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 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.

Poppy for a Veteran

The sign in front of John's Lube lists soldiers' names,
those who are soon returning home.
And every day I drive past I wonder
if I will ever see the name of my son
posted in celebration.



Today I checked the sign and here is what I saw:






my son, listed first, with the others all returning soon.


Nothing fancy, this sign.

But to the families of soldiers, a blessed sight.




In the garden at my home, the poppies seem to know
it's time to bloom.

Memorial Day Service Respects Troops Lost in Iraq

An ecumenical, interdenominational Peace Memorial Meditation Service will be held on Monday May 26 at 2 p.m. at the Rost family farm on Rost Road exit off of Route 50, located 9.6 miles east of the I-77 interchange near Dallison, just outside of Parkersburg, West Virginia.

The John Rost farm maintains a field of white crosses as a Peace Memorial to over 4,000 soldiers killed in Iraq in the last 5 years. (Those who have read my blog may remember the photos of Mr. Rost and the field of crosses.)

Area speakers include: Pastor Dave Jackson, Devola OH Congregational; Rev Kathryn Hawbacker, Marietta OH Unitarian; Rev. Jim Lewis Charleston WV Episcopal; Mr. Art Gish, Athens OH Christian Peacemaker Teams; and Fr. John Finnell, Ravenswood WV Catholic Parish. Each is a peacemaker in their own way.

The service will have an inter-faith focus with moments of silent meditation, on desires for peace and diffuculties in achieving it. It will honor those patriots who have paid the ultimate price in service to their country. Sponsor is Mid-Ohio Valley Peace Initiative (MOVPI), a regional secular peace advocacy group whose mission statement addresses the issue of the war in Iraq, and is dedicated to local, national, and global peacemaking.

The public is invited to attend, no charge, and are asked to bring their lawn chairs. Those wishing to bring an optional picnic lunch are welcome to set-up on the lawn before or after the service. Those who are able are asked to stay after service to assist in a work party to help maintain the thousands of crosses in place. For more information, contact Lynn Cady in Marietta at 740-374-2969 or Ray Foss in Parkersburg at 304-428-5056.

Random Shots of Daily Life and Stuff

I wish I could say I took this photo, but it was taken by my son Aaron, near Fairmont, WV. I am determined to visit this spot with him as soon as my knee is up to a little 3-mile hike. Beautiful, Aaron, just beautiful.

Sprouts on the side of the peach tree by my front porch. There is something almost oriental about this photo--or does it just look that way to me?

Here come the girls! Haley and Hannah run down the driveway after school. Haley and I had to finish her social studies project on Iraq (which she chose of course--that's where her Dad is).

The finished product. Haley also had a little carved box from Iraq that held other items Derek brought home from his last tour there. And she had a voice recorder with a tape he'd made while in Iraq in 2003-2004. It was fascinating to listen to it in the context of today's news. Haley got 105 points for her display, and 100 points for her oral report. Way to go, Haley! I helped her find information (heck, I'm a librarian after all!) but she did everything else herself. Click on the picture below to enlarge the photos on the display.

The wygelia and dogwood blooming in the front yard. The blossoms are so heavy that the bush is bending to the ground now.

I said these were random shots! The morning sunlight streaming through the window on the shower was so pretty, I snapped a quick shot of it. It came out blurry, but I kind of like the way the blurring softens the picture.

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.

Too Terrible to Imagine

What is there to say to a mother who has lost her son?

http://www.wvgazette.com/News/200803180645

And what to say to the mother who lost two?

http://video.ap.org/v/Legacy.aspx?partner=en-ap&g=738055ec-02de-47fc-8e99-85cc1770edb3&f=WVCHG&mk=en-ap

I have no words to express it. There are no words.

How many have been lost in your state? Go here to find out.

Snow in Iraq?

Weather Report from Camp Speicher, Iraq:

Snow and cold.

Who would have thought it? Derek called today and told us it has snowed twice this week. In the desert. While we were having 70 degree temps.

I remember photos he sent us in 2004 when he was in Iraq before--snow in Baghdad. Seems so strange, but then with the world feeling so out of kilter, maybe it shouldn't be surprising.

Merry Christmas, 111th Engineers!

The 111th Engineers as they left Charleston, WV this summer, bound for Iraq.

Merry Christmas to all the 111th Engineers from Eleanor/Buffalo, West Virginia, who are currently serving in Iraq (with my son Derek).

Those of us at home are thinking of you and hoping that your Christmas is peaceful and as bright as it can be away from home.

Getting to Know Iraq

I listen to the news and try to figure out just where they are talking about in relation to where my son is stationed. Diyala province for example--exactly where is it? I found a map of all the provinces and now I can see exactly how far away each news report is from Tikrit.

This map is from the following website:

http://www.goalsforamericans.org/gallery/v/maps/1-17-05ColorizedIraqMap.jpg.html

Click on it to see an enlarged version.

The military posted this map, which shows many of the major cities. It's so odd to see places I learned about in ancient history and know that my son is there now. He brought back pictures before of some of the sites he's seen, like the Hanging Gardens. So ancient, so threatened, so beautiful.

What should be one of the most treasured parts of our world is instead a battleground. It's sad and frightening to think what people are willing to do to get their own way.

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.

One Man's Statement: John Rost

I'd passed Rost Road many times on my journeys across Rte 50 in Wood County. Each time my foot would ease on the gas and my eyes would stray to the hillside on the left.

Crosses. Hundreds of them, all white, lined neatly up and down the hillside. Such a sight in the rural eastern part of Wood County is uexpected, to say the least.

Yesterday I was in a hurry as usual, but I had my camera with me and decided to stop a minute to stop and take a picture or two. I pulled into the road and as I did I saw a four-wheeler in front of me. I wanted to get a better view of the crosses, so I followed the small vehicle up the road. Too late, I realized that the road deadended at this man's house, and he was off the four-wheeler and looking at me.

I pulled up to him, stopped the car and got out. "Those your crosses?" I asked. "They are," he replied. "That's quite a statement you're making with them," I offered. "It is," he said. "The number is actually wrong today. There are four more."

I nodded. "My son is serving there now."

"Well, he's doing what he's been told to do. He's a good soldier. I wa in World War II. I did what I was told too. I believed in that war, but not this one."

I was surprised. The man in front of me looked to be a healthy 65 years old or maybe a little older. But to have served in WWII he had to be at least, what? 79?

I introduced myself, and asked permission to take a few photos. He introduced himself, too. "Rost. Just like the road. My great-grandfather owned this land. He came here by flatboat down the Ohio River from Pittsburgh. My grandfather built this house, and my mother was born here." The house is a Victorian beauty, well cared for. Mr. Rost led me across the yard to a good spot to photograph the crosses. We stood a moment looking at them, and I felt a strong admiration for this man who decided to make his opinion known in such a public way.

Mr. Rost laughed when I asked to take his photo in front of his home. "We're both aging pretty well," he said. He looked at the house. "Any house needs cared for, even new ones. This one takes some care. I can't leave it."

Mr. Rost isn't your usual war protester. He has a gun room, a target range and still hunts. He likes his space from his neighbors. "Neighbors are fine, and I like mine. I just don't want to see them unless I want to."

As usual, a little conversation revealed that we had friends in common. He had retired from the aluminum plant in my county, and knew some of my neighbors. It's always that way in West Virginia. Talk long enough, you'll know someone in common. Talk a little longer and odds are you'll find you're related some way.

A four-acre pond behind the Rost house is obviously a family gathering place. Some family members live on the land, others visit from out-of-state. "Did you build this pond?" I asked. He shook his head."When the state built Rte 50 into a four-lane, they needed a big source of water for all the dust. The state built that pond for me, in exchange for water for road construction." He grinned.This man likes a bargain, and he certainly got one in that deal.

As I was taking my leave, Mr. Rost pointed out his tool workshop. A small water heater was on the porch, obviously a project in progress. "When someone tells me I can't do something," he said, "they've got my attention."

I'm not sure what the project was but I have no doubt that he will work at it umtil he's successful. He's not a man of easy opinions or easy ways. His love of his home, roots in the land, commitment to his family and his values are cut clear and deep. At 81 years old, he still cares for his land and home, takes his dogs out hunting and is a pretty mean shot. He's another one of those West Virginians that form the backbone of our state--proud mountaineers who can take care of themselves, and stand up for what they believe in.

It took more than a minute to take my photo yesterday, but I came away with a lot more than a picture.

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!