Showing posts with label The Smithie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Smithie. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Son Ahoy!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Those of you following the stories about my family life may remember how, back in March, I bid farewell to the Sailor, who was headed out for a seven and a half month deployment (formerly known as a cruise) in the Persian Gulf. Twelve days ago, he got home, along with over 300 other crew members of the USS Gonzalez. 


We didn't see him man the rails - he was working belowdeck.

The Smithie, Youngest and me waiting.


 
The Sailor's sisters and his lovely girlfriend, Veronique.







His work team won the Rocky Balboa Award (I swear I'm not making this up), given to the team with the best performance record within the division with the best performance record. The prize? FIRST OFF THE SHIP.





                                      
These two were VERY happy to see each other again.  There's more lettuce on the Sailor's chest now - he was awarded several commendations during the deployment. Not that I'm bragging. (I'm totally bragging.)             



                                      We have a family tradition of Silly Sibling photos. 

Because we're a media-savvy family, you can also read the Maine Millennial's column about our trip and the homecoming at the Portland Press Herald, and see Veronique and me interviewed by WVEC 13News Now:


 I'm the one with zero makeup and puffy eyes. I'm not a pretty crier, and BOY did I bawl like a little baby.

                                   Welcome home, Sailor!

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

The Fleet's in Town

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It's been a while since my last week at the helm of JRW, so I know you're all wondering, "What's going on with Julia's kids?" Friends, I'll tell you. The Smithie (with strong encouragement from her loving mom and dad) is making plans to join her girlfriend down in Austin, TX, with an eye towards the far better job opportunities available in a city that has almost as many people as the entire state of Maine. If anyone knows of a career-level opening in a library, contact me! Otherwise, we'll keep an eye on her to see if 1) she buys herself cute cowgirl boots once she's in Texas and 2) if she succumbs to Austin's vibe and becomes a vegan, dulcimer-strumming hipster.


Youngest has 1) successfully completed drivers' ed and now has a permit 2) transferred to a new high school that we think will be the perfect fit for her and 3) converted to Islam.


Yeah, it was a surprise to Ross and me, too.


Our exciting family trip, however, was going to Chicago to see the Sailor graduate from Basic Training! He was an honors graduate - in the top three percent of his class - so we got to see him before most of the other parents could see their sons and daughters. He was standing as an honor guard at the division markings and he hardly cracked a smile as his Dad and Youngest and I waved frantically. Alas, no picture, since there were stern-faced NCOs watching the guards. I guess we know know qui custodiet exo custodes.


Graduation was not dissimilar to a lot of high school ceremonies, if your kid happened to march into a room the size of three airplane hangars. It was all very crisp and exciting, and the Sailor's division gave performances as a drill team (aka rifle twirling), a color guard marching in complex patterns that would have impressed Busby Berkley, a chorus, and of course, a band, featuring My Son the Drummer. You'll all be pleased to know I restrained myself from reenacting the final scene in The Music Man where the proud mother yells, "Play for me, son!"


Here's what I observed from the graduation of the most recent group of young Americans tasked with defending our shores:

1. A large group of people marching in step and standing in straight lines looks incredibly impressive.

2. A large group of people in white sailor suits and "Dixie cup" covers looks, even when standing stock still, as if they're about to bust out a tap dance number at any moment.

3. Up close, they are all so young. God bless them.


We cheered and clapped and finally got a chance to meet our boy face to face with lots of hugging and some happy tears. We were fortunate: his A School (technical training) and C School (advanced technical training) are in Great Lakes, so we got to spend time with him the whole weekend. (Some sailors were shipping out that same night for their A Schools, so their family reunions were brief.)


We stayed in Lake Forest, only eleven miles away from the naval station, at a wonderful hotel called the Deer Path Inn, which I can unreservedly recommend to all of you. I picked it for the location and because it looked super comfortable and had three restaurants; I figured the Sailor might want to spend some of his liberty catching up on sleep and that none of us would want to spend time sussing out places to eat.


As it turned out, he had to remain in uniform at all times and return to base each night by 2200 (ten o'clock), but it was still a very good choice - we were able to relax in the room and linger over our meals, talking and laughing and catching up. At the end of our first dinner together, we were surprised with a dessert buffet we hadn't ordered. "From the lady who had been seated over there," our waiter explained. "She said to tell you congratulations and thank you for your service." Unknown patron of the Deer Path Inn Garden Room, if you read this blog, thank you very much. My son was touched and humbled. He also really loved the chocolate mousse.


He has his computer and phone back now he's out of basic, so we get to hear from him more often. Ross and I are considering going back out for Thanksgiving, partly to see the Sailor and partly because the food at the Inn was really good. No, we find we long to see him, now he's a thousand miles away. Proving the old song is true: "How can I miss you if you won't go away?"


I'm glad he seems so happy and that this choice was clearly the right one for him. And I'm so grateful he's setting me up for a lifetime of sailor jokes. I'm working on one now: A lesbian, a sailor and a Muslim all walk into a bar together...

Thursday, March 17, 2016

Talking 'Bout My Generation

Photo by Paula Benson
JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Since I'm on a roll with lists and ranting, today I'm going to pull up my Granny panties and give all those young people on the lawn a few suggestions on skills and ideas they need to know. But fear not, young readers (we hope we have a few!): there will be a generational rebuttal after I've had my chance to tell you what I wish youngsters would learn already.

1. Map-reading. To be fair, this is a disappearing skill for everyone, not just the youth. I don't have a GPS unit in my car (remember, I'm also the last person in America without a smartphone) but I've driven with them many times in rentals or when visiting family, and the one thing that's stuck with me is the deep divide between following a disembodied voice versus mapping out the way to your destination. In the first place, when SKYNET becomes self-aware and the machines take over, you know your GPS is going to tell you to drive over a cliff. And you'll do it. The second issue? Following instructions doesn't leave you with much of a sense of geography. Do you drive north? South? If you keep heading west, will you reach your destination? You don't know if you don't have a map in your head or in your hands.

(An aside: this actually got me into trouble the first time I visited Seattle. I could not get it out of my brain that ocean = east and kept driving in the wrong direction.)

2. Compromise isn't selling out, it's getting things done. I'm pretty sure it's not a matter of this individual generation; all young people tend toward slogans that are essentially, "What do we want? OUT. When do we want it? NOW." We've got a congress that's devolved to this stage,  and the results aren't pretty. If you want things to change - and lots of us oldsters are 100% behind that - you need to come up with actionable plans and maybe even a way to pay for them.

3. Stop being so obnoxiously hipster about beer. I remember when my generation was doing it back in the 80s with wine, and it was freaking annoying. It hasn't improves in its most recent, hops-fueled iteration.

4. Cursive writing and checks. Yes, I know, you type all your class notes on a laptop these days and only ever send email. Trust me, there will be times when you still have to hand-write something, and it will probably be important. A condolence letter. A heart-felt "I miss you." Thank-you notes to the donors of your 2032 Senatorial campaign. Do you want those to look like they were block-printed by a ten-year-old? No, you do not. And you can also use cursive to properly sign checks, which, despite all the e-payments and chips and phone apps, you will still need in the future. When Buddy Duchene delivers the firewood or the Blow Brothers come to dig up your septic system, they're not going to be carrying those square i-pad payment gizmos. (Buddy tried it, once, but it accidentally got knocked out of his dump truck and cracked, and that was the end of that.)

No, they need to be paid by check, as does the plumber, the appliance guy and the landscaping clean-up guys. Other excellent reasons for checks: buying Girl Scout cookies and making spontaneous donations at concerts, plays, etc. So order some. And start practicing penmanship.

THE SMITHIE: In the interest of equal time and representation, Mom has turned the second half of this blog over to me. One of the first thing we wish older people would realize is that despite experience and wisdom, you're not always right. With that in mind, here's my list of what I wish old folks would learn:

1. Student loan debt. I know back in your day you could pay for state college tuition through a summer job scooping ice cream; in 2016, tuition plus room and board at a minimum cost $20,000/year -- and that's for in-state students at state schools. Most of these are paid for with student loans that have interest rates between 4.29%-6.84% -- and those are the federal student loans. The private ones are even worse. Those don't even get discharged when you DIE. So don't blame millennials for moving back in with their parents after college. We've got $60,000 in debt and nobody's hiring entry-level employees for over $30,000/year.

2. Some people are gay. Lots of people are not heterosexual. Some people don't even believe in the binaries of gender. When you meet these people, or read about them, or hear of their existence, the polite thing to do is smile, nod, and keep your mouth shut. We know you don't understand. Just have some wine and roll with it.

3. It's not "The Facebook" or "The Twitter." 

4. We don't understand the saggy pants thing either, but it sounds kind of racist when you complain about it, so just have some wine and roll with it.

5. This one is specifically directed towards men: do not call younger women "sweetheart," "honey," sugar," or any other pet name unless you are a member of their immediate family, or have been given explicit permission to use those terms. It's disrespectful. None of us like it. But we're not allowed to yell at doddering old guys in public. Also stop telling us to smile. I can't smile, I'm too busy worrying about student loan debt, anti-gay legislation, and the wholesale price of wine.

6. Wine and roll. Just wine and roll. 
 
JULIA: I believe wine and roll is something both our generations can get behind. How about you, dear readers? What would you tell the young upstarts or old fogies?