Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday (one day late!)

Your Life in Great Details: Your First Love

I am fortunate enough to be able to say that the relationship I currently maintain with my first love is a friendship I am so happy to still have. If you have been reading my blog all summer, you have already met him so I don't need to go into great detail about what kind of a person he is. It's SGT D. I met him while he was a 19 year old newly promoted Specialist on his first tour to Iraq and I was a senior in college. I was participating in a wonderful program called Adopt A Platoon that allowed me to show my support for our military in a more explicit way than just slapping a magnet onto my car. I was sending monthly care packages and weekly letters to a soldier, who happened to be SGT D's best friend. To this day I'll never know how D actually got my email address and contact info from his buddy, but we started talking and over the course of his deployment became great friends. Our friendship resumed when he returned to the states, but it wasn't until he got news that he was going to deploy again (just a mere seven months after returning from his last 14 month tour) did I finally fly down to meet him face to face. We met, we had a great time, I left. Only when I returned to NY did both our mutual feelings for each other come back so back to Georgia I went to spend one last glorious weekend with him before he deployed for 15 more months.

There are a multitude of reasons why our relationship did not work out in the long term. Among the largest reason was the fact that we were very different people at very different places in our lives. We had an awesome friendship, but as a boyfriend I wanted him to be someone he was not. We were both young and very immature as far as our experiences with relationships went. We ended up breaking up just four months after he returned to the states. It was an ugly breakup. He was my first love and consequently my first heartbreak and neither of us handled it well. It was awful and I was in a lot of pain for a very long time. Fortunately, the old saying that time heals all wounds was true. Looking back now, we can both admit that we made mistakes. We both realize rushing into a relationship like we did three days before he deployed probably wasn't the greatest idea in the first place. We were great friends, but not the most compatible couple. We fought over everything from his tattoos to how he spent his money to what time he should call me every night. We both are who we are today because of our failed relationship though. I learned so much about myself in my relationship with him and he recently paid me one of the highest compliments he possibly could by telling me a lot of who he is today is because of me. There is still a great amount of love for him in my heart, but it is a different kind of love. He is a wonderful person, but he was just never *my* person. I am proud to call him my friend and proud that, no matter how many mistakes I made, there is no regret when I look back at our relationship. After all, how could you ever regret a moment like this?

Wordless Wednesday!

I can't be completely wordless because I can't contain my excitement! My Fisher House t-shirt arrived today! It kind of hit home that I'm really going to be running this thing in a little over a month.

Why I Love Harry Potter

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There are only 69 days left until the beginning of the end of Harry Potter series. I got a glimpse of this movie poster earlier this week and it made my stomach do somersaults! I am so excited to see how they play out this final chapter on screen, but I also now how bittersweet it is going to be to say goodbye to this wonderful story.

My introduction to Harry Potter came when I was 18 years old and living in Dijon, France with a family that just so happened to have an adorable 8 year old son. It was French brother, Etienne, who first exposed me to the wizarding world of Harry Potter. At 8 years old, Etienne was about the only person I could communicate with in the house and we got along quite well. I hadn't been living with his family for more than a month before he asked me one night after dinner if I would read some Harry Potter to him. I was not too comfortable with my French language skills, but I obliged the little guy mostly 'cos he was so gosh darn cute. He had clearly already read the book before 'cos he helped me pronounce words and names and seemed to really enjoy how I stumbled through it. I have to be honest, I had no idea what I was reading. I just read it to see my little French brother smile. That entire semester abroad I remember seeing Harry Potter merchandise everywhere. The city of Dijon was in full-out Harry Potter mode. I remember seeing action figures and lunch boxes and all kinds of merchandise covered with (what I did not know then to be) golden snitches. Then two weeks before I was scheduled to leave Dijon and return to the states, my family asked me if I wanted them to buy me tickets to see Harry Potter. Apparently the movie would be premiering two days before I left and you had to purchase tickets weeks in advance. I said yes. Once again, not because I was all that interested in the movie or the book that I did not understand, but because it seemed like a fun thing to do and my little French brother was bouncing off the walls with excitement about it.

I remember so vividly the excitement that night as we piled into the family car to drive to the big cinema in the center of the city. Even the older sister, at 16, seemed very excited. And oh the lines! The line wrapped all around the city block. There were French kids, teenagers, adults and families like mine all chattering with excitement. The movie was entirely in French and, even after four months living there, I could understand little. I do remember certain images from the film, but mostly I remember little Etienne who was so excited to see his favorite story come to life on screen he could hardly contain himself.

And that was my first experience with Harry Potter. I didn't know much about the plot lines or characters. I understood little aside from the excitement and enthusiasm it seemed to generate in people of all ages. I would not actually pick up a book to read myself until the summer of 2005 when I finally decided it was time to give them a try. I had, by that time, seen the first film in English and was mildly intrigued. Moments I remembered vaguely from the French theater - like Hagrid breaking down the door, the letters flooding Privet Drive and the ghastly 2 headed Professor Quirrell - suddenly made much more sense when watching it play on HBO in English. I asked for the books one Christmas one year and my parents got me the first four in a box set. That summer of 2005, I finally read all four and went out and bought the fifth book and had a Harry Potter marathon watching all the movies that had been released thus far. I was hooked.

My Harry Potter mania reached an all time high with the release of the 7th book. I ordered it early from the local bookstore and went to an all-night celebration that included peopled dressed in character (as many adults as children), games, food, drinks and a countdown at midnight that I proudly partook in. I never knew I could be so excited for a book and a fiction book at that. In case I haven't made it clear, I am a full-fledged history dork and read almost exclusively non-fiction. The one exception to that rule is the magnificent work of J.K Rowling. I wish I could put my finger on what it is about the books that I enjoy so much. All I know is I picked up the 7th book to reread it this past Friday and, just like back in the summer of 2007, I was unable to put it down. I tore through those pages so fiercely that I didn't go to sleep until 3 AM (and even then I was only able to lay in bed for 5 minutes before I flipped the light back on and read just one more chapter).

I just love these books and these characters so much and, for the life of me, I can't explain why. I don't know what it is about the books that gives them this exalted position on the very top of 5 shelves of military history books, narratives, and historical texts.
I've tried to put it into words before, but what I end up with is a long list of the themes that I think are present within the pages (love, loss, friendship, free will, sacrifice, duty, jealousy). But you don't love a story because of the themes, you love it because of the people! I love the characters Ms. Rowling created. They are terribly imperfect and sometimes I want to smack them, but I love them all the same. I love the world she created that I was able to immerse myself in this weekend. The first time I read book 7 I was so excited to finish I didn't even take a moment to let a lot of what happens in the pages sink in. This weekend I'll admit I shed some tears at Shell Cottage, I laughed out loud at the one liners that still manage to make their way into the most serious of times and I was smiling and giving a triumphant fist pump when the actual castle at Hogwarts, suits of armor, desks, and all, begins to fight back. I've never had a book that makes me turn the pages quite so quickly, that can quite literally have my heart racing for the last 200 pages. I know it sounds trite, but when I read these books I really do forget about the rest of the world. It's not something I have ever experienced with a book before. When I read Harry Potter I want to lose myself. I want feel like my little French brother again.

So I will line up with the masses on November 19 just like I did for the first film, back before I even understood what it was. I'm proud to be a part of this phenomenon. And I'm proud of the fact that I can't quite explain why I love it so much. The greatest loves, after all, can never be explained.

Feel Good Friday

1. Jon got his new leg!! It has been a long road since June 24, but seeing that picture of him standing made me smile like no other.

2. My high school marching band, which is one of the most underfunded and underappreciated programs in this school, won a national essay contest. The grand prize? $40,000!!! This is to a band full of some of the most hardworking kids ever. They are not very big and don't even have uniforms. Through fundraising efforts they have managed to raise enough money for new uniforms, but they have marched the past two years in matching jeans and t-shirts. This is huge news for our tiny school and our exceptionally tiny band aI am so proud of my kids!

3. I ran 6 miles and felt pretty awesome! With 6 weeks to go until the 10 Miler it makes me feel like I am in pretty good shape.

4. I am officially registered for the 10 Miler and can now start raising money for Team Fisher House!

5. My sister had her second sonogram and my little niece/nephew looks healthy and strong! I can't wait to meet him/her (although not knowing the sex is driving me INSANE)!

Someone You Should Know

So I’ve been wanting to write this blog post for a while, but I haven’t because I wanted to get permission from the person I was writing it about first. He’s been a bit busy the past several months, you see. You may actually have seen his picture online or in the paper. Since a photographer snapped this picture of him and his buddy being MEDEVACed and the Pentagon chose to publish it this summer, it seems to be popping up everywhere.
Here’s something you need to know about the young man on the right before you look at this picture and go feeling sorry for him. He loves what he does. Contrary to what seems to be the unfortunate opinion of our nation’s men and women in uniform, he didn’t join the Army because he was a criminal. He didn’t join ‘cos he had nothing else to do with his life. He didn’t join it as a last resort. He’s an exceptionally bright guy who can quote Rudyard Kipling and Kurt Vonnegut better than some literature professors, has one of the sharpest tongues you’ll ever encounter, and has remained a pretty accomplished drummer despite multiple tours overseas where all he had was a pair of drumsticks and a practice pad.

If I sound like I know him pretty well, it’s because I do. I’m posting this ‘cos I want you to know him too. On June 24th, while serving as a cavalry scout (19D) with the 10th Mountain Division in Afghanistan he stepped on a land mine rigged up to two 84 mm mortars. The blast sent him up in the air and when he came back down he was missing the bottom half of his left leg, most of the skin off his right, and had shrapnel all throughout his body. He was flown to Germany then to Walter Reed, which is where he spent the next few weeks. He is now at the Center for the Intrepid making huge strides (quite literally) every single day.

The reason I’m sharing this with you is not to make you feel bad for the guy. He certainly doesn’t want your pity. It’s to share with you his story ‘cos it’s the story of thousands of other servicemen and their families. Here’s a guy who served two 12-15 month tours to Sadr City and Ramadi (not exactly bastions of peace in Iraq for those who know) and who loved his job so much he reenlisted while in theater for four more years. Not only that, but he chose to reclass to another MOS (change his job for any non-military folks who might read this) to one that would put him about as “front line” as you can get in a war with no real front lines. Two crappy tours and only ten months at home in an almost four year span would send most guys running from the Army. He ran straight into it with a smile on his face. Not ‘cos he’s a daredevil and has a death wish, but ‘cos he loves what he does and he loves his brothers in uniform.

If you thought losing a leg on his third tour would slow him down or change his attitude you’re dead wrong. Since he got hit, he has been nothing but a beacon of positivity. Every time I’m tempted to go on Facebook and post an update about how miserable the heat is or complain about a traffic jam, I see yet another uplifting post he has left on his page, just like every other since the day he was hit. Saying he’s an inspiration is unbelievably cheezy and would probably make him mad (he’d insist it’s the guys over there and their families at home that are the real heroes), but it’s true. He makes me want to do something unbelievable with my life. ‘Cos guess what? You know what he'll say the hardest part of losing a leg is? It’s not the skin grafts or the surgeries or the rehab. The worst part is not being with his fellow scouts. More than anything, this sergeant just wants to be back with his Joes.

So America, meet SGT D. He is but one face in this war that I wish America saw more of and is someone I think you should know.

30 Great Details: Introduce Yourself

So instead of grading and planning I am sitting on my computer about to embark on a 30 day blog journey. Well, considering my daily schedule and blogging routine it will probably take more than 30 days, but it is a great blog undertaking. Over the course of the next few months I will be blogging about myself in 30 great details. Today is just an introduction, but as you will see the theme is: your life in great detail. I got this wonderful idea from two of my blogging pals, Jenny and Abby. I think it is a wonderful idea and a great way for my blog friends, who might not know me so well, to get to know me better.

So my name is Abigail (as you all hopefully should know by now). Some of you might know me by a few other names. As described in the post below, my boys and most of my grad school friends call me "Babs". That nickname originated in a very silly way, but it has stuck over the years. I have mostly just been called Abigail my whole life. For 18 years I was never called anything else by my friends or family. In fact, my mother loves to tell the story of when she had a friend over to our house and introduced her to me. The woman immediately shortened my name and said "hello Abby!". Apparently, I put my hands on my hips (bear in mind I was 5 or 6 at the time) and said very matter-of-factly, "my name is Abigail!". In truth, I really don't mind being called 'Abby'. Lots of people, including many of my coworkers over the years, shorten my name to Abby. Some of my closest friends in college and family call me "Abs" and I have a friend out West who calls me "Gail Gail", but mostly I'm just Abigail. Hopefully three syllables is not that much of a pain to say.

I spent 18 year of my life in the same house in Long Island, New York. I grew up in the suburbs of one of the biggest cities in the world (we always just call it "the City"), but always longed for the country, wide open spaces and a slower pace of life. I'm not a city girl in any way, shape, or form. No matter where I go, I will proudly call myself a New Yorker though and will always be a New York Mets and New York Giants fan. Mets games with my family are some of the earliest memories I have and riding the train to Shea Stadium with my big brother and my best friend is one of the first things I was ever able to do on my own as a teenager. The Mets are a family tradition in my family as much as they are a sports team. And no matter how miserable they are, I will always be proud to be a Mets fan!My acceptance to college came a little funny and, due to the fact that my college overaccepts students every year, I actually spent my first semester living abroad and studying in Dijon, France with 14 other freshmen. French was my weakest and least favorite subject in high school so I was very resistant to going. I wanted the typical first year of college and summer orientation and shopping for your dorm room and meeting your roommate. Instead I got to fill out paperwork for a student visa and prepare myself for 4 months without skim milk. As reluctant as I was to go, I can say today that it was one of the most amazing things I have ever done. I loved the time I spent there and it is actually the reason I ended up majoring in history. While I was there I got to not only travel all over France, but also to Italy, Switzerland, and London. I have not been back to Europe since that time and I would love to go back some day. I absolutely love to travel! The weekend trip to Interlaken, Switzerland I took with my friends was one of the most impromptu and spectacular vacations I have ever taken!

From France I went on to the frozen north (aka central Maine) where I spent the next four years of college. I attended a very small school of only 2,000 students and while I don't love my alma mater the way lots of people do, I had a great time there. I had wonderful professors(many of whom I still keep in touch with), shared lots of fun times and made some of the best friends I could ask for. We recently went back for our 5 year reunion and I had such a fun time being back on campus and walking and living in the buildings that were my life for 4 years. Maine could be a bit bleak and I endured my fair share of 30 below zero days, but it was a beautiful place. One thing college did for me (and Maine in particular) was help me learn to appreciate little things, like grilled cheese Thursday in the dead of winter and how beautiful campus looks after an ice storm.
I graduated with my B.A in history, but didn't have a great idea of what I wanted to do. So I lived in The Most Wonderful Place on Earth, aka Wyoming, for the next 2 years. While working there I figured out I liked working with kids and I loved history enough to pursue a Masters degree in secondary social studies education. So in 2007 I packed up my car and drove from Wyoming to Virginia, which is where I have been for the past 3 years.

I spent two years in Charlottesville where I became much more attached to a graduate school than most people. The shift from a school of 2,000 to a state university was a huge change, but I loved my time there. I became a very proud Wahoo and in 2 years as a grad student there I never missed a home football game. My boys and I had some awesome times tailgating, traveling to away games and singing the Good Ol' Song whenever we could. Even though Virginia football was pretty miserable in the 2 years we were graduate students, we never let that dampen our spirits and always believed the next game would be better. Here we are about to do battle with USC. (For those interested the end result was USC 52 - Virginia 7 and, yes, we stayed until the very bitter end!)
I've lived by myself since graduating college in 2005 and, aside from my two feline roommates, I continue to live alone. I would be lying if I said I did not have days or nights where I got a bit lonely, but overall I enjoy being able to leave the dishes in the sink for a few days if I don't feel like doing them that night. I like being able to walk around my apartment in my underwear or be lazy and spend the day in my pajamas and order Chinese whenever I want.

That said, I had the most wonderful experience this summer living with my boyfriend for 7 weeks. I never imagined living with someone could be so much fun, but we had such a blast! Though we are no longer together, living together had nothing to do with that. In fact it was just the opposite(long distance) that split us up. I think it certainly helps that I am a huge sports fanatic and did not mind having ESPN on 24/7! My enthusiasm (read: fanatacism) for most sports really tends to scare off most boys. Speaking of boys, my love life is pretty short and sweet. I have had exactly two boyfriends in my entire life and both happened to be members of the United States Army. I have endured all the highs and lows that come with a military relationship, the constant separations and hurry up and wait mode, from deployments to homecoming and everything in between. The military is no longer a real part of my life anymore, but our military and their families will always hold a very special place in my heart.

Thus the reason I am running the Army Ten Miler this year as a part of Team Fisher House. I used to be a very serious runner and have renewed my training this month and rediscovered my love for running. I help coach both the track and cross-country teams and try to cultivate that same love for running in my kids.

That brings me to the last important piece of my introduction: I am a teacher. A high school history and government teacher to be specific. My primary motivation for teaching is my love of history. I was not a huge fan of history when I was in high school and did not develop an appreciation for the subject until I got to college. If I can help just one or two students realize the great stories that there amid all the facts and dates and names and terms they have to learn in high school then I would consider myself successful as a teacher. The other reason I chose to pursue teaching is because I discovered while working out West (and my first year teaching only proved even more) that I enjoy working with teenagers. Yes, they can be a huge pain in the butt most days. They can be self-righteous and annoying. They can be lazy and stubborn and oh so wonderfully awkward. But they make every day different and for that I am grateful. I love my job (even on those days when I say I hate it) because it is never ever the same.

I'm sure there is much more about myself that I am leaving out, but that's what the next 30 posts are for!

Me and My Boys and My Football

Computer problems have forced me off the blog this past week. I had a picture for my Wordless Wednesday and my Five for Friday all ready to go, but I had to send my HP into the shop (thankfully it is covered under warranty and won't cost a dime). My temporary replacement is a bit slower and has been not so functional with allowing me to upload pictures or even get on the internet at times. Tonight I can get on, but I can not get into my fantasy football draft.

Yes, my name is Abigail and I am a fantasy football player. I have been for three years running now. Sadly because of my computer issues, for the first time in three years I have to sit back and let the computer pick out my fantasy football team for me. I am the only girl holding it down in a league full of eleven other boys so I really pride myself on drafting a good team and putting up a good fight (my team name is Title IX after all). They all call me "Babs" and have lots of fun ribbing me just 'cos I'm a female in an all boys league, but they know I'm a good sports fan and a consistently competitive member of the league. Fantasy baseball is another story, but I can hold it down alright in football.

For the past few years my enthusiasm for football and most other sports has led to many occasions where I look around and find I am the only girl surrounded by boys. It started my first day of grad school when, so excited to be at a Division I school, I excitedly asked if anyone was going to that Saturday's home football opener. There weren't many enthusiastic responses (the University of Virginia isn't exactly a football powerhouse), but there was one other grad student who said he wouldn't miss it. I am a sports fanatic and even though I have many friendships with people who couldn't tell you the difference between a free throw and a free kick, I gravitate towards people who love athletic competition as much as I do. Thus began my friendship with a fellow sports fanatic, who has also ended up being one of the most fun and loyal friends I could ask for. He was not frightened by my enthusiasm (I am crazier about football than most boys) and through him I found myself a wonderful circle of friends.

Throughout our grad school years we went to countless happy hours and trivia nights, traveled to away games and tailgated for hours at home games, we painted our faces and we stormed the field, we played wiffle ball in the spring and midnight football games when central Virginia got snow. If I tried to list all the awesome times we shared I would probably be here forever. Oh yeah, they all pretty much all happened to be boys. The story of my grad school years (and so far my years teaching and coaching) has been the story of "me and my boys".

I look forward to the annual fantasy football draft because even though we are spread out across the state of Virginia (and the country), for a few hours we all get to exchange barbs and talk like we're all together again watching away games at Wild Wings over a pitcher of beer. So let's hope the computer does an okay job drafting my team. I need to do more than just talk the talk when it is me and my boys!