Honoring Veterans – Old & Young/Past & Present

by Crystal Laramore


Veteran’s day; a time for reflection and gratitude for many. And boy, do we have a lot to be grateful for! Just in my family and circle of friends alone I spent a few hours today (Tuesday) making phone calls and sending emails, thanking them for serving our country. I even received a few “thank-you’s” myself, which humbled my heart beyond measure.

One of my friends, CW 4 Luke Sweeney, flew an apache helicopter in the downtown parade in Houston on Veterans Day last year. His co-pilot was CW2 Darrick McGill. The lead Apache was expertly piloted by CW3 Roka (Rock) Wolgamott and co-piloted by CW2 Dusty Davis and they were followed by CW2 Ross Hovey and his front-seater was CW2 Jonathan Johnson.

Apparently this was a death-defying act! We were in Baghdad together and he said the flight that day was more frightening than most of the flying he did over there! The buildings downtown were only 75 feet apart and his span on the helo is about 50 feet! Warrant Officer Sweeney, aka Coco, lives here in Coldspring with his children, Brooke & Lucas Sweeney and his sister Sue Sweeney. If you live in Conroe, you may see him flying overhead a lot. He is based out of Lone Star Executive Airport. He belongs to the 7/6 Calvary Regiment. So, those guys you see practicing are doing it for a reason. And when you do see them, take a moment to say a silent “thank you” or heck, yell it till your throat hurts!

Until you’ve been in a war or a war zone you cannot begin to understand the level of commitment the men and women serving your country have embraced. Almost every day people ask me what it was like “over there”. Being Veteran’s Day today and having a chopper fly over my restaurant today made me remember this article and want to re-run it…

The military hospital is called the CASH (combat support hospital; incidentally, they used to be called M*A*S*H hospitals so says Col. Uncle Bill). When I first arrived I was sick with flu-like symptoms for the first three months. The doctors and civilians called it the Baghdad bug and many people were sick with it. So, I was in the CASH a lot. Then my neck stiffened up on me and I could not turn my head so I was in physical therapy for about six-8 weeks every day.

While I was hanging out at the hospital I would visit soldiers who were wounded and find out about their injuries and their lives at home and where they came from. Most of the soldiers had their purple hearts or their silver stars sitting right by their bedside. I caught a few of them watching Oprah, but as soon as I’d walk in and said “Hey, how’s it going?” they’d change the channel to WWF or something. (Not really WWF since we didn’t get that channel, but you get the idea!) And I never once called ‘em out on it. It was a secret among friends.

Other times, when I was coming in for treatment, I’d see a Chinook in the parking lot with a big red cross on it or a Blackhawk with blades running. Sometimes the medics would be taking soldiers off and carrying them in the CASH right in front of me. People screaming, men running, blood dripping. ER in a war zone. No commercials. No actors. No do-overs. Other times the only noise in all the area would be the deep, heavy thudding of the chopper blades. Either scenario was a grave situation. Those young men were in that chopper, on that gurney, in those bandages, bleeding red-for me. (And not all of them were Americans. This is a coalition of forces.) And I would always say a little prayer before walking through those ominous glass sliding doors, because of what awaited me on the other side; a soldier or a marine would often be lying on a gurney with his buddies standing around him in prayer. And I always knew (or thought I did) if the young man would make it or not. Sometimes I couldn’t even get through my physical therapy session b/c I was crying so hard. Probably what pulled at my heart more than anything is that I always expected to see a man; a grown man; an older man; a man who had lived most of his life; a man ready to die;. What I saw were men all right; it’s just that they were men at young boy’s ages; they hadn’t lived their lives; they just graduated from high school; they weren’t ready to die. But they were ready to fight for their country. Their faces were so young and so innocent, and yet so very brave.

At night, when we would all be sitting around winding down, we’d hear the choppers coming in; always, two-by-two. First one, then the other. If I was on the phone with a family member or friend I’d have to say, “Hold on, a chopper’s coming in” and after the chopper passed the person would start talking again and I’d have to say “Hold on, there’s another one coming in about 30 seconds”.

After being over there for a few months you could determine if an Apache, a Blackhawk or a Chinook was coming in. If it was a Chinook, chances were, the second one always had a big red cross painted on the side indicating there were wounded or fallen soldiers on board. The mood always fell to a heavy silence. Sometimes people would cry. It makes my heart beat fast just writing about it. We could hear the war in the background and we could always drown it out with laughter and chit chat and a few Coronas-naked not dressed-who had limes and salt? But, we could not drown out the sound of Chinooks coming in; two-by-two; first one, then the other. It was a heavy, thudding noise that cut through and drowned out our laughter as if demanding attention and prayer; respect and thought. It was ominous, surreal and sad.

And sometimes hearing the choppers coming in, feeling them come in, well, it felt patriotic, brave and warrior-like. I miss the sounds of the choppers flying over-head at night, rocking my hooch (where we lived-term brought back from the Vietnam War). I miss the feeling that I am well protected and loved by those who know me not. I miss feeling protected by the best armed forces in the world simply because I was blessed enough, by God, to be born an American.

So this veteran’s day, when I flew my flag I flew it out of respect for veterans of wars past, but especially for the young men and women who are fighting now. The one’s I’ve met and the one’s I know not. God bless them and God bless America!

Check out my new Blogs:

http://randomthoughtsonpaper-crystal.blogspot.com

http://sexinthewoods.blogspot.com

What I know for Sure

Random Thoughts on Paper

By: Crystal Laramore

www.montgomerycountynews.net

What I Know for Sure

Well, the older we get the wiser we get, right? I’m not so sure these days. I knew more last week than I know this week. For instance, I thought Colin Powell was endorsing John McCain. Hmmmmm. As I asked of one of my friends “Has Colin Powell lost his mind”?

What I do know for sure is riding a bike with the right kind of (padded) shorts is better than not. What I know for sure is the Samba is a very hard dance to learn but it’s a great work out. What I know for sure is that my right knee isn’t as strong as it used to be but my heart, mind, body, spirit and soul are much stronger. What I know for sure is that great friends will serve you beer and tequila when you need it-dressed or undressed (the tequila…)

What I know for sure is the kind of man I want to lead me spiritually, romantically, mentally and politically. What I know for sure is the kind of man I want leading my country. And I want all of those men to have the same qualities. I want strength, integrity, wisdom, discernment, courage, passion, loyalty, trust and love of God and Country. When women think about their partners they want to feel safe; it’s no different at our house than at the White House. We want to trust the man sleeping in both beds. I want to trust that my man will keep me from harm and protect me and our family and our home at all costs. I want a man who has the ear of God and the discernment to do what is right, not what is easy. It’s what ALL women want.

And, that IS what MOST Americans want in their president.

When I look at Barack Hussein Obama I don’t see that. When I read about him, I don’t read about those qualities. When I listen to him, I do not hear those qualities coming across with the words he chooses nor do I see it in his actions. My grandfather used to tell me “What you do speaks so loudly I cannot hear what you say”.

As more and more young men/women sign up for one branch or the other of the armed services, I cannot help but think they want a man they can place their trust in too. They want a leader with honor and integrity. If you were signing up to defend people you do not know, but a county you love wouldn’t you want the man sleeping at the White House to be a man of honor and integrity? Wouldn’t you want him to love God and Country? Wouldn’t you want him to have experience in foreign policy? Wouldn’t you want to know that he was going to defend you at all costs?

I also know for sure that music moves (most of) us. Music is the glue that holds our mind to a certain memory from a special time or a special someone. The class of 1978 had their 30 year reunion at my restaurant Saturday night. Does “I’m your boogie man…” bring back any memories? What about “Let’s get it on”? For me, almost every song I hear triggers SOME memory. There are several men in my life that chose to serve our great country. When I look at them or think of them I think of Toby Keith’s song “American Soldier”. I’ve included the words for you to chew on before you vote:

“…Up and at 'em bright and early,
I'm all business in my suit,
Yeah, I'm dressed up for success from my head down to my boots,
I don't do it for money, there's still bills that I can't pay,
I don't do it for the glory, I just do it anyway,
Providing for our future's my responsibility,
Yeah I'm real good under pressure, being all that I can be,
And I can't call in sick on Mondays when the weekends been to strong,
I just work straight through the holidays,
Sometimes all night long.
And you can bet that I stand ready when the wolf growls at the door,
Hey, I'm solid, hey I'm steady, hey I'm true down to the core,
And I will always do my duty, no matter what the price,
I've counted up the cost, I know the sacrifice,
Oh, and I don't want to die for you,
But if dyin's asked of me,
I'll bear that cross with an honor,
'Cause freedom don't come free.
I'm an American soldier, an American,
Beside my brothers and my sisters I will proudly take a stand,
When liberty's in jeopardy I will always do what's right,
I'm out here on the front lines, sleep in peace tonight.
American soldier, I'm an American,
An American,
An American Soldier”

Shouldn’t the same hold true for our President?

This week has been a week of reflection, thought and hard decisions. It’s been a week of study, prayer and deep thought. Exercising our right to vote should be given the same thoughtful attention. Voting happens every year right before/on my birthday and this year what I know for sure is that I’m voting for honor, integrity, courage, loyalty and strength…for my gift to myself and my gift to my country.