I took a raft trip hosted by Far Flung Adventures a few years back and Butch Hancock was the oarsman on my raft. Here is a photo of me getting soaked - Butch Hancock is the guy with a hand one one of the oars: 
Hooray for Hollywood! 
Where else can you see Superman strolling down the street?
Of course I had to shop a bit. Bought a cute Hermès scarf!
After some serious shopping, Sydney took a gelato break with Grandpa.
At the Pier at Santa Monica for some super-fun rides and excellent people-watching. 
The best set of shoulders in Santa Monica!
Back in Simi Valley, after a very long day. 
I left the U.S. Attorney’s Office to take my mother home to Texas, as she said “…I want to go home to die…” this was two years ago.
I worked briefly with the Department of Labor in Dallas, as an administrative legal assistant. I absolutely disliked the commute, the building and the “work”…what a waste of my time. I suppose I should be thankful they afforded me the opportunity for a job and to continue my federal career, but it was just awful.
I returned to Washington to marry my husband, leaving my mother and son in Texas. I bear quite a bit of guilt about that, but one must live one’s own life. I applied for and was selected for the job I currently hold at the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
I work for eight attorneys. I say work, but I mainly do the payroll, purchase a variety of office-related items and services, monitor a million and a half dollar budget, scan documents, organize files, make coffee, take care of the mail, etc. Compared to the U.S. Attorney’s Office, the job is relatively stress-free and pleasant. I wonder how I survived with the USAO for almost 18 years, dealing with high-strung, sometimes mean and nasty prosecutors and equally hateful support staffers. I can’t see myself returning to such a toxic environment.
I have a one-hour commute each way, but I take a van pool and can sleep or cat-nap the entire way. So it isn’t so bad. I’ve been here almost a year, and still enjoy coming in each day and feeling comfortable with my surroundings.
I do understand their need to volunteer. I volunteered to support the Katrina relief effort. I put in long days in miserable conditions to help my fellow Americans. But I wonder, if these children were directed in another way, would they be here, volunteering to put their life on the line for people who probably couldn’t care less about democracy, for a people who are apathetic about fighting their own war? Would these people be willing to come to our aid?
I can honestly say I am proud that my son, perhaps from the direction I sent him, did not elect to perform military service. He is my only child and I truly don’t think I could survive the uncertainty involved in military service during war-time. I’m sure some would say that these thoughts are selfish.
As a child during the Vietnam era, I remember with a crystal clarity sitting at the dinner table, when families used to do that, and watching the CBS News with Walter Chronkite. “This is Dan Rather reporting from Vietnam (or Cambodia)”. He would be giving the daily body count, presenting video of young people almost my age in fire-fights with phantom assailants, soldiers screaming in agony after being shot or having their limbs ripped away by shrapnel. These images were burned in my brain. Every night. Like it was our patriotic duty to watch the carnage, to be a witness to it.
Several years later, as an employee of the U.S. Attorney’s Office, I had the chance to attend a class in Washington, D.C. While there, I went to the Vietnam Memorial. I saw family members sobbing at the sight of the name of their dead loved one. I wondered, did this mother or father have a say in their child’s action? Did they approve of their son going to a foreign land to participate in a war? Were they proud of their child, all dressed up in his Class-A uniform? Surely they couldn’t be so naïve to believe all the bullets would miss their special child? That he could possibly not return in one piece. Not my child, he would never be in a wheelchair, or missing a eye, or brain damaged.
I’m sure all of this makes no sense to most people, but I just think of all this when I see those young people all lined up, so early in the morning, eager to get away, to have a new adventure. It really hurts me to see it.
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