Monday, November 30, 2009

One of these is not like the others


The outfit that now-MSG McG and I were attached to in Iraq for the last almost six months we were there was a Cavalry unit. As I mentioned in a previous blog, because of that fact, he and I came home from that deployment with Stetsons and combat spurs.

Before joining the Army I had seen some of my former ROTC Cadets wearing Stetsons, and frankly never imagined myself ever owning one, let alone wearing one.

For one thing, I've never been a big fan of hats.

Now I find myself in a situation in which I wear headgear of some sort almost any time I'm outside, and even sometimes when I'm inside.

Not long ago I was at a meeting in which many of the others present were wearing headgear inside the building, so I returned to my office and got my Stetson. Though my new unit is also Cavalry, instead of wearing Stetsons, they wear 'Campaign Hats'.

Campaign hats are sort of like Stetsons, but they're brown, and not quite as large.

On those occasions when we wear hats inside the building, there are only three of us with Stetsons, in a sea of Campaign Hats.

That particular day at the meeting mentioned above, as we waited for the Important People to arrive, I was the only person wearing a Stetson. When the boss walked in, he quickly surveyed the room, and before he'd even reached his seat, he commented with some disapprobation, "One of these is not like the others."

Without thinking (I really ought to stop that, as it turns out), I blurted out, "It must be the combat spurs."

Oops.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ
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You've got mail!


I received an e-card (replete with cheesy music) from a friend of mine in California this morning that had me quite literally laughing out loud. Charlotte has a very dry, incisive wit, and she never ceases to surprise me with what she comes up with.

Here's the text:

Dear Tim,
Thanks so much for your call from Kosovo on Thanksgiving. It meant a great deal to me. As a matter of fact, you were the only person to call me from Kosovo the day. I *was* hoping to hear from anyone in Slovenia.
Peace and love,
Mother Teresa

I guess I'll try harder to be a person in Slovenia then next time I call her.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Sunday, November 29, 2009

The invitation


Last week, when SPC C and I were outside the gate (I'm no longer going to refer to it as being "outside the wire" -- it's *so* different here from my experience in Iraq), we met with the pastor of a Catholic parish not too far as the blackbird flies from here.

(Kosovo means "field of blackbirds," so no as-the-crow-flies here!)

He invited us, and anyone else who cares to participate, to come to Mass next Sunday for the Feast of St. Nicholas, at the Church of St. Nicholas.

I explained that I'd not be able to do that, much to my chagrin, because I'm scheduled to celebrate Mass on Post at the same time.

He then asked whether we could come on Saturday, 05DEC, to the party in the afternoon, at which the parish will be giving out gifts to the local children.

That sounds like it's going to be a blast.

I've gotten the Knights of Columbus here to gather together some Euros, which SPC C and I will take to the pastor tomorrow, in anticipation of the celebration.

I'm hoping I can convince some others from here to go with us. I believe it's going to be a wonderful time. It will be good to be around little children, especially as they're opening presents.

The Feast of St. Nicholas in this part of the world is a much bigger occasion for gift-giving than is Christmas.

I can't wait!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Stress reactions


Over my time in the Army I've come to counsel quite a number of Soldiers who have experienced significant physical and emotional traumata. Calling their stress reactions to these events a 'disorder' (PTSD) seems pretty stupid to me, since there's nothing disordered about the reaction.

What's disordered is the situation which sets up the reaction!

Sheesh.

What continues to sadden me is how often, when speaking with these individuals, I'm told that they do not trust the military concerning their situation. If it's not the health care providers themselves, then it's others in their chains of command, or even just in their team, squad, platoon, or company whom they're convinced will  misunderstand, fear, or shame them.

So they do everything they can to avoid speaking with those people about what's really going on.

Not so long ago, one courageous young man told me that the health care provider he went to speak with about the return of his almost-debilitating anxiety all but accused him of malingering, after the Soldier had reported his experience. It seems as if the provider was annoyed that the Soldier had gone to several ARMY and other .MIL websites looking for information, which the provider interpreted as nefarious on the part of the Service Member, and an attempt to manipulate the situation.

Honestly. This stuff annoys ME in excelsis.

These young people have served honorably and well, and deserve to be taken care of! I'm gratified that they'll come talk to me, but I'm not qualified to deliver the care they need. Nor do I attempt to.

They deserve better!

(I'm truly grateful they have felt free to come speak with me, at least, though I'm not sure of the long-term benefits thereof.)

The lack of what I'd consider basic human caring can extend beyond perceived stress reactions, too. I was once in a unit in which one of the Soldiers was rather seriously injured -- through no fault of his own -- in a workplace accident (due to poor design and a failure on the part of the civilians running the place to remedy the defects, even though many people had been injured prior to his accident).

He wound up on crutches for a couple of weeks as the medical personnel decided whether to send him elsewhere for surgery. He lived quite some distance from the Dining Facility, over rather rough terrain, made treacherous by the necessity of the crutches, and yet personnel in his unit almost never offered to bring him food, or help him in other ways.

My attempt to speak with NCOs in his platoon, including his Platoon Sergeant, about the matter elicited this response: "Hey, he never should have gotten injured in the first place."

What's up with *that*?

So much for "I will never leave a fallen comrade," I guess.

Perhaps I just joined the Army at too advanced an age to understand 'how things are done around here'.

Or maybe *I'm* just having a stress reaction....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Saturday, November 28, 2009

Prayers, please


I found out recently that my friend Dora, who taught me everything I know about molecular biology while I was working on my doctorate, discovered during a routing mammogram that she had rather advanced breast cancer. She had, only a short time before that, married her longtime sweetheart -- finally, Pedro!

Another friend from the lab, Angela, who's been battling liver cancer for a decade now has had another setback in her recovery. Her resilient spirit amazes me.

My friend Jodi, whom I've actually never met, but have only corresponded with over the "internet tubes" and spoken with by phone, is struggling whether to accept hospice because her cancer has metastasized to various parts of her brain and other parts of her body.

Her husband (who goes to AA meetings) and 14-year-old daughter are having a very difficult time, complexified by the fact that Jodi's biological kin do not have a spiritual practice which would allow them to face powerlessness and unmanageability with equanimity and grace.

Please pray (or at least send good thoughts their way!) for all involved, if you'd be so kind. Illness is never easy, but it seems especially difficult during festive times when everyone else appears to be having a great time with family and friends.

Many of us over here (and deployed to other parts of the world) find ourselves painfully far away from those whom we care about. It's not a surprise for us or to us, but just as anticipatory grief can't hold a candle to (or really prepare us for) the real thing, the foreknowledge that we'll be half a world away from our loved ones isn't much preparation for the lived experience of separation in times of personal crisis.

I'm grateful yet again that my buddies who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings have taught me how they handle this kind of powerlessness: they 'surrender to win' as someone once wrote about in an earlier edition of their "Big Book."

As an aside, since our predecessors here left for home, I've not run into anybody here who goes to those meetings.

That's a new experience for me.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Big Sibling is Watching


Until today I'd not checked out Google Analytics, since probably before I left Iraq, to see how many people have been visiting my blog. There's just too much other -- important -- stuff to be doing, I guess.

So I started browsing around that site, which is clearly set up so that people who are hawking their wares can get a sense of who's clicking on links to wind up at their site, how long they spend there, and where they got there from. Much of the information is way beyond my ken, or at least beyond my willingness to care about it.

As I was perusing the pages and pages of graphs and pie charts and other nifty visual presentations of data, I wound up on the page that lists the networks which have connected people to my blog site. So much for the anonymity of the internet, eh?

I noticed that there are some networks which carry the lion's share of the traffic to my web pages. One of them, rather near the top of the list, caught my eye and my attention.

Seems as though there's a government entity that has been monitoring my site recently, which I suppose ought not to surprise me, but does, in fact, creep me out more than a little bit. I had never heard of the acronym which was listed, and upon using 'the Google' to research it, found out that folks at that organization seem to monitor others' blogs as well.

Cool! Or Creepy!

I'd thought about using "Big Brother is Watching" as the title for this post, but figured that would be a bit sexist. "Big Daddy is Watching" probably doesn't really strike the right note of gravitas, nor does "Big Momma".  "Big Sister" might be misinterpreted, so I settled on "Big Sibling," though there's not much in the way of onomatopoeia about it.

Some stats to consider about this governmental agency:

Number of visits
30AUG08-28NOV08: 003
29NOV08-27FEB09:  018
28FEB08-29MAY09:  022
30MAY09-28AUG09: 020
29AUG09-27NOV09: 126 -- a 530% increase in traffic
Average Time on Site
30AUG08-28NOV08: 00:36
29NOV08-27FEB09:  00:15 -- a 58.3% decrease
28FEB08-29MAY09:  01:53 -- a 667.8% increase
30MAY09-28AUG09: 00:04 -- a 96.8% decrease
29AUG09-27NOV09: 04:43 -- a 7,766.4% increase
So the number of visits from this governmental agency with a cryptic identity increased dramatically over the past three months, as compared with the previous twelve months. The amount of time they spent on my site per visit over these last twelve weeks increased 7,766.4% over the previous three months.

To be fair, though, it was only a 673.8% increase over the average time spent per visit over the twelve months prior to this reporting period.

Yikes! I wonder what it is about these past three months that has caught their attention, as compared to my year in Iraq.... Some brother/sister/sibling at that agency clearly has too much time on his or her hands.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ


Friday, November 27, 2009

A year ago


Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day here, and while it was (sort of) nice to eat turkey twice (lunch AND dinner), it was not quite the same as being home! This second Thanksgiving in a row away from family and friends proved to be more challenging than I'd imagined.

For one thing, I was up a LONG time yesterday.

One of our squads had to go out on patrol yesterday morning at the crack of dawn. I decided that if they needed to be up and working in time to leave by the time they did (at least a couple of hours, and more usually three if I can swing it, before I get out of bed), I ought to get up early to be there to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving, and send them on their way with my thanks and a prayer or two.

So I dutifully set my alarm for four hours later than I went to bed, and went to sleep. As an aside, now that I have a room of my own, I'm generally sleeping better than I have for most of the last four months of training -- essentially, since I returned from Iraq. (The 'kennel cough' which has dogged me since shortly after I arrived isn't helping me sleep, but at least I now have my own room!)

I awoke on my own, looked at my watch, and said to myself, "Self, shouldn't you be up already?" It was five minutes after the time I'd set the alarm to wake me. Or so I thought.

I guess I was so tired Wednesday night by the time I turned off the light, that I'd actually set the alarm for an hour *later* than what I'd intended. I rushed to throw on my uniform and coat, and then double-timed it over to the motor pool, hoping I'd not missed my guys.

They were there, and mighty surprised to see me. I gave them a bit of a pep talk, which included my sincere thanks for their service. We said a quick prayer, and they took off on their way. I made my way back to my room, with detours to the Tactical Operations Center (TOC) and Company Command Posts (CPs) to check in with the night shift in each of those control centers.

They were pretty surprised to see me, too. I guess they don't get many visitors.

By now, since I've done this before, I'd have thought they might be coming to expect it of me to show up in the dead of night....

They're great guys.

I didn't really get back to sleep, unfortunately, and then got about the business (and busy-ness) of my Thanksgiving Day: Mass, followed by an interfaith Thanksgiving prayer service; lunch with other Unit Ministry Teams (UMTs) and our Albanian- and Serbian-language interpreters; office hours; a trip outside the wire to visit an Orthodox priest on the Feast of St. John Chrysostom; supper; and an attempt to connect with family and friends over Skype.

I'm hoping today will be fairly quiet; it would be nice to get a nap, if that be possible!

But as long as we don't get mortared, as we did one year ago today when I was in Iraq (the mortar destroyed a Containerized Housing Unit (CHU) just down the row from my own quarters, and a dud landed on the doorstep of the room next to then-SFC McG's quarters; it would have destroyed his CHU had it detonated), no matter what else might happen, it should be a great day.

I won't miss the shopping frenzy in the States, either.  I've never quite understood the fascination, to be perfectly honest....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving!


Primary Wonder


Days pass when I forget the mystery.

Problems insoluble and problems offering

their own ignored solutions

jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber

along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing

their colored clothes; caps and bells.

And then
once more the quiet mystery

is present to me, the throng's clamor

recedes: the mystery

that there is anything, anything at all,

let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,

rather than void: and that, O Lord,

Creator, Hallowed one, You still,

hour by hour sustain it.

-- Denise Levertov, from Sands of the Well

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Email exchange


Last week, since Thanksgiving Day was right around the corner, I sent an email to my Battalion Commander and Command Sergeant Major asking if there were plans to have the Battalion Staff serve Thanksgiving dinner to the troops. It's been a custom in many units to do that, over many years, but I'd not heard anything about plans for the holiday in that regard.

Several days passed, and I still had no reply.

Until Monday.

Here's my email traffic from Monday regarding this matter:

[From the Commander]
Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE


Thought you'd find this interesting since you asked about it a couple of days ago.


6


[He forwards a WARNO (warning order) from the Commanding General indicating that he's the only person from our Battalion who's going to be serving food.]

("6" is the shorthand that's used to indicate the Commander.)

My reply:

Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE


Sir:


Thank you for forwarding this on, Colonel.


Prescience is not a gift, Sir. It's a burden.


Blessings!




Fr. Tim, SJ


Moments after I'd sent that note, I received the following retort:

Classification: UNCLASSIFIED
Caveats: NONE


Those are the same conflicting feelings I have about you...gift or burden?
:-)
See what indignities I must endure on a daily basis???

Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Slava


More than a eight hundred years ago, when the Serbs here in the Balkans accepted Christianity, each family was instructed to place itself under the patronage and protection of the saint of their choosing. That saint was often the one on whose feast day the family became Christian.

Serbian Orthodox custom to this day celebrates the family's saint with an extended party twice per year. The party begins at the church and is punctuated with prayer throughout the days of celebration.

SPC C and I were invited to one of these parties (a 'Slava') this past weekend, even though we didn't know the family who were celebrating. It was the Synaxis of St. Archangel Michael and all the Bodiless Powers of Heaven (we're using the old calendar here; Christmas 2009 will be celebrated on 07JAN10), and our host's family has had St. Michael as its patron saint for longer than anyone can remember.

We enlisted the aid of our trusty Serbian-speaking translator and SPC C drove us about an hour away, into the foothills of the mountains that separate Kosovo from the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (known as FYROM). It was a gorgeous day, and a beautiful (if somewhat harrowing) ride, along switchback roads unprotected by guardrails.

Those hundreds-of-meters sheer drop-offs from those roads really give one cause for pause!

I was very grateful we hadn't had any snow! The weather, though crisp, was not cold enough for ice on the pavement, thank God.

Our host arranged to meet us along the way, since the last part of the journey was very complex and involved incredibly narrow roads and the negotiation of paths through herds of livestock.

That was a first for me, especially as I wound up driving home afterward. But that's a story for another time....

The dining room table groaned under the weight of all the meats, cheeses, vegetables, and breads. Women from the family kept bringing more and more food, faster than we could consume it. Everything was made in-house, to include the sumptuous desserts for which there was no room, but which could not be refused.

Our host had been told that I'm a Catholic priest, so he spoke at length about his family's devotion to St. Michael, and about the ancient icon of the Archangel hanging on the wall. It has been in his family for generation upon generation, passed down from father to eldest son. 

During the Communist era, when practice of religion was actively discouraged by the civil authorities, the practice of Slava continued unabated.  And while families were no longer able to risk keeping a candle lighted by their icon, nor reverencing it with incense, they had a special light bulb installed in the kitchen which was always left burning -- whenever they had electricity, that is -- and everyone in the house knew that that was St. Michael's light.

Here's a prayer from the Serbian Orthodox celebration of St. Archangel Michael and all the Bodiless Powers of Heaven:

Heavenly Commanders,
Who watch over us with great care,
Cover us with your wings,
And shield us with your power.

Armed with the power of God,
Crowned by His glory,
You wield flaming swords,
To cut the demons down.

Swift, swift as rays of light
You soar on the clouds-
The clouds of the air-
Where you do battle for God.

Without fatigue and without sleep
You hover ceaselessly
Over men and created things,
And over countless worlds.

Behold, yours are mighty armies,
Legions virtuous,
And gentle battalions of angels:
And, according to the Creator, our brothers.

Commanders of the might of heaven,
Lead us where we need to go-
To the throne of the Most High
Who created us from nothing.

Amen.


I asked our host how long his family had lived in the house, because he'd mentioned that the icon had been hanging there for many, many generations, and he replied that his family had lived on that property for at least three hundred years.

It is easy to see how attached people can become to the land, in cases like that.

On the other hand, it's also easy to see how problems of money, property, and prestige can divert people from a primary spiritual aim, as my friends who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings would say.

It was a challenge staying awake as I drove back to Post after all that incredibly rich and delicious food!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Monday, November 23, 2009

Once Upon a Mattress


When then-SFC McG and I arrived in Iraq a year ago August, we showed up at the Post which would be our home for the next eleven months and were assigned living quarters. As we collected our room keys, we were issued bedding: a new pillow, two sets of sheets, two pillow cases, a light blanket, and a (rather nice) comforter.

Think about it: it was IRAQ (temperature setting: "convection oven") and we were issued a *comforter*. Seemed a bit odd at the time, though it actually came in handy.

So last month I arrived here at my newest military home-away-from-home, to the thermometer reading "below freezing" already, and the prospect of deep snows in the not-so-distant future, and collected the key to my room. Much to my surprise, and consternation, we were issued no pillow, sheets, pillow cases, blankets, and certainly no comforter.

What's us with *that*?

(Thanks to the largesse of a good friend of mine, a very wonderful down comforter showed up yesterday, preceded a few days earlier by a handsome duvet cover. I bought a fluffy pillow from the PX (Post Exchange). I'm told some very nice sheets and pillow cases are on their way, as well. Thanks, Mary!)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ
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Sunday, November 22, 2009

A Touch of Class


It was a great sadness, while I was in Iraq, not to do any teaching.  I have always loved learning, and early on in my own education discovered that one of the best ways of learning was to teach.  In Iraq, besides missing my family and so many of my friends who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings, I really felt the absence of my students and colleagues from the University where I held my day job.

I especially missed my Army ROTC Cadets: Jimmy, Ann, Ally, and Oliver.  Mike, too, though he left the program early.

When I discovered in Iraq that one of my buddies from Chaplain Basic Training who was on a Post not far from where I lived was teaching a college course in philosophy a couple of evenings each week, I was very intrigued, and a tiny bit jealous.

Well, actually, more than a tiny bit.

The University which had hired him to teach is very reputable, and not some fly-by-night diploma mill. It actually has extension courses on many US military bases around the world, as it turns out.

After finding out that CPT J was teaching philosophy (he's working on a PhD in theology at the moment, in his civilian life), I found myself wondering whether that school offered any courses in biology, in Kosovo. (By that time I knew I'd not be returning to my University position, but rather would be deployed again for another year.)

So I wrote a snail-mail letter to the European headquarters of that University and mailed off copies of my post-secondary transcripts (all six of them), as well as some other stuff which I don't quite remember now. I do recall that it turned out to be quite a sheaf of paper, but seeing as I was mailing it from one APO (Army Post Office) address to another, I didn't have to pay postage.

I'm pretty cheap, so I liked that part.

About a week later, the envelope was returned to me, with a rather severe warning that the 'package' needed a customs form, and needed to be inspected before it could be mailed.

Sheesh.

I returned to the Post Office with a different envelope, and all the sheets of paper to be mailed, and stood in line, patiently (can you believe it?), for about twenty minutes before I finally got to speak with one of the civilian postal employees. She looked at me as if I were from Mars when I showed her my materials, and the customs form.

"Now why ever would you think you'd need a customs form to mail a *letter* from one Army Post Office to another," she clucked at me, obviously exasperated.

It had been well over 120 degrees Fahrenheit as I walked, almost a kilometer, from the office I shared with then-SFC McG to the Post Office. I'd mailed that *same* letter more than a week earlier, once, and then wound up standing in line -- part of the time outside, in the not-so-easy-bake-oven that is Baghdad -- for twenty minutes in order to mail it again, BECAUSE SOME POSTAL CLERK HAD DIRECTED ME TO DO SO.

And now this woman was giving me attitude for doing what someone else at her place of employment had directed me to do.

I say again: Sheesh.

Drawing upon inner resources I did not know I had, I remained demure, composed, and almost gracious. I thanked her for helping me with the task at hand, mailed the materials -- again, and sans customs form -- and left there to trudge back to my office, all the while hoping against hope not to parboil my innards along the way.

About two weeks later I received an email from someone at that University wanting to know whether I'd "feel comfortable" teaching philosophy. In my letter I'd asked them about whether they ever offered biology classes in Kosovo, and the University responded by asking me whether I could teach philosophy.

Clearly someone had actually looked at my transcripts, because he or she had noticed my M.A. in philosophy (which I'd not mentioned in my cover letter). Go figure.

I emailed back that it just so happened that I had been spending several months slogging through a philosophy/theology text with my buddy from Chaplain School (who was teaching philosophy for them at the time), so I'd be open to the experience.

The next day I received another email from that University congratulating me on being pre-approved (sounds like I was getting a reduced-fee credit card or something) to teach any of six philosophy courses AND any of six biology courses listed in that letter.

While I was at Summer Camp - North training for this mission (read: in September), I heard from the University representative in Kosovo that the University would list a philosophy course under my name for the Fall term.  He indicated that at least a dozen students would have to sign up in order for the course to run.

I wanted to say, "Hey!  You ran the course taught by CPT J in Iraq with only nine students!" but figured that might appear a bit nit-picky, sniveling, and ungracious.  So I said nothing.

When I arrived here in Kosovo, there were eight students signed up.  This was two weeks before the start of the term here.  I finally was able to get copies of the book(s) used for the course (I didn't even have text titles before showing up) so I could read through them prior to the alleged start date.  Having taught bioethics for several years running nigh onto a decade ago now, I was gratified to learn that my association with that course could stand me in good stead regarding the teaching of this one.

Fourteen students signed up for "Contemporary Moral Issues," as it turns out. I taught the first two classes this past week, and had a good time. It's great to be back in a college classroom! The course should be fun, especially as there are several individuals in the class who, like myself evidently, seem to like saying outrageous things just to get others all excited, upset, or angry.

Which has already happened.  Several times.

We made it through the first week without any serious injuries, but there are no guarantees with this class (as with life).

(Perhaps I should bring SPC C along to run interference.... I'll keep you posted.)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ
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Saturday, November 21, 2009

Stealing my thunder


So here I am, serenely posting to my blog, and I happen to mention to my fearless Chaplain Assistant, SPC C, that I'd written a couple of things about him, and posted a few photos of him herein. I then proceed to call them up on the computer, and what's the thanks I get?

He starts a blog of his own, "faith AND firepower", to outdo me.

Humbug!

Now, you might think that I'd be excited about the prospect of "faith AND firepower" becoming a huge hit, eclipsing the Scrooge-like curmudgeonliness of my efforts with the freshness and excitement of youth, but you'd be wrong.

If you've been reading my blog for any time at all, I'm surprised that you'd in any way expect that I would be anything but crusty, irascible, and cantankerous concerning my Chaplain Assistant's blog "faith AND firepower," and the fact that one would only just have to click one's mouse over the name of his blog to visit it.

The nerve! The impudence!

Humbug, I tell you. Humbug!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Friday, November 20, 2009

Soldier Care


During the recent Transfer of Authority (TOA), during which we newbies officially took over this mission from our predecessors, one of the talks we heard from a Very Important Person had emphasized Soldier Care as a priority, given the frequent and repeated deployments of Reserve-component personnel.

It's certainly a topic near and dear to *my* heart, and seems to square well with the Jesuit tradition of "cura personalis" [care of the whole person] under which I've been living for more than 30 years now.  It's what I attempt to do, to the best of my ability, as I look after my Soldiers.

Imagine my surprise, then, when one of my Soldiers told me that our Battalion had approved his emergency leave to return home to be with his wife after complications in her pregnancy had developed, only to be told by someone farther up the food chain that he could not take the military flight to Western Europe leaving the next day.  That would have saved him $700 in the cost of getting home ($1500 to fly out of the airport near here), as the Army doesn't pay travel costs for that kind of leave.

As a consequence of that official's decision, my Soldier did not go home, and the Army will pay $1500 to fly him home for leave at some point in the future.  (He'd have given up his regular R&R leave to go home for the birth of his child, which would have saved the Army money.)

Moreover -- and more disturbing -- he and his wife have now decided that he will resign his Commission upon his redeployment at the end of our time here.  He takes a rather large pay cut to come on deployment, so his service stems from something other than a need for this job in order to pay bills.

So let's do the math:  By preventing the Soldier from taking a military flight to Europe (it was going there anyway, and the aviation people had told him seats were available), the Army will wind up spending $1500 more than otherwise would have been the case, AND they're going to lose a really good Officer, who's good at what he does in the Army, and has felt a strong desire to be of service to his Country.

I guess "Soldier Care" and "cura personalis" are really NOT the same things, after all.....

(Their healthy baby boy was born last night after labor was induced.  Mom, son, and Dad are all doing fine.)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Thursday, November 19, 2009

Fog


It gets very foggy here in the mornings of late, and it is getting cold at night. Winter is definitely on its way. It's also getting to be the holiday season, as I'm led to believe that Thanksgiving is next week already.

Somehow that seems difficult to fathom. Perhaps it has something to do with this being my second Thanksgiving in as many years receiving combat pay....

In any event, as November wanes and is about to turn into December, I've found myself thinking fondly of those years long ago when my Dad would read "A Christmas Carol" to us children as the holidays approached.  I fell in love with the story as Dad read it, and later as I watched the cinematic adaptation of the story (Scrooge, 1951) starring Alastair Sim.

Could this be why I've become a curmudgeon?

Anyway, the description of the cold and fog at the beginning of that story came back to me yesterday morning as the fog was so thick and it was so cold as I trod outside, flip-flop-shod, to the latrine to shower and shave.  Even better, though, is the description that Dickens gives of the interior cold of the man:

Oh!  But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!  Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster.  The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.  A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin.  He carried his own low temperature always about with him; he iced his office in the dogdays; and didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas.

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge.  No warmth could warm, no wintry weather chill him.  No wind that blew was bitterer than he, no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose, no pelting rain less open to entreaty.  Foul weather didn't know where to have him.  The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him in only one respect.  They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge never did.  (A Christmas Carol, Stave One)

"He carried his own low temperature about him..." Don't you just love that? I've met people like that! A bit later in the text is one of my most favorite lines from the book:  "Darkness is cheap, and Scrooge liked it."

Ah!  A true curmudgeon!!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Wednesday, November 18, 2009

TOA


The unit I'm over here with officially took responsibility for the U.S. portion of the U.N. mission here this past weekend. There was quite a lot of pomp and circumstance involved in the actual Transfer of Authority (TOA). We had local bigwigs, Generals from various countries, the U.S. Ambassador, and quite a number of other important individuals in attendance.

The tremor in my hands, coupled with the inability of my tiny camera to gather much light in low-light situations means that I didn't get any good pictures inside the aircraft hangar where the ceremony took place.  The old unit's colors have been cased and our Brigade's colors are being uncased in the first photo.  I apologize for the poor quality!  ("Idiopathic benign essential tremor," indeed!  There's nothing benign about it, at times like that!)

I did get a couple of photos outside which will give you a sense of the geography of the place where I'm now living.  The mountain behind the big hangars is more than a mile high.  Macedonia is just beyond it.

In the foreground of the second photo one can see "the cans" -- the containerized housing units used on this Post -- where I lived for a couple of weeks after arriving here. I'm grateful to have moved into a place of my own in the last couple of days; sharing the cans with another guy -- very nice guy, to be sure -- was cramped to say the least.

It is no wonder I caught the 'kennel cough' going around here, after being around his hacking and coughing for the last fourteen days or so!

One of the local religious leaders attended, along with his secretary and the pastor of the Church of the Black Madonna.  My Brigade Chaplain and the Deputy Brigade Chaplain Assistant are pictured as well.

It was a beautiful day, after a week of rainy days.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ
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Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Heroics


Kosovo had elections this past weekend, though most people in the States probably paid them little or no notice. We, on the other hand, were very aware of them.

One of our presence patrols in one of those towns had stopped alongside the river (the banks of which are covered in trash, unfortunately) to dismount their vehicles and mingle amongst the townspeople who'd gathered for a political rally. We've already gotten to know a number of the locals, especially the children.

Many of them are poor; some are literally destitute and appear malnourished. It's heartbreaking.

One of the youngsters I'd met on my first trip outside the wire is a boy who speaks some English. He's learned it from hanging out with the Soldiers who go out on foot patrols, it seems. Nice kid. He has a rather shocking streak of obviously-colored red hair running across the side of his head.

Only his hairdresser knows for sure, I suspect.

We'll call him "Lee".

Lee and an older friend carrying a flag with a political party logo on it crossed the street to visit with the Soldiers who were about to mount their vehicles.

All of a sudden, one of our Soldiers grabbed the older child, just as a large tractor swerved off the road and slammed into them and the Humvee next to them. The Humvee was pushed -- sideways -- eight feet. The Soldier in the Humvee's driver seat later reported a sore neck.

Lee was grazed by the tractor's wheels, but my Soldier and the child he'd grabbed were hit by the tractor tire and chassis, pinning them against the Humvee. The child screamed and screamed, which terrified the Soldier even more than his own plight.

Lee ran off, panicked. Once the Soldier and his young charge were extricated from the situation, the child was taken to the local hospital. The Soldier insisted that he be taken back to the hospital on post -- a wise decision!  Lee later returned to the scene, and only had a slightly bruised hip.

In short, everybody was fine, though it could have been a disaster. A woman driving a black Mercedes tried to pass the tractor on the road, and hit the front left tractor tire in the process. This caused the operator of that vehicle to lose control, as the steering wheel was yanked out of his hands. The tractor crashed into the Humvee, and the people standing next to it.

All of this took just fractions of a second.

Were it not for the intrepidity of our Soldier, the child he grabbed could have been very seriously injured, or even killed. The Soldier suffered rather deep and painful bruising, but nothing more consequential. The child was treated and released from the local hospital not long after arriving there.

I arrived at the hospital not too long after my Soldier was brought there. Though he was in pain, he was much more concerned about the welfare of his two young friends than for his own.

How do you spell "hero"?

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Monday, November 16, 2009

The Colossus of Roads


SPC C, as my Chaplain Assistant, usually winds up driving when we go outside the wire. As with now-MSG McG, my erstwhile Chaplain Assistant in Iraq, he gets a bit annoyed if I ask to drive. Then-SFC McG would constantly accuse me of "getting into NCO business."

My bad, as the kids say these days.

Anyway, SPC C does most of the driving. The other day we were out on the road again (do I hear a country music song about to start?) and we stopped off at a school out in the hinterlands. I'm not sure the faculty were glad to see us, but the children were agog at SPC C.

I suspect they don't often see someone of his stature in this neck of the woods.

*I* don't even see that many of his stature, and I'm around big men all the time!

The children mobbed him, screaming. (This may have had something to do with the teachers not being all that pleased that we stopped by, come to think of it....)


SPC C didn't help matters in that regard, either. Something possessed him to start doing straight-arm raises (as if in the gym) -- while holding children. He made the mistake of doing that to one youngster, and then spent the next fifteen minutes doing it to many, many, many others.

He and they had a great time. 

I didn't get to drive home.

But he can still barely lift his arms, three days later.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Bathroom humor



Sometimes one can see the darnedest things on an Army Post.


This one was so good I had to take a photo of it.


Whatever it takes, I guess!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

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Saturday, November 14, 2009

Mini Me?


SPC C, my trusty Chaplain Assistant, and I have more in common these days becase he has less.  See for yourselves:














Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Friday, November 13, 2009

Dinner on the economy


SPC C and I went out on a presence patrol this week with some Soldiers who had room in their convoy for us. It was a very different experience from being in a convoy when I was in Iraq at this time last year!

The weather, which had been pretty much rainy and cold since I arrived here had cleared up by morning, when we left, and the rains held off until we'd finished the patrol and were having dinner at a restaurant the convoy commander had learned of from the Soldiers we replaced.

This is a very beautiful country (except for the trash). We traveled through plains into the mountains, through valleys alongside rushing rivers (and lots of trash). The 6000-foot mountain on the horizon was snow-covered, but the temperature was pleasant, if a bit cool.



Most of the oak trees in the deciduous forests (that haven't yet been cut illegally for firewood, since the electric company keeps turning off the power to whole localities) have not yet lost their leaves, but almost all have turned quite brown. A few still have some yellow leaves clinging to their branches. The yellows against the browns make quite a sight.




The restaurant is tucked away in the foothills of the mountains that separate Kosovo and Macedonia. There are lots of trees and lots of water surrounding the place. It looks as though it could once have been a hunting lodge.



The food was good, and we had a good time.

My Soldiers are a great group.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Thursday, November 12, 2009

An historic occasion


The Soldiers we're replacing will be going home soon, and they seem generally pretty pumped about that. I can't say as I blame them! Just a few months ago I was in the same place as I counted down the last of my stay in Iraq.

Those final days actually had a strange, dreamlike quality to them. I guess I finally believed I was going to get out of there when I was on the plane from Kuwait to Shannon, Ireland.

The Chaplaincy for our predecessors here arranged a luncheon recently to which were invited local religious leaders from the Area of Operations (AO) they covered. This was an ambitious undertaking, and from the look of the Soldiers who attended (there were a lot of brass, let me tell you), it was taken very seriously.

Nice to see the Chaplaincy taken seriously by them!

In any event, we had quite a number of people who showed up for this occasion, and the very fact that they all were together, in the same room at the same time, sharing a meal together was truly an historic occasion.

I'm led to believe that such a thing would never have been imagined even a few years ago.

I spoke with a number of the participants (several in German, a couple in Italian (sort of), one in Spanish; most through interpreters), and all of them said pretty much the same thing: It's good that the United States is here.

Several even went so far as to say, "The only people we trust here are the Americans. Were you to leave, this place would fall apart."

Who knew?

It's great to have been a witness to history in the making....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Veterans Day 2009


On this Veterans Day, I wish to thank all those who've served honorably and well in uniform for their service. I still find it hard to believe that *I* am a veteran of a combat zone, given my history and what I'd thought my life's trajectory held in store for me.

For the second year running, I'm far from home on Veterans Day, and will be out on patrol with Soldiers from one of our Companies most of the day, I expect, so I'll even miss the festivities on post. Today will be the first time I'm out with a patrol as they move about their area, meeting the locals and seeing the sights.

I suspect strong coffee will be involved.

Being here to ensure a safe and secure environment, and to guarantee freedom of movement for all the inhabitants is an entirely different kettle of fish from what I experienced in Iraq.

It's really nice to be in a place where the locals are very happy we're here, and don't want us to leave.

Go figure.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Happy Birthday, Marines!


To Trevor, Sean, and all my Marines buddies:

Happy 234th bithday of the Corps!

(However, it must be remembered that the *Chaplain* Corps celebrated its 234th birthday on July 29th of this year.  Keep trying, though, Leathernecks!)

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

Monday, November 09, 2009

More Letnica photos


Here are some photos from our trips to Letnica over the past week.  If you click on them, you'll be able to see enlarged versions of them.

 
Here, for example is an interior shot of the church building.  There's a portrait of Mother Teresa near the front, on the right.  If you look closely, you'll probably be able to see it.  Then take a look at the vista from the front door, looking out to the valley below and the hills beyond.  It's the end of autumn here, so most of the deciduous trees in the area appear brown rather than green.

There are some flower pots at the edge of the plaza out front, with some flowers that are obviously well past their prime.  Despite the cold days and nights, there are still a hearty few, a faithful remnant as it were, that are blooming.


Life can be very tenacious, can't it?
There were even a swarm of bugs that had alighted on the front of the building, perhaps to sun themselves in the cold.  It was surprising, given the ambient temperature, to see so many of the critters present.

Now I know that bugs disgust or terrify some folks (and I admit to an aversion to spiders, myself), but these guys were pretty interesting.  To me, at least.  I'm no entomologist, but they look pretty similar to bugs I've seen back in the States....

There were also some sheep in the field right outside the church, in the amphitheatre where they undoubtedly celebrate Mass in the summer.

I love noticing little things....  As I've mentioned before, paying attention is quite an accomplishment for one who used to drink a lot!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ
 
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