Army Sailor -- War in the Sandbox...
The Adventures of a Sailor in Afghanistan...

It's the evening before Thanksgiving, which is my favorite holiday, and I am here in Afghanistan. Most would agree that I have plenty of reason to be depressed or sullen. But I am not. Rather, in the spirit of the holiday, I am thankful. I am not only thankful for all I have at home, but this year I am thankful for all the opportunities that have been afforded to me. But most especially I am thankful for that one, exceedingly special woman in my life. The woman who I've always loved, and will always have the very center spot in my heart... My Mother.

I have been thinking of my mother a lot lately, not in a childish "I want my mommy" way, but more about the fact that I know she is feeling a lot of pain inside with my being over here. You see, like all mothers, mine is a worrier. I have also been thinking about her a lot lately because as I move around this country, and I see these children, and their mothers, I can't help but think of how lucky we all are back at home. But most especially me. You see some people use poverty, and lack of education as a crutch, as an excuse to beg for a hand-out. My mother never did. She worked herself very nearly to death, to provide me with the best she could, and I never fully appreciated it. She always told me that she can't tell me what to do, she can only guide me, this is my life to live. She let me make mistakes to learn from, and she gave me a lot of guidance, much of which I ignored and often realized that I shouldn't have. You see, my family is a stubborn lot.

My mother gave me the best Christmas I know I will ever have. A Christmas where I learned the true meaning of Christmas, and the fullest extent of a mother's love. Now if most people were to tell the story of their best Christmas, they'd likely wow you with tales of wonderous gifts, and great meals... My best Christmas had none of that. Which is not to say I haven't had plenty of those, they were just not very memorable.

You see, for a short period of time when I was a child, my family had gotten down on it's luck. Now you have to understand that all the family I have in the world is my sister Joan, my Neice Ashley (whom I love like a sister), and my mom. At the lowest point of this period we were actually homeless. My mother busted her ass to get a job, and get us an apartment we could live in, as did my sister for her and Ashley. Without any assistance from friends or governement, my mother managed to get a job, and an apartment, and keep food on the table. All with no high school education... That year she wound up working three jobs, cleaning, working at a store aptly called "The Dump" and waitressing. All while trying to deal with me, which constituted a full time job in and of it self. She kept food on the table, paid the bills, and still spent a lot of time with me. We regularly went on walks, during which I would point out the houses I was going to buy her when I grew up and I was rich. We'd talk about our dreams, and my future and every other subject you can imagine.

I wasn't a stupid child, I knew we were struggling. I knew it was everything my mom had in her to make ends meet, and I knew how tired she was all the time. It would have been easy for her to not have time for me, she probably should have been sleeping much of the time she spent with me. Because I knew this, I also knew that Christmas wasn't coming that year. I knew she couldn't afford to buy me anything, and I also knew that it broke her heart, so I didn't ask for anything. I told her that I did not want anything for Christmas that year. Instead, I figured we'd just drink hot chocolate and watch Christmas cartoons together, that would have been fine for me. But not for my mother. My mother wanted me to have more.

She got a small tree that year, just about a week before Christmas, and we managed to get a few ornaments for it, and I remember spending a night decorating that tiny tree. What I never expected was that when I woke up on Christmas morning it would have gifts under it. But sure enough, when I woke up, my mom told me to go see "if Santa had come"... And sure enough there were two small boxes under the tree, each was wrapped with care, and had a tag that said "To: Tony From: Santa". In the boxes were two toy trucks. Brown, die-cast metal African Safari Trucks. A modest gift, but a gift when none was, nor reasonably could be, expected. But what is more, is that this woman who had worked so hard to do this for me, didn't even take credit. She had written "from Santa"... Where does that kind of love and dedication come from?

So this year, that is what I am thankful for. I am thankful for having had a mother who taught me to love completely, to never quit (no matter the odds), and the meaning of true devotion. I could not have come as far as I have, nor could I have survived this long over here, without the strength my mother has given me.

I don't tell that story to too many people, because I can not tell the story without crying, and I have to admit I have tears running down my face right now. But I think it is important for me to be able to publically acknowledge the great love and devotion my mother has shown me, and instilled in me.

I made two promises to my mother when I was just a boy. Promises made with boyhood foolishness and lack of understanding. I promised her I would buy her a big beautiful home, and that I'd take her to see the Grand Canyon. Now as an adult, I know that I will not be able to afford to buy her that big beautiful home. But I am determined, to be able to fufill the promise of getting her to see the Grand Canyon. My heart won't be set right until I do.

I love you mom (Toots)... More than I can ever express in words.

At the end of the movie 'The Green Berets', John Wayne tells a little Vietnamese boy "Your waht this is all about..." He was absolutely right. I can not speak to the motivation for much of what we do at the political level, but I can say that for those of us out here, boots-on-ground, everyday, the women and children of this country are what it is all about. Each day that I see families living in the conditions that they are forced to endure over here, I am thankful that my own family is safe and secure, back at home. Afghanistan has given me one great gift, which seems most appropriate for this time of year, it has made me very thankful for all that I have back at home. When I rotate back to the world life will have a far richer flavor.

Although I do sometimes feel resentful at my being overhere, because of my separation from those I love, I have to admit that the resentment fades away when I look at these children. I feel for them. By what luck was I fortunate enough to be born in the U.S, or any first-world country for that matter? That alone is reason to give thanks.

Many of the clidren in this country clearly show that the Soviets left quite a mark. It speaks volumes as to the sort of discipline their men had, or lacked as it were.

You may be able to notice that the old woman in this picture is bare-foot! The girl has a nose-peircing, which is fairly common in some of the local cultures.

The children tend to stay near the women. Sadly, although they no longer have to, many women in Afghanistan still choose to wear a burqa.

Although I personally despise the burqa, as a sign of the oppression of women, I have to admit, it is a very pretty shade of blue.

Again, the women stay with the mothers. Little girls don't have to wear the burqa until the turn 13, or when they are married if their husband wants them to, which ever comes first. In Afghanistan women are the property of their husbands, and some are sold into a marriage as young as eight!

Kids everywhere are very much alike... They like soda and candy, they are very curious and they can find ways to entertain themselves with the simplest of things.

In a country where families often have over a dozen kids, and several wives, the older children are often given responsibility over younger children. This little girl brought her little brother for medical assistance.

Much of the clothing these children have comes from donations from back in the United States. All of their medical care is provided by us.

This woman is likely in her early 40s.

It's hard to see children living like this. Notice the little boy is barefoot.

The white burqas are usually only worn on special ocassions.

A very pretty teenage girl with her little sister. You can see the lifeless resignation in the teenage girl's eyes, it's hard to see this everyday.

I have no idea how the kids manage to find their mothers.

This girl (about age 10) came seeking treatment for herself, just about everyone here has some king of infection, and many have worms. Afghanistan also has one of the highest instances of Turberculosis in the world.

Heading home... Notice the boy does not have a shirt under his jacket...

Afghanistan is well known for it's poppy production. I once read somewhere that Afghanistan was responsible for something like 75% of the world's opium supply. I don't know how accurate that figure is, but assuming it is even remotely accurate, it's an impressive figure. What Afghanistan is not so well known for is it's marijuana. It's my understanding that Afghanistan was a very popular tourist spot back in the 70's. I've been told it was especially popular with hippies, because it was a place that was cheap to visit (aside from the initial expense of getting here), and because drugs were plentiful and cheap. Because we are talking about hippies, I am forced to assume that this must have included some good ol' weed too. However, after the Soviets, then the Mujahadeen, and then the Taliban, I guess I kind of assumed that any trace of such activity (other than the poppies used to fund the Taliban) had long since disappeared. I mean after all, there is no major sign of Alcohol in this country (it's here, it's just hidden), so I assumed that weed would be the same... But boy was I surprised...

It's not too often that you come over a hill and see fields full of weed. Just growing, like we'd grow corn or wheat back home. There were clearly man made irrigation ditches, and other signs that this was definately a farm. The pictures say it all...

The neatly formed rows are a clear indication of cultivation.

Talk about home-grown... This couldn't be any more picture perfect.

Too bad there wasn't a brownie factory near by...

Never before in my life had I seen a weed plant as tall as me!

The Afghan National Army soldiers didn't seem surprised, or impressed.

Row after endless row...

I have recovered from the initial techinical difficulties I was having yesterday and the day before, and I have managed to improve the site quite a bit. Most of the improvements were on the back-end, and invisible to the user (you). The biggest of those is an improved ability to continue my on-going war against blog spam. I hate comment spam, but I like legit comments. The easiest way to get rid of the spam would be to eliminate the comments, and may professional bloggers suggest doing just that, but for me, especially on this site, the comments are very important to me. Sometimes your feedback is what helps me go on. Believe me there are a lot of days here that are exhausting, and depressing, so if I can check my mail and see some positive blog comments, it helps remind me of why I am over here going through all that I am.

The most noticeable difference that you will experience is the new site design, I think it is more appealing and easier to read. Please let me know what you think. Also feel free to share any ideas you have...

As always, thank you for reading!

Now is the time of year when it gets pretty hard to be deployed. I can see the rough waters ahead, and I know that my only option is to sail right through them, to the calmer waters that await me on the other side.

Thanksgiving is my favorite of all holidays, it even beats out St. Patricks Day! It's not my favorite because of the food and drink, although that is definately nice, it is my favorite because it is the one day out of the year that my small family all gets together, and spends quality, peaceful time together. I like the atmosphere provided by the cold Pennsylvania air outside, which contrasts with the warm house full of the smells of home-cooking... Watching football, eating, talking, laughing... It is just a great time to be together.

I won't have any of that this year. This year the thanks that I will give is for knowing that my family is still able to enjoy all of that stuff, back at home, in safety. My joy will come from knowing that, while I am missed, my family is still able to live comfortably and that they will never have to experience the awful harsh realities of life that are faced on a daily basis over here.