Disney's Toy Story 3

It’s amazing how an innocent little animated show I was watching with my daughter completely changed my mood from happy to somber. It is a good sort of somber, the kind that made me stop and  take accounts. Maybe it will do the same for you too…..

“So long guys, we’re heading out.”
“Wait, what? You’re going AWOL?”
“We’ve done our duty, Andy’s grown up, let’s face it when the trash bags come out, the Army men are the first to go.”

That dialogue between the other toys and the Army men in Toy Story 3 struck me hard. Their exchange sums up something that’s been occurring a lot more often in conversations lately. A growing number of people are asking; with troops coming home from Iraq, what’s the point of the Boot Campaign? As if to say that since our “official” role in Iraq is over, we no longer need to support our military. Two things disturb me about this thinking.

First, there are 1.4 million active duty military working daily in 150 countries (including operations still going on in Afghanistan) and stateside. Our military provides humanitarian aid in the name of all Americans (that’s you and me) to starving people in places like Somalia and Sudan. When disaster hits our own nation like the deadly tornadoes last year in Alabama and a Tsunami of millennial proportions last April in Japan, US forces were there to offer a cup of cold water and food to a crushed and shocked nation. If I could thank every service member feeding a starving child or family member displaced by disaster, I would.

And I do……….with my boots.

Second, it’s never been about war; it is about appreciating the people who choose to serve our country and protect our rights including the right to demonstrate. That is something Egyptians, Tunisians, Libyans, Chinese, Burmese and many other countries don’t have as an inalienable right.  As a matter of fact this week Iran cracked down on the population’s social media activity, locking down certain sites linked to the western world for fear of it causing an uprising.  These governments don’t allow for free speech, rather, they imprison anyone who dare object.

I wear my boots for these, the ones who continue to protect my freedom so I can say what I want, live how I want, pray to whom I want, and so much more. Boot Campaign has always been about thanking those who are the protectors of our independence.

As we settle into another year of liberty, 47,266 American men and women (as of December 15th, 2011) are wounded from operations since 2002. If we pull out of supporting them now, who will provide them assistance? In my mind there will never be a day when boots are not necessary.   As long as we remain the land of the free and home of the brave, there will be people to thank, with boots ON!

By Boot Girls Myra and  Char 

Its all about perspective.  Do you find some days you could use a fresh perspective? Sometimes a new outlook is blissful and yet at other times difficult. It causes us to stop and take a closer look at ourselves and how we live our lives or maybe see the world.  It has even deeper meaning when it forces us to make a change for the better.  Today, the Boot Campaign offers a perspective from our friend Char Fontan Westfall.   Char’s husband Jacques was one of 19 men who lost his life in Operation Red Wings as described in the book Lone Survivor by Marcus Luttrell.  From her vantage point as a widow of a fallen soldier, Char, recounts her thoughts and feelings that first holiday season after the death of her husband.

Jacques Fontan

The whole 1st year after losing Jacques was just miserable. I DREADED every day, especially EVERY Holiday.   As November came around it was just one bad memory after another.  It started with Jacques birthday, November 11, Veteran’s Day, followed by Thanksgiving and Christmas. To be honest, it took everything in me to go out and Christmas shop for my family.   It seemed like everywhere I went I was surrounded by signs reminding me that Jacques was gone. I’d catch myself looking at things I knew he would like and then suddenly slapped back into reality. There are no words to describe how much that hole in your heart hurts at this time of year. I can say I’m thankful that my loss wasn’t during the holiday season. Those first days and weeks are difficult to begin with, let alone associating future holidays with such tragic loss.  I don’t know how I would have handled seeing gifts I’d already wrapped for him.  Although, I did have things in his closet that I purchased while he was gone.  At least I didn’t have the extra pain of knowing he wouldn’t be opening the gifts I so excitedly picked out for him.

Around this time of year I think most people get pretty wrapped up in their own stress and lives and forget about the wives, husbands, children and families that are trying to “make it” through the Holidays. I find myself constantly thinking of how heavy their hearts must be and if they are even motivated to celebrate this season.  In perspective, there are Christmas parties you won’t attend because for one, you don’t want to be there alone, but even more so because you don’t know how you’ll deal with seeing all the “happy couples” along with their stares of pity. Families that have just recently lost their loved one are constantly on my mind. I have an even greater appreciation for the Holidays now.

photos courtesy Char Fontan Westfall

I am still very close with Jacques’ family. There aren’t words to express how much I cherish the fact that they are still such a huge part of my life. I know their hearts still ache from the hole left by the loss of Jacques.  They still have the pain of not having him around too.  For me, with every passing year the pain eases and I deal with his absence just a little better.  My life has turned around though.  God blessed me for a second time in my life with another love.  We have a child and I’m thankful to get to enjoy the holidays with them.

Maybe Char’s birds-eye view is a reminder for you to spend quality time with those you love while you can, and to thank a soldier;  perhaps while sitting next to them on an airplane to your holiday destination.  Seize the moment, as you never know what they will be required to do on your behalf.   When you do that, you honor the families of our servicemen and women around the world, which is a whole new perspective in itself.

By Boot Girl Myra

photo courtesy James G. Howes

It would be easy to cap this oil leak, and in the grand scheme of things it would probably cost very little to do.   At the time of the ship’s sinking it still contained approximately 1.4 million gallons of oil.  Every day for the last 70 years the USS Arizona leaks approximately a quart and a half of oil (that’s 6 cups) to the surface. It’s estimated there are less than half a million gallons of oil left today, leaking one drop at a time to the top.   It isn’t so much that it demands our attention because of an oil spill as much as the symbolic “black tears” of the thousand plus men who are entombed there.   Every day their voices rise to the surface begging visitors to take notice of them.  Perhaps it’s a cry to never forget what an enemy can do if given the chance.    It might pose as a small environmental disaster but who would dare silence the loud, inaudible cry of 1,177 men, whose voices rise to the surface daily?

There will come a day when these black tears stop flowing, but not before all those who survived the attack have faded into the abyss.  Who will tell their stories then? Time is of the essence for them.  Several of the passers-by in the memorial above are some of remaining ship’s 200+ survivors.  They go there daily as volunteers  just to tell their stories in hopes complete strangers will pick up the torch, when theirs fades, and the black tears flow no more.   Many choose to be buried with their comrades when they die, asking for their ashes to be spread over the memorial.  A request respectfully granted by the National Park Service.

On December 7, 1941, just after 8:00am the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.  Most history books will tell you the key detail of the Bombing of Pearl Harbor was it ushered the United States into WWII.  For the 2,390 Americans who died that day, with nearly half of them serving on the USS Arizona, the most important detail is the “voices” (in the form of a rhythmic oil leak) from 1,177 entombed soldiers rising to the surface daily, shouting in complete silence “Never Forget”.

DOD - Navy Salute to USS AZ

Several of my friends took the November challenge.  It’s the daily challenge to post something you’re thankful for during the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving.  I’ve been pondering this all month.  Instead though, I was challenged not to list one single thing but to list people who, if they weren’t in my life it would be lacking.

Friends from Elementary School 1972

I looked through my friends on Facebook and relished knowing I am still friends with people I’ve known since kindergarten.  I am thankful for  David Grace, who pursued his dreams of being a television and movie producer, even with uncertainty of when the next job would materialize.  Michelle Olivas’ mom taught me the importance of a perfectly tee-peed (“wrapped” if you live in Texas) house.  That was one which the recipient was reticent to take down for the art-form that it was!  My date to homecoming my sophomore year, Steve Keough taught me that guys can do the splits to DEVO’s song “WHIP IT” with such precision, it can stop a dance mid-stream with people shouting “do that again”.   I think of my friend Shari Wilson who, for no other reason than we love to laugh, has sent me gifts of laughter for over 25 years.  Laughter is the salve that heals deep wounds.  If she weren’t around I’d probably be dead.

My parents, are the kind of people everyone needs in their life.  Married for 59 years, you can still catch them holding hands.  I love it that my dad still tells my mom she’s beautiful.  Scrolling through our Heroes album, I look at Chad Flemings’s photo and become thankful for him, though we’ve only met in passing.  When so much about this world is about appearances, his ability to make prosthetic legs something more of an in-your-face challenge motivates me. It’s as if he’s saying “just TRY to beat me”.

I am thankful for each of the Boot Girls; for their love of country, so much so they will work inordinate amounts of time without pay to inspire others to appreciate their freedom.  Today I’m especially thankful for BG Mariae’s parents.  Their chilling escape from Vietnam in 1975 with little more than the hope of living free was worth risking their lives.  My life would be lacking without some Mariae flair.

For the next few days as you travel, stuff yourself with every possible deliciousness, shop beyond the dropping stage and manage your things, take time to think of people in your life who, without them, would leave you lacking.

It’s not the “what” I am thankful for today but the “who”.   Do me a favor, tell me WHO you are thankful for, and if you have opportunity, tell them as well!

For most,  today will be about getting as many photos as possible for 11-11-11 and perhaps even at 11:11am. After all, it only happens once every century. But that it’s also Veteran’s day makes it a rarity. What do you plan to do today at 11:11 am, or maybe even 11:11pm that is more than just a novelty?

Yesterday I walked among those resting in peace in Section 60 of Arlington National Cemetery. It’s the place where those KIA from Iraq and Afghanistan since 2002 have found their final home. The sobering reality is that it’s almost full. In fact, while we were listening to the 23 Psalm being read over the remains of an American hero, the sounds of earth-moving equipment could be heard right behind us. Development of Section 61 is well underway. Now that’s sobering. More than an acre of beautifully aligned headstones in Section 60 will,  in a very short time, bleed over to a new acre.

Looking over the hill to the new section I realized one day many heroes will make it their home.  But for today they are all still alive. They walk among us, they go where we don’t dare go.  They defend beyond the call of duty every time.  And as one military wife told me, when everyone else retreats, her husband and his team mates go forward, even after watching 16 of their comrades in the helicopter ahead of them perish into thin air by a RPG.

Today, take a moment to thank a Veteran, say a prayer for the families left behind of those who died defending you, and hope to God that Section 61 doesn’t become the most current “Saddest Acre” in this great Nation. Make a personal effort to say thank you to those who have served and are still walking among us.  Don’t lose the opportunity, for if you do, you might find yourself standing in Section 61 one day looking at the gravestones, wishing you had.

By Katherine Boynton

I won’t forget
I write him a tear-stained letter. I’m so sorry.
I sit on my bed legs crossed, shoulders slumped, crying with my mom when the revelation of I can’t live without him hit me.
Grabbing old notebook paper and whatever pen I could find, I start to write the most vulnerable letter of my life.
My understanding, my love, my sympathy are all at zero. I’ve forgotten all the things he sacrifices day to day to allow me to grow. To allow me to have the best opportunities he can.
I don’t like living with him, and I hate the arguments of “I don’t get it!” as we battle over math homework.
I don’t like accepting his rules. . .or his reasons.
I feel like he doesn’t trust me. I’ve never been the rebellious one.
But have I earned his trust? Or am I just not the rebellious one because he never gives me the chance?
Thoughts rush through my mind as I hear the news of his deployment.
Thoughts of worry, unease – and even relief.
His character, his heart, his desire to do the best by me…
Why did I forget…? How did I forget…?
Will I ever forget again?
***
He. Is. Gone…
I miss him. I love him. I want him here. I can’t stand living without a dad. I’m supposed to pick up the slack? When is there time?
I hear the kids at school say stupid things as I pass through the hall. Saying that their sacrifices mean nothing, that they amount to nothing. Saying the American flag is a joke.
Why would they say those things? They just don’t get it.
I cry to my mom. She’s the only one close who gets it.
A few try, but they fail.
***
It’s my brother’s turn.
One loved one gone. Another?
I’m alone at my house. The phone rings.
“Douglas!”
“I’m calling to let you know I’m not dead.”
“Whaaaat?” I. Am. Dazed. “Is someone?”
“Yes,” in a you-should-have-known type of way. But I hear the agony in his voice.
Someone close.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. Just tell Mom.”
I hear him swallowing the lump in his throat as he says it.
***
I sit in my room. Light off.
Maybe when I wake up life will be better…
It could have been him. Either of them.
What if my brother was in the crash? What if he never comes home? What if my dad never comes home?
***
It’s today! I. Am. Nervous.
The buses come at 12. I want to see him! To wrap him in my arms!
We wait the longest hour of my life.
Finally! My heart skips every other beat.
I see him through the window. He comes off the bus, I’m the first to break down, first to cry.
I shove my face in his chest. And cry.
“I love you, Dad!”
I won’t forget.

For more articles by Katy and other military children, please visit www.abackpackjournalist.com.

Guy Land

By Guest Blogger Guy Land

The void. You know, that empty spot in your gut that you just can’t seem to ever fill. It isn’t hunger. It isn’t thirst. It’s just that feeling, that feeling that your missing something… forgetting something. You can’t put your finger on it, but you know it’s there and it bothers you. Up until last year, I had that feeling.

I moved my offices to Nashville from Houston back in 2008. It wasn’t really a move as much as it was an expansion. Then of course, the recession hit and I was forced to make some very tough decisions regarding my company, its offices and its employees. So, for now, my offices exist solely in Nashville, but we do plan to reopen in Houston soon. When I left Houston, I also left behind some small charities I was involved with. And some large ones. Having a successful company for so long compelled me to get involved with my community and I gave it a shot. Of course all of those charities were worthwhile and important. Yet, there was a void in me even though I was involved with them. I never could put my finger on it so I just went along and did what I could to help out.

I never served in the military, it just wasn’t my calling. I was hired out of college before my junior year and felt I was doing my patriotic duty by being a good citizen and contributing back to the country that offered me the opportunity to pursue my passions. I worked hard, made a name and a company out of the talents afforded me by God and within the confines of the greatest country man has ever known. I never took these gifts for granted and was and continue to be eternally grateful for what I have been blessed with. It wasn’t until I read a certain book did I fully understand how much I really appreciated my freedom and my love for my country. LONE SURVIVOR awakened me and invoked in me a reckoning that I wasn’t aware existed. I wasn’t anymore or less patriotic than I was before 9/11, but the book gave me a realization, that hit home, as to what prices are actually paid that allow me and my family to enjoy our freedoms as much as we do. That price is the emotional, physical and ultimate sacrifices paid by our fighting men and women. There it was! The void now gave way to butterflies! I had the vision finally to understand that my calling was to give back to those that fight for me and my family. It was clear, but still a little foggy at the same time. Where do I go now? How do I get involved?

My introduction to the Boot Campaign came via a route that most of you would find just too outlandish to believe, but suffice it to say that Melanie Luttrell is the reason I am involved. I’d be happy to tell each and every person that reads this the personal story and why it just so vividly and clearly answers the question and fills the void in me. I am honored to work with the Boot Campaign. I am further honored to have been asked to be a Board Member and have my input considered for the future of the Boot Campaign. How exciting it is to be included on something that is just starting to take wings and soar. I know the Boot Campaign has been a magnificent success since its inception, but in my mind… you ain’t seen nothing yet!

Thank you Boot Girls! Thank you to everyone involved with the Boot Campaign! And thank you Marcus and Melanie for allowing me to contribute in a way that means more to me than you could ever know!

To what lengths, or heights would you go for a complete stranger?  Would you come to the rescue of someone on the side of the road?  Perhaps you’d give some spare change to the person in front of you at the grocery store who is 5 cents short on their bill.  Maybe you are one of those families who takes great joy in buying the food for the car behind you in the drive-thru lane.  How about jumping out of a plane?  Mmmm, yeah, right.

Let me introduce you to Mindy Sue Rawlinson.  She is completely THAT girl.  The one who would jump out of a plane in honor of someone she’s never met.  It’s not like she didn’t know JT, but it was through email communication only, and it was very short-lived, in a very tragic way.  Mindy struck up a friendship through mutual friends with Jon Tumilson, an active-duty Navy SEAL who was KIA on August 6^th in Afghanistan.  There had been less than 30 days of communication between them at the time of his death.   A famous quote by Martin Luther King, Jr., “it’s not the quantity but the quality of one’s life that matters most”, is well-applied for Mindy’s story.  In less than 30 days it was the quality of a friendship that became life-changing, not the amount of time spent together, because there wasn’t any. The quality of their conversation challenged Mindy to do something about her bucket list not just talk about it.

In her own words, and as a means to process acute grief for her new friend, Mindy wrote this email to JT after learning of his death:

I want to say thank you for all that you’ve done. You died doing what you believed in. You died doing what you loved. And most of all, you died fighting for all of the “freedom you loved so much” (couldn’t have said it better myself). You were the type of man most men strive to be. What you accomplished in your 35 years is much more than 10 men combined do over a lifetime. You’ve inspired me to continue to live my life fully. I plan on taking full advantage of the freedoms that you so gracefully ensured we have here in the United States. I also promise you that I’ll do all the things I talked about in my emails…I will run that marathon. I will sky dive again. I will go to Italy. I will get some “east coast culture up in me”. I’ll also make sure to eat a LOT of pumpkin pie in honor of you this holiday season.  But one thing I promise I WON’T do is forget you.

You’ve inspired me to be an honorable, driven woman who will not settle for anything less. I’ve tried to figure out why I “met” you and what I am supposed to take from this … not sure I have an answer yet. But, maybe it’s just that…to always strive to be the best and appreciate every moment I have (with all those that I love).

After a few months of restlessness, Mindy decided it was time to make good on one of those promises in hopes it would not only honor JT, but help her cope with the confused feelings of grief for a friend whom she’d never met.  She put on some dog tags she purchased from JT’s sister Joy, who had them made for people who wanted to honor her brother.  She also put on some combat boots she’d bought from the Boot Campaign,  got in a plane and began her ascent into the wild blue yonder.

Grief can be cathartic at times.  This would be one of those times.  Mindy went on her dive in tandem with the sky-diving instructor, also an unknown to her.  He too was grieving that day, and his dive was to honor his parents who had passed away.  Just imagine: complete strangers, grieving together, one for the loss of love from a lifetime spent together, the other for none.

In a recent chat during our weekly radio show on toginet.com, one of our friends up in the Chicago area joined in on the conversation.  We talked about the affect military service has on the families left behind and he agreed to let me publish his observations as they are spot-on.

Photo courtesy US.gov

Young men and women stand at a cross road in life when they make a decision to voluntarily raise their right hand and take the Oath of Enlistment. They promise to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America, to Obey the Officers appointed over them, and begin a forever life changing adventure.

They go off to Basic Training, Boot Camp, whatever their selected branch calls the first level of school. While there, the cadre indoctrinates them into the proud and honorable path they have chosen, they bond with their new brothers and sisters in arms. Some volunteer further, Airborne School, Ranger School, BUDS, rising up to greater challenges.  They become tighter with their peers and leaders than they’ve ever been with their family and friends back on the block.

As soldiers, we come to know that we will go where others fear to go and do what others have failed to do. As all of this grows, our families, mothers, fathers, sister, brother, husband, wife sit home and wonder. Our loved ones haven’t been indoctrinated, they haven’t bonded with fellow warriors, they are still the same loving, innocent earthlings that we left behind.

When we’re down range with our Unit we lean on each other, we laugh, cry, joke, and console each other. It’s hard for us to reach out to our families at home, it may break the concentration needed to survive, we may not want to hear about the note on the farm being late or how the bank called about the truck payment. Not because we don’t care, but we can’t change it from a forgotten Fire Base outside of Kabul.

At home, our families watch us on the news, hear about us on the radio, but haven’t been trained to understand what we’re doing. No one carried them through the ranks as they developed. Terms like esprit de corp, selfless service, and Duty, Honor, Country are simply flamboyant phrases, not the watch words and call to arms that they are to their loved one overseas. When I returned the pain I saw in my ma’s eyes was something I pray I never have to see again.  The years of waiting, of praying that the chaplain wouldn’t one day ring the bell out front,  took its toll on her; even though I come from a warrior family.

Today, gratefully, my service time has ended, I give back by working with young returning warriors, offering what I can to families left behind while their loved ones do what our Nation asks of them.

Editors Note: John has spent the last few weeks gathering 40+ friends to join him at the Boot Campaign’s Boot Bash, in Chicago on Oct. 21 at Joes Bar on Weed Street featuring Randy Wells and Stoney LaRue.  If you are in the area, stop by and thank a soldier!

Many of my long-time friends would describe me as quirky with a funky style. Some days I like that, other days I secretly wonder if that’s just a nice way of saying I’m really weird. At any rate, one of the holidays on the calendar that I love most is Veteran’s Day, which may raise an eye-brow or two.  It is however, totally in line with the fact I do march to the beat of a different drum.

So, think about it. Veteran’s Day is one of the few holidays we celebrate someone real or still walking among us, we give without expecting anything in return and costs virtually nothing. What I love, unlike many holidays, is it’s not about entertaining or impressing but about appreciating others who gave us the freedom to celebrate all other holidays. It takes the focus off me and puts it on the people who deserve my attention.

Veteran’s Day is only a month away on November 11th. Have you made your plans to honor a veteran yet? If you’re not sure if this is your thing or not, check out these links.  I hope they inspire you to make a plan for Veteran’s Day and say “Thank you for serving”, while you can.

http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/war.casualties/index.html

http://bootcampaign.wordpress.com/2010/12/07/voices-cry-out-in-oil-leak/