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Published: April 23rd 2023
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On this journey I am trying to immerse myself into the feeling of being part of the military family again. I want to hang out with my people, belong to the military village, and to reconnect with those feelings whether it’s the people, the sounds, the sights…..that safe feeling of a deployment, knowing it’s all one team…serving a bigger purpose…
Joint Base San Antonio was my first real test of getting back into the swing of hanging around and experiencing the military. Of course, my excitement was short-lived as I pulled up to the main entrance. The security police saw my RV and quickly assessed that my vehicle height might be more than the building overhang (although I knew better), so frantic waving and quick thinking was conducted on their part. I changed lanes and goobered up traffic behind me and then it took 3 security police to move the metal barriers and I could really feel the annoyance of the people behind me. The entire entrance to the base was closed because of a retiree in an RV with a puppy. Ugh, I might have found my village but somehow, I grew into being the elder of the village.
As dusk approached, so did a person who I could tell was gonna chew me out because I might have been too close to the fence on the flightline. The sheer power of the jet engines rang through my entire head and reverberated in every piece of my body. The thrill of watching fast moving jets doing touch and go landings is a unique experience, even for the army girl. Our exchange was quite pleasant as he asked me not to cling to the fence and I asked him if I could spend the night in the parking lot. We both got what we wanted, and this was gonna be the best free night ever!
Sleeping comfortably, I was awakened by the panicked barking of Scout as someone pounded on the RV door. Not too quick on my feet, I did not bound out of the bed. I just opened the window and started chatting with the security police officer. The tone changed so fast. “Ma’am, are you decent?” Oh gosh, I just wanted him to go away so I didn’t have to go outside in my pajamas. “Okay, I’m coming out now”, I yelled. Just in case
he thought I might be a violent offender somehow.
It was downhill from there. I could see the shock on his face as I kind of fell out of the RV. The unsightly knees that had run hundreds of miles in boots didn’t seem very stable on the steps. I could feel my hair was not looking so marvelous and of course my pajamas were just boxers that had a picture of a revolver on the backside and read “buttload”. This young security police officer has been scarred for life. I hope he did not go home to his young wife and start thinking about how she is going to look in 30 years.
I was very well behaved. Nodded at appropriate times, agreed with most everything, and tried to only make my point a few times. He was on the path of not wanting the base to turn out to be an area for homeless veterans. I assured him I was not homeless, that I had received permission to park by the garbage dumpster from the temporary commander of the medical center. He then asked me how I could have been so irresponsible in my actions that
I didn’t get a handwritten letter of authorization to overnight in the parking lot. The commander owns the building, the security police own the parking lot. How could I have been so ill-informed? This hanging with the military isn’t what it used to be. He eventually thought I would be trust-worthy enough to sleep by the garbage bins. A fitting compromise!
Overall, Joint Base San Antonio-Randolf Air Force Base was great! I performed my briefing (mission story to follow) and loaded up the RV so we could continue our journey heading east. I was just about to the front gate of the base, and wouldn’t you know it, a Security Police car was behind me with lights flashing. I immediately parked on the side of the road across from the entrance to the Base, and that’s where I was when the young Security Police Officer asked me to exit out of my car and come to the rear of the RV.
Unbelievable. It was the same young man from the night before. He spoke gently and asked if we could discuss one of my magnets on the back of the RV. Puzzled, I wondered which one of my
snarky stickers or magnets he was inquiring about. Now I am studying them quickly, and I realize that he might be warning me about the “I’m speeding because I have to poop” sticker, or maybe the “Don’t follow me, I’m lost too” magnet. Nope. None of my treasured travel paraphernalia. He raised his hand and gestured to the magnet midway up the back of the rig. His hand gingerly touched my TAPS magnet. It was very intentional the way his fingers rubbed around the edges as if his memories were flooding back.
“Ma’am, I am not trying to harass you. As you drove by, I spotted the TAPS magnet and was overwhelmed with magical thoughts from my past.” For nearly 45 minutes we stood by the front gate of Joint Base San Antonio as he relived his experience and I listened. It was about 15 years ago, and he was just a young teen when his best friend received the worst news ever. It was the war, the news was bad. He talked about his best friend and the trauma of having a parent die in combat. My young Security Police Officer was transported to a different time years ago when all the buddies on the block would play baseball and run around the base like they owned it. They had bikes and ate at each other’s house and had to report home when the bugles would play in the evening. It was a time of fun and unimportant things. He paused and took a deep breath as he struggled to find the words that his feelings were trying to release.
His experience as a young teen at TAPS was that of being present with his friend. Him and his parents attended a TAPS event to be supportive of his friend’s family. He relayed that there was a balloon release that had messages written on each balloon to loved ones that might float to heaven; there were comfort dogs everywhere, and he remembered crying because his friend was sad. He also talked about how they laughed, and people everywhere talked about how much they cared about us. I explained that TAPS calls this the Good Grief Camp.
At Good Grief Camp, young survivors play, talk, laugh, cry, create traditions and honor the loved ones who brought them together. TAPS has child grief experts who assist children and teens to do the work of grief and learn coping skills in a safe place. While there is artwork, games, field trips and special events, young survivors will learn to tell the stories of their heroes, their families and themselves.
But really what struck me was his feelings of loss. His very best friend when he was a teen, living next door and constantly hanging out together, just up and ….Moved. They have never met up again and he can’t remember his last name. He teared up. I hugged him at the front gate to Joint Base San Antonio.
Friends Forever. Friends lost to the wind with only memories to connect their friendship in their hearts. We remember your friend. My new Security Police friend now has a new magnet.
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