Navy SEALs

I find myself in San Diego, California. Place of my birth. We are here on a family vacation. As a family we enjoy Coronado Beach. I spent a lot of time there as a teenager and my kids have adopted it as theirs. At 9PM Thursday night we were walking the grounds of the Hotel Del Coronado. As we approached the hotel from the beach side I could hear the unmistakable sounds of Navy SEALs training at the jetty just south. We were drawn to the shouting of the instructors, the unified chorus of response from the different teams. Initially all we could see were what appeared to be about ten small groups. Each group identifiable by eight green light sticks moving in unison in the dark distance. From previous experience I knew what they were doing. Paddling out in a raft past the breakwater, then on a signal paddling back in. As a team carrying the raft over the jetty, then wet and cold and in full uniform, standing at perfect attention until the team was told to do it again. Training. It happened to be a warm October evening. The water in San Diego hasn't started to take on it's winter temperature just yet. It wouldn't have mattered. These men train in all conditions. War is not seasonal.

I have driven up the Silver Strand 1000 times and passed the Amphibious Base located there. Home of Sea Bees, the previously designated Underwater Demolition Teams, Frogmen and the now modern Navy SEALs. In fact, the summer of 1975 I worked as a civilian on the Amphibious Base and saw these men up-close. They seemed so old to me at that time. I was 22. In reality they were most likely my age or younger. As I watched them that evening I thought of how young they really were and yet how willing each one was to volunteer to be charged with the responsibility of protecting my freedom and the freedoms of people not of our country.

The first team of Navy SEALs was commissioned in 1962. In 1987 the modern day SEALs became part of the Naval Special Warfare Command. I want to emphasize the word "SPECIAL". The 300 Spartans at Thermopylae had nothing on these guys. I told my sons and daughters who were with me that these were special men training for special assignments of the most critically dangerous kind. We were witnessing the making of the best warriors in the world. I don't agree with war. I hate war. SEALs I'm sure, loathe war as many of them have faced that ugly and vicious dragon up-close and personal. I have only seen it on TV. But the reality of the world we live in today requires men to step up and take a position on the dangerous front line of freedom where philosophies clash and bullets fly. These were the boys that allowed us to keep the privilege of having a peaceful family vacation in Coronado. The irony of SEALs training within the view of the fantasy people were experiencing as guests of the revered Hotel Del Coronado was not lost on me.

I just started the book by Navy SEAL, Marcus Luttrell; "Lone Survivor". It is a true story of Navy SEALs who served in Afghanistan. I don't need to read the book to know it is a story of courage, preparedness, teamwork and ultimate sacrifice. My interest in reading the book has been intensified. I want to personally thank all the people in the military for their service to me and my family. For allowing me to live a free life. I want to thank all the veterans. Particularly my father, Leonard Black Jr., U.S. Navy WWII, my father-in-law, Melvin Sven Johnsen, U.S. Army WWII, and my brother-in-law, Michael Johnsen, U.S. Army, Vietnam. I want to thank Marcus Luttrell and SEAL Team 10. I want to thank all the young but fully capable U.S. Navy SEALs for their dedication to duty, sacrifice and unwavering patriotism and loyalty to country and constitution. I wanted to shout out to those young men, "You make us proud gentlemen. You are the best!" I didn't, and have felt bad that they don't know how this citizen feels. That's why I'm writing this.

I entered a restaurant today for dinner. As I opened the door an officer of the U.S. Navy was walking out. He hesitated, I am sure to let me pass first. I stepped back and held the door open for him. He smiled and as he walked through said, "Thank you." I looked him square in the eye and said, "No. Thank YOU, Sir!" I hope he caught my meaning.

Nice Shoes!

There are certain movies that you watch every time you stumble across them in a channel surfing moment. At least a few minutes of them. If it's late and you're up you will probably watch the whole movie for the 30th time. A few of those movies for me are, Predator (which I watched 15 minutes of just last night - you know the part where Arnold puts mud all over his body and stalks the predator because the beast can't see his heat signature through the mud...) The original Die Hard, The Bourne Identity, and The Italian Job. But they aren't all macho "man" movies either. I always get sucked into Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail. I've already told you I was a hopeless romantic. Two others are Dave and The American President. There are even lines from movies that have stuck with us over the years and have become part of our conversational vocabulary.

There is a scene in The American President where Michael Douglas, portraying President Andrew Shepherd, is getting ready to go out on a date with Sydney Ellen Wade, the lobbyist played by Annette Bening. The President's daughter Lucy is fixing his bow tie and the widowed father asks his daughter if she is OK with him going out with another woman. Lucy assures him it is totally OK with her and sends him happily on his way. As he departs Lucy says to him, " Tell her she has nice shoes. Women like it when you notice their shoes." He later uses the corny line and it works. "Nice Shoes".

This blog has nothing to do with anything, but isn't that true of all my blogs? I just found this cartoon really funny and decided to write about it. It just made me laugh. Maybe it will do the same for you.

Ruuun BeeYotch Ruuun!!!

Cecily -"Hurry, I don't feel so good", Natalie -"I did it!", Marian -"Will anyone run a 10K with me?", and Emily -"Can we go to Cafe Rio now!?"

The weekend took the family to the St George, Utah Marathon. No, we didn't all run it. Are you kidding? I would like to be in the kind of shape that it takes to run a marathon; but pardon me... I have no interest! We all went to support my oldest daughter Natalie in this, her second marathon. The object for Natalie was to finish the marathon. The object for us, the spectators, was to wade through the mass of people and road closures and hopefully find a few places along the way to cheer and yell out encouragement to our runner. I also had time to reflect on the fact of how grateful I was to not be one of those people running by with pained gray faces and beyond weary bodies. I am proud to say that in her second marathon Natalie shattered her time by 38 minutes. A time of 4:33:05. You Go Girl!!

When I caught her at mile 24 I could tell she was in a lot better shape than her first marathon experience. She even smiled and waved. I guess like anything else, once you know what to expect you are better prepared. The thing about running a marathon is the marathon of preparation that precedes the race. That in itself is an accomplishment worth noting.

I am proud of my daughter and her goal oriented discipline. As I have said in a previous blog, "She gets that from her Mom".

Congratulations Natalie. I am proud of you. Ruuun BeeYotch Ruuun!!