Vox’s posts tagged heroes

East Hampton NY~Empire State Challenge~WWP Soldier Ride 7/26/08

nobody@vox.com(LongIslandGirl) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 14:58:45 +0000

Vets Soldiering On Aboard Cycles

Wounded Warrior ride draws wide support
honors Lance Corporal Haerter

By Molly Josephs

Molly Josephs

Former Army Specialist Brent (Hoss) Hendrix sat on his three-wheeled hand-crank cycle, prepared to traverse the hilly 16-mile stretch between Amagansett and Montauk.

(7/31/2008) At 8:30 on Saturday morning it was already hot in Amagansett when vans from the Wounded Warrior Project’s Soldier Ride arrived.

Amid a crowd of over 200 participants and supporters, 16 Americans and 5 Israelis wounded in action drove up. Some wore prosthetics and some bore skin grafts, and all wore shiny helmets and slick blue cycling shirts. Despite three days of sore muscles, late-night socializing, and little sleep, all the warriors were ready to roll.

Last weekend was the Empire State Challenge, a three-day cycling trip from Manhattan to Montauk. The last stretch of the race began and ended in the parking lot behind the East Hampton post of the American Legion in Amagansett.

Brent Hendrix of North Carolina, who is 23, stood in the legion parking lot, shaking off some early-morning grogginess. He introduced himself as Hoss, a term meaning big guy.

At 6 foot 8, with a size-17 shoe and a booming Southern accent, the former Army specialist stood out among the uniformed cyclists. Preparing for the ride, he took off his prosthetic and lowered himself into a three-wheeled, hand-crank cycle.

He sat there, eating some breakfast. “It takes me a little longer to chew,” he said. “My jaw was shattered in the blast.”

Mr. Hendrix lost his right leg above the knee, experienced a traumatic brain injury, and suffered various other wounds from close contact with an improvised explosive device in Iraq.

On the morning of the ride, after he got some fuel, he was excited to cycle. “I ate three granola bars, Gatorade, and water. I think I’m ready to go.” He smiled.

James Lowman of Fort Bragg, N.C., drank a Red Bull next to his comrades and his wife, Keli Lowman. All his limbs were intact, and from the outside he looked young and fit.

“I feel old, my body aches” said Mr. Lowman, who is 29 and was also injured in Iraq. That’s my biggest battle, dealing with my pain.”

Mr. Lowman was a helicopter pilot until he fractured three vertebrae in June 2005. It was his third deployment to Iraq. “I was crushed under 3,000 pounds of helicopter transmission. Right on my head, solid metal.”

“I’m going to be in pain,” he said. “Do I go home and lie on the couch and minimize my pain or go exercise and help my mind and body?” he asked. “I used to do the first option until I started to ride.”

He joined the Soldier Ride last October. The first time he pedaled, he was riding next to Frankie Andreu, a nine-time Tour de France competitor. “He coached me when I was struggling, not eating right, not shifting right,” Officer Lowman said.

He discovered that he liked to cycle because “it was something I could do without further injury,” he explained. “If I went to lift [weights], my arms would dislocate. Biking is perfect for me given my personal requirements.”

Last weekend’s was his fourth Soldier Ride with the Wounded Warrior Project. But for him and the other warriors, this ride was different from the rest. “The hospitality of the local people has been unparalleled,” he said. “People have been coming out to the streets. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Chris Carney, one of the program’s founders, said he was thrilled about the turnout. Peter Honerkamp, another founder, summed up: “Five years ago, when it started, it was a bike ride with just one guy. Now, hundreds are here to support the men and women who fought to keep America free.”

In addition to the ride, there was a four-mile walk for pedestrians who wanted to participate.

Penny Knapp of East Hampton, a spectator, remembered that the crowd in the legion’s park lot last year had been sparse. “I was sad because there wasn’t any support. When I think of what they did for us, we should be there for them,” she said.

When the opening ceremony began at around 10 a.m., there were hundreds of people facing the M.C., Reginald Cornelia of Springs, who is a volunteer for the Wounded Warrior Project. He thanked the organizers and introduced JoAnn Lyles of Sag Harbor, the mother of Lance Cpl. Jordan C. Haerter.

The only child of Ms. Lyles and Christian Haerter, Corporal Haerter was killed on April 22, 2008, while stationed at a checkpoint in Ramadi, Iraq. The weekend’s Soldier Ride was dedicated to the 19-year-old marine.

Tears fell when Ms. Lyles began to discuss her son’s upcoming birthday and how she had wanted to make it special since he would no longer be a teenager.

Her speech was followed by a baritone version of the National Anthem sung Robert Berrios, who also fought in Iraq. Hundreds of people had removed their hats and faced the flag. Mr. Berrios’s voice boomed throughout the parking lot, reaching all the anthem’s many octaves.

Mr. Cornelia later explained that the performance was completely impromptu. Mr. Cornelia had taken a CD of patriotic songs to Saturday’s event, but it proved to be incompatible with the legion post’s sound system. In a moment of angst, he asked Woody Groton, Soldier Ride’s national tour director, for advice.

Despite his normal preference for careful planning, Mr. Groton told Mr. Cornelia to ask for a volunteer. “Suppose we get some crazed karoke-cuckoo-conga type?” replied Mr. Cornelia. Mr. Groton, a former military major, told him to go with the flow.

“Folks, you’ve heard of the unknown soldier, today we have the unknown singer,” he said as Mr. Berrios stepped up to the mike. He was a “big and burley” man who served and now works as a New York Fire Department medic, Mr. Cornelia said.

As soon as Mr. Berrios began to sing, the crowd was floored. “Of course he knocked everybody’s socks off,” Mr. Cornelia said. “You’re not going to be unknown for very long,” he told Mr. Berrios.

The cyclists lined up to depart. There were two routes: One was 62 miles and the other 35. While the longer route took the back roads, the latter stretched directly from the legion to the Montauk Lighthouse and back. The wounded warriors took this route. They left the parking lot following a motorcycle brigade.

About three and a half hours later, when they began to trickle back into the parking lot, they were exhausted, especially the men who rode the three-wheeled hand-cranks. Since arm muscles are much smaller than leg muscles, it is extremely difficult to pedal only with arms.

Mr. Hendrix was breathing heavily upon his return. When asked if he needed anything, he replied, “Six hot dogs and seven hamburgers.”

He sat for a few minutes, smoking a cigarette and describing how the wind had offered the riders so much resistance. After biking 35 miles his oversized hands were numb. Mr. Hendrix used his two fingers to put out the flame of his cigarette. “I can’t feel anything right now,” he said.

Even the unwounded leg cyclists complained of Montauk’s hills. “I wanted to quit so badly but I just couldn’t,” said Robin McKenna of New York City, one participant.

“You can’t when you’re riding behind someone like that,” she said, looking admiringly toward Andrew Kinard, a Naval Academy graduate and former sergeant who lost both his legs in Iraq. He pedaled the entire ride with his hands with no help whatsoever.

Despite little sleep, lots of sweat, and an exhausting workout, Mr. Hendrix smiled. “I’ve got to get my lazy ass up, get my leg on, and get some food.”

Following the ride’s completion, the warriors were treated to a hundred pounds of shrimp, clams on the half shell, fresh Alaskan salmon, hamburgers, and hot dogs. Their lunch was followed up by more celebrations, among them a party for them at the Stephen Talkhouse in Amagansett on Saturday night.

The next day, all the warriors went home and the organizers of the trip did some calculations. Over the course of the three-day ride the Wounded Warrior Project had raised “well over $100,000,” said Nick Kraus, a volunteer for the organization. Contributors were found in various places, from “fire departments to bars. It was really grassroots,” he said.

“This amount can pay for two more soldier rides,” said Woody Groton, the organizer of many Soldier Ride trips. “Over $36,000 was made Saturday alone,” he said.

In the future, Mr. Groton wants all future Soldier Rides to be dedicated to fallen warriors like Corporal Haerter. “Each piece [of a ride] will be dedicated to one of the soldiers that was killed,” he said. “There are so many on Long Island. It’s just terrible.”

Yet Saturday’s ride was not about grief. While it paid tribute to the corporal’s memory, it also celebrated the lives of those who survive, cycling with all their hearts despite some broken pieces.

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The fine art of scarpering

nobody@vox.com(GOF) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 02:38:03 +0000

"Scarper" is a word not commonly used in Australia. Its etymology may be from the Italian "scappare" (to escape), but my familiarity with it derives from U.K. television where "scarpering" means to rapidly decamp ones self from the scene of a felony and/or misdemeanor.
The word sounds so beautiful to my ear that I would like to promulgate its usage over a much wider spectrum of human activity. Indeed, lets apply it to any situation where the present position in which we find ourselves becomes untenable, and we recognise that it is time to leave.

I have scarpered twice in my life. On neither occasion was criminal activity involved. No felony. No misdemeanor.
An ill-advised youthful marriage became terminally unsustainable and I made the decision to rapidly scarper, but (I hasten to add) as responsibly as the circumstances prevailing at the time would allow.
I also found it necessary to scarper from a job I had enjoyed for 12 years, when unnecessary petty bureaucracy seriously limited my ability to do effective work.

On both occasions I could perhaps have conducted my scarpering with considerably more panache. In retrospect, my scarpering was an act of defiance, a refusal to become a lifelong victim of anyone who deliberately chose to make my life miserable.
It was also an intellectual acknowledgement that I was not excelling in either of these areas of my life, and that it was time for a fresh start.

I have since chosen to be self employed for the past 25 years, and have rarely had cause to complain about my employer.
My partner of the last 28 years continues to give me great happiness and an understanding that there could be no greener pasture to which I should scarper.

Indeed, so successful were my two scarpering events that I would like to encourage others to adopt the practice. I herewith supply some modest examples.

Elite athletes; gymnasts who head butt the vaulting horse instead of sproinging over it, or slip off the high beam causing damage to genitalia or other body parts......DO NOT be a hero and resume your routine. Finishing is not everything. Seek retribution. Abuse the equipment by all means, but, most importantly, simply walk out of the arena with a smile on your face. Confuse the critics. Scarper with class.

Iceskaters; When you miscalculate your position on the surface of the Earth and propel yourself backwards into the fence at 60 kph, accept the moment of public humiliation as a necessary alternative to glory. Acknowledge the pain you feel. Whine, wail, howl for however long it is necessary for you to be long remembered in the annals of ice skating. Gold medal performances will be forgotten in time. Yours will not. Then just scarper. Accept the financial rewards forthcoming from the media. Just go and do something more suited to your talents.

Current Olympic bicycle road racers; If you run off the side of the road into a ditch so deep it probably goes all the way to China, recognise that it was an inherently unstable, two wheeled crappy velocipede which brought you to this point in your life. Leave it where it is. The garbage truck will collect it. Make your way on foot, directly to the nearest purveyor of alcoholic beverages. Enjoy some rice wine, and plan what sort of FOUR wheeled machinery you will race next time.

For the remainder of us. Never be afraid to scarper.
Walk now. Walk with dignity and head held high, for life is too short to complete an inept routine, and then sit around waiting for sympathetic applause.

Heroism is best left for the real heroes.

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Entertainment QotW: Fall Line Up

nobody@vox.com(maura_ea) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 19:26:10 +0000

What T.V. series are you looking forward to starting back up in the fall?

I'm looking forward to Heroes, though I'm not sure if I can watch it while it's still showing - if that makes any sense. I just cant stand the number of commercials and we don't have TiVo so I think we might just wait until it comes out on DVD. Or perhaps we'll just join the 21st century and get a DVR of some sort...

The other one I'm looking forward to is America's Next Top Model - one of my only reality TV vices. My sister & I watch this every cycle (they have two a year) and I doubt we'll stop now.

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Download TV Shows and Movies Online - Latest Episodes - New Movies

nobody@vox.com(Warnerbros) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 09:29:22 +0000

Download TV Shows and Movies Online - Latest Episodes - New Movies

http://www.sequd.com/

Need a fix of Don Draper? Want to know how (or if) Peggy is dealing with motherhood? AMC officially announces the premiere of Mad Men Season 2: Sunday, July 27 @ 10PM | 9C. To get you ready for the second season, AMC will have a Mad Men marathon of all 13 episodes of Season One on Sunday, July 20 starting at 12PM | 11C. Want to do your homework even sooner? The first season of the series will be released on DVD July 1 and is available for pre-order for $10 off the retail price in the AMC Store. Fans can also look forward... [Read the full story]

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Download TV Shows and Movies Online - Latest Episodes - New Movies

nobody@vox.com(Warnerbros) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 09:25:01 +0000

Download TV Shows and Movies Online - Latest Episodes - New Movies

http://www.sequd.com/

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Season 3 Heroes Incoming

nobody@vox.com(MainMor) — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 17:34:52 +0000

Heroes_season3

According to AintItCoolNews.com, we have the first two hours of Heroes season 3 coming up and NBC posted a description for them.

Season 1 was thrilling and fantastic, I had only one complaint and that was when Hiro, Peter and Future Hiro made the assault in the episode, I believe it was 'Five Years Gone'; episode 20. They came into the lobby, they were surrounded by guns, our heroes lept into action.... directly into a commercial break. When we got back a few minutes later we were witnessing them in the aftermath of the battle. We did not see it... I was a bit annoyed, but I got over it.

Season 2 started and I was excited as a little school boy. Hiro in the past...Wow... this is gonna be great. And then we got episode after episode of:

Big Danger/Battle coming
Heroes Leep into action.... directly into a commercial break.
Commercials
We come back to aftermath of a battle we never saw.

ASDF!!!!
QWERTY!!!!

By the end of season 2 I realized I simply do not care anymore.

So Season 3? I am really not looking forward to it. I may play a drinking game with the season for how many fight sequences we don't get to see.

My other shows have found a perfect balance, Stargate, Lost, Dr Who, Primeval, The Unit, Eureka....all of them have great character development with their need to use special effects. If they can do it... Heroes can do it. There is really no excuse.

Most of the complaints I heard about season 2 where Claire's angsty romance... I really did not care one way or the other. I am a Hiro and Ando fan through and through. Peter is pretty kick ass...and Sylar is a joy to watch.

What is next?
I may DVR it and watch it when I have some free time. This way if it does turn out pretty sweet then at least I am not behind on the episodes. If it is more of the same then I can always kill it and skip any future seasons.

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September 19-21, 2008: Moreau State Park NY~Wounded Warrior Fall Family Retreat

nobody@vox.com(LongIslandGirl) — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 23:58:32 +0000

September 19-21, 2008: Moreau State Park

Wounded Warrior Fall Family Retreat
Due to the overwhelming success of our Wounded Warrior Snowsports Event we have added another event- Camping!

This unique experience will not only be a fun-filled camping retreat, but will have a dual purpose for therapeutic collaboration between Soldiers / Marines/Veterans who have sustained injuries and/or disabilities to mentor our STRIDE youth athletes who also have special needs. Activities may include: kayaking, swimming, canoeing, archery and whitewater rafting while you are with us. Your meals and general camping gear all will be provided.

Please contact the STRIDE office or email Katie at kmoshier@stride.org if you are interested in participating!

We are in need of volunteers, food items and new camping supplies for this event. Please contact Katie at the STRIDE office 518-598-1279 or by email: kmoshier@stride.org for a complete wish list.

We would like to thank the Upper Hudson River Railroad for donating the scenic ride for our participants on this weekend.

We would also like to the White Water Challengers for their donation of white water rafting trips for our guests.

Wounded Warrior Disabled Sports Project - "Snowsports" Weekend was a Huge Success!

Our Wounded Warrior Opening Ceremony was held in Albany, February 29, 2008, where fifteen heroic Soldiers and Marines who have returned from Iraq and Afghanistan with serious permanent injuries were invited for a three-day weekend of rehabilitative sport and recreation. The welcoming ceremony was hosted at the Crowne Plaza in Albany where dozens of distinguished speakers took the stage to honor these men and women from around New York and the Northeast.

Karem Ullah, a 9^th Grade student at Guilderland High School was chosen as the winner of the Wounded Warrior 2008 Essay Contest. Read his full essay here.

STRIDE Adaptive Sports is proud to assist our country's finest young men and women who serve in the armed forces and fight for our freedoms.

STRIDE Adaptive Sports will continue to do it's part to help restore the shattered lives of returning soldiers and marines who need sports to put their lives back in perspective.

For next year's event : You can assist with a donation:

Checks made out to: STRIDE/WWDSP
P.O. Box 778
Rensselaer, NY 12144
CONTACT
STRIDE office (518)598-1279
or Chairperson Katie Moshier: kmoshier@stride.org

STRIDE Salutes American Heroes

STRIDE, who typically serves children with disabilities, wanted a chance to say thank you to disabled American vets who made incredible personal sacrifices for our country. STRIDE, along with the Wounded Warrior Disabled Sports Program invited veterans to join their trained staff at Jiminy Peak in an all-expense paid weekend of ski lessons, fun, social experiences, and camaraderie. STRIDE provided the benefits of skiing and snowboarding experience to these heroes.

Wounded and disabled soldiers and Marines fight even tougher battles here at home as they struggle to adjust to their newfound circumstances and post-war life. Giving these hero's an experience to accomplish new sport skills regardless of their disabilities is one way we thank them for all they've given to our country.

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Why I love my state, reason # 376

nobody@vox.com(Ubi Caritas) — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 19:26:06 +0000

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/5945430.html

This school district, which is about 150 miles north of cowtown, is going to permit its teachers to carry guns.

You read that correctly.

The school district decided to do this because the school is just off of a highway, and the nearest sheriff's office is 30 minutes away. Were a shooting to occur, there would be a lot of innocent children dead before the cops finally got their.

Now, before y'all get your panties in a wad, not every teacher will be carrying. To be permitted to carry, the teacher must have a valid Texas CCL, which involves training, classes, background checks, et all. Not only that, but they must take classes in crisis management, and they must use ammuniton that is less likely to ricochet off of walls.

In short:

-Teachers will make the choice whether or not they carry, so no one who doesn't want to is required to do so. I'm a firm believer that if you aren't comfortable around a tool--be it a gun, a knife, a tablesaw--then you've no business trying to use it.

-If a teacher does want to carry, he/she must go through training and a background check and take classes on crisis management/hostile situations.

There will, I imagine, be an argument that a shooting is unlikely to occur there.

The kids and teachers at that Amish school probably thought that a madman would refrain from walking into their school and killing children who had never done anyone any harm. If polled on April 19, 1999, I should think that the majority of parents of Columbine High students would have said that "that won't happen here." The students at NIU this past February 13 would have said the same thing.

The problem is, we live in a society where that sort of thing does happen. We don't know when such people will strike next. We can only postulate, based on past experiences, that they will again.

While I think that over-21-and-licensed college students should be able to carry guns on campus, I don't think that high school students should.. I know none personally who I would want to have carrying a gun routinely, though I'm certainly in favor of teaching kids to shoot and respect a gun.

Teachers, if properly trained, are another story. Someone who wants to go out by taking dozens of innocent lives with him will think twice about doing so if there's a good chance that he'll get his head blown off before he can do much harm.

Imagine if something happened at this school and it did take the police thirty minutes to get there. Imagine, if you will, what could happen in thirty minutes. In the case of the Columbine incident, the shootings, start to finish, took twenty-three minutes. The first responder to the incident, a deputy sheriff, arrived only five minutes after the first shots were fired. The two shooters were only stopped when they decided to commit suicide twenty minutes after shooting their last victim.

All in all, thirteen innocent people died that day, and twenty-four others were injured. That took a whopping twenty three minutes despite a five-minute response time. What's that saying? When seconds count, the police are minutes away?

If one of the teachers in the library, or the coach who they shot early on, or any of the other teachers who could have encountered the shooters had been armed and knowledgable/willing enough to use that tool to save innocent lives, some of those kids would not have died.

Carrying a weapon is a serious responsibility, and not one to be taken lightly. If you draw it, you should be drawing with the intention to kill someone in order to save lives. However reprehensible that murderer may be, he is still a human being, and shooting him will not leave you spiritually unscathed. If you are willing to step between a murderer and his victim, making yourself a target and, for the moment, a soldier--in short, refusing to "go gently into that dark night,"--then you may save that child's life and the lives of many others.

That's the sort of stuff of which the passengers of United 93 were made. Every person who charged those terrorists and was willing to die so that others might live was a hero.

Call me crazy, but I'd want someone like that around any kid that I'd have, rather than someone who will run away and leave him/her to the mercies of crazed killers.

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Soldier of the Year-Captain Scott Smiley-Someone you should know

nobody@vox.com(LongIslandGirl) — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 21:07:14 +0000

Soldier of the Year

It had been dark for days when I finally heard the doctor’s voice. “Lieutenant Smiley?”

I knew from his tone that the news wasn’t good. How could it be? I was lying in a bed in Walter Reed Army Medical Center. I had memories of an explosion in Mosul, in northern Iraq—a car driving toward my armored combat vehicle, me waving it back, shouting. Then hot, white light and loud noise. Then nothing.

“We performed the final surgery last night,” the doctor told me. Since my injury two weeks before, military doctors in Iraq, Germany and the U.S. had operated on me several times, removing shrapnel from my head and eyes and cutting my skull open to relieve the swelling in my brain. For most of that time I had been in a medically induced coma.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Smiley,” the doctor continued. “There’s nothing more we can do for you. Your blindness is permanent.”

I opened my eyes as wide as they would go, staring hard toward his voice, as if somehow I could capture light by a sheer force of will. I knew my wife, Tiffany, was in the room. I sensed my mom out in the hall—she must have left to cry. I wasn’t going to cry, though.

“Scotty,” said Tiffany softly, laying a hand on my arm.

I jerked my arm away. “I’m fine,” I said gruffly. I tried rearranging the doctor’s words: Blindness. Nothing more we can do. Permanent. No, it wasn’t true.

Why would God have taken me so far—only for this to happen?

It had been just five years since I had entered West Point, and its beautiful campus high above the Hudson River. I felt on top of the world. I was certain, maybe even cocky, about my future. I majored in engineering management, planning to hone leadership skills during my five years of mandatory Army service, get an MBA at a top-ranked school and, to be frank, get rich.

Yes, there had been some changes to that plan. For one thing, I hadn’t met many teachers at West Point who thought getting rich was a laudable goal. They believed in service, to their country and their students, and it showed.

Then September 11 happened, and Afghanistan and Iraq, and I realized I’d probably be going into combat. I was nervous about that, but excited too. Joining the Army is like joining a big family. The 45 men I commanded in a Stryker armored combat platoon were loyal, brave and as close to each other as brothers. I had wanted that leadership experience, and here it was.

Lying in that hospital bed, though, all I could think was, What for? What was the point of leadership experience, my degree, my plans, if all of it was simply going to be washed away in darkness? Do you hear me, God? What was the point?

Tiffany again laid a hand on my arm, and again I brushed it away. I struggled to get out of bed and fell back in pain. My leg was injured too, and I was still hooked up to machines, a big bandage around my head. A feeling of vertigo came over me. Blindness!

There was Tiffany, beside me. Quick, remember, what does she look like? Big smile, cute nose, that delicate face I had loved since high school. We had dated all through college while she went to nursing school in Spokane, Washington, seeing each other on vacations. I had shipped out for Iraq less than a year after we married. I would never see her again! Would I forget what she looked like? What must she think of me, lying here so weak?

“Scotty,” she said with a tremble in her voice I had never heard before, “remember that verse you like so much, ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’ We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be okay.” I wanted to believe her. I had even had those words inscribed inside my class ring.

But at that moment, all I could do was slump farther into my pillows and close my eyes. Like it made any difference! I said nothing and thought nothing and eventually went to sleep.

I was at Walter Reed for one month. I had to learn to walk again. I had to learn everything else too. How to shower. How to eat. I wasn’t a very pleasant patient. Every day brought new frustrations, new awareness of my limitations. I tried to do things myself, refusing help. But the fact was, I wasn’t independent. And I hated that.

Men from my platoon called from Iraq, and Tiffany sat at my bedside every day, reading from the Bible, the newspaper, making small talk. I might have given up without the support. But I resented it too. It made me ashamed, magnified the question I least wanted to answer. What was I going to do with the rest of my life? Who was I, if I wasn’t the man who had entered West Point with such confidence?

The Army sent Tiffany and me to a blindness rehabilitation center in Palo Alto, California. I learned to walk with a stick and cross streets by listening to which way the traffic flowed, to distinguish coins by touch and to keep my money organized in my wallet so I could pay the right amount in stores. I learned new reflexes, putting my hand to my face anytime I entered a room, just in case something hazardous was suspended there.

Tiffany saw one positive side to my blindness: “You’ll never see my wrinkles!” I laughed at that, and I had to agree when she pointed out that every day I was mastering things I had once told myself I would never do again. Still, the terrible question of my future loomed before me.

Even before I had come out of the coma, Army officials had handed Tiffany a stack of forms—application papers for military disability. If I signed them, I would be discharged from the Army and guaranteed a lifetime disability payment. If I didn’t—well, I didn’t know what would end up happening.

I tried sending resumes out, mostly to defense contractors who might be able to use my military experience. But my heart wasn’t in it. That hadn’t been the dream. The dream, I was sure, was gone.

One day in our room, I heard Tiffany shuffle papers around on the desk and gather some up. I knew what papers they were. “We need to make a decision about this, Scotty,” she said.

“I know,” I said quietly. She made no reply, and I realized she was waiting for more. Finally, I spoke. “I don’t want to sign something that says I’m disabled. But I am disabled!”

“Are you? From doing what?” she asked.

The question was so strange, the answer so obvious, I didn’t know what to say to her.

Tiffany waited, then finally said, “Scotty, listen. You know the hospital people told me I could sign those papers for you before you woke up. And you know why I decided not to? I believed then, and I believe now, that God is watching over us. I know you can make this decision. You keep talking about this future you can’t have. But how do you know it’s the only future worth having?”

I sat back, and again I was speechless. The only future worth having. I did indeed know that Tiffany had refused to sign those papers. We had talked about them so many times, around and around, and just as often I’d thought of her there in that hospital, so scared, me practically unrecognizable in intensive care. And yet she’d had the presence of mind to be smart for me. She had believed in me. I’d been completely dependent on her.

Dependent. I almost laughed. Who hadn’t I been dependent on? Doctors. My family. God, of course. Why was I so stuck on independence anyway? On my dreams for my future? I felt something shift inside me, something unclench.

“Um,” I said, and I could almost feel Tiffany strain toward my voice. “Actually, I do know of a few officers I could talk to about Army jobs I might be able to do.” I paused. “Non-combat things. What do you think?”

Tiffany didn’t even have to give me an answer. Her arms practically flew around my neck and, for the first time, I knew without a doubt that everything really was going to be okay.

Soon after leaving the blindness rehabilitation center I was transferred to Fort Monroe, Virginia, which happened to be home to a unit providing classroom training to new recruits about to ship overseas. When an officer offered me a teaching position, I didn’t hesitate. And I didn’t regret it, either.

Almost immediately, I discovered that I loved teaching. Blindness heightened all of my other senses, and I found myself often knowing exactly what my young recruits were feeling, sometimes even before they spoke.

All of my old judgments about people—whether they looked sharp and ambitious like me—went out the window. My real blindness, I realized, had been before I had gone to Iraq, when sometimes all I could see was myself.

I did end up going for my MBA. That’s what I’m doing now at Duke University. I graduate in 2009. I won’t be going into business and striking it rich, though. I’ll be heading back to West Point to teach. I want to be one of those instructors like I’d had, an example of service to my students. Tiffany and Grady will be coming with me, of course—I mean our little boy, Grady, who turned one a few months ago. They’ll like living there.

Etched in my memory is an image of that beautiful campus on a bluff overlooking the Hudson River. I can still picture it glowing in the late afternoon sun. It’s a wonderful vision. Full of light. Full of life. Full of strength.

For information on recovery from traumatic head injuries, visit bobwoodrufffamilyfund.org.

Read about more resources for injured veterans.

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173rd Airborne Sky Soldier Sgt Matthew Gobble receives a hero's welcome

nobody@vox.com(Tankerbabelc) — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 03:07:28 +0000

173rd Airborne Sky Soldier Sgt Matthew Gobble receives a hero's welcome

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Soldier receives a hero's welcome By Jill Doss-Raines The Dispatch Published: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at 9:00 a.m. Last Modified: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at 8:43 a.m. THOMASVILLE | U.S. Army Sgt. Matthew Gobble knew his homecoming was going to be more than a quiet night with his family when he was...

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173rd Airborne Sky Soldier Sgt Matthew Gobble receives a hero's welcome

nobody@vox.com(LongIslandGirl) — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 14:43:00 +0000

Soldier receives a hero's welcome

By Jill Doss-Raines
The Dispatch

Published: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at 9:00 a.m.
Last Modified: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at 8:43 a.m.

THOMASVILLE | U.S. Army Sgt. Matthew Gobble knew his homecoming was going to be more than a quiet night with his family when he was met at the airport in Greensboro by a huge crowd of family and friends.

Photos by Donnie Roberts/The Dispatch

Sgt. Matthew Gobble (left) leads a moment of silence Monday night in Thomasville for his fallen comrades who were killed in a battle that Gobble survived with injuries in Afghanistan. Hundreds of people turned out to welcome him home. Supporters (below) cheer the arrival of Gobble in Thomasville.

click to enlarge

Supporters cheer the arrival of Sgt. Matthew Gobble in Thomasville.

Donnie Roberts/The Dispatch

But he had no idea more than 500 people, many strangers, would line Main Street in Thomasville holding welcome home signs and waving American flags to welcome home their native son who was injured in early July in combat in Afghanistan.

"Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this kind of support," he said to a cheering crowd of people gathered to hear him speak at the bandstand around 10 p.m. Monday night. "I love this town."

Gobble, a 24-year-old U.S. Army paratrooper and East Davidson High School graduate, was serving in Operation Enduring Freedom in Wanat, Afghanistan, when he and a group of other American and Afghan troops were attacked by enemy forces on July 13. Nine soldiers were killed in the attack and several more were injured, including Gobble. One of the soldiers killed in the attack, Cpl. Pruitt A. Rainey, was from Haw River, N.C.

During the ceremony Monday night, a humble Gobble asked one thing from the crowd - a moment of silence for those who did not come home.

"I ask for a moment of silence for those nine soldiers who kept me safe and alive," he said. "It would really mean a lot to me."

Since suffering the injuries from shrapnel, Gobble has been recovering at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. He flew from a base in Germany to home for 30 days of leave. Among the family members who met him at the airport were his mom, Sandra Gobble, and Dad and step-mom, Mike and Marsha Gobble. Patriot Guard Riders, a veterans' group of motorcycle enthusiasts, provided a motorcade from the airport to the homecoming celebration. Thomasville police officers joined the motorcade escort at the city limits.

"People who have served in the military will tell you it's a thankless task," Gobble said. "We don't do it for the recognition. ... There's nothing better for a soldier to hear than for someone to come up and say thank you. I know this is for all the soldiers from the City of Thomasville. I just happen to be the one here today."

Before Gobble spoke, he was welcomed home by Thomasville Mayor Joe Bennett, retired Maj. Gen. Hubert Leonard, who is a former Chair City mayor, and F. Joe Idol, a past commander of the Kernersville chapter of the Military Order of the Purple Heart.

"What we have is a young man who was willing to give up everything to fight for this country. He is now a member of my brotherhood," Idol said, referring to the fact that Gobble will receive a Purple Heart for being wounded in combat. "Thank God he is walking and talking and a member of my brotherhood. I thank God for you."

Sandra Gobble, Matthew's mom, said she was overwhelmed by the turnout of people for her son's homecoming. She met for the first time Monday night the couple, Alisha and James Dale, who organized the homecoming celebration. The Dales are military veterans who learned of Gobble through his stepmother Marsha.

"There are no words to express what I feel," she said.

Sharon and Rick Zavaleta, along with their sons Matthew and Andrew, came to see the soldier who they have been sending care packages to and praying for since Gobble left for combat. Sharon Zavaleta met one of Gobble's grandmothers at her job at a local pharmacy and decided to begin writing and sending care packages to Gobble.

"We're just so glad he is coming home safe," she said before he arrived. "It's our prayer answered."

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Conan Interview

nobody@vox.com(abbigailx) — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 16:27:16 +0000

10 Aug: In case you missed it, check out the interview with Conan O’Brien from the other night

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173rd ABCT 2-503rd Chosen Co.~Sgt. Matthew Gobble~Welcome him home to NC!!

nobody@vox.com(Tankerbabelc) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 15:36:00 +0000

173rd ABCT 2-503rd Chosen Co.~Sgt. Matthew Gobble~Welcome him home to NC!!

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Hero’s welcome planned for injured soldier in Thomasville North Carolina By Jill Doss-Raines The Dispatch Published: Thursday, August 7, 2008 at 6:45 p.m. Last Modified: Thursday, August 7, 2008 at 6:46 p.m. A husband and wife who are military veterans are working to make the Monday homecoming of...

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173rd ABCT 2-503rd Chosen Co.~Sgt. Matthew Gobble~Welcome him home to NC!!

nobody@vox.com(LongIslandGirl) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 14:30:42 +0000

Hero’s welcome planned for injured soldier in Thomasville North Carolina

By Jill Doss-Raines
The Dispatch

Published: Thursday, August 7, 2008 at 6:45 p.m.
Last Modified: Thursday, August 7, 2008 at 6:46 p.m.

A husband and wife who are military veterans are working to make the Monday homecoming of an injured soldier from Thomasville a celebration of his service and courage.

Sgt. Matthew Gobble, a 24-year-old U.S. Army paratrooper and East Davidson High School graduate, was serving in Operation Enduring Freedom in Wanat, Afghanistan, when he and a group of other American and Afghan troops were attacked by enemy forces July 13. Nine soldiers were killed in the attack, and several more were injured, including Gobble. One of the soldiers killed in the attack, Cpl. Pruitt A. Rainey, was from Haw River.

Since suffering the injuries, Gobble has been recovering at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, but he is coming home to Thomasville on Monday to see his mother, Sandra Gobble; father and stepmother, Mike and Marcia Gobble; grandmother Rene Gobble; and other family members. Family friends Alisha and James Dale want to make his homecoming a remarkable event that will let Gobble know how much his service and valor means to others.

“We want to line the streets with people waving flags and clapping for him to see as he travels to his mom’s home,” said Alisha Dale, who served in the U.S. Army for four years.

The Dales met Matthew Gobble’s family after James Dale, who served in the U.S. Navy for 10 years and in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Storm, went to Marsha Gobble’s business, Capital Metal, looking for parts he needed to make shadow boxes for military medals. James Dale, a High Point firefighter, has a framing business he operates on the side.

As they talked, they realized they were also neighbors, with Kirk Street, where the Dales live, running parallel to Stacey Street, where Marcia and Mike Gobble live. He also learned that her stepson had been injured in combat recently.

“That brought the war home for us,” Alisha Dale said. “We realized this is right in our backyard.”

Because the Dales have military experience, she said they have huge hearts for other veterans.

The Dales ask that anyone who wants to participate in the coming-home celebration meet at the Big Chair in Thomasville at 9:30 p.m. Monday. Then they will spread out as long as the line will allow down Main Street toward National Highway. Gobble’s escorted motorcade is expected to travel from National Highway down Main Street.

In fact, his car at the airport will be met by the Patriot Guard Riders, a veterans’ group of motorcycle enthusiasts, and escorted to Thomasville, Alisha Dale said. Then a motorcade of Thomasville police officers will pick up the escort at the city limits and accompany Gobble to the Big Chair and bandstand.

There, Gobble will stop and be officially welcomed home by Mayor Joe Bennett. Then, Gobble may say a few words to the crowd, Alisha Dale said, noting she expects him to be making his way down Main Street about 10 p.m.

Because he is still recovering from his injuries and has been flying all day from overseas, the Dales and Bennett said they plan to keep the event short.

“We will let him know we welcome him back into the community of Thomasville and thank him very much for what he does over there for our freedom here,” Bennett said. “We will have our arms open to say welcome, thank you very much and godspeed to recovery.”

Jill Doss-Raines can be reached at 249-3981, ext. 219, or at jill.doss-raines@the-dispatch.com.

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The Long Haul-Stories from the Minnesota National Guard-16 months in Iraq

nobody@vox.com(LongIslandGirl) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 15:40:36 +0000

From http://www.jacksonville.com/longhaul

Six months in training, and 16 straight months at war in Iraq. No unit had a longer continuous deployment on the ground there than the 1st Brigade Combat Team/34th Infantry Division of the Minnesota National Guard.

And no unit's loved ones endured a separation that lasted so long.

The story of this hard deployment by soldiers from 36 states, including Florida and Georgia, and of the relationships that held fast across thousands of miles will be told in The Long Haul.

The series
SUNDAY: Meet some of the citizen-soldiers of the 1st Brigade Combat Team and the families they'll leave behind.
[ Read the story ]

MONDAY: Welcome to Iraq: Many dangers await, and death among the ranks is not far away.
[ Read More ]

TUESDAY: Troops and families at home count the many milestones missed and made: fatherhood, a surprise party, a funeral. [ Read more ]

WEDNESDAY: For two soldiers and their loved ones, a roadside bomb changes their lives forever. [ Read more ]

THURSDAY: The joy of survival is tempered by a sobering message - and a fierce firefight.

FRIDAY: An ambush produces a real live hero.

SATURDAY: Homecoming means reunions, struggles and starting over.

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Heroes

nobody@vox.com(Steve Garnett) — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 00:45:38 +0000

I suppose every child has a hero or heroes that he looks up to and admires as he grows up. I’m sure I probably had several as I grew up but honestly I can only remember one. His name was Gary Barnes. Gary was the son of Horace and Ruth Barnes, close friends of my parents who are now in heaven with the Lord they dearly loved. Gary is a few years older than me. He played football and basketball at Valley High School in Valley, AL where we grew up.

During the summer of his high school days Gary worked at a textile mill that was a block away from his house. Many days I would meet Gary when he got off work and would carry his tennis shoes as I walked home with him. I didn’t think about it then but as I look back on it now I realize those shoes must have been nasty and probably didn’t smell all that well after working all day in that hot mill, but I didn’t noticed.

After graduating from high school Gary signed with Clemson University and spent his college years playing for the Tigers (wrong Tigers since I pull for Auburn). When he finished his playing days at Clemson Gary signed with the Green Bay Packers. This was during the Vince Lombardi days. Now my hero had made the BIG time. Gary was fortunate to play on one of the Packers’ championship teams. Needless to say, my hero was bigger than life to me!

I still have heroes today. One of my greatest heroes is my dad, Leonard “Boochie” Garnett (to be honest I don’t know where he got the nickname). Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I was in my late 20’s that I recognized how blessed I was to have the dad I have. As I finally began to grow up I began to realize how much my dad (and mom) had sacrificed to provide for my sister and I as we grew up.

However, it wasn’t the material things he provided that made him my hero. It’s his relationship and walk with the Lord Jesus Christ that I most admire about daddy. For as long as I can remember he has known Jesus as his personal Lord and Savior and has sought to live in a way that would always honor his Lord. Because of his relationship with Jesus and the life he has lived, my dad has been a very positive influence in my life ever since I was born. It’s just that it took almost 30 years for me to recognize that daddy is one of my greatest heroes. I think God that daddy continues to encourage me and influence my life today! Thanks daddy for all you’ve been and continue to be to me!!! You are my hero!

I do have one hero who is an even greater hero to me than my dad and that is the Lord Jesus Christ, my personal Lord and Savior that my dad introduced me to as I grew up. It wasn’t until I was almost 27 years old that I committed my life to Jesus as my Lord and Savior. I was a member of a Baptist church at the time Jesus came into my life but before that night in March 1977 when I met the Lord Jesus all I was was a lost church member. But on March 9, 1977 I gave my life to Jesus and have sought to follow and serve Him ever since that day.

Jesus is a true hero because He gave His life not only for me but for the whole world. As Jesus Himself said, “For God so loved the world (that’s you and me) that He gave His only begotten Son that whoever (that’s you and me) believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). Just think, the Lord Jesus Christ, God the Son, left the glory of heaven and came into this world that He might die on a cross to pay the debt of our sin. Now that’s a hero in the truest sense of the word.

Everyday my hero, the Lord Jesus Christ, continues to prove His love for me. Although I have failed and disappointed him many times over the years, He has never failed or disappointed me! Not once! His promise is, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). That’s my hero the Lord Jesus Christ! He is always with me and especially when I need Him most. If you do not know Him as your personal Lord and Savior, I encourage you to talk with a Christian friend or a minister who can tell you how you can have a personal relationship with the One who gave His life that He might be your Savior and your biggest hero!

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173rd Airborne Sky Soldier Sgt Matthew Gobble receives a hero's welcome

173rd Airborne Sky Soldier Sgt Matthew Gobble receives a hero's welcome

Soldier receives a hero's welcome

Conan Interview

173rd ABCT 2-503rd Chosen Co.~Sgt. Matthew Gobble~Welcome him home to NC!!

173rd ABCT 2-503rd Chosen Co.~Sgt. Matthew Gobble~Welcome him home to NC!!

Hero’s welcome planned for injured soldier in Thomasville North Carolina

The Long Haul-Stories from the Minnesota National Guard-16 months in Iraq

Heroes

Wounded Warrior ride draws wide support
honors Lance Corporal Haerter