Imagine accepting a job that requires a grueling and extensive training program in which you must learn to set aside your individuality and learn to work with a strong and unwavering team. Your boss may send you to any locale where you are needed and you have little or no say in that decision. Your hours are long, beginning whenever your services are needed and ending only when the designated tasks are done. You must respect authority and accept commands without question. You wear a company uniform day in and day out. In fact, your appearance is purposely bland so that you do not stand out from your peers. You often find yourself in highly dangerous situations which demand split second decisions. Your stress level is high. Your efforts may or may not be fully understood or appreciated by your friends and family. You have agreed to become a member of the military.
On this Veteran’s Day I find myself thinking quite realistically about the life of those who once wore the uniform of a soldier. It took a certain level of bravery to even consider giving up a few years of total freedom to endure the regimented life in the Army, Navy, Marines, or Air Force. The simple act of enlisting or, as in my young years, being drafted means signing an ironclad contract to serve and protect our United States wherever there is a need. From my own perspective it is difficult to even imagine what a bold and generous move military service is, and yet throughout the history of our country time and again men and women have answered the call of duty, honor, and courage. Continue reading “A Most Dangerous Occupation”
There has been a great deal of talk of late regarding what constitutes a hero. The concept of bravery is especially relevant for me because today I will begin physical therapy for my knee. I wouldn’t be particularly worried if I hadn’t let my imagination run wild. The doctor, the nurse, and several websites have described the rehabilitation process as being “aggressive” and have instructed me to take some pain medication before my scheduled appointment. I find myself wondering what they might possibly do to my somewhat fragile limb that would necessitate narcotics and my instinct is to take flight due to my fright. On the whole I prefer enduring any painful situation under the influence of sedation. When it comes to aches and sharp twinges I am admittedly a bonafide coward but nobody would ever know it because I refuse to act the part. Instead I have always been known as someone who can take more than a fare share of hurt. I simply refuse to allow anyone to see that inside I am often a bowl of mush.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 