TJ Hirst

The good of one self
is to be the good of another.
_{definition of love from
The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis}

I have discovered the most appreciated feature in our new home is the built-in babysitter whose frequent use brings renewed love to a 17-year marriage. For payment of a recent day out, our children requested we bring home Krispy Kreme from our date.

After a full day together we left the comfort of the Ikea meatball dinner and turned toward the inevitable two-hour drive home, contemplating whether to fulfill their glazed over dreams. We did. We pulled off the interstate at the exit and stopped. When we drove back on the interstate again, my husband looked at the clock and announced, “Eight minutes.”

Those minutes, or maybe just a sugar rush, created delighted eyes. Their delight captured feelings of giving and receiving love.

In the busyness to do things for those I love, sometimes my exhaustion tempts me to bypass both doing for love and feeling love altogether. This is most difficult to admit because I am generally well-rested. My youngest child is nearly nine and way beyond middle of the night wakings that leave me hallucinating without sleep.

That is why I was surprised by her knocking at my bedroom door at 3:59 a.m. “Mom, I threw up on the bathroom floor,” she said.

“Is it all over or just in a little spot?” I asked, wondering if she could just throw a towel over it until morning. She reported the multiple locations. Out of practice with such episodes, I took over a minute to react. Then, I cleaned the bathroom, I cleaned myself and I went to her room to clean her.

Cozy in her covers, she peeked out at me and said, “I am sorry I made a mess.”

I cupped my hand around her face. Her cheek was soft and warm, and again, for the second night in a row, love filled her eyes. When I returned to my room, it was 4:08 a.m. Only eight minutes.

Right there I stopped counting the eight-minute interruptions of the weekend and relished another eight-minute connection. Eight minutes to listen to a daughter on a car ride home. Eight minutes for a romantic goodbye while packing with my husband for a business trip. Eight minutes for a cherished hug and chat with a friend. Eight minutes to remember and encourage someone who was struggling. Eight minutes to love.

To know true love is to feel throughout these minutes as they evolve into stages, each beautiful and fulfilling in its own way. Seeking and receiving the attentions of a parent. Affirmation from friends. The dizzying depth of first romantic love. The passionate yet intelligent bond in truer commitment. Adoration and awe at the birth of a baby. Maternal sacrifice of self. Expanding compassion beyond an immediate circle. New faces and friendships awakening old feelings. Seeing beyond imperfections to offer or accept a forgiving heart. Maturing familiarity. Rediscovery.

Love develops in time. And filling fleeting minutes with love creates an abundance of eight-minute chapters in life’s love story.

This post is an entry in Scribbet’s Write-Away Contest; see her site to read other entries.

^{_{lovesymbol image copyright by Paulus Rusyanto, at freestockphotos.com}}

Part 3 in a series
previous entries

David Jensen began his tour in Southeast Asia with jungle survival in the Philippines at Clark Air Force Base. They were left in the jungle and supposed to stay a couple days, surviving on snakes or whatever they could find, but it was bad weather. They canceled the survival drill and picked up his group with a penetrator—a heavy, pear-shaped device attached to a cable, which comes down from a helicopter and has two small ends, about the width of a 2 by 4, that pop out. Soldiers would straddle the ends and hold on. If they let go, they would fall. Jungle penetrators were used where the trees are in layers and about 200-300 feet high.

In Camranh Bay, Vietnam, David received his assignment as a Forward Air Controller, controlling strikes at forward operating positions. If pilots, like David, hadn’t been through Air Force fighter school then they had to fly out-of-country missions where there weren’t any friendlies. Assignments were given depending on rank. Since he was a 2nd Lieutenant, he received what was left. He was assigned to Danang in the 20th Tactical Air Support Group and then sent to a sub group in Pleiku, Vietnam. Shortly thereafter he was made 1st Lieutenant.

Pleiku Air Force Base was a Vietnamese Air Force Base in the central highlands of Vietnam and was not very safe. “We would take small arms fire just coming in to land,” David said. “When we heard mortars incoming, the enemy would be shelling the base; we would grab a helmet and M16 and jump under the bed. I slept with my helmet and flak vest. We had to distinguish between incoming and outgoing. ”

He was also the only member of his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, on the base. An LDS group from the Army would come over to the base to go to church. “They would come over in Jeeps with one man manning the machine guns,” he said.

In Pleiku David prepared for his combat checkout, which took almost 30 days. During that time he flew the OV-10 Bronco with other pilots or took airplanes to Danang or Nah Trang. On one of these trips to Nah Trang, he told them that he needed fuel. While inside, David saw the man with the fuel truck giving the plane the wrong fuel—he was using regular aviation fuel. “My plane was a turbine, and it took jet fuel. I ran out there to stop him.”

David mostly flew into Cambodia, which was a low-threat area about an hour from the base. He would fly low, right at the tree tops, in very flat areas with rubber plantations and wild elephants and patrol down the river looking for contraband. Many people were dug out by the Mekong River waving white flags. He did reconnaissance in these areas and didn’t direct air strikes.

In southern Laos he would fly over the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the trail of interconnecting trails and roads that came out of North Vietnam into Laos and then into Southern Vietnam. Sometimes it wasn’t much more than a dirt cow path and was barely distinguishable.

The Hmong people lived in the mountains in parts of that area. They were friendly to the United States, and Air America would provide supplies to them. “These were pilots who were Raven FACS, Air Force pilots who took temporary assignments to fly Air America, and flew O-1 Bird Dogs and lived on friendly bases in Laos.” David said. “Depending on what was going on, we passed INTEL back and forth.”

David was in Pleiku for two months and didn’t like the social life on the base very well. “For the most part, the other guys lived pretty raunchiest lives. Guys would go to the officers’ club where there was a lot of drinking, carousing, and movies that were really bad. I didn’t have any friends I could associate with. The only enjoyment I had there was a library on base,” he said. “I set myself apart, and it was pretty lonely. I spent most of my time reading the scriptures, writing letters, spending time at the library.”

The adjustment away from his family was hard. In fact, it was so hard that he reached the decision that he didn’t want to make the Air Force a career; he didn’t want to be separated too much from his family. “Shortly after I was in Southeast Asia, I submitted my request for a date of separation, which fixed the date that I would leave the Air Force five years from the date I came in.” David said. “I knew I had to do that before I got a reassignment, because if you get a reassignment then you have added years put on to your service.”

He also faced some other difficult situations in Pleiku. On one mission he was riding with a superior who was directing air strikes. His superior would say in the radio: “There’s a truck down there and I am directing a strike against it, and secondaries are going off.” Secondaries would be the explosives that go off from the target that was hit. For instance, if the pilot hit a truck with explosives in it, then those explosives would explode, too.

David was sitting in the back of that plane, watching the same scene. “I didn’t see it. I was looking at what he was describing and I didn’t see it. We were not in a high threat area,” he said. “I think he was trying to build his record. He sounded like he was faking. But who was I to say, ‘you are lying’.”

Another time, David was scheduled to take an airplane to Danang. “Another pilot, Lieutenant Bevans, a 1st Lieutenant, wanted to have that flight; he begged me,” he said. David agreed and Lieutenant Bevans took the plane over and brought another one back with a crew chief in the back seat. David was in the library when Lt. Bevans returned. David described, in his own words, what happened:

He came in and pitched out, which was a normal procedure. We would come in high off the ground so we were not susceptible to ground fire. The Viet Cong would shoot at us right at the end of the runway. He did that diving right hand turn but he was coming in way too fast. After he pitched out, he lost an engine.

He was near the airport, but he misjudged his altitude. He touched down about halfway down the runway. He tried to make a single engine go around. That was a fatal mistake, and it cost him his life. He still had his gear hanging, and he never got his gear up. The aircraft rolled up vertical on its one wing. Eyewitnesses were seeing the plane at a 90-degree angle to the ground, 200 feet in air.

I was in the library. I heard the ejection seat, a rocket seat. The back seat goes out first, which was the crew chief. He went straight out 200 feet above the runway. But by the time the front seat went out, the pilot ejected his seat right into the ground. The crew chief’s parachute opened at the last minute, just in time. He was walking around in a daze. Internal injuries killed the pilot instantly.

After the crash, there was no one there, only two of us there to secure the sight. There were all these Vietnamese working on the base, curiosity seekers. We covered up the body with the parachute.

I felt bad—he was in our squadron. That was the plane I was supposed to be flying. I am not saying that I wouldn’t have crashed. But he could have thrown his propellers into full pitch or flat pitch, and he wouldn’t have lost the airplane. If that happened in peaceful time, there would have been a big investigation. In combat time, they knew it was pilot error.

Shortly thereafter they asked for volunteers to transfer to Nakhon Phanom (NKP) Thailand, which was a sought after place. Thailand appeared safe because it wasn’t shelled at night. “As I later found out the combat missions were a lot higher-threat missions because we flew up in the middle section of Laos, which was a real high-threat area,”” David said. “For some reason, they were short of OV-10 pilots. The only requirement was that I had to have my combat check out so I could fly solo. I was chosen because I had just had my combat checkout but I still had quite a bit of time to serve over there.”

David spent the rest of his time, about 10 more months, in Southeast Asia at NKP Thailand.

When I married my husband, we both agreed that we didn’t need a holiday to tell us when or how to express our love to each other. After a few years without extra romance on Valentine’s Day, however, I sensed that I was the loser in my opinionated stand against the candy, card and flower industry. I softened that stand and have since given and received thoughtful expressions of love on that day and others. Now, I may be hardening my heart, again, toward this holiday with the current trends in Valentine’s giving amongst elementary school-age children.

When I was in elementary school, we distributed our valentines into foil-covered boxes decorated with paper doilies and construction paper hearts. We anticipated opening those identical white envelopes to read the messages from our friends and to see if we received a surprise candy heart or two. While this is probably nostalgia for the “rosy-age” of elementary-school Valentine’s parties, the focus did seem to be on our feelings for each other.

When my oldest daughter was in first grade, eight years ago, I noticed the change. While cards were still a part of the celebration, candy dominated. She came home with as many bite-size candy bars as she did on Halloween.

Now, my third grader and fifth grader are preparing for this year’s celebration. At the grocery store a couple weeks ago, I rejected the sorry selection of Bratz cards. Then, I found a crafty idea. But, it just didn’t say 10-year-old boy. I finally made it to an unnamed super center and walked up and down the seasonal display aisles looking for the usual boxes of 24 cards. When I couldn’t find any, I discovered the real truth—the card is now right on the candy. We seem to have left the cards altogether and now just give the candy.

So, my daughter ended up making construction paper cards and attaching lollipops to them. And my son? He said this, “I’m not going to bother even writing the names on mine since it’s just candy anyway.”

I said, “Please bother.”

And then he gave me a Valentine when he said, “I’ll write them tonight,” and my heart softened again.

I took the reading challenge from January and read four books in four weeks. Even better, my third-grade daughter out-read me with 17 books in six weeks. My conclusions? Reading one book a week (in my adult lifestyle) is a doable goal that keeps me stretching. And, the concentrated reading challenge for my young reader stepped up her intellectual and emotional maturity in a short period of time, allowing us to converse more openly on a wider range of subjects. Here’s some reviews of what I read:

1 . A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. This book was like taking daily doses of nasty medicine. The bad taste inevitably goes away as it starts working on the patient. Set in India in the mid 1970’s, the story reveals the almost unbelievable circumstances of deprivation that occur as different castes struggle for basic necessities. The horror and anguish of this struggle comes in rich character development of three men and one woman from varied backgrounds who are all seeking a common need—shelter. While the sights of crudeness, poverty and cruel corruption pierced my own emotions, their insights on life also became mine, making it more palatable and purposeful. As a minor character said, “You cannot draw lines and compartments and refuse to budge beyond them. Sometimes you have to see your failures as stepping stones to success. You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair.”

2. Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale. This is my recommendation for moms and their young adult daughters (maybe 11-16 years old) who want a book to read and discuss together. A noble lady is confined to a tower for seven years with her maid for refusing to marry her father’s choice of a husband. Her maid keeps a book of their imprisonment in which we discover the real truth about the man her father intends her to marry, the unexpected warmth of another suitor, and the reality of following through to the end of a decision. The story is one of commitment to principles and the resulting sacrifices and is flecked with allegorical allusions that add depth for older readers and can spark conversation with younger ones.

3. The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis. I was in my mid-twenties when I first read this short compilation of fictional training letters from a devil’s helper to his apprentice nephew. At the time, I couldn’t help but see the folly of others and would think, “Oh, I know someone who does that.” Rereading this C.S. Lewis classic ten years later, a little more humble from added life experience, now I can’t help but see all the subtle ways that the devil persuades me. I was struck anew by the wisdom of C.S. Lewis. But the surest realization I had was that the devil and his assistants could not understand the concept of love at any level. While they delighted in falsifying this virtue wherever possible, our surest refuge from their darts is to be cloaked in the mantle of charity. A nice concept for this week of love.

4. Writing Biography: Historians and their craft, edited by Lloyd E. Ambrosius. I began my challenge with this book, which is more textbook than anything, and end my reviews with it. I am thoroughly curious about people, love reading biographies and sometimes aspire to be a biographer myself. But regardless of the genre, the following writing tip from Robert J. Richard’s essay, which I amended with parenthesis, applies not only to historians but all nonfiction and fiction writers. He said:

. . . (the writer) has to unknot the skein, so that all the strands can be appreciated. . . (the good writer) will also reweave the threads to touch the emotions of the readers, so that they might feel something of the forces that drove the actors to take one path rather than another.

Mitt Romney held up a long-standing but quickly-fading American value today—sacrifice—when he ended his campaign for the Republican presidential nomination. Maybe our country itself is fading because we don’t remember what sacrifice is—giving up something we value for the sake of something of greater worth. Romney expressed those values in his speech before the Conservative Political Action Committee in words so powerful that conservatives wanted him more than ever.

But has he given up those essential ideals for something of greater value? Indeed, he compromised part of his agenda from coming to the top in the short term. Yet, in the long term that greater value will be revealed. The manner in which he came to his decision speaks to his leadership. He is said to have consulted with his advisers Wednesday and decided to continue the campaign. But then at home as he wrote his speech, he discovered in the midst of that process that he needed to “stand aside . . . for our country.”

Romney’s timing to stand aside couldn’t have been better if 100 political analysts had planned it. It gave him an attentive audience without an appearance of someone resigned to a losing fate. And in that position, he commanded attention when he boldly expressed the condition of our country and the need to change. Let’s give honor and respect to a man who understands the societal and political needs of the United States, has a plan to meet those needs and, yet, is willing to sacrifice through compromise for the future achievement of those goals. His positive action, not a reaction, is what will carry forward his leadership skills in some way for the benefit of the United States and the conservative cause well into the future.