatures in the 90's the hangar was actually not too bad. My son Tom and grandson Jared look a little bored, don't they? I found a friend to talk to, so time passed a little more quickly for me.

Bored, bored, bored, hot and waiting.

Hannah found a friend to hang out with too, and hitched a ride around the hangar.

Homecoming: Part 2

Hannah found another friend: Governor Joe Manchin. Never shy about speaking to people, Hannah walked right up and introduced herself! His parting comment to her was, "you come see me now, you hear?" Hannah assured him that she would. As we walked away, she asked, "so where does he live?" In a great big, beautiful house, I assured her. "Well, let's go see him after our cookout tonight," she said. I wonder if he'd be surprised!





The kids loved the big flag--hiding behind it seemed to be an attractive game. Look at the legs back there! I caught the girls standing still for once.



An announcer told us the planes were 15 minutes away, and everyone moved to the tarmac. For more waiting, but this time the end was in sight.

Now these two look like heartbreakers to me, but I'm their granny/mother.

"Are they here yet?" Hannah asked. We saw other planes landing, but none were the ones we were looking for.

And then, finally, a far-off dot in the sky got bigger and bigger...

Homecoming: Part 3

There! There it is! The C-130 carrying the soldiers home! Another followed close behind.

As the planes landed, a great cheer rose from all the people lined along the tarmac. Flags flew and signs were held high. My favorite was a sign that said, "Dad! I'm Here!"

The stars and stripes waved proudly from the lead plane, and the WV State flag flew from the following one. What a sight!

The loading bay opened and we could see the soldiers inside. Where was Derek? We strained our eyes to see him.

As the first soldiers disembarked, we were given the signal that we could go to meet them. What a rush as people swarmed forward, every eyes seeking a beloved face.

And then, there he was. Haley saw him before he was even off the plane--one uniform like all the others, but the face--that was her Dad!

The Troops Come Home: Part 4

Finally, off the plane and with his kids. I can't remember ever seeing happier faces.

Then it was pomp and ceremony--a walk down the red carpet for families and soldiers, with greetings of "Welcome home" from those who lined the way. After that, the unit gathered in formation for speeches and more congratulations from Generals and dignitaries.

Listening and waiting...

A handshake from General Tackett of the 130th Airlift Wing, and Governor Joe Manchin.

Then it was finally time to leave for the trip home. Friends, a cookout and at long last a cold beer! What better way for a soldier to end an 8000 mile journey that lasted eight days?

As the hangar emptied, the band played on.

Many thanks to the VFW, American Legion and other volunteers for arranging a fine West Virginia-style homecoming for our soldiers.

The Waiting Game

The 111th Engineers of the Army National Guard (out of Buffalo/Eleanor, WV area) are back in the USA. Currently the unit is at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin, preparing for their return home. My son is in that unit.

That is all the news we have so far. We are not sure when the tropps will get to West Virginia but it should be within days. To me they're home already, back on US soil. I expect a collective sigh went up from all parents, children and other family members when the planes landed.

We're in a waiting game now, wondering when the phone will ring and when we'll go to the airport to pick him up. Or will he just walk in the door, surprising us all?

It was a long year, but this time there were no unexpected extensions of the tour like what happened in 2003-2004. The troops are home exactly one year after they left.

I know there will be at least three really happy kids within the week--and one relieved Mom.

Mulberries and jam-making

Can you spot the girl in this picture?

The mulberries are getting ripe, and Haley went to check on their progress.















There she is!


















Okay, Approach #1 didn't work--climbing into the tree from the tractor tire.

Time to consider another way to get to the mulberries.
























A more traditional method, perhaps?

Haley is athletic and not easily deterred from a goal she has set.

While there were mulberries lower on the tree, she wanted to get to those in the tree's top.

Which required a lot of climbing.

Which she really likes to do.











The reward: a handful of almost-ripe berries. Actually, I like them best at this stage, while there is still a good amount of tartness in them. Once mulberries are ripe, they are very sweet, but a little bland in my opinion.

What to do with mulberries? I like to mix them with other berries to make jam--strawberries or raspberries are a good match, as are gooseberries or currants.

Or mix them all for a really unique product. I no longer have gooseberries or currants, but I remember making that mixed-berry jam and it was delicious.

Rhubarb also makes a good partner for mulberries, adding a tart tang and a different taste. To make any of these variations, follow instructions for a berry jam; adding lemon juice might be a good idea if you use only raspberries and mulberries because the pectin content might be low. I use commercial pectin to make my preserves because I remember my mother's cooked jams made without pectin--very strong and kind of gummy, and often they got sugar crystals in them after a few months in storage. You can find a basic recipe for making jam here.

The mulberry tree was planted by Haley's father when he was seven years old. He ordered it from the Arbor Day foundation, I think. He planted two but one fell victim to the brush hog just after he planted it. The tree didn't bear until Derek had left for the Army when he was 18. Sometimes I mailed mulberry jam to him when he was in Germany, other times I stored it away until he returned home.

In 2003 Derek left for Iraq at the start of the current war. Soon after he left we had a terrible ice storm that destroyed many trees. The mulberry was heavily damaged and we did not think it would recover. It budded out very late that year and bore no berries at all. The following year it looked a little better, and now, five years later, it is full of berries and as vigorous as ever. I'll have some jam made and waiting when Derek comes home in June.

News from Iraq

Derek at his promotion last Fall.




My son Derek emailed to let us know that a reporter from the Charleston (WV) Gazette is at Camp Speicher in Iraq, keeping a blog of his time with the 111th Engineering Brigade stationed there.

If you'd like to read what it's like at Speicher, go here.

Derek expects to return to the US in early June. Can't wait to see him!

Happy Birthday, Derek

You're thousands of miles from home, but we have all been thinking of you today and wishing you were here to celebrate your 36th with us.

June is not far off, though. Can't wait to welcome you home again!

With love,

Mom

Message from the Front

The phone rings and I answer to silence.
Then his voice.
Hello Mom.

His voice is the same. Too young
to be in charge of so much, and so many
men with hard boots and hard eyes.

I ask,
How are you? even though
I know what the answer will be.

Fine, I’m fine.
He evades, like I’m asking
a question to which he doesn’t know
the answer.

He speaks
of the mission, of his men
and the good food.
How are the kids?
Have you seen them?

The kids, the touchstone,
the constant that can be
talked about, laughed about,
discussed and delighted
in, a story with happy chapters.
Endless details —
who needs clothes or haircut,
how much gas money; the prom
is coming and church camp.
His voice caresses each name
like smooth stones carried
in his heart for luck.

I can’t wait to get home, he says.
When? I ask.
I remember the last deployment
and the return date that shifted
as quickly as the dunes of sand.
Soon, maybe four months. Maybe five. Soon.

It is time to end our call.
My goodbye is cheerful, his the same.
I love you we say at the same time,
I love you.

The line goes quiet. He is gone.
I hold the phone close to my face
a few moments longer then slowly,
slowly
I too am gone.

A Merry Christmas

We've had a lovely day--a quiet start, then a few phone calls with friends and family, and finally dinner at Derek's house with his children and girlfriend. We enjoyed watching as they opened the gifts we brought them. Hannah liked the globe--she and I played with it and I showed her where her Dad was and where we were, and where Uncle Tommy was in Germany. It helped her visualize the distances, and to have a way to "see" Iraq as a real place, not just a word.

But there was a surprise in store in the evening--Tiffany had set up a webcam and Derek had one too, so through the internet we were able to IM with him and actually see him on-screen. He got to see the kids, and they showed him their favorite gifts--Jared's tee-shirt with a gift tag on the front that said "To: Women From: God"; Haley's bike, Hannah's great big "diamond" I found for her at a gift shop.

While the webcam wasn't perfect--slow speed on our end made the connection jerky--it sure was nice to see Derek and to get a glimpse of where he is. He got up at 4:30 AM to get online with us, so he looked a little groggy. But what pleasure to be able to share, in some part, the fun of Christmas with him.

And now, to all a good night!

Christmas in Iraq

I wrote this poem in 2003 when my son Derek was serving in Iraq during the beginning of the war. Things are a little better since then--the troops are better equipped, they have good food to eat (instead of MREs and heating up the microwave meals sent from home on the stone walls. Did you know that they could get those warm enough to eat in about 10 minutes when the temperatures were 120 to 140 degrees?), and he can email home. While my feelings about the war remained conflicted between supporting the troops and not agreeing with our current administration, the poem still speaks to how many soldiers feel about their mission, and about their commitment to serving their country.

Christmas in Iraq

The hot sand is blowing
the sky inky black
Not much like Christmas
for the soldier in Iraq

The temperature's over 100 degrees
Sweat runs down his back and behind his knees
Danger is everywhere
Keep your eyes on your back
It's not much like Christmas
for the soldier in Iraq

There's no joy in this world
No angels on high
only missiles and anti-aircraft
guns light up the sky
No, it's not much like Christmas
For the soldier in Iraq

But his folks send a package
of presents and treats
His mother writes "a little of Christmas
in that desert heat."
He smiles as each item
comes out of the pack
Yes, a little of Christmas
for the soldier in Iraq

He finds pictures of his kids,
his father and mother,
unrolls a golf magazine
sent by his brother
cookies and brownies add to the stack
Just a little of Christmas
for the soldier in Iraq

Back home his children
nestle snug in their beds
no visions of missiles
dance in their heads
His folks are all safe
and far from this hell
The young man stands
and straightens his back
For that he'll spend Christmas--
Christmas in Iraq.

Safe Travels, Derek

One more trip to the airport, one more long wait, one more last wave.

Hannah watches the plane prepare for take-off.

Today he should be back in Tikrit, and we are all back to our usual routine, although someone is missing in the circle of our days, and there is a hole in our hearts.

I have heard that the heart can repair itself, and I will believe it is true in June when his unit returns.

Making Christmas

Derek left again for Iraq after 15 days of leave. It was so hard to see him go yet again, and I'm trying to think how many times I've waved to planes that carried him away. Still, he loves what he does. He's a soldier and he's good at it--a first sergeant, to those who know what that means, and being considered for Sergeant Major. He told me he plans to stay in the military, even after his 20 years are up. So I accept his choice and the fact that he will be deployed again at some point after this one is past.

We visited with Larry's twin sister at her father-in-law's home after Derek left. Now there is a survivor--this old man built the home he lived in, survived the depression and wars and layoffs and his wife's death. At 82, he lives alone and his home is neat as a pin.

Then home again to finish putting up Christmas decorations. Larry gathered in the greens so I could make the decorations--bunches of evergreens tied with red ribbon to hang by the door and on the porch, arrangements of greens (lavender, sage, cutting of evergreens) and bare branches for the house.

Then we got down the totes of decorations. Lots of stuff to sort and a lot of it won't be used this year. The tree is trimmed with the old vintage balls from my parents' tree, and it's lovely. The house begins to look like Christmas, and we are struggling to be merry and bright because Derek's children will be here at different times over the holidays (and one lives with us).

Tonight we're listening to the Chieftain's music and Larry is putting together the little village. We're worrying over our youngest son Tommy, in the Air Force in Germany who cannot come home for Christmas and will be spending his first one away from family, and over Derek who is traveling back to the war zone through heavy rain. We're still worried about Jaime who is recovering but still shaken by her close call with steroid overdose (did you know that's what they prescribe for poison ivy these days?).

I am missing my parents all the time, because Christmas was the season that they enjoyed most, and because so many of their traditions have passed into my life and remind me of them each time I do anything to prepare for the holidays.

We're trying to get in the spirit of the season, to make home the same happy Christmas place it's been in past years; it's not easy. But we're trying and I suppose that's all anyone can do.

Tomorrow Larry will gather mistletoe and when I get home from work I'll make the kissing ball. I'll be thinking of my sons, wishing they were home, but still be proud of them for their service and their choices.

We're one more family trying to find our way through difficult times, while we appreciate that we have a past that grounds us, a present that keeps us close and a future that surely will bring better things for us all.

One more day

Twenty-four hours and he'll be back in the air again, heading back to Iraq.





It seemed like a very short time to be home, but I'll take it. June isn't so far off now as it was when he left.

Before he left in September, with his newest toy.

Thanksgiving Comes at Different Times for Some of Us

Today started early. I was up before 4:00am so that I could be at the airport by 5--Derek was supposed to arrive between 5 and 7am, on a flight from Iraq to Kuwait to somewhere to Atlanta to Charleston.

Parking was no problem that early! There were no cars there--and as it turned out, no flights either. Earliest arriving was 9:30am. Since I was only a few miles from work, I got an early start, arriving at the library by 5:30am--first one there, for the first time in the 16 years I've been there.

The morning was a waiting game. He was coming in at 9:30, then at 11, finally at 1:30. I left work and headed to the airport, and this time we had it right. What a wonderful sight to see him grabbing his kids.

Tonight I am supposed to be backing pies because our Thanksgiving dinner will be tomorrow. But lo and behold, no pie pans! How can this be? I'm sure I owned a dozen at least. We searched every cabinet but found only two fairly bent pans. Where did they all go? We sat on the floor and thought back. Took one to George's at Christmas one year, and maybe left one or two at Aaron's last Thanksgiving; at least two were left at Derek's last Christmas...

As we counted I realized that my pans had all gone astray, left with the leftover pie in various locations around the state. So Larry is gone to the store to buy more, and today will end much later than anticipated as the pies get baked.

Granddaughter Hannah came home with us to help cook, she said. She walked into the log room, laid down on the couch to watch the fire, and has been asleep ever since. Poor little thing was up early too and had a day of excitement waiting for Dad.

While I wait for pie pans, I'm cooking sweet potatoes and apple casserole, getting the green beans ready, and packing up all the stuff we'll need to take with us in the morning.

There are more days than one on which to be thankful. Yesterday I was thankful for the time with Aaron and his family, and the quiet, relaxed evening by the fire. Today I am thankful for a safe flight and the joy of seeing my son's face again. Tomorrow will be more blessings, and I will enjoy and remember each of them.

Strange Thanksgiving

I don't think I've ever had one quite like it. With five sons, twelve siblings and a dozen grandchildren, you'd think we'd be surrounded by people today. Truth is, it's the old man, me and the dogs. And no turkey.

Here's what happened: we'd planned to cook, probably have Derek's children over (he's the one in Iraq). Then we got the happy news that he was coming home. Plan B: wait and have the dinner when he gets here, maybe go to someone else's house on T-Day.

Then more news: he's be home on Thanksgiving Day at 2pm! Mad flurry to figure out how to get dinner cooked and get to the airport. After several phone conversations with his girlfriend, we had Plan C. Everything was good to go. We'd take things to his house, girlfriend's mother would cook while we went to the airport. We figured out who would bring what, and we were set.

Then a call from son #4, Aaron: He, wife Jaime and their two children were at Derek's house, caulking the new bathtub and brush-hogging the pasture. They were spending the night at my house. George and Clayton had just left, grandson Jared was at his mother's--so the hide-a-beds were empty, come on down! They'd be here to greet Derek on Thanksgiving.

Another phone call: bad sandstorm, the plane was stuck in Iraq, and Derek had to get to Kuwait before he'd know when he would be arriving here. On to Plan D: wait until Saturday for Thanksgiving to be sure he got here, his brothers can be here, and Derek will be able to get a little rest. A codicil to Plan D: dinner can't interfere with the WVU football game!

So instead of a crowd, it's just us, no turkey and a quiet day. Which is actually a wonderful change from the busyness of the past few weeks. I cleaned a little, read a little, petted my dog a lot, and enjoyed the changeable weather of a November day.

Latest news is an early morning arrival time, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this time it's for real. We'll see!