Kuwait, I remember you

Water, is what Dan and I are thinking an hour after arriving in Kuwait.
Oh, Kuwait it's like I never left.
I remember the parched feeling like your blood has turned to mud. I remember the sky, that orange dust sticking to your throat. I remember the heat, only a problem if you move. I remember the sweat drenched shirts and the smell of smoke.
Hopefully we will have a flight out of here in a few days. For Kuwait is a sort of limbo between the heaven of being comfortable at home and the hell I anticipate we will find in Afghanistan.
And yes I am still thinking, "I can't believe I'm here again." As usual there is no one to blame, but myself.
Stay tuned the adventure is just beginning.

Here Again

‎"I can't believe I'm back here again," were the first words I heard from a soldier when I entered Iraq in May of 2009. As I prepare to fly to Kuwait and then Afghanistan early next week the same sentiments are wandering through my mind. Dan Morrison and I will be working as embedded journalist with a Marine infantry unit in the Helmand province.
Dan and I have have spent four months filling out paperwork, purchasing required items including ballistic plates and flight suits,
finding an editor that will actually vouch for us (a big thanks to Mark Furman at KVAL) and basically putting our lives on hold waiting to find out if we would be allowed access to the military.
Just last week we were informed that our initial request to embed was denied and it seemed that all was lost, but just five days ago we received our paperwork and all those familiar feelings of excitement and dread came forth.
Why would anyone want to do this?
I can sum it up best with this story.
I was on the phone with my aunt the other day discussing why, why, why am I doing this? I gave her a lengthy story about historical importance, sacrifice, adventure and so on. Somehow this lead to a conversation about her daughter who is in college and now has very passionate values on big ticket items like poverty and over consumerism. My aunt's response to my cousin's new opinions is, "Ok so what are you gonna do about it?'
Here is where I stopped her and I said, "See that is why I am going, that is exactly it."
I hope that clears it up for some of you, and you can thank me later for not peppering everyone else with the same questions
"Why are you in school, why are you a teacher, why are you a banker, why are you a nurse, why are you a runner, why do you like bacon?"
We are what we are.

Bike Tour

I am currently on the road. To follow my travels from Colorado to Montana on my bike go to: www.playgroundtour.com

A Year in Iraq

These pictures follow the C/7-158 National Guard Medevac unit based out of Salem, Oregon throughout their year-long deployment in Iraq.

Dogs in the night

Although I am safe at home I recently stumbled on an entry in my notebook written shortly before I departed Iraq.

I heard the dogs barking in the distance. Although I could not see that far past the barb-wire fences and the blackness of night, I imagined them out there in rowdy packs in the cold desolation of the desert. Their dirty fur spiked up in little clumps on their scrawny backs.
How fearful they could be living amongst hunger, filth and disease! Yet how magically their yelps and howls resonated through the wind and dust. They were free out there and I felt safe inside the base walls, the military cleaned the areas of any stray animals minus a few clever cats that lived inconspicuously under trailers.
There remained some mystery over these dogs and I felt slightly jealous of their anonymity.

They were unseen, but they were heard and, in a way, so frightening.

Coming Home

They rejoice at at the welcoming of soft arms and heads folded onto shoulders. The smell of children and sweet-scented hair reminds everyone of their purpose in such a dreary world and fills them with a hope of a better future. But in the darkness of their beds at night, they close their eyes and feel unsettled by such a shocking swell of emotion. They feel like foreign bodies floating though rivers at midnight. They say goodbye to people and places that they may hate, but much like a rotting arm, they so much want to keep it and hope it heals itself, but the best chances of survival involve a sudden separation. Well, they say, shaking off the worry, it just takes time and besides it's all over now. What is left to do?
At the very least, a sigh of relief is in order for all the good and the bad. This is the end.

Kuwait

Today is windy and the sand has a tendency to sweep up and swap its prickly fingers on your face. You stop a moment and close your eyes to escape the dirt and in the darkness, this place is all the more lonely. You open your eyes again and you are surrounded by desert colored tents, rows upon rows of sad slums where soldiers sleep because there is little to be done. Past tent city, McDonald's arches lighten up the grey sky and I suppose some find it comforting, this fast food chain may feel like home. Beside those golden arches are Pizza Hut and Subway, and soldiers line up to eat such treats when the blandness of the chow hall is just to much to bear. Nearby are the monstrous MWR tents with concrete floors and a constant line for the low speed Internet on ancient computers. If you'd like to take a nap, there are plenty of leather couches as long as you don't mind resting your head on a stranger's dried drool stain. Your ears will feel soothed if you don't mind the sounds of ping pong balls bouncing and pool balls rolling onto the floor. Three television sets are always on with some football game playing and the announcer's voice hums throughout the room whether at noon or 3 am. A loudspeaker, with volumes reaching around the entire base, calls for soldiers to prepare for flights at any hour and test alarm bells are annoying enough to make your ears bleed. "Make it stop already," you call out hopelessly.
Why would one frequent such a dismal place?
We are stuck here, on our way home or on our way to begin a deployment. Either way we are weary travelers with one dusty bag as our only possession. Either way we are already sick of the desert and that is our unfortunate fate, whether coming or going.