Militarism (In a Good Way)

This weekend, J and I went to the Zoo. I suggested we take a different route than usual, winding our way through the herpatology area and checking out some of the worlds more deadly reptiles to start off. We found ourselves in front of an ampitheater where people were gathering, obviously with purpose, and it looked very much as though a show were to begin any moment. Taking a chance, we took a seat.

Behind us was a "Warning - Condor Landing Zone", which suggested it might be an avian display... while the front of the stage was encircled by something resembling a well-kept moat, leaning toward the possibility of an aquatic show. While we bandied the possibilities back and forth, three desperate keepers tried their best to round up a stray mallard female and her three ducklings who - for all that they were wee and fluffy - were quite adept at evading capture. One keeper apologized for the delay in the show's beginning, explaining that it was crucial for the ducklings' safety that they NOT be in the water when the show began.

For all my animal expertise, I'd never seen a duckling dive to evade capture. These little guys were nimble!

But for all their fluffy maneuvers, one by one they were rounded up and stuffed gently - if unceremoniously - into the keepers' pockets. The show was cleared for takeoff, and we settled in to see what was in store for us.

A voice came over the loudspeaker, thanking us for joining the park on a lovely Sunday afternoon and welcoming us to this particular arena. Then the deep male voice said something I did not expect.

"Before we begin, we would like to ask all the service men and women to stand up and be recognized."

A few folks stood, one man I never would have placed as a military fellow in particular hefting a sleepy toddler, and the crowd applauded. Shyly at first, but it built once people saw that there were in fact servicemen and women standing. Cheers echoed from the faux-rock walls. J turned to me and said softly, "I love San Diego." I had to agree.

I love Northern California, don't get me wrong. I grew up there. It's my old stomping grounds. A part of me in imprinted on the land there and a part of it is indelibly cemented into me. But one thing lacking in almost every town and city I called home there was the support for the troops. Oh, Merced had its airshow from the old retired Air Force Base... but the crowds were mostly there from curiosity and the military families had long since moved away by the turn of the millennium. Dad used to have a bumber sticker that stated proudly "I Love Airplane Noise" with a picture of a B-52 - one of the frequent fliers over our town in the 80's. After the major closure of California bases, the skies were silent. The world moved on, without the military.

And then there were places like Santa Cruz and Berkeley, hostile to anything in a uniform. Even San Francisco, its roots deeply entrenched in Naval supremacy, had turned on its former natives and done everything it could to make military feel unwanted. Berkeley - for all its wonderful strangeness and tolerance of the abnormal - was openly intolerant of recruiting offices. It was an uncomfortable opposition that I found myself routinely confronted with in Santa Cruz. Outsiders were unwelcome, but a soldier was an outright enemy.

So to go from that to a city that not only accepts but treasures it military personnel is a dramatic shift. I find myself no longer afraid to be shouted down or spit on for wearing a shirt that says "Army Sister". I can wear it proudly. Hell, in a random bowling alley, an older gentleman asked me to pass on his thanks. And now, here, in this wide public setting, a moment was granted to honor those enlisted... something that had nothing to do with the parrots or sea lions who eventually graced the stage, and yet something that so fundamentally had everything to do with it.

Where would San Diego be without the Navy? The Marines? Once upon a time (and native San Diegans still recall this with pride) the place known to most of us only in the movie Top Gun really existed. And through the years, it remains strong here. From Coronado to Pendleton, the military is present and accounted for, a quiet but solid force that stands like an old sentinel oak on the edge of the cliff. Waiting. Watching. Stoic.

It was a welcome reminder that what I have is due to the dedication of the men and women who serve.

Here's to you.

First Day/Last Day

I had a dream last night that I could not consider a nightmare in the strictest sense, but definitely not the world's nicest.

I had, for some strange reason, been given one day to live.

It was due to an illness. I think. But it was most assuredly going to happen. Whether it would be when I slept, or from an accident, by the next morning I would be dead. I was afraid, but most of all, I wanted to do so much. Time raced by as I tried to beat the clock. I had people to see. Places to go. Goals to accomplish. I had so much I wanted to do before the hour struck midnight.

When I woke, I was relieved that I had yet another day to start again, to do everything I wished to do.

But... I haven't.

Each day, I wake up with a list of "to do", things I need to accomplish, steps toward bigger goals on occasion, but mostly?... mostly it's just stuff to get through another day. Bills. Groceries. Errands. Washing the car, taking out the dry cleaning, checking the mail. This? This is my life? And if I get hit by a car walking across the street? What will I have done to show for it? Each day I am given the gift of another chance, another shot at fully embracing the life I have. Sometimes, when I fall asleep next to my love, I wonder about the future, and whether one of us will outlive the other... and if am I truly showing him how much I love him daily. Does he know? More than that, have I treasured each moment with him, savoring this brief time I have to share?

I was part of a class once that covered a concept called First Day/Last Day. The idea was based on the adage "today is the first day of the rest of your life". It's true, most certainly. But what if something happened today and "the rest of your life" was just this sunrise, just this laugh, just this moment? Would it not be a good idea, then, to live life as though we KNEW we had no promises, that today might very well be our last chance? That today is the LAST day of the rest of our lives?

I can't help but wonder if the dream was a reminder. Not a prophecy, for Free Will by and large negates destiny, but perhaps a warning? A not-so-subtle backhand to remind me to treasure today, this Springtime, these blooming flowers, these bird songs, this sunset, this moonrise. Who is to say I will have another? No, I must embrace it now, with heart wide open, senses stretched to take it all in.

This is my life. I will live it.