Control Your Freakin’ Kids!!!

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I’m at McDonalds the other night. It’s like 9pm or thereabouts.  I’m tired and hungry and grumpy and all the other dwarves.  Two kids come in with “adult supervision.”  Minus the “supervision.”

I’m sure they’re perfectly nice kids when heavily sedated.  These two little shits came over to the corner where I was quietly sitting and munching away on a Big Mac and fries.  They decided it was appropriate to play on the table and chairs next to mine laughing loudly and chasing each other about like ferrets.  When I made disapproving eye contact, they looked at me as if to taunt me to do something about them.

Hey mister!  Yeah, you over at the freakin’ counter waiting for your freakin’ order like a freakin’ statue.  Yeah you, ya’ jerk!  Come collect your freakin’ kids and keep them under some kind of freakin’ control will ya?

Jackass.

Oh, and minutes later?  You might want to hold their hand so they don’t dash out behind my car when it’s backing up….

LIKE THEY FREAKIN’ DID!!!!!!!

*sigh*

Sorry…

Ahem…

What the hell is the MATTER with people anyway?

Have We Forgotten?

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So much has happened to me personally and professionally since that day and the day in September 2001 that ultimately set up this strong memory.  I find myself on a most unexpected but not unwelcome path altered by the events of 9/11.

Much of those early months in The Pentagon were focused on the aftermath of the attacks and supporting the operations in Afghanistan.  Lessons on Army staff procedures, Congressional affairs and foreign policy were learned hourly.  Working on the Army’s crisis action team as the public affairs representative required immediate fluency in all these things and I had none of them.  Fortunately, as did the rest of the Nation, the crisis action team pulled together coaching one another, making things happen sometimes by a relentless force of will.  We took care of each other.  After all, we were all in the same boat.

Now a decade later, the National Geographic Channel is running various documentaries about the events of 9/11 and the days and weeks following.  On one documentary in particular, I saw images of three people I knew and worked with, fellow members of the Army Public Affairs team who were outside The Pentagon that day helping rescue the injured and trying to bring at least a little bit of order to the chaos of the day.   I’ll bet you they’ll never forget that day.  I’ll even go so far as to bet you that the memories of the carnage of that day are with them every day.

Is it with the rest of us?

Do we remember how we felt that day?  Are the events of 9/11 fading from our memory like old wallpaper in an abandoned structure?  Does 9/11 only live in the minds of my colleagues and those like them, but not in the rest of us?  Have the Katrinas and the debt ceiling and the tsunamis and the earthquakes and the divisiveness all overtaken our memories?

Yeah.  Pretty much, I think.

In watching the documentaries, it brings up my feelings of that day, even though I was in my home in Los Angeles and nowhere near The Pentagon.  I find myself wondering if anyone else is moved to tears again as I was watching and reliving the events of that day.

Maybe I’m just getting old, but it still makes me chuckle to think that the two children with whom I live weren’t yet born when this happened.  To them, 9/11 WILL be just a documentary, a collection of facts to be learned just long enough to pass the test.

When they’re old enough and if I’m not around, I hope someone takes the time to show them not just the collection of facts, but also the collection of faces — the faces of the innocent people who were murdered on American soil.  And the faces of evil that perpetrated the atrocities of that day.

Even with that knowledge, it’ll never be as real to those two boys as it was to we who were glued to our TV’s that day watching the horrors unfold from afar.   And for certain, it will never be as real to those two boys as it was to my Army colleagues and the hundreds of others like them who experienced it first hand on the Pentagon grounds that day.

Darryl Worley, a talented country music artist who I had the great pleasure to meet and brief, asked the real question back in 2003:  Have you Forgotten?

It frightens me to believe that for most of our Nation, the answer is “yes.”

“Complacency” ought to be a four-letter word

 

 

Amazing Start to Today

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So I’m on my way to Milwaukee for a trade show, and as usual, flying anywhere is a less than pleasant experience these days. Oddly enough, today seems to be the exception to this dismal rule and has changed my expectation not just of the day’s travel, but of the nature of people.

As I’ve said before, people generally suck. So when so many things come together as they have so far this morning – and it’s not even 11:00 yet – it contradicts my usual pessimistic observation about people and gives me hope that there are still decent human beings to be found in the wild.

First, and absolutely the least important, is that not only was traffic sparse on the trip to National Airport today, but no one cut me off. Score one point for the day.

Next, I found a parking spot without a great deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth. No profanities either, which if you’ve experienced me behind the wheel of the Prius or any other vehicle, is unusual under even routine circumstances.

After a short walk from the parking garage to the terminal, I was greeted by an energetic man behind the AirTran counter who checked me in. He asked how many bags I had and I told him two. After poking around the computer for a few minutes, he asked, “Would you like to upgrade to first class? Baggage is free in first class, and with the cost of your coach bags, I can upgrade you to first class for just four dollars more. Would you like to do that?”

This is something I hadn’t considered. But it took less time to whip out the Visa card and agree to these favorable terms than it usually takes me to sneeze. So I’m upgraded to first class for four extra bucks over what I would have paid for my routine coach ticket.

Nice.

VERY nice.

Bags checked, I headed over to the security line in Terminal A. People had gathered there waving flags in anticipation of the arrival of their travelers. I waited and watched as two or three World War II veterans in wheelchairs came down the aisle and applause broke out among those anticipating their arrival.

This made me smile broadly. I had the good fortune to be assigned to the Department of Defense World War II 60th Anniversary Commemoration Committee, and I know and appreciate the heroism and sacrifice of these fine veterans of Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation.” So I took the liberty of joining in the applause.

And my smile widened.

Proceeding to the large rotunda which serves as Terminal A, i discovered a celebration in progress. Non-stop applause filled the echoing rotunda and there was music in the air. A planeload of WWII veterans from Wisconsin had just arrived and were being greeted by a very appreciative crowd, what appeared to be a political figure, and an older gentleman who played various patriotic songs solo on his French horn. (And he was pretty good, too!)

I stood and watched the joy of the veterans as their heroism was being recognized by the crowd and joined in the applause for these fine people and those who gathered in support.

As I type this now, the French horn player no longer knocking out repeat performances of “On Wisconsin,” I am still smiling. Yes, people apparently do have the capacity to be good and kind and all things the evening news reports that we are not. To see such joy and pride in the faces of both the Wisconsin veterans coming to DC to celebrate their service together and the people gathered to welcome them is the perfect beginning to what could have really been a crappy day. Though I gained personal satisfaction and a good mood from this morning’s experience, I find it more important to note that Americans haven’t forgotten the service of their veterans no matter their age.

To the veterans from Wisconsin and your families, thank you for making my day.

 

Some Dad Stuff

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As my regular reader knows, (yes, just one and it’s me, thank you very much) I don’t post here as much as I should, but I think it’s time I buckle down, throttle up and post a little more often.

Since it’s just past the anniversary of my Dad, Lt. Col. (Retired) Robert D. Wolfe’s passing, I thought I’d post a photo of Lieutenant Bob (doesn’t have the same notoriety as “Lieutenant Dan” does) from my Facebook photo collection.

So here’s Lieutenant Bob, or as I like to call him, Lieutenant Dad: