I guess you can say I've been in the act of preparing for this move since, well... for about three focused years. I've fashioned a reason why this isn't a negative thing. I mean, how does one say good-bye to a landscape such as Alaska in say, a couple of weeks ? For me, that would compare to a domestic violence charge. After all, she has given me opportunities that no other state could. Shes' given me unique employment, a twist of fate in some cases where growth was the by-product. Alaska has punished me in various ways, penalized me for making the wrong choices... and in doing so, my survival tools aren't as dull. Tough love. Most of all, she has given me her beauty. I was taught how to open my eyes and see gifts and not as things, objects. So yes, I've been saying good-bye for three years and I feel that the separation is healthier. Not to mention I'm also separating from another lady in my life....she too has loved me like I've never been loved before. I'm selfish and I'm hurting her and I'll have to come to terms with that, but most of all, we're accepting of what was and what is.
As these final days of design become reality.... I see that the transition has to be earned. February has rebirthed the winters of the 70's.... daily snowfall. My vehicle had its studded snow tires removed in exchange for 'All Weather' (yeah, right) tires in order to appreciate Washingtons' roadways and laws. This nagging obstacle of daily snowfall has delayed my travels to Anchorage for about two weeks, where a barge awaits my van. A van full of my nomadic possessions that will be sailing to Seattle. The only word I can come up with is, 'apprehensive ?' I mean I'm shooting for tomorrow or Friday to get this thing going. Let me ask you. Would you drive a stud less van (except for the driver) 50 miles on a snow beaten icy highway? With all your personal effects inside ?
So...... it snows and I've been shoveling, yes, shoveling part of the driveway daily because my lady friend doesn't like exhaust fumes. I admire her respect for the earth. Since living with Judith I've become a student to recycling everything that we buy and use. From cardboard toilet tissue rolls to, well,...you name it, we recycle it. So,.... I shovel. Sometimes I think she's trying to repurpose me into an empty casket, as I huff and puff every shovel toss.
But I see good in this delay too, for if I ever become homesick or question my decision to leave, all I have to do is look at the video below and remember....... I missing what ?
The good news ! I'm flying first class. The bad news ! I'm flying into a monster storm Washington hasn't seen the likes of since 1962.
Chinook Observer, The approaching storm for this weekend, the third of three major weather systems including a cyclone that will begin impacting the coast on Thursday, “is not only nearly as intense as the 1962 Columbus Day storm but shares a common origin: both started as typhoons over the western Pacific. The Columbus Day Storm had its origin as Typhoon Frieda, taking over a week to get across the Pacific.
If I survive, what I suspect will be a turbulent approach, I'll be pointing the rental car to the Pacific from Seattle and muttering, " Cyclone be damned." The duration was supposed to be 10 days of real estate googling and beach therapy. I may be looking at this as a baptism.
My brother and his wife recently experienced Matthew in N.C. . From what I could gather their Beach house may not be... and the primary home suffered kitchen ceiling damage. This was from a hurricane. My question is : What is the difference between the three blow hards--hurricane, cyclone and typhoon?
So, somehow a hurricane and a typhoon are regionally specific. Sort of like witches. One is a bad witch from the East and the other is also a 'bad' witch .... always from the West. A cyclone is also region specific to the West but......that's where I brain freeze the definitions between a typhoon and a cyclone. Wind speed and mph's come in to play. In either case I'll be driving into two out of three of them. I love the Northwest!
Now that I have a clearer definition of what I'll be driving into, another question is, " what do I watch out for?" A house falling out of the sky or sea serpents on the horizon? No doubt I'll be watching out for a Walmart.... I may need a change of pants. (drum snare) map
So, the bad news is : If I encounter my demise, the blog will live on ! Kind of like my last breath preserved in formaldehyde. Let me say now, thank you all (all ten of you) for considering me your friend and family. I'm sorry I'll miss the family reunion....I'll be there in spirit. The good news: I miss the election outcome !
A reason why I have a blog...is to purge some of the pollution that I may have internalized.
September 22nd will be the 21st Anniversary of an AWACS crash that I responded to. A twist of fate and timing created a window where a handful of firefighters became welded with this unfortunate wreckage.
At the time of this story I was a Captain in the D.O.D. Fire Dept. at Ft. Richardson. I'd been a military firefighter since 1973. A career civilian firefighter since 1984. 1995 was a difficult period in my life. I was disillusioned with the department. I had rank, I knew my job and I enjoyed the responsibility of making the right call in seconds. What I didn't favor was the mentality of the dept.
Racists within our walls. Cowboy mentality with empty bravado. I faked it. I think I was loved as their Captain but I wanted to embrace life... I wanted to embrace myself with a real foundation/heart.
How could I envelope that desire and return to work with another face? So,...at the time of this story I remember where my head was at....thanks blog.
We worked 24 hr. shifts... with 24 off and three day breaks every two weeks. (<--Sorry, just setting up the story.) Rotating monthly from structural station to airfield station just to break up the design. I was car pooling that morning due to car issues. Zuniga and I saw a mushroom cloud in the vicinity of the military's ammo bunkers. Our wheels were turning trying to interpret the color and shape of the explosive cloud on the horizon. When we arrived at the station all the bays were emptied of apparatus ..... no crash/rescue trucks, no personnel. Listening to the chatter on the radio we heard what had happened. On the adjoining Air force base (Elmendorf) a plane had gone down.
Looking around our station and my crew of 'one' we saw the brush fire truck. A six wheel drive w/ 300 gallons of water. I was directed to respond with this vehicle. Why? Elmendorf has specialized fire apparatus that is designed for crash/rescue and no doubt has "surround and drown" the impact area already. Ok,... I get it. Upon arrival the answer was clear...nobody could reach the impact site. Wooded and hilly terrain prevented the massive Air Force fire vehicles from entering the crash zone.
(see at 1:05 for the one and only truck on scene)
We were it. Straddling down some railroad tracks to where a bulldozer was waiting for us and clearing a way up a 40 degree grade we followed this newborn path to the.... abstract site. Abstract as in it was a beautiful fall morning. Colors of birch trees and snow on the distant range painted the crisp morning until .....we passed a massive landing gear. Tree tops were sheared as if being sliced with a Ginsu knife. No splintering or ripping action, just a smooth angular cut. Weird. What was even more weird was that 'we' were the only first responders there.
"Brush 6 on scene deploying lines" but there was no fire ball. No rescue mission. We were spectators that wanted to play the game. Frustrating. Nothing was identifiable on that charred hillside. My eyes were fixated on the heat that once was. We made our way down the slope putting out hot spots. The trauma became more apparent the further we tread into the carnage. The AWCS disk that is the signature piece lay up against the tree line.
Odd. What was even odd-er was that it was quiet. No crying, no sirens blaring or people, just silence with a deafening decibel level of pain. We were approached by an Air Force Officer in flight gear. He asked how we were doing and added, "be careful of the ash piles when you drag your hose." This Officer had the grim task of placing little red flags on what he discerned were human remains. His family. He also directed us not to go near the cockpit.
Cockpit? To myself I asked, where was that? With his index finger he led our eyes to two charred bodies in what appeared to be seats. I thought it was aircraft debris due to the arms of both pilots reaching up too the sky as if surrendering. A structural silhouette from a distance. Later I was told that when arm muscles are burned they mechanically rise up.
After seventeen plus years in this job field, I involuntarily conditioned myself not to be empathetic... we do the mission and critique. Unfortunately, I have carried that lack of empathy to some degree today...but now I recognize it. I do remember that after my shift I lay in my bed waiting for that aftermath weirdness to haunt me. There was none..... until I heard a flock of Canadian geese flying overhead. Felt good to release from that cue.
Why blog about this story ?
Elmendorf has a ceremony every year to mark this event. A gathering of family and military have a remembrance. I never went. I know what it was and remember the event in my own fashion. Until I caught word that if I attended I should be prepared for family to have a desire to be near me. Maybe ask a few questions about what I remember. A new face in the crowd after 20 years. Do I put away my selfish profile and attend... no matter my social inequities or comfort level?
At the end of the above video...the last statement this lieutenant colonelmakes rings true..
"There's life after this and that we've moved on we've grown and we've learned from it."
