Time to turn the page again - DeeDee Laramore -12-31-02
War waits upon the horizon - Nancy Young - 1-16-03
DeeDee Laramore
Editor
One of the hardest things about going into a new year is remembering to write the date correctly.
It'll take me three months to get used to writing "2003" on my checks, etc.
Fortunately, this problem isn't new. My brother Keith was born Jan. 4, 1958. When Mom enrolled him in school, she discovered his birth certificate said "Jan. 4, 1957." You can imagine the red tape it took to change that mistake.
Now, here we are, turning the calendar page one more time. I hope the year is a safe and prosperous one for us all.
***
This may have been the longest Christmas I've ever experienced.
Ten days ago, Vic and I traveled almost 1,000 miles across the country to see our son Dave at Fort Campbell, Ky. Dave, a specialist in the Army, has to stay close to his base right now, so we decided we'd deliver his Christmas presents in person.
We created Christmas in our motel room with a tiny tree, lights, ornaments and tinsel, all bought at half-price, and a form of our family's traditional Christmas tea made from apple cider and spiced tea bags heated in a coffee maker provided by the motel.
I couldn't have asked for a better present than to be with the son I hadn't seen in a year, watching him open his presents, drinking tea from a foam cup, and simply soaking up the moment.
To my surprise, Dave said he wanted to take that silly little tree back to the base to serve as the "company Christmas tree" - a little bit of home to share with the other soldiers who stayed on base for Christmas.
After eating lunch together on Christmas Eve, Dave, wearing his fuzzy Santa hat, loaded his red truck with the tree and his presents and returned to the Army life.
Vic and I began our long trip back to Texas, trying not to be too worried about the winter's strongest snowstorm raging between us and home.
A cold rain fell as we left Clarksville, Tenn., but the roads weren't slick and traffic was light along the winding two-lane road leading back to Interstate 40.
As it turned out, the worst of the storm went slightly north of I-40 leaving a clear path for us Christmas travelers. We spent the night in Little Rock, Ark and returned home with no problems.
On Christmas morning, we found a Waffle House serving breakfast. The waitresses yelled a cheerful "Good morning!" and "Merry Christmas!" to everyone coming through the doors. They treated a distinguished elderly gentleman who came in dressed in a black suit and black suit and a big smile, with respect and honor. I'll always wonder what his story must be.
I was surprised to see so many other Christmas Day travelers. We shared the highway with lots of cars filled with brightly-wrapped packages and excited faces, but few of the big trucks that clog the interstates these days.
Telephone calls from my mom and dad and my best friend Cindy who after many years as a single parent got some rocks for Christmas - the kind you wear on your left ring finger - were special highlights of my unusually long Christmas.
This weekend, a visit from my daughter Angel, her husband Chad, and my grandbabies Kaitlyn and Brendan became another special Christmas present. Kaitlyn and Brendan helped me fix spaghetti for supper and the real Christmas Tea before we gathered around the tree to open presents. We enjoyed another day and a half just being together before they returned to Vernon.
With all that was going on, I felt a little like the crew of a cruise ship. As soon as Angel's family left Sunday, I hurried to get ready for Vic's brother Doug and our niece and nephew who were due to arrive a few hours later.
Sunday night the five of us celebrated Christmas with Vic's mom who has been in the hospital for the past three weeks. That put the finishing touch on my holiday.
This year I missed sharing the holiness of the Christmas candlelight service with my dear church family, but in its place I saw Christ's light in a tiny half-price Christmas tree brightening some young soldiers' holiday, in the voice of a cheerful waitress greeting customers on Christmas morning, in the smile of a well-dressed elderly gentleman, and in the faces of expectant children drawing pictures on fogged car windows as they passed by.
I felt the warmth of His light through two happy phone calls and in the hugs and kisses of my family.
That guy who won the Powerball has nothing on me. Surely I must be the richest person in the world.
Nancy
Young
Managing editor
War is again apparently on the horizon.
Each day news reports are coming out of soldiers being sent to foreign soil for likely battles.
I haven't kept up with a lot of the details of what is going on. Sometimes I just don't want to know, and I have a feeling I am not alone. It's not that I don't care, it's just so frustrating.
Being the mother of two career military people, I hear a lot of military lingo. There's just a limit as to what I want to invite into my mind.
I didn't need the national media to remind me this morning what today's date meant 12 years ago. It was the beginning of Operation Desert Storm - Jan. 16, 1991. A few weeks later, I learned my son's ship pulled into the Persian Gulf on that day. He was only 23 years old.
My heart goes out to the parents of soldiers who are being sent in to that area in preparation of war. I know the pain they are feeling.
When Sept. 11 occurred, my son was already on a ship in that area. A few weeks later, my daughter left aboard a ship to serve her country. While I was proud of both of them, it was stressful.
To my knowledge, neither of my children are in line to go into this action. I'm grateful, but I know others who are going.
At Christmas I visited with a high school classmate of my daughter's who was home for the holidays. I saw a look of stress on her face that I had never seen before. Her husband, who is career military, was preparing to be sent overseas. My heart went out to her.
She and I both knew that not everyone comes home in war. She and my daughter graduated with a young man in 1985 who did not come home from Desert Storm. A U.S. Marine, he was killed only hours before that war ended. He left a young wife and daughter, two sisters and parents.
I had known him since he was born. I went to high school with his father and aunt. In a small town, you seem to know the entire family. He was the only soldier from our town to be killed in that war, but the effect upon everyone was overwhelming. Ironically, his father's brother was killed in Viet Nam. I can only imagine how his parents must be feeling with the threat of another war.
My grandfather served in World War I and my father served under General George Patton in World War II. My husband was a member of the 101st Airborne during the early 1960s, and those uncertain times.
A friend of mine who is teaching a college anthropology class related to me this week that she asked her class to form six groups and write the top five issues which are concerning them in the world today. Out of the six lists presented to her, four of the groups listed war as the Number One concern. Our young people are taking this seriously.
As more and more reservists and active duty young men and women are leaving daily, their families pray for their safe return.
Let's all of us say a prayer for each of these men and women to return to their homes. Don't forget these families. Also, say a prayer for our leaders as this action begins.
(Nancy Young may be reached at nanceyyoung@hotmail.com)
Dave Bowser
Staff Writer