A Formal Function
Yesterday I spoke with my parents, who are racing around Austin trying to find gas, water, non-perishables, etc. to prepare for Rita. Yes they’re in Austin, which shouldn’t collapse, but they were worried anyhow. My brother and his girlfriend (they live in Beaumont, a danger area) were out of contact for a day or so, but eventually contacted my parents to let them know they were ok and had a plan. After making sure everyone in my family was safe and out of harm’s way, I had to prepare for a formal Army function.
The Association of the U.S. Army is a
AUSA is a private, non-profit educational organization that supports America’s Army - Active, National Guard, Reserve, Civilians, Retirees and family members. AUSA provides numerous Professional Development Opportunities at a variety of events both local and national. About
and they were having a recognition dinner to celebrate civilian and military volunteers, spouses, exceptional soldiers and guest speakers that focused on supporting the troops. We were invited because Mike was Soldier of the Year, though he didn’t make it to the All-Europe competition.
I found it difficult to go from sitting on the couch with a phone on my ear, smelling my own funk but unable to shower until Mike got home to primping for an event, to sitting humbly as an Afghan freedom fighter speaks through his translator about how happy he is that his grandchildren will attend school. I looked over a crowd of highly decorated soldiers and officers, recognizing faces from newspapers and television. The USAEUR General was two tables away from us, and across in the other direction were several Iraqi and Afghan generals. The guest speaker, Gen. Gordon R. Sullivan, USA, Ret. , gave a moving speech that brought some pretty important people to tears.
I thought about how I felt walking in — like maybe I was in the wrong place — and considered how my mood changed as Gen. Sullivan spoke. I went from feeling inferior and small to larger than life, and I’m pretty sure everyone did, considering the occasion and the tone. It was really an amazing night. Gen. Sullivan spoke about the love he has for a particular Sgt. Major, a man who has saved many lives in his career. He mentioned how people talk about supporting the troops, and how he thought that not many of them really knew what it meant to say that. To paraphrase him, he basically said that supporting the troops was not always about supporting one particular endeavor or one particular war, it was about supporting men and women who love their jobs, love their tasks, and make it possible for others to survive. He spoke of medics, chemical ops soldiers, translators and artillery men and women that have a devotion to their day-to-day in a way that most people can’t fathom.
It made me realize that I can’t fathom it, either.
And quickly, as quickly as he built us up, I felt small again as he went on to talk about a walk he took with soldiers in New Orleans a few days prior. Again, my thoughts shifted to my family as I sat in the relative safety of the ballroom. Behind me, a security detail moved quickly up a flight of stairs, whispering on their headsets to each other. I thought of my son, and how he really has no concept at all of what his dad does for a living. I wondered if friends who tell me they understand why he’d join really do. It’s never been about one big cause or one big war for him, either. It’s been about the implicit understanding that he can be of use, he can save a life, he can make one day turn into another. Small steps. Small jobs. Small moments. That is what makes them what they are. I think I realized that for the first time last night.
His Sgt. Major teased me as I golf clapped for someone who received an award later on in the evening, saying, “Better get used to these sort of grin-n-grip events, you know when you’re husband is an officer you’ll be at tons of ‘em.”
Yeah. I don’t know if my heart can take it.
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