thedrifter
05-05-09, 06:29 AM
'THE MARINES TUMBLED OFF TO THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE'
May 5, 2009 12:35 am
GROWING UP A military child has taught me a lot.
I learned to cherish my friends and family, because they won't always be around.
I've grown up a lot; I've known what it's like to not have a father around for long periods of time, to lose the ones you love, and to celebrate when you have someone brought back to you.
I've taken on the role as a second mother while my dad was gone, and learned that responsibilities come sooner than I thought.
My favorite memory of being a military brat would have to be back in 1999, when my dad was coming back from a tour in Okinawa.
We lived in California, and the next day was the best day of the entire year. Not Christmas or my birthday, it was the day that all those buses brought back the Marines to 29 Palms, California.
Everyone knew what was happening, the excitement was all around. The sense of pride and happiness was bubbling; I don't think I saw a single person not smiling.
As we drove down our street, children and mothers were in their front yards, painting on huge bed sheets, posters, making signs, blowing up balloons, all for their dads, husbands, brothers. We decided to do the same.
My mom let us get out our big, white sheet and permanent acrylic paint (which we were allowed to use only in the grass, for fear that it might stain something other than our fingers), and we set to work. It must've been the most hideous looking sign I've ever seen.
A fourth grader, second grader, and preschool child all were writing what they wanted to welcome their dad home. It was chaotic and messy; it was perfect.
We, along with what seemed like the entire state of California, lined up along the streets hours before we knew the buses would come along, but it didn't matter.
Not even the sweltering 105 degrees heat could dampen our moods. The day had finally come; "the men" were coming home! Moms chatted and children played, all anxious with the return of loved ones. Some sat and waited; others stood with binoculars, looking for the buses until finally they were spotted.
As soon as someone saw, literally every person was up on their feet cheering. I doubt the buses could even see us at that point, much less hear us, but the cheering continued no less. I must've screamed for an hour straight, but it didn't matter because my dad was finally home after nine months.
I'd say that screaming was necessary. The buses pulled forward, and the Marines tumbled off to thunderous applause, and tears and laughter all around.
My dad got off, and I couldn't imagine the happiness we all felt for him. And he loved the sign.
Allison Skeer is a senior at Stafford High School.
Ellie
May 5, 2009 12:35 am
GROWING UP A military child has taught me a lot.
I learned to cherish my friends and family, because they won't always be around.
I've grown up a lot; I've known what it's like to not have a father around for long periods of time, to lose the ones you love, and to celebrate when you have someone brought back to you.
I've taken on the role as a second mother while my dad was gone, and learned that responsibilities come sooner than I thought.
My favorite memory of being a military brat would have to be back in 1999, when my dad was coming back from a tour in Okinawa.
We lived in California, and the next day was the best day of the entire year. Not Christmas or my birthday, it was the day that all those buses brought back the Marines to 29 Palms, California.
Everyone knew what was happening, the excitement was all around. The sense of pride and happiness was bubbling; I don't think I saw a single person not smiling.
As we drove down our street, children and mothers were in their front yards, painting on huge bed sheets, posters, making signs, blowing up balloons, all for their dads, husbands, brothers. We decided to do the same.
My mom let us get out our big, white sheet and permanent acrylic paint (which we were allowed to use only in the grass, for fear that it might stain something other than our fingers), and we set to work. It must've been the most hideous looking sign I've ever seen.
A fourth grader, second grader, and preschool child all were writing what they wanted to welcome their dad home. It was chaotic and messy; it was perfect.
We, along with what seemed like the entire state of California, lined up along the streets hours before we knew the buses would come along, but it didn't matter.
Not even the sweltering 105 degrees heat could dampen our moods. The day had finally come; "the men" were coming home! Moms chatted and children played, all anxious with the return of loved ones. Some sat and waited; others stood with binoculars, looking for the buses until finally they were spotted.
As soon as someone saw, literally every person was up on their feet cheering. I doubt the buses could even see us at that point, much less hear us, but the cheering continued no less. I must've screamed for an hour straight, but it didn't matter because my dad was finally home after nine months.
I'd say that screaming was necessary. The buses pulled forward, and the Marines tumbled off to thunderous applause, and tears and laughter all around.
My dad got off, and I couldn't imagine the happiness we all felt for him. And he loved the sign.
Allison Skeer is a senior at Stafford High School.
Ellie