The first stripes I ever earned

Note: Originally posted a shorter version of this last year on my 20th anniversary on Linked in, and this is also over on Medium

It’s remarkable for me to think that today is the 21st anniversary of my discharge from the Army. (and tomorrow is the 26th anniversary of my enlistment).

What a long time ago that was. And what a lasting mark it left.

I enlisted after leaving college — I had started at Georgia Tech at 17 studying computer engineering, but quite frankly, was unprepared to be a serious student at the time. I knew it, and they certainly were able to figure it out after a year or so. I joined the army both to pay for school, and because I wasn’t really sure what else to do as an 19 year old without a master plan.

I served five years active duty in what would be the interlude between the two Gulf conflicts, as a moderately good Arabic translator. (I’ll always hold myself up against the native speakers I served with — ‘moderately good’ was a pretty good standard to achieve). I was fortunate to make several life long friends during my years of service. And saddened when I learned of incidents in places far away from their homes and safety where a few lost their lives. The job was demanding, and rewarding, and has nothing to do with what I went on to do as a professional after I left the army. And yet it has everything to do with how I still do things on a daily basis.

It’s a trite thing to say, but I grew up in the Army. I met the woman that would become my bride. I learned what it takes to be relied upon, and to trust my team. I learned how to plan, and to know when to adjust. I learned to ask the people with experience to teach me. And I learned to teach with what little experience I had gained. I learned how to let others lead, and to lead myself.

Almost every lesson I learned in the Army still applies today:

• Sleep when you can.

• Eat what’s offered.

• Go to bed tired.

• Wake up ready.

• Serving is an opportunity.

• Leadership is earned every day.

• Improvement always takes effort.

• The person next to you will probably be in a position to save your life some day: treat her accordingly.

• Be humble.

• Complain less.

• Do more.

When I left the Army, we moved to California and I dropped right into the technology career I had paused when I joined. I was fortunate to find a boss that valued the skills I had gained, and generous enough to overlook those I hadn’t yet developed. He was reasonably confident that if my time in the Army had taught me anything, it included a reasonable amount of discipline and willingness to figure it out.

I still rely on those skills daily

There’s nothing scarier than a blank canvas

A couple of years ago, one of my resolutions was to start painting. I didn’t know where to take classes - well. Truth be told I didn’t look for any. Because that sounded like effort. And what I really wanted was just the fun part of painting. Not the work part. So I bought some oil paints and an easel.

I’ve ended up with some I like. But I’ve also got a pile of canvases in the basement that I wouldn’t sell to a motel I didn’t like as firestarters. All part of the learning process.

Every once in a while, I can tell I’m gonna end up with one I think is pretty good.

I liked the perspective on this one. And I have loved those big white church/town halls so ubiquitous in New England since we moved to Massachusetts. They remind me of the old churches in the South - a similarity of architecture that it feel like home..

I let this one sit half done for a while. I got it to a place where I was actually afraid I was going to screw up what I liked about it.

I think this sat on the floor of my office for about 8 months. I stared at it, and kept thinking of what I was going to do with it.

I painted other paintings that I liked, framed, and gave away. And this one just kept staring at me with what was clearly a canvasfull of skeptical expectations.

At one point, I thought maybe I’d just leave it unfinished forever.

Finally, I worked up the courage to pick up the brush and approach it again.

I still like it.

I think I’m calling this one ready for a frame.

Hello, 2019. Let's be friends.

About this time two years ago, I more or less stopped writing.

There wasn’t really a thought to it. But I’ve been maintaining this blog in some form or another since the end of the ‘90s. The earliest post in the archives is 2003, but the internet’s WayBack Machine shows that in October of 1999, I had uploaded a picture of my mother on a 4-wheeler for the internet to see.

This Is the redneck version of ‘Hello, World!’

They say the internet forgets nothing, but thankfully, some of my earliest attempts at learning stylesheets are merely electronic memories, and we’re all better off for it, even if that was the age where hi speed internet was making the jump from 56k to ADSL, and AOL was slugging it out with MySpace.

I’m the product of a Georgia public school education, but if my math is right, that’ll make 2019 the 20th anniversary of the ‘Groove. I vaguely remember choosing that domain name. My buddy had registered a family domain name, and all the .com’s were getting snapped up pretty quick. I can’t recall the inspiration, but hell, it’s alliterative. And so it stuck. That was well before most versions of modern social media, and in the first year or so, it was simply a place for me to dump photos from my new digital camera. But eventually, the ‘blog format began to catch on, and it gave me a place to dump my photos, and the occasional words to go with them.

Eventually, the social medias took over. And I post regularly to many of them. Stuff for family and friends to Facebook. Twitter became my work input, and LinkedIn my work output. Those have all filled some of that urge. And after more than 15 years of writing occasional pieces here, I suppose I just needed to rest my writing. It felt natural to pause.

2017 turned into a terrible year. My father-in-law passed away early in the year. My bride was diagnosed with breast cancer and went through a double mastectomy and reconstruction. My mother moved from her home into a memory care facility as her Alzheimer’s progressed. Work was particularly full of challenges as some technology had to be lifted up, rebuilt, and reconstructed, while not dropping any of the day to day operational load. Oh, and elections.

2018 turned into a much better year, on most every front. Well. Not that election thing. I can’t fix that from here. That’s more or less on you people. Sure, my eyesight got a little worse. But I saw more family. Went camping more often. Hiked further. Read more. Met more people. Learned more things. All-in-all, it’s been a good year.

Now, most of 2 years later, if feels natural to pick up the pen again. Or typewriter. Keyboard. Whatever. You kids and your modern technologies,

My resolutions for this year:

• Write more. Some of that will be here. I’ll probably also pick up my Medium account, and play with the combination or alternatives between the two. I’ve become a fan of Medium this past year (enough to subscribe, at least). But am still figuring out how I want to use one vs. the other.

• Play more music. I started this last year, and bought a mandolin. Which is helping (it’s easier to travel with than the banjo). Including taking lessons for a bit. But I still don’t practice as much as I ought.

• Be kinder. (More kind. Not ‘kinder’ like the eggs). Life is busy. The news sucks. People need a little kindness. At work, this means looking for opportunities to help folks. At home, this means being more patient and listening more. In the parking lot, this means letting you go first. One of the best things I read this year (ironically, from a book that I didn’t care for much mostly) was this quote: “Every day, leave three unnecessary things unsaid” - I certainly have plenty of opportunity to not say things. Things that aren’t helpful. Things that don’t build someone up. Things that are reactive. I’m slow to learn this, but I am getting a little better.

I’m better at things when I create a habit, and even better when it’s something I can measure. So this year, I’m going to work on figuring out how to measure each of these goals.

I’m sure there will be other things that come up. Healthier choices. Better food. New adventures. Maybe another goose I can turn into sausage. New places. New funnies. New grief. Old friends. Good books. Old, good books. New, terrible books. Terrible, stressful news that makes me retreat into old, good books.

Maybe just books.

Here’s to 2019. May it be a good one for all of us.