Involuntary Service

This week retired General Stanley McChrystal will continue his advocacy for the “Franklin Project,” a group whose goal is to create a universal national service program for those between the ages of 18-28. Their message has gained so much momentum that it headlines this year’s security summit hosted by the Aspen Institute. Promoting this idea alongside the former General is a bold group of panelists (Mitch Landrieu, Barbara Bush, Wes Moore) whose aim is to make national service not just a new American priority, but also a rite of passage.  

It is easy to applaud an effort to engage young citizens by asking them to give back to their country. But it is harder to envision a motivated force taking up this groundbreaking charter simply because there is an emerging mandate. The push for greater participatory civil engagement stems from a group several generations removed from today’s millennials. The disconnect between these two demographics is striking. 

On one hand, McChrystal is a man who has dedicated himself to the service of this country in Iraq and Afghanistan. On the other, 99% of the millennials that he wishes to recruit have never even worn the uniform. In addition to an obvious gap between these two, there is also contradiction. McChrystal (age 58), is leading the charge for compulsory service but missed Vietnam and the perils of a draft that required thousands of Americans to fight a war that they disagreed with.  He himself volunteered for service. Yet, his expectation is for the next crop of leaders to not come from the same voluntary mold. Ironically, this model seems incongruent with the definition of service than may have come to know.

To be fair, McChrystal has softened his approach in this area. He has previously stated that he believes in reinstituting a military draft. Few of his colleagues in the Franklin Project actually favor a mandatory service requirement. Instead, they support a program that is“socially obligatory,” that develops into a culture of service much like the WWII generation. Their aim is for institutions of higher learning to weigh service commitments heavily as being contingent for admission. This kind of incentive based project is not unique. Indeed, many servicemembers join the military today for educational packages like the Post-911 GI Bill and tuition assistance. Patriotism notwithstanding, such “carrots,” are strong recruiting tools that reel in large pools of talent for our armed services. 

This quid pro quo relationship between the government and its civil servants is a long-standing one. Those who wish to further their lives by using their military experience as a stepping-stone to other career goals are the norm rather than the exception. In fact, only17% of servicemembers actually make it to the 20-year requirement for a full retirement, and even those who get out in their early forties go on to do other things. The motives behind service range from Nationalistic to self-serving and every point in between.

Despite a cause for concern that young citizens are apathetic about shaping the future through public service, many millennials are doing just that privately. Social media has revolutionized the way the world communicates and this has spilled over into various sectors and industries. Millennials can take credit for that. Moreover, mission statements by many companies are evolving to encompass globally aware brands to meet social objectives alongside profit maximization. An emerging “Conscious Capitalism,” is becoming a growing trend in business and is seen as more attractive to both consumers and job seekers. Therefore, the notion of service should not only be seen as something the public sector can produce but one that encompasses much more. 

Public-private partnerships are already being used to tackle a multitude of issues of national interest. Continuing to strengthen these bonds so that they work in concert with one another in order to maximize effort is both strategic and economically efficient. Small government proponents will look at a national service requirement as an overextension of Uncle Sam’s powers and yet another big government takeover that costs money. The argument against such a project is much more than political. It is fundamental. 

Service by its nature is a choice. Volunteerism by order or societal pressure cheapens its meaning and in turn has the potential to weaken its product. While a wake up call should never be discounted, Millennials do not necessarily need someone telling them how to serve after high school. Many are figuring this out themselves. Instead of a mandatory public service component (e.g. military, peace corps, AmeriCorps), the US ought to foster innovative problem solving at the individual level. World problems are constantly evolving each day and finding answers takes much longer than a year commitment. It will take a sustainable effort across various industries based on individual initiative and ingenuity. Millennials must become empowered to find solutions in a way that fits their generation not their parents’. 

In McChrystal’s op-ed in the WSJ, he cited a 2011 study, stating that there were far more applicants for AmeriCorps and the Peace Corps than there were positions. Those statistics alone prove affirmative that the Franklin Project is right in assessing the desire of young citizens that want to serve. Where there is a void in funding or positions, there is an opportunity to create something much more powerful and lasting. Newly minted veterans are leading this charge and are finding ways to serve outside the traditional models. The key is to encourage and mobilize a group of citizenry that serves because they want to, not because they are coerced.

The all-volunteer force is elite because they chose to put themselves in harms way. Would this country really want to involuntarily put someone on the front lines again that was only mildly interested in self-sacrifice? Would growing the Peace Corps from 8,000 volunteers to 80,000 non-volunteers really make the world any more or less peaceful? 

McChrystal’s audacious plan is ambitious; it is admirable, but regretfully misguided. Where he and the Franklin Project miss the mark, is that America is best when its people are called to service, not ordered. The one common denominator found in today’s military, is that their service is 100% voluntary. They raise their right hand understanding the risks and our country is better for it. 

A rite of passage for citizens is found no place in our Nation’s history. The idea that everyone ought to “earn” his or her citizenship is not only Constitutionally flawed, it is erroneous. America is great because it is free. Free to go to war or protest. Free to be friendly to its neighbors or privately ignore them completely. Many of us who have served this country did so because we believed in the ideals of that freedom. To mandate anything else is un-American. 

This article was originally published at the Joint Security Blog and featured at the Spirt of War.

Four Planes Took Off

Four planes took off

Passengers destined for locations of work, play, reunion, and love;

Just a few directed for a destiny of destruction

Four locations.

Two buildings reaching to the skyline

Employees, bosses, friends, associates, some people who did not know one another

Busy at work, talk around the coffee machine

Talk of business, family, children, and the score of Sunday’s ball game-Pop Warner, high school, college, NFL.

A building built in five angles

Employees directed to protect this hallowed ground of America

Employees of a nation dedicated to freedoms

Employees tasked with protecting those freedoms.

A farming field

Quiet except for the crickets talking to one another, the butterflies with wings fluttering in harmony, the bees busy at gathering the nectar of the flowers

Another morning of harmony of nature.

Then the unnatural

Then the insult to the value of humanity

Then an attack upon this country, upon its people, upon its families, and upon those families of families.

But out of the horror, the death, the destruction,

Came the heroes of the first responders, the heroes of all at each location

For some to save each other, for others in that peaceful field of Pennsylvania to save us all.

Giving with their might, with their courage, with their lives so that others could survive and live in freedom.

So that others, that survive, can still proclaim God Bless America, Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, This is Our Land and this is Your Land.

For us and our children, our grandchildren, 9/11 will always be our Pearl Harbor, a day that will live in infamy, but also a day that will forever define our today’s and our tomorrows- a nation of freedom that will never be destroyed. 

May we remember and never forget September 11.

All Gave Some; Some Gave All

      

I wanted to post this so that it could be seen by others. The thoughts below are those of my father's. I hope you enjoy them.

 It was June 1965 and I was graduating from high school.  I was on my way to college at the College of the Holy Cross.  My entire future was in front of me.  I did not have a good handle on my future aspirations other than wanting to help my fellow human beings.  I still hung with a dream of becoming a doctor but I would not get that opportunity in my freshman year as the college had only accepted me with the option for pre-med after my freshman year.

In moving in, I met many of my classmates who were engaged in the ROTC program.  I was not convinced that the Vietnam War was a solution for America.  My generation had lived through the assassination of its president in 1963.  My generation had been moved by President Johnson’s “New Society” program as a solution for the divisions that was within our country could be resolved.  But then all resources seemed to be turned towards the war effort.  What had previously been an advisory role in that country had been converted to armed support for the South Vietnamese.  What had previously been a rather innocuous registration in the Selective Service had become a badge of courage or, at least, a badge of identification and tracking of each male 18 years old in America.
 

Just as suddenly, the nightly news was absorbed with the battle fields of strange sounding names- Saigon, Tet Offensive, Mekong Delta, and leaders of that country- Diem, Ho Chi Ming.  It was described by our leaders as a war against Communism, a civil war, a war that must protect our home land’s security.  All confusing, all complicated engagements.

It was a thousand miles away but involved our every day.  It enlisted voluntarily or involuntarily millions of young American men.  Men who were 18 or older.  Are they men?  They could not even buy a beer. 

And then it really hit home for me when my first classmate would be killed ‘across the pond’ in a rice paddy.  Jay Hurd had graduated with me.  He was a great young guy.  He was in the high school band.  He was destined to be a great father. Then Chuck Whittecomb would die as a tail gunner in a helicopter.  The military would say that the life expectancy for them was less than a half an hour.  What was he thinking?  We would not ski together.  I would not hear him play the drums in a band of young people singing Beatles and Beach Boys. Then Bob DeRoy would die.  I would no longer play baseball with him.  He would never return to home and raise a family. 

 Why them and not me?  We all grew up together.  We all went to school together.  We had all thought about starting a family.  Coming home to buy a house. 

 Even though I served my country, I do not consider myself in the company of these American heroes- who left the security of their loved ones and home, to fight for the freedoms we knew so little about in a country whose language we could not speak, who would die without any loved ones there to protect them as they suffered, who would breath their last breaths with the smell of gunshots hanging over them in this air hanging over their heads.

 These would not be the only ones who would lose their lives to that war- Bob Ahern, who volunteered to serve after law school because it was the right thing to do, who it would be determined would be killed by friendly fire, the only child of his father and mother, and his father and mother would never be the same.  Jim Sawyer whose mother was a registered nurse with mom, who was a year behind me in school.   Dave Hill, whose hearing would have been taken from him after serving in the artillery unit in Vietnam but could no longer hear the train approaching on the train tracks. 

 And the end of the war was one I don’t want to see repeated in Iraq or Afghanistan, we abandoned our allies to be killed, imprisoned, and worse.  We fled their allegiance.  We turned our backs on them.  We said our word is not worth the paper it is printed on. 

 Seeing that wall tears at emotion that I have inside- sadness, self doubt, anger, shame, courage, love, and pride in a generation which has been called lazy, undisciplined, “sex, drugs, rock and roll”.  We challenged authority because we saw so many die without reason.  We envisioned a world that could live in peace.  We knew what commitment was.  These 57,000 never ran.  These stood for our rights to disagree with leadership and died never knowing that even though they did not win in those rice paddies, they won at home.  They may have not received the accolades that today’s soldiers receive but accomplished much because they insured that we, indeed, still have those freedoms. 

 And I wonder how my two boys could have chosen as my classmates and I know that they learned that it is important that we are given opportunities to make a difference each in our lives.  We must have the courage to answer that challenge.  We run the race, we must win the fight. 

 As the country song says, all gave some and some gave all.  Those names represent those whose legacy is that they gave it all and that we all need to know legacy will always burn bright no matter that the monument is back for the conflict that we had within ourselves. 

Why the 47% Matters

In this country we ask our elected officials to represent our best interests. While we may not all agree on the best strategies or policies to move us forward, we believe that no matter who gets elected, that they will remember that we are the “United” not “Divided” States of America.  Last month at a fundraiser for the presumably 1% of Americans, Mitt Romney wrote off almost half of the constituents for the office that he seeks. To some this was a pandering to specific donors who were prepared to contribute to his campaign. Yet to others, it was a cautionary tale of like-minded plutocrats who like Mitt Romney, feel that 47% of Americans are entitled. This of course is a stark contrast in opinions over the controversial speech, one that undoubtedly splits across the party lines. If we take his word for it, Mr. Romney is remorseful and regrets the comments he made. More probable, is that like Joe Biden’s past gaffes; he meant what he said.

I can’t pretend to get into Mitt Romney’s mind as to what would prompt such arrogant and unfounded language. I can only tell you who these 47% are in my own life and why yes, they absolutely matter.

The 47% is one of my co-workers. He is a good, capable and honorable family man. He has deployed several times because of his commitment to defend this nation. The 47% is my teacher friend who educates the children of North Carolina and sacrifices weekends to do classroom prep work despite having had a pay freeze for the sixth consecutive year. She earns $1800 a month. The 47% is a friend who is now in his 4^th year of graduate school and is pursuing a PhD. The 47% is my grandmother who worked her entire adult life as a nurse practitioner. She looked after the sick and at times the dying. She has never missed paying her taxes nor would she be ashamed to show her statements to anyone who asked. Mitt Romney said that “these people,” refuse to take responsibility for their own lives. Yet ironically, when pressed he didn’t take responsibility for his own comments.

I can see how politically wise it might be to court the rich donors of the 1%. With their money, Mitt’s campaign will surely outspend his opponent.  We are not a country of the 1%. We don’t just represent the people who think, act and look like us. We are not a country club. We are a Country! We are made up an array of socioeconomic classes and when all is said and done, we want to be neighbors and have a government that thinks not about 47% but of the totality of the 100%.

Based on his financial and gene pool inheritance, Mitt Romney believes he is entitled to the Presidency. On November 6^th, let’s make the case for why he’s not. 

Graduation

Modesty has never been a strong suit of mine until recently. Throughout the years I have patted myself on the back for accomplishments that now seem comical. Like the time when I received Company Grade Officer of the Year in 2009. I know now that I only received that award because someone nominated me. Or, when I received my Masters degree. Seeing these things through a new lens allows me to realize that I got it because I could afford to.

Recently I was fortunate to complete the St. George Ironman. For those not familiar with the race it's 2.4 miles of swimming, 112 miles of biking, followed by 26.2 miles of running (a marathon). When I returned from Utah, I received a lot of congratulations for which I felt very thankful for. But when I look at what I did, I am able to see that it wasn't much. I didn't place, I didn't even reach my time goal. I merely finished, like the thousands of other participants who go out each year. I had both the time and the means to take on the challenge and so I did it.

I suppose my modesty has come from the fact that I have been able to put everything into perspective a little bit better than I did when I was 18, 22 and 25. For when I compare what I have done to my grandparents and parents, I see very clearly how short I fall in comparison. It is by looking at my parents that I truly know what achievement is.

My parents raised four kids and put all of us through college. They never missed a single sporting event or parent/teacher conference. On every important day of my life (High School, College graduation), they were there. And who did we celebrate? Me. When in fact, I should have celebrated them. For without their love and unconditional support, I wouldn't have accomplished anything.

My father will be giving the commencement address to my High School Alma Mater (his too). This will be his second time speech. The first being during my graduation over 10 years ago. He was asked because throughout his life he has made a real difference in the lives of others. I look up to him now as much as I did when I was a kid. He has lived a life of meaning.

As graduation season begins to wrap up, I reminisce about my own graduations and how special they were. In particular I remember my college graduation and what my father said to me at dinner. As my family members were talking to each other from across the table, my father took the opportunity in the break of his own conversation to subdley lean over to me and say "your grandfather would've been proud." Those were the only words I had to hear. For I know how happy he must have been looking down on us from heaven that day.

Graduation will always be about the people who got me there. Four years from now when I graduate law school, I'll have hundreds of people to thank. I won't be one of them.

Writing in the First Person

Writing has always been a self-indulgent activity for me and by that, very much therapeutic. Whenever I am down or could use a lift in my spirits, I write something and anxiously anticipate positive reinforcement about what I just wrote. Miraculously, I almost always get what I intended…a compliment.

Writing for the most part is all about instant gratification. How else could you justify the facebook statuses and tweets? Those are both examples of writing (albeit short) that crave followership. People post updates to their facebooks and twitter accounts because they want people to respond back. Whether it’s a “like” or an actual comment, the more responses someone receives the greater the self-esteem.

Show me a writer who only writes for himself or herself and I’ll show you a person who doesn’t have any friends. Does that sound harsh? Maybe, but let’s be honest, if your going to put yourself out there by producing a blog, what’s the point if by doing so you don’t have any membership? All of us “bloggers” write for some kind of audience. If we didn’t, we’d just keep a private diary or a journal.

At an early age I understood that I was blessed with a gift. I haven’t necessarily honed it by any means but the fact that I’m still writing at age 29 is a good indication that I haven’t been “booed off stage.” Friends and family members have always encouraged me to continue to write; even when I have struggled as to what it is I should be writing.  I’ve been told that I am talented and that is enough for me to find something newsworthy to ramble about.

Looking back at my works, I can appreciate the types of writing I’ve done; research papers, work outlines, blog posts etc…The mere fact that I’ve published these sort of things by no means qualifies me as a writer, nor do I consider myself as such. That hesitation is along the same lines as why I never consider myself a “runner.” To me that term leads to committing myself to a group that I generally would not want to be associated with for varying reasons. When I talked to a “runner” about my refusal to categorize myself as such, he simply replied, “If you do the races, you’re a runner.” Touché.

This blogging experience has been as much about my own ego trip as it has been about the content by which I write about. All of the feedback that I’ve received has typically gone straight to my head and has only perpetuated me to write more. Sad isn’t it?

Regardless of whether one writes for applause and acclaim. Writing has always been and will continue to be very personal. It is not until I begin to punch the keys on this computer that I even know what I’m going to think next. Often, I’m not sure where I stand on a position until I start allowing my brain to run free as my nimble fingers try their best to keep up on the keyboard.

I don’t know if I would have continued to write if I knew that nobody else was reading. It has always been incomprehensible to me that writers would do it for the pure joy of writing. I could never understand a recluse like J.D. Salinger. It’s like a professional athlete who would compete regardless of whether there was a crowd of 30,000 screaming fans. Without fans, what’s the point of showmanship?

This blog is a prime example of how insecure I can be. Early on when I first started I was eager to gain followers. I remember sending out mass emails for people “READ MY BLOG!” When it was all said in done, within a year it was probably just my dad and my ex-girlfriend. Both read it not because there was brilliant content, but because they wanted to see what I was up to.

There are many things in my life that I do unselfishly for others. Writing is not one of them. This is perhaps one of the few areas in my life where I have allowed my ego to get the best of me. For a long time I've tried to deny that this blog is only about "me," but in all actuality it truly is. My best friend once gave me some of the best constructive criticism about this blog when I first started. He told me focus on posts about "me," that after all was what people were visiting this blog for.

Over four years on posting on this blog (more off than on), I have discovered that I still don't know what the theme is about. I want it to be about sharing my experiences of helping others, but sometimes just the mere fact that I'm writing seems to help myself. As ironic as that may sound, this post may be one of my most sincere and honest approaches at determining what it is that drives me to write in the first place. Until I sat down to write this post, I had not really given it much thought. But now, I'm getting a better idea.

I know how lonely it can be in the blogosphere. There are probably thousands like me who want to find an outlet to express themselves and would do just about anything for someone to hear what they have to say. Up until today I never followed a single one of my friend’s blogs. Sure, I’d read their posts from time to time, but the selfish writer in me was convinced that I only had room and time to follow one blog…that was my own. Today I added 5 other blogs and I did so if for no other reason that I could sympathize with how much of a struggle it is to work hard on something and feel as if nobody is listening.  Of course, I also added them with the hope that they’d follow me too.

The Catholic Candidate

Over 50 years ago, President John F. Kennedy famously proclaimed "I am not the Catholic candidate for President. I am the Democratic Party's candidate for President who happens also to be a Catholic." Those words set a tone for his political beliefs which followed the model of our Constitution which is based on a "separation from church and state."

Today we have another Catholic candidate and this time his political ideology is much in lined with his religious beliefs, so much so that it's hard to make the distinction between a man who wishes he was a Priest and the man who wants to be leader of the free world. Unbeknownst to him, not all Americans are Catholic. A lesson I didn't learn until I went away to College (which also happened to be Catholic).

I grew up Catholic and have a fondness for the church. Yet, despite my religious values, I fundamentally understand that as an officer in the military I swore an oath to defend a document which was not the bible. It was in fact the Constitution. It just so happens it is a similar oath that the President of the United States takes.

Unlike Kennedy, he doesn't view the separation of church and state as absolute, but rather intertwined. Throughout his campaign he has made it clear that he intends to move the church into his cabinet thus reversing years of precedence where we as a country have embraced nationwide values, not those of one group. He went as far as to say that when he heard President Kennedy's position on being a Catholic which was separate from his candidacy, it made him want to "throw up."

As a Catholic I detest the notion that Rick Santorum would ever speak for me. Just like America, there are many kinds of Catholics and each of us whose political beliefs contradict our religious ones, understand that our faith ought not to trump the rights of others. Catholics have not voted as a bloc in decades. We are as distinct and independent in our views as any other voting demographic. There is a reason why we are resistant to accept him as "our candidate." It's because he doesn't even remotely represent our values.

Rick Santorum is an arrogant proselytizer who believes he speaks for the church. He does not. If he did, he would surely make it known to all that his mission would be to "feed the poor." Unfortunately his political beliefs says that this is welfare. His plan for the poor? He doesn't have one. The book of Matthew makes if abundantly clear that it would be nearly impossible to reach heaven without doing so. Does he still proclaim to be the Catholic candidate? He rests on so many issues, but on a primary one of helping those less fortunate he is coincidentally silent. Why? Well, because the poor don't vote. They don't contribute money to PACs or campaigns and they certainly don't have a voice in his government.

Jesus said “Whatever you do for the least of my brothers and sisters, you do for me” (Matthew 25:40). Catholicsm is a religion of action. What separates us from Protestants is our belief that "works of charity" brings us closer to the kingdom of heaven. There is little disputing this. It's ironic that Rick Santorum continues to campaign on the idea that he is the Catholic candidate with "Catholic values." The only values that I see, is that he puts himself and his agenda first. He has forgotten about the least of God's people. These are the people who will matter most, not the ones that go to the ballot box on November 6th.

Shaved Legs

I shaved my legs today. As I have watched my body evolve over the past several months (more muscle mass in my quads, narrower shoulders), the obvious last step to a total triathlete transformation was the ritual known to many as “shaving of the legs.” Like many newcomers to the sport, I am very skeptical that the lack of body hair on my extremities will provide any tangible race day results, but in an effort to assimilate into the culture fully, I thought it was worthwhile to at least give it a shot.

Shaving my legs was in part an exercise in humility. As reluctant as I have been to do this, it reminded me that this “Ironman” thing is no small feat and that doing everything humanly possible to conquer it might be necessary. Therefore, I sucked up my foolish pride and allowed myself to go where few heterosexuals have dared gone before…with the razor to the legs.

In a month I will put my body through one of the most excruciating physical tests of an endurance athlete. I’ll rest easy knowing that at the starting line, my fellow athletes to the left and right of me have similar doubts about finishing. Whether it is their 1st or 10th race, I doubt I’ll find anyone who will tell me that their nerves aren’t getting the best of them as we anticipate the start. If shaving my legs is nothing more than the ultimate form of solidarity with my fellow triathletes, then why buck the tradition? For if anyone has anything to say about what an athelete should be or look like, I’ll ask them to toe the line with us or shut up.

My mentor and fellow triathlete once told me that truest test in being successful in the sport was learning how to suffer. This test is one that I’ve attempted to put my mind and body through during my training but will not be fully realized until race day. Shaving my legs is an exercise of that mental toughness for me. Am I willing to sacrifice who I was for this sport? Should I do everything I can do in order to gain even the slightest of advantages? Am I willing to cope with the loss of my body hair for the sake of calling myself an Ironman? The answer is yes, yes and yes. I am a triathlete and I want to call myself an Ironman.

If all it gives me is a peace of mind that I did everything that I could (to include humiliating my manhood) in order to finish this race, then it was all worth it. On race day I’ll have million thoughts racing through my mind. Whether or not I should have shaved my legs will not be one of them.

Competition

Competition brings out the best in me. This was affirmed earlier this week while working out on the static bike in preparation for an Ironman that I have signed up for next May. As I began to peddle at my usual 90 rpm’s, I noticed a man doing the same next to me. We started peddling in sequence coincidentally. As our workout got more intense, I began to wonder how good of shape I was in and challenged myself to go faster. Every few minutes I would sneak a glimpse at the man’s screen until it was obvious what I was trying to do. I’d look at his heart rate, speed, rpm’s and distance in order to ensure that he wasn’t beating me in any of those categories. It didn’t bother me that he may have felt like “prey,” for I knew that deep down he probably enjoyed the pace and the added benefit of having a stranger pushing him. When he sprinted, I sprinted. There was no need to declare “fight’s on,” we knew what was happening. There we were, two in shape athletes, albeit strangers, competing for the satisfaction of being better than the other.

I am a big advocate of competition. When two equally able parties engage in it, more often than not it will bring the best out of them. There is a time a place for it though. Not everything in my world revolves around being stronger or better. There are some in this world who believe in the mantra “sink or swim.” They know only two columns “winning or losing.”
Life is not a competition. It is a journey that can be especially hard on those who do not enter it equipped with the right education, socioeconomic background or strong bonds of a family as support. In short, life is not fair. And so making various components such as school, jobs and diplomacy into a zero sum game, creates a class of haves and have-nots.

I’ve competed my entire life. I know when to turn it on and turn it off. I am thankful that I have an instinct about me that enables me to rise to the occasion and accept the challenge. I am equally thankful that I have been blessed to been able to compete in the arenas that I have. I make no illusions that I have done this on my own. I’ve had a lot of help along the way. If you were true to yourself, you’d realize that you probably have too.

In May I plan on completing an Ironman. That is a 2.5 miles swim, 112 mile bike followed by a 26.2 mile marathon. I’ll be competing against a field of some of the top athletes in the world. I don’t plan to place, all I want to do is hang my head up high and walk away with my dignity. I’m sure I’ll find myself peddling alongside another athlete on the course and kick it into overdrive. But I won’t do it for the thought of a medal, I’ll do it for myself. Because at the end of the day, that’s whose opinion will matter the most.

All the Right Reasons

Growing up in a middle-class community and therefore a relatively stable economic environment, the pursuit of money was never on my mind. I had the luxury of not having to worry about money, not because my family had so much of it but because it was never a priority that I learned to value. More important to my family were individual goals set apart from monetary gain that would mean something beyond worldly possessions. Money was not something to be obtained for pleasure purposes but rather to be earned as a mandatory requirement to take care of ones family.

My ambitions eclipsed petty desires for fancy boats, mansions or extravagant gifts. My parents instilled in me a sense of self-pride but also an obligation to enable others and to share my talents with the world for the better. As I looked at colleges, never did the idea of "career salary" even come up in discussion. It was never a determining factor for my choice of a major nor did it register in my mind as to what vocation I would choose. Rather, my parents told me that they would allow me to go to any school in the country and study anything that made me happy. This set the foundation for why I joined the military. It wasn't for prestige or to fulfill a lifelong dream of some kind. It wasn't even to check some box off from my bucket list. The reasons were simple. I served because I wanted to represent my country in the noble profession of arms and defend my country with my God-give talent. The rest (so I hoped) would take care of itself.

Looking back nearly six years from when I started this journey of my life where I have given my country some of my "best years," I often wonder why I am still serving. Is it for the same reasons? Like most 19 year olds I was naive and wide-eyed. I believed that the world was at the palm of my hands and that my influence was a lot greater than I would find out down the road. I no longer see my reasons for staying matching my reasons for joining. It has become less about the mission, the sense of duty and patriotism than it has been about money. Now, I regularly check my mutual funds, Roth IRA, direct deposits and am more meticulous about what items I claim on my travel vouchers then I did when I was a 2nd Lieutenant and never even checked my banking account. Is my service more about collecting a pay check? I'm still where I am mostly because of the service commitment that I incurred upon graduation from graduate school which the AF helped fund. Aside from that, my list for staying has been getting increasingly smaller. I often think that the most selfless act I could make would be to step aside and allow the next generation carry on the mission. I'm also staying because unlike the infamous theatrical banner on the aircraft carrier which President Bush landed on, I don't believe the mission is accomplished. Instead, I know there is unfinished "business" and I would like to be part of ensuring our Nation gets closer to closing out our commitments abroad.

It doesn't take a sociologist to determine that humans surround themselves with like-minded people. Take a look at your friends and acquaintances and you will find that many of them hold similar values, beliefs and philosophies. My friends are much the same. Like me, many of my friends have chosen a profession of service because they feel the need to give back. Unlike me, many of them are some of the smartest and bravest individuals on the planet. Take for instance my friend Will Taylor who I had gone to Intel officer school with. Several years ago he cross-commissioned and is now an Army infantry officer in charge of a platoon. A few months ago he got back from a 15 month deployment to Iraq with his platoon where he was their commanding officer. He probably could have sat behind a desk like me and chair-flew his way through a prosperous AF career. Instead, he chose to get shot at, kick down doors and capture and kill our enemies. He did all of this while turning down a promotion which he rightfully earned. Will was up for a promotion to Captain but if he took the promotion, he would not have been able to lead a platoon (typically a Lieutenant's position). Rather than become a company commander farther removed from the mission, he decided to keep his LT bars so that he could serve out his deployment with the men he had trained with. To Will, the military is definitely NOT about the money. In Will's decision, he probably lost out on thousands of tax-free dollars. But rather then worry about what he could gain from the "government," he chose a path that would be better for the "country."

Next is my friend Luke Hansen who after a year deployment to Iraq under Gen Petreaus' team, decided to move on with his life and seek out civilian opportunities. Today, he is both a full-time defense contractor utilizing his top notch analytical skills and a graduate student at the University of Maryland studying sustainable energy engineering. When I asked him how he was paying for Graduate School he replied "out of pocket." I quickly informed him that he was "entitled" to the post 9/11 GI Bill, by which he retorted "I feel like I didn't really earn it after only serving 4 extra months after my obligation. Technically I did, but it just seems like an excessive benefit." 99% of ordinary Americans wouldn't allow a little thing like "principles" to stand in their way of government benefits as they are the first in line to take entitlement programs like "unemployment." For those who have seen REAL sacrifice and who know their role in it like Luke, they serve as a reminder by which all of us should aspire. For Luke, it's not about the immediate self-gratification of the government paying for his education. It's probably more about being able to look at the "MAN IN THE GLASS."

My father has made it a point never to refer to himself as a Veteran, although by today's standards, he certainly could. When his service in the Reserves is ever brought up in conjunction with that word, you can feel the uneasiness and sense of embarrassment that he has about it. In that regard, he is much like the thousands of humble war Veterans who quietly go on about their day without ever mentioning their service. My father has chosen instead to recognize those among him who have served overseas and have faced danger as the "real Vets."

I am sometimes surrounded by people in the military who exaggerate their service to this country. They would have you look at the rack of ribbons on their chest as a proclamation of what kind of war hero they were. To those outside of the military, these "smoke and mirrors" would make them indistinguishable from someone who really sacrificed. Many of the real heroes don't wear uniforms any more nor do I imagine would they care about such trivial matters as decorations.

I often tell the people who work for me that whatever reason they are in the AF, let it be "your reason, not someone else's." If it's to get an education and use the GI Bill, so be it. If it's to travel and see the world, then take as many assignments abroad as possible. For myself, I sometimes feel that I have overstayed my welcome. I owe a lot to the AF and this country. The longer I stay in, the more I feel like I owe them. If I do choose to continue down the military path, my only wish for myself is that the decision was made in order to get back to that 2nd Lieutenant's worldview who cared more about his country than his bank account. If I could remember that, then I'd be doing this for "all the right reasons."

Back to the Future

I ran 6 miles today after a long layoff from running. Mile 2 felt like mile 26.2. My cramps, heavy breathing, and aching knees constricted me in such a way that I wondered if I would truly get back into stride with my old form. Throughout the run I was keenly aware of the time I had been away from the road and the reality that while I'm only 28, perhaps my best running was behind me. Like my stride, I lost track of my pace and how long it took me to run a trail I had completed 30 times previously. The psychological effects of not knowing if I'd be able to finish started to drain my spirits. Just as I began with the long list of regrets I had about running, my stride came back. I had a bounce in my step to go along with a release of pain from my knees and a cramp in my side. I cruised around a bend on the way back that I dreaded on the initial push and began to feel the rush of endorphins going through my body. At last, the run was beginning to feel refreshing. I was outside enjoying the 70 degree weather with the knowledge that with enough repitition I could run the way I had always been able to.

Earlier in the day I started my SF-86 which for those not in the military is a security clearance reinvestigation form. For this renewal, I had to go back 10 years for all of my contacts who had known me back "then." As I looked at my previous SF-86 that I had filled out year prior, I began to wonder what happened to all of my old friends who I had felt worthy enough to put as contacts back then, but had no idea about their whereabouts now. Just like running, I suppose they will creep back into my life sooner or later. My 10 year high school reunion will be around Thanksgiving of this year. Although I'll be in Afghanistan, my thoughts will be in Laconia, NH. It's an odd feeling looking back and trying to reclaim the parts of oneself that were so poignant in one's memory. Yet, there is a satisfaction in knowing that those memories are always right there with us, even when we're huffing and puffing along a dirt filled road or huddled around a campfire telling stories with close friends. The next 10 years isn't that far away. Come to think of it, neither is the next 26.2.

Knowledge is Power

I'm often asked "how do you know so much?" My answer is simple; I read. Whether it's required reading for work or me just trying to keep up to speed and make sense of the latest in politics, economics or sports. For the most part, none of what I read is for "leisure." Rather, I'm always reading current events, and other non-fiction material which will allow me to formulate educated opinions and keep me in touch with reality.

I can't say that I always enjoy reading, because more than anything, what I enjoy most is simply knowing more than the person next to me. Truth be told, I have a peculiar sense of satisfaction in knowing about the world around me because I like to feel like I'm "in the know!" From my daily paper, my weekly magazine subscriptions, my kindle or library collection I am always learning (I've been out of school for a month now). In fact, even when I'm not reading, I'm listening. My radio is always tuned to NPR.

In my library I have a collection of books that I am truly proud of. And even though my fiance disapproves, I keep them in our house as a badge of honor, a reminder of the information that I have retained throughout the years and a sense of security that this information is within reach.

At the end of the college semester when my classmates were in line trying to get 30% returns on their books from the bookstore, I was holding onto mine because I never knew when I might need a textbook on Ancient Greece or Human Biology. It might sound vain that I brag about being well read, but in a world where I am surrounded by people who are not, I am extraordinary. I am constantly baffled at how millions of people can go through their lives being so ill informed when information is literally at our finger tips. Instead of reading, people speculate, spread a web of misinformation that is then acted upon by equally ignorant people who take what's told to them as truth.

As I mentioned, I shouldn't be unique. The fact that I read a lot actual has very little bearing on my intelligence. All of my subscriptions are even available online for free! This is why I am so appalled at policymakers like Michelle Bachmann and Sarah Palin who go on air to talk about history and issues and it's abundantly clear that neither of them have a clue about what they're talking about. To someone who HAS read the Constitution and knows about our history, hearing these two clowns talk is insulting. I believe in the power of the 1st Amendment and the freedom of speech. But that doesn't mean that you need to be heard.

We all grew up with the notion that knowledge = power. Through my job I have found that no other maxim could hold more true. Each day I continue to read and learn more about my surroundings. I hope I'm wrong about everyone else. I hope I come to find out one day that they too care about what happens in their communities, country and world. For now, I'll settle for those who are just reading this blog. If you're reading this, then maybe I'm wrong afterall.

Stand Up

Christmas shopping has become the epitome of American indulgence. Each year millions of families go out and spend money that they hadn’t saved up in the months prior only to put those purchases on a credit card to be paid at a later time. Instead of scaling down due to the economic downturn, my observation this Christmas was anything but recession spending. Rather, I saw hundreds of shoppers willing to dish out the cash for a Holiday that they seemed to believe in. Throughout this annual Christian tradition that has evolved to symbolize consumerism over anything Holy, I was blessed to have had my faith restored in something a lot bigger than myself.

Earlier this week on my way home from work I decided to do my own last minute shopping at Wal-Mart. Often throughout my daily routines I sometimes forget what I’m wearing or what I represent as I attempt to blend back into civil society after a day at work. On this particular day I walked into Wal-Mart in my uniform to grab a few stocking stuffers that I had forgotten about. While I was busy racing through the aisles to find my presents thinking that I was like the rest of the Holiday shoppers, it took a gray haired greeter at Wal-Mart to remind me who I was.

Upon checking out, I headed for the exit only to see one of the elderly greeters get up from his seated position. Slowly he rose up, pinned his left arm while standing at attention and offered me the sharpest salute I’ve received in a long time. Crusty veterans like the Wal-Mart greeter on that day always catch me off guard. And although it wasn’t the first (nor will it be the last) time that a Veteran has saluted me in uniform, the unexpected nature of receiving a salute at Wal-Mart that led to my embarrassment. I put my head down, awkwardly returned the favor and briskly walked out the exit to my car.

The act of rising to ones feet in honor of another is practiced in many organizations and institutions throughout the country. One of my first observations of this tradition was at Mass. Prior to the Priest reading a passage from the gospel; out of reverence the congregation stands as he walks to the lectern. During weddings, the guests stand as the song “here comes the bride” plays and the bride enters. When a high-ranking senior officer walks into a room, an order for service members to be at “attention” is called. After someone is bestowed a highly coveted award or after someone makes a powerful speech, a standing ovation often occurs. And in the court room when a judge enters, the order “all rise,” is commanded.

The thought of peers, fellow citizens or distinguished men and women rising to their feet is a humbling one. This past month I learned that my father was appointed to the bench and from here on out would be referred to as “his honor.” From now on, when he walks into a courtroom to deliver justice, the members will rise.

Recently many Americans have lost faith in the political system, their government and those who represent them, (me included). And yet, with all of the uncertainty about our future, I have never lost faith in the one man whose character seems to embody everything that is right in this world, my father. My father has the most integrity that I have ever known, and for that alone, I can proudly rise up. With that said, I know men like my father and men like the Wal-Mart greeter, will forever have pride in their country. They are the men who have made it what it is and in spite of the political flavor of the month, they will never lose faith in the United States of America.

After I got home I began to reflect on the old man who out of respect for my rank and uniform and out of pride in his country, saluted me. Men like him have a great appreciation for what freedom is like. They lived through much greater economic recessions, depressions nonetheless, and can perhaps appreciate the shopping activity at Wal-Mart even if they look chaotic. They have seen wars and seen their friends not come home. They have raised children, paid their taxes, paid their dues. They are a generation that is slowly fading away before my generation’s very eyes, and as much as they recognize us, we tend not to recognize them. My uniform is something I take pride in, but probably not as much as past Veterans.

This Holiday season I have been confused about my life’s direction. I always have wondered what I’ll do next and what I should be doing. When I got home from shopping I had my future on my mind. To my amusement I opened up a piece of chocolate and inside the wrapper was a message that read, “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.”

Thankfully, I realized that from an old Veteran greeter at Wal-Mart, who for me was “exactly where he was supposed to be.”

Like every Christmas, I find myself incredibly fortunate to have the material items that I have and the close friends and family around me. This Christmas I am particularly blessed to realize my dream of seeing my father realize his. I am blessed because of the country I live in and the people who have come before me to keep it that way.

Time is of the Essence

In the 1960's over 80% of 25-34 yr olds were married. Today, that number is less than half. Our society has conditioned itself to believe that things like careers are the measurements to the "good life." Work has become the single most motivator that drives what we do, where we move and what we believe in. As a result we spend less of our time on trying to finding love. Millions of people sacrifice their time and energy to a vocation only to neglect the relationships around them. Instead of finding happiness in the moment and enjoying what we have now, we look past what is right in front of us and the opportunities we have today. Foresight and vision are great, but when those dreams disallow taking advantage of the present, they are useless.

A person will never take a stronger vow then when they echo the words "'Til death do us part." And yet, instead of seeking that individual for which that vow will one day be intended or nurturing the ones that we love, we get caught up in the rat race which is not life but work. To me finding the right person deserves as much attention if not more than finding the right job. If life is about finding love and happiness, how many of us can truly say that we're on the right path?

The average person works at a job for less than 10 years. If they're lucky and have the security, they may work 20 years before seeking retirement. Once that is over though, there is no telling what is in store for us, except for the man or woman who stood by us while we pursued other endeavors. The cliche is that life is short. Indeed it is. That is why I have chosen to take advantage of every opportunity to be with the ones that I love.

Much of my life has been directed towards going after "something," and not "someone." I've spent an inordinate amount of time taking care of everything except myself. Recently I decided that I would go out and find the person I was meant to be with. It took time and energy but now that I've found what I've been looking for, there's no chance that I'm going to give it up and go back to my old ways. Sure I'm still going to be ambitious and set goals for myself, but not if they interfere with what makes me the most happy. My priorities in life have shifted from caring about frivolous things to caring about the things that mean the most to me.

Like most people, my time is valuable and perhaps it is the greatest gift that I can offer. To the people that I love I know that what touches them more is not the car that I drive or the house that I live in, but the moments that I can share with them. Every second, every minute, every hour of the day matters. Why not spend it with the people you love?

Bucket List

One of the things that I wanted to see while up here in Alaska was the Aurora Borealis (northern lights). With only a few more days left I'm starting to see that opportunity slowly fade away. Although I can happily say that as a consolation, I've seen my fair share of Bullwinkles around, I can't help but think of the thing that will have escaped me. For whatever reason, it seems that when I want something it usually ends up happening which sometimes reminds me of the cliche "be careful what you wish for." I've skydived, swam with sharks, surfed, rode horses, ran marathons, done triathlons, furthered my education, fallen in love, seen things that were purely majestic, competed in sports, done some good, gotten in mischief and still understand that there is much that I'd like to do. So much so that I've created a list of things that I'd like to do and see in my lifetime.

Visit:
See the Aurora Borealis
Go on an African Safari (Complete)
Visit Machu Picchu
Climb Kilimanjaro
Backpack Europe
Qualify for the Boston Marathon
Climb the pyramids of Egypt
Ski powder filled trails in Whistler
Visit the Coliseum in Italy
Sail around the caribbean in a sailboat
Cruise down the Venice Canals in Italy
Go to Rio for Carnival
Visit the Galapagos Islands
Raft through the Grand Canyon
Run with the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain
Walk along the Great Wall of China
Canoe through the Amazon
Visit the Vatican
Travel to Baghdad or Kabul one day (not on orders)

Do:
Write a book
Run for local office
Go to Law School (Complete)
Fly the F-15E (Complete)
Meet a sitting President
Watch Brycen's first Little League game
Finish an Ironman (Complete)
Own a small business
Start a non-profit organization (Complete)
SCUBA dive the Great barrier reef
Write a song and record it
Win my Fantasy Football League
Get Court side seats to a Celtics game
Be an extra in a film
Be on a game show
Break a world record
Visit an orphanage in Korea
Become a black belt in martial arts
Go up in a Hot Air Balloon
Kiss a supermodel
Give a large sum of money to charity anonymously
Give a commencement address
Live in a monastery under the rule of Benedict for at least one week
Catch a pass from an All-Pro NFL quarterback
Teach a college class

Personal:
See my Nephews and Niece graduate college
Coach a player and then one day see him/her on TV
Be a husband and a father
Be a grandfather
Become someone that my children will always look up to
Do something that would make my parents truly proud
Watch a court room rise when my father walks in (Complete)
Campaign for someone I truly believe in
Fight to end poverty in the US
Make a difference in someone's life
Do something amazing for my parents to thank them for everything
Be at peace with myself and God

To be continued...

Rush

What Can I say? I'm in a hurry. So much so that I forgot to put my girlfriend's car in gear as I parked it in my driveway. As a result I came to find it across the street in my neighbors front yard, with the front bumper lodged between both sides of a gutter slope (this happened Wednesday night by the way). Anxious and still needing to get going I tried everything that I could minus disassembling the front bumper to get it loose so that I could get back on the road and towards my destination.

My generation is notorious for this type of on-the-go, "my way or the highway", scatter brained mentality. We go from our flat screen TVs, to laptops at home (often simultaneously) to our cell phones and ipods on the road. We do this seamlessly without even thinking about what we might have missed because of our obsession and reliance on technology. Because we want things instantly (instant rice, instant replay, instant messenger, instant loans/credit, instant downloads), we have forgotten the virtue of patience that our parents attempted to instill in us.

I don't know if I can live without my blackberry, but I know that I don't need everything right away. I can wait, start up a conversation with a stranger and act like a human being who speaks English and not just text lingo.

On the news I have heard a lot about the discontent of certain talking heads concerning health care reform. Before it has even been given a chance, the impatience of some lawmakers is to "repeal and replace." Seriously? When have we become so impatient that we refuse to see the first week of a new law, let alone see it through to the end. I don't know what Christian values these reportedly "Christian lawmakers" are choosing to utilize in their arguments, what I do know is that those 32 million uninsured Americans have had their prayers answered and that is one of the few types of instant gratifications that I can get on board with.

I suppose House Democrats were probably getting impatient with trying to pass a policy which our President ran on. But perhaps not more so than the struggling father of four children who lost his job a year ago and is battling cancer. It's been over 60 years since the US has made this appeal and it has finally gone through. It was a long road that had a political, economic and for me a very personal cost.

As I ran down a rural North Carolina road this afternoon with my iPod playing, I thought about some of the homes that I was passing and how many of them would now not have to worry as much about the availability, affordability or ethical implications of their health care. As I looked to the horizon, I patiently took my strides back home. I looked down at my iPod with an inspired peace of mind and I thought,"there's no App for that!"

Politics of Fear

Recently, there has been heated debate concerning the fate of suspected terrorists. With Guantanamo Bay closing down and the question of where these alleged criminals ought to be tried, the politics of fear have once again surfaced and captivated an audience of Americans with short term memories.

During the Bush Administration 190 terrorists were prosecuted in what are called “Article Three” courts. All of them were convicted and now reside in maximum security prisons. Still, there are those out that lack faith in the fundamentals of our judicial system and the law enforcement officials who protect our citizenry. Furthermore, they would have us believe that American principles can take a back seat to convenience and demagoguery. During a convention with Republican “Tea Party” activists, former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin drew rousing applause by her audience after declaring “We need a Commander in Chief, not a Professor of Law.”

When dealing with the decision to try a person in a court of law (military or civilian) it seems to me that the law ought to take precedence and that it ought to dictate our actions. Although, I suppose if one were not familiar with the tenets of our Laws than this would be a rather convenient thing to dismiss.

The assumption by the pundits is that a military court would be vastly different than a civilian one. This is not the case. The presumption of innocence, burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt and due process are legal rights that are shared by all courts in our Judicial system. Furthermore, we ought to send a message to those who despise our country by affording them the very rights and freedoms that they wish to kill us for. We ought to hold ourselves to a higher standard and the rule of law so that justice prevails.

Umar Farouk Abdulmatuallab, affectionately known as the “Christmas Day/Underpants Bomber,” has further fueled this debate. Republicans were outraged when they discovered that he was read his Miranda Rights since he was being interrogated by the FBI. Instead, they would prefer their harsh interrogations which they advocate.

The United States cannot live in fear. We need to try terrorists like Khalid Shaikh Mohammed (mastermind of 9/11) in the very city that he tried to destroy. I suspect New Yorkers and families of the 2,750 people killed on 9/11 would gain a sense of closure when this man who is given all of his civil liberties in accordance with the principles that he despises is tried and convicted. This is the message we can send to the world: America is not afraid.

Caught in the Rain

4:30pm: I left my house for a late afternoon jog around my neighborhood. Earlier in the day I had been cooped up in my house because of the rain. I patiently waited for the rain to stop and for the the sun to break through the clouds. When it did, I took off expecting to go on an hour long jog.

I rarely have an idea of where I am going or which route I’m going to run when I go running. Part of the adventure for me, is the unknown of what I’m going to see or what I might encounter. While I always have a destination in mind and know where I’m going to end up, I don’t always know the exact path I’m going to take from point A to point B. Sometimes in new areas I even challenge myself to get lost so that I can get a better work out in. I guess you could say that my running style is more Forrest Gump-like than that of a trained Marathoner.

4:45pm: I can see the sun slowly setting in the west through the ominous clouds. I’m unfamiliar with the North Carolina roads that I’m traveling but hope that I’m heading in a direction that goes back to my house. As cars zip past me, I pick up my pace so that I’m back before sunset and whatever precipitation that may be looming.

The independence, solitude and adventure I get from running is a very American concept to me. I truly enjoy setting out on my feet to unexplored areas and getting to places based on where my legs take me. As a matter of self-reliance, I don’t back down from the elements. Rain, snow, wind and cold are factors that I try to plan for but in the end I persevere through whatever nature throws at me.

5:00pm: I can feel the drops of rain as I head towards the dark matter ahead of me. In the back of my mind I think I can outlast so I speed up hoping to take a corner around the bend that will lead me to a road back home. As I check for a time hack I see that I’ve only been gone for 30 minutes and become worried of what I’ve gotten myself into. At this point I can’t explain the adrenaline that has come over me all I know is that the feeling that I get from the unknown is a rush like no other.

Running is a very simple and mindless activity. For me it’s a matter of lacing up my shoes and turning my Ipod to play before I start. Although I never enjoyed the activity growing up, it now brings me great relief from my day to day routine and gives me an outlet to clear my mind.

5:35pm: The sky opens up and releases a flurry of raindrops and wind. I run for several hundred more meters before I’m forced to stop and ponder my next move. The rain is coming down so strong that I’m immobilized as it feels like thousands of tiny pebbles piercing my skin when I’m on the move. Several vehicles pass me along the side of the road and I think how nice it’d be for someone to pick me up. Ahead in the distance I see a mini-van do a three point turn. It’s headlights get brighter as it slowly returns back to my direction. I approach the window knowing that the gentleman inside is going to offer me a ride and I suck up my pride and accept. I think to myself “I’m saved.”

As I entered the vehicle sort of sheepishly, I extended my gratitude to the driver who had the good conscience to stop and pick up a stranger. Drenched and embarrassed, I continued to say “thank you” as we headed back towards my house. Accepting the ride is very contrary to any any runner’s principles who believe that they have enough drive to make it back on their own. This circumstance was different, I had never been in such a predicament and I wondered how I got myself in that position to begin with. I then realized, sometimes certain things happen to people along their journey that one can’t predict and a small country in the Caribbean came to mind.

Five days ago Haiti was rocked by an earthquake that registered 7.0 on the richter scale. Some experts predict that the body count which is above 50,000 now could escalate to over 200,000 when all is said and done. I doubt anyone could have predicted such a natural disaster just as I couldn’t have predicted getting caught in the down pour that left me isolated on the side of an unfamiliar road. Yet, with the help of a stranger who had the decency to pull over on the side of the road, I was back home and in a warm shower in 10 minutes. Haiti needs such a driver to take a small break from their daily activities and reach out to help. It is as American to set out on your own on a path less traveled as it is American to lend a hand to people in need. The two are not mutually exclusive.

After the fifth time that I had thanked the man who picked me up, he replied “I think it’s just a natural human reaction to put yourself in someone else’s shoes in these circumstances.” What he said was not a pre-planned talking point or a response to a question that I had asked him. His reply was a heart-felt belief that he had an obligation to help out his fellow man.

I believe someone was looking over me today and because of that I am happily at home typing away in a warm and safe home and not stranded by the side of some road in rural North Carolina. As Americans we too can be that beacon of light and hope for the Haitian people as they struggle to piece together whatever it is that they had prior to the disaster. We can do this not because it’s politically or economically beneficial but because it’s the right thing to do and because we may never know when we too are caught in the rain.