Dayton's Blog: A pimple on the ass of the Internet.

This isn't a movie review. It's just me rambling as I continue to consider the film I watched last night.

Taking Chance was but one on a stack of DVD's I've purchased over the past couple of months, but until recently haven't had time to watch. I knew it was a film I was going to want to watch, rather than simply let play in the background while I tended to other things. I also knew that watching it would bring back memories I had not revisited in quite some time, and to be honest I was reluctant to go down that road. So, on the stack of DVDs it sat, waiting for me to have an evening where I could dedicate my full attention to it.

Last night was the night.

I spent a good bit of time after the film concluded just sorting out what I'd watched, trying to make sense of the chaotic blur of memories as well as scenes from the film which were rushing around and past each other in my head. Beyond simply laughing at a joke, smiling or throwing out the occasional "Yeah!" at cool action, or flinching when something intense or even scary happens, it's a rare occasion for me to have any sort of true emotional reaction to a movie.

Simply put, Taking Chance knocked me on my ass.

It's not a war movie, nor a military propaganda piece. Based on actual events, it's simply the story of one young man and the impact he made on those around him, in death as well as throughout his all-too brief life. The story focuses on Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl (as portrayed by Kevin Bacon), a Marine officer stationed at Quantico in 2004 who volunteers to escort home the remains of Private First Class Chance Phelps, a young Marine killed in Iraq. Strobl is at first drawn to Phelps upon learning they both hail from the same town in Colorado. Though he's later told Phelps will be transported to Dubois, Wyoming, because that's where his family resides, Strobl still opts to act as the fallen Marine's escort. The balance of the film covers Strobl's journey from the military mortuary at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware to Dubois, accompanying the casket containing Phelps' remains every step of the way.

I've performed escort duty, so I can attest to the care -- even reverence -- with which the body of a fallen service member is handled throughout the process of preparing the remains for transport home. No detail is overlooked, no task performed in perfunctory fashion. It is a solemn undertaking, carried out with precision and respect. In this and many other areas, the film's accuracy is to be praised.

The scenes depicting PFC Phelps' journey were difficult to watch. Unlike LtCol Strobl, I knew the Marine I escorted; he was one of mine. I got the call about his death on Easter Sunday in 1996, and I spent the next eight days inventorying his personal effects, overseeing every aspect of the preparations to take him home, and accompanying his casket. Except for the actual flight, I spent every moment of the journey from Kansas City to his home town in arm's reach of his casket, to include sitting with it in a cargo hangar at the airport. I spent three days with his family and friends, listening to their stories and attending his funeral. I was struck by how loved and respected he was by the countless people I encountered. It was one of the most emotionally-taxing experiences of my life, and it naturally was nothing compared to what the family was enduring.

As I watched the movie, I couldn't stop those recollections from coming forth, but it wasn't until I got to the scenes of Strobl standing vigil alongside Phelps' casket that they all just seemed to push forward and hammer at me. I had to pause the film more than once and just sit there, processing long-dormant memories. Easter never passes without me pausing to remember the young Marine (I do the same thing on Halloween, owing to an unrelated yet similarly tragic incident involving another Marine), though this was something I hadn't really pondered for years. In my head, it was 1996 again, and I had just returned home, drained from the heart-wrenching duty I'd completed.

It may well be the oddest damned thing that's ever happened to me while watching a movie; the closest thing to a "flashback" I've experienced. When it was over, I just let the thoughts and memories roam at will, sorting themselves out. This blog entry was originally going to be about something completely unrelated to the movie or my reactions, but once I started typing it all just came out.

Weird.

Aloha!

It's been rather quiet around here the past several days (not counting the nightly infodump courtesy of Twitter), and I know I've got some catching up to do. I'm reading through the backlog of e-Mails, trying to scan through the LJ f-list to see what I've missed, shaking my head at the various weirdness unfolding on different message boards, and so on. If you've posted something while I was gone that you think I should be reading, feel free to link it via the comments. I'll do my best to check it out in short order.

A full report of this year's Starfest con is still in the offing, but it ain't gonna happen tonight. For now, suffice it to say Kevin and I enjoyed ourselves as we do every year, and we're already looking forward to returning next year. For those wondering, Space Grunts is now a real, honest-to-golly book, and several copies found new homes during the weekend thanks to the indie book seller doing its thing at the con. Author contributor copies are en route, I'm told.

So...what's up with all y'all?

Thanks very much to everyone who wished Michi and me a happy anniversary. It was indeed a good day.

...to Michi and me!


18 years, and counting.


Love ya, babe!

So, after several weeks' worth of planning, including securing trusted friends to babysit the kids as well as check on our dogs, Michi and I set out for our day/night out and to celebrate our forthcoming anniversary.

We headed across town to the Legends, a somewhat new and still pretty boomin' shopping, dining, and entertainment district on the Kansas side, just across from the Kansas Speedway. After soliciting several recommendations from various friends, we opted to try the food at the Yard House, where Michi had a "spicy tuna roll" consisting of seared ahi, avocado, edamame, and cucumber with a wasabi soy sauce, whereas I went the other direction with a Kansas City strip steak. We both chose to take advantage of the bar, as well, with Michi enjoying a couple of "Bikini Tinis" made with cruzan banana rum, malibu pineapple rum, pineapple juice, and remy red, and I was fairly happy with the margaritas (Jose Cuervo...you are a friend of mine). The biggest thrill was -- of course -- being able to eat and enjoy an entire meal without stopping to deal with any number of minor issues/etc. which arise when one your toddlers is trying to feed him/herself and hilarity ensues. After dropping an easy C-note there and once we'd finished eating, we walked off our meal by checking out the shopping area, which I hadn't visited since the place was still largely under construction. The weather was perfect for walking around outside. We picked up a couple of items for the kids, then headed for the hotel where we'd made reservations for the night.

There are hotels, and then there's the Chateau Avalon.

Each of the hotel's 62 rooms is designed to one of 23 themes, which I can't do justice so you'll just have to visit the website and take the virtual tours. We'd stayed there once before and had a great time, and on this trip we elected to return to the room/theme we'd enjoyed during our previous stay, the "Tuscany." As the name suggests, the room recreates the look and feel of an Italian villa. We did the spa soak thing, enjoyed more tasty beverages, and generally just allowed the stresses of work and whatever to wash away.

Oh, and we got to sleep in the next morning. Halle-freakin'-lujah!

We were able to maintain the illusion of being on a vacation long enough to enjoy breakfast to order in our room, and even a brief mid-morning nap before succumbing to the call of responsibility. Heading back across town, we retrieved our offspring, who thankfully were perfect angels while in the care of our friends.

(Attempts to extend their stay while we headed out again were met with more than slight resistance, however.)

A very nice way to recharge. :)

My truck's been in the shop the past three days.

This past weekend, my "check engine" light came on. At first nothing obvious appeared to be wrong, but shortly after that I noticed that when I was stopped at a light, the truck needed more gas to get going, almost like it was stuck in a higher gear. Once I was up to speed, everything was fine, so I figured it had to be something with the transmission. A quick check once I got back to the house confirmed that all the various fluids were at their proper levels. I also noted that the problem didn't seem to affect the reverse gear. With the limited means at my disposal, I was able to produce one of those diagnostic codes on the odometer that gave me a hint as to the problem: Yep, something with the transmission. I know a few basics about auto care, but when it gets much beyond preventative maintenance and a handful of other simple tasks, I'm out of my depth. At this point, I had no choice but to take it in for service. It was drivable, but I didn't like the idea of having the beast struggle to get moving while in traffic. I had to hold off until Tuesday before I could take it in for service.

It's Thursday morning, and I still don't have my truck. The folks at the Dodge dealer tell me they know what's wrong (a failed component that regulates the "overdrive" or something, which essentially locked the transmission into third gear, explaining the sluggishness from a stop.). With luck, it'll be fixed today. With better luck, the work will still be covered under the 70,000 mile power-train warranty. Still, I haven't been this long without a vehicle since I was a teenager.

So, I've been stuck working at home the past couple of days, which has its advantages (no rush hour traffic, don't have to shave, can wear sweats all day, etc.), but I do miss the interaction with my co-workers.

So, we've been gradually acclimating Addy to toilet training during the past couple of months. It started slow, with Michi taking her to her little chair in the bathroom in the mornings after waking up, and after her bath in the evenings before bedtime. Now that she's in the 2-3 age group at school, the teachers are also incorporating it into her routine along with all the kids in her class. Ask once an hour, let 'em do their thing, etc.

In the evenings after her bath, Addy is taken to the other bathroom by Michi where her chair is, and the two of them are in there with the door shut while Addy sits, reads her Elmo book, they talk about boys, or whatever. Recently, Michi's taken to bringing Erin in there, too, since she can now sit up unassisted, and the three of them are in there, gabbing and laughing and just having a grand old time.

And then, it hits me.

This is how it starts.

Right here, before my very eyes and ears, I'm witnessing the imprinting of behavior upon female DNA which will, in years to come, be directly tied to why women always go to the bathroom in packs. You can't help it, ladies; it's burned into your brains.

I fully expect to come home one day soon and find couches, fresh plants, reading lamps, and soft music in there.

Son of a bitch.

Back to the grind after the wondrous chaos that was Comic-con. Full download of the weekend's events is still to come. I'm still digging out from backlogged e-Mail/etc. So if there's something you posted while I was away that you want me to check out, post a link in the comments.

This is what I feel like today...

After reading a similar pledge by amysisson, I've decided to do the same thing:

Starting today, I've decided to swear off sodas for (at least) a month. I'm curious to see what happens, and if I can break the habit. Anybody who knows me knows I like my Mountain Dew, and to take that away from me cold turkey? You're better off playing rugby in a minefield.


Maybe I should start smoking instead.

Deciding that I couldn't wait for our impending whirlwind trip to Vegas this coming weekend, I took a rare vacation day that wasn't tied to traveling somewhere and spent it with Michi before her maternity leave ends and she goes back to work. A "mental health" day was in order, and with both kids at day care, we took off on a mission to escape the house and enjoy the day.

Our first stop was the Liberty Memorial and the National World War I Museum. While we've been to the actual memorial several times, we'd not had the chance to check out the museum since its opening in December 2006. Well, I should've visited it sooner.

Long story short: those behind the museum's creation have done a fabulous job bringing together a vast array of exhibits and artifacts from this tumultuous period in world history, tracking the Great War from its earliest beginnings through the final shot fired. If ever you have cause to visit or even be passing through Kansas City, build some time into your schedule to visit this one of a kind treasure.

Our next stop was lunch with Kevin at one of my favorite restaurants in all of Kansas City: A Streetcar Named Desire, featuring the greatest BLT mortal man has ever known. If ever you've wondered to what wondrous use the better part of a package of bacon can be put, eat here.

(Of course, today I opted for a ham and cheese sandwich, as I'd partaken of a BLT just a few days earlier that almost...almost gives Streetcar a run for its money. Further research will be required. Stay tuned.)

All in all it was a nice, restful, much-needed change of pace. Back to the grind for the rest of the week, then it's Vegas, Star Trek: The Experience and RUSH!!!

It's the first Saturday in...well...forever where I wasn't working and it wasn't A) raining, or the ground was wet/soggy from a previous rain, and B) wasn't too cold to be outside. In a rare alignment of the planets, I was alone at home today, as well. Therefore, I had my first real opportunity to put some hours into the yard. I had my work cut out for me, as we'd had a tree removed from our front yard in the fall, and the ground was still covered in dirt and some remaining shrapnel from where they'd ground the stump. All that had to be raked and picked up, along with the already-required raking to get up the thatch, leftover leaves, and so on, before I could do what I really wanted to do, which was overseed the front lawn. Today was Front Yard Day, dammit.

Pretty much, anyway.

I succeeded in raking the entire front yard, along with gathering and bagging the aforementioned tree detritus (which, when bagged, is some heavy shit. FYI.), and even managed to get the grass seed down in anticipation of tomorrow's forthcoming rain. I ran out of the time I'd allotted for this activity, and so will finish with a run of fertilizer over the whole thing before it gets dark (after Michi and the kids are home).

Anyway, the effects of the raking, bagging, bending, lifting, moving, and so forth is already making their presence felt in my bones and muscles. So, as the subject line sez: Ow.

The evening's activities -- in addition to the fertilizer, of course, are to sit and read some copy-edited Wet Work, with at least one young'un in my lap as well as a tasty beverage...or three...near at hand.

Ow.

Michi's doctor gave her the okay to leave the hospital this morning, and the doctor minding the babies in the nursery cleared Erin soon after. I had everybody home just after lunch, and now we're settling in to life with the new family dynamic. The dogs are curious as to the strange little human in their midst, and Addy is fascinated by this tiny version of her. Check out the resemblance:

The first pic is Addy, the day after her birth, compared to Erin just a few hours after she showed up:



Weird, huh?

Well, this time next Sunday, we may well be waiting for the okay from the doctor to come home, bringing with us the latest addition to the Ward clan.

Yep. It's getting real. Again.

Addy knows something's up. She can't quite put her finger on it, except when she reaches out to pat Mom's expanded belly. She also wondered why stuff like the smaller baby crib and a few other items that have been put away for almost a year are now out and about again, as they were encroaching on her space and all the new stuff she has to play with.

Mom's ready for this to be over, and we both realized the other day that we're not apprehensive or nervous this time around. Hey, we figured out what to do last time. We know (mostly) what to expect. Piece of cake, right?

Um, yeah. Whatever.

As for me? I'm spending today putting the finishing touches to the 4400 manuscript, so that we can send it on to Pocket Books tomorrow. We also turned in our latest article for Star Trek Magazine on Thursday, and we're waiting to hear back on that, as well.

Tomorrow is President's Day, and a work holiday for me, so I may get to enjoy one last day of peace and tranquility before Chaos descends. By Wednesday we'll be in full swing, as my mother flies into town, after which I'm sure we'll be off to the races.

Many thanks to everyone who either commented in the LJ or who sent me e-Mail about my little adventure last week. I'm happy to report that I'm doing quite well. I'm working at home this week, getting caught up on stuff that lagged while I was out of the office. My writing's taken a serious hit, but I'm hoping I can have a good December and keep on track with the project Kevin and I are currently working on.

A couple of writing-related items:

During my little sabbatical, I received my contributor copies of Creative Couplings, the tenth Star Trek: Corps of Engineers omnibus.



As with Grand Designs, this book has a spectacular cover that definitely isn't done true justice when you view it online. The collection includes CoE novellas written by John S. Drew (drewshi), me and Kevin, Glenn Greenburg, J. Stephen York and Christina F. York, Glenn Haumann and Aaron Rosenberg (gryphonrose), and David Mack (infinitydog).

Also, I got word from DZ Allen that the third installment of my flash fiction serial, "Stayin' In Vegas," is now available for perusal on the Muzzle Flash site. Many thanks to DZ for that!

Shit, what a week.

Monday was Veteran's Day, at least as observed by government offices and banks. Since my team at the dayjob supports a bank, we observe their holiday schedule and I had the day off. That was nice, as I was able to put the finishing touches on a project Kevin and I were working on. Happy to say it's in the editor's hands and we're awaiting feedback.

Tuesday was back to work. Nothing eventful. After work, while Michi took Addy to a Search and Rescue demonstration with our search dog, Whistle, I had dinner with Kevin as well as Lynn Norton and his lovely wife, Tina Hacker. Lynn, for those who may be curious, was a longtime artist and sculptor at Hallmark Cards, which included creating Keepsake Ornaments for pretty much every one of the Star Trek ships in that line. He's retired from Hallmark now but still does freelance work for them, as well as for other outfits like Diamond Select. I had a wonderful conversation with him over dinner on a wide range of subjects. For those wondering, both he and Tina are both huge, longtime Trek fans, and our discussion included - among other things - her love for Jean Lorrah's fan fiction from the 70s and 80s.

Afterward, the four of us took in a screening of "The Menagerie," the High Definition and CGI-enhanced upgrade version of the Classic Trek episode. The show played to a mostly-full house, quite an accomplishment considering the total lack of local promotion, and a great time was had by all. Any doubts that the original Enterprise as designed by Matt Jefferies can't look beautiful on the big screen were laid firmly to rest. Anyone who believes otherwise can suck it, and suck it to the root.

And that's when my week went completely off the rails.

( Read on, if you dare. )
So, that was my week. How was yours? 

Quoth Dennis Miller:

"They say life begins at 40. Yeah...if you're the fuckin' Highlander."

Actually, 40 feels a lot like 30...only a bit thicker around the waistline.

Happy Anniversary to............Michi and Me!

16 years today. Still the best and smartest thing I ever did.


Love ya, babe!