NFC: Cliburn's Week 12 Preview

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Happy Thanksgiving.


Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.  It always seemed so
genuine to me, unlike other holidays which most people see solely as
an excuse to receive gifts, drink beer, or skip work.  Perhaps it was
how my parents treated Thanksgiving that made me appreciate it so
much.  I remember every year my mom would only allow us to have
thirteen kernels of corn on our plate because that was the ration the
Pilgrims had to sustain themselves with in order to survive that fall
and winter.  Looking at the thirteen kernels sitting alone on the
periphery of my gigantic plate, I gained an appreciation for just how
much they struggled, perservered, and, most of all, appreciated what
little they did have.  Eating the thirteen kernels often left a
contemplative emptiness in my belly.  Of course, after we finished the
original thirteen, we were welcome to eat more, but the point was
made, and it has stuck with me since.

In my military career, I have spent Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday,
at Fort Sill, Oklahoma; Yakima Training Center, Washington; and, now,
Camp Virginia, Kuwait.  None of those places I would consider my first
choice to spend the holiday, any holiday, but, again, it gave me an
opportunity to think of how lucky I am.  This year is the worst, and,
at the same time, the best.

Camp Virginia is nothing more than a series of buildings, surrounded
by sand berms and guard towers, in the middle of the Kuwaiti
wasteland.  There is no cultural consolation prize to being housed
here; it's not high on anyone's "to visit" list.  It is that vastness
and emptiness, however, that give us all a chance to reflect on how
lucky we really are.

We just left Baghdad, where mundane, everyday tasks like grocery
shopping are life-threatening.  No one trusts anyone; everyone is a
target.  Death and destruction are an unavoidable part of life, and
kids like my friend Ali grow up in it.

As I reflect on how lucky I am to have left that place, all I can
think about is Ali and the millions of children just like him.  I
think of how bad they have it . . . and how positively Ali, Hidar, and
Ahmed seemed to accept and handle it.  They were still thankful for
their families, for their friends, and for their lives.  They are a
true example of perserverence.  I am so very grateful that my brother
and I never had to grow up in their world, and I am similarly grateful
that my niece will not have to do so either.

We had a very well-intentioned but lackluster Thanksgiving meal at the
chow hall this afternoon after our commander shared a few words with
us.  Most importantly, he pointed out that we are all still here,
alive and healthy.  That was not what I had expected a year ago, and I
am grateful that our mission changed to the less dangerous PSD
mission.  We're here; we're alive.

After lunch and a couple of hours of preparation, we had the inaugural
First Platoon versus Third Platoon Flag Football Thanksgiving
Challenge.  It was eleven on eleven, with a full offensive and
defensive line.  Talk about grudge match; we're all hurting now.  I
took a few arms to the throat, hands to the face, elbows to the body,
scratches to the arms and face, and a few head to head shots.  I was
not alone.  We made it this far without serious injury, but we tried
our damndest to get one before we left.

Third platoon won both games by a substantial margin because they are
bastards, but it was a great experience nonetheless. That's okay;
we'll get 'em next deployment.

 This is certainly a Thanksgiving that I will never forget.  It won't
be long until I am home, but, today at least, that wasn't what I was
thinking about.  My friends up north, the ones I met and the ones I
haven't yet met were heavy on my mind as I enjoyed a day devoid of
helicopters, gunfire, mortars, explosions, or frustrating hours
outside the wire.  I hope that my friends in uniform up north will
come home safe and sound as well, and I hope everyday that real change
will happen, so that Ali and others like him will be able to grow up
in the same sense of security that I did.  They're grand wishes, I
know, but if there is anytime to be optimistic, it's today