The Lee family in Japan & The Philippines

Put It in Writing

Mon, 31 Oct 2011 18:25:25 +0800

As an adult, Halloween just doesn’t have the same “kick” to it that it had when I was a kid.

When I was younger, Halloween meant that my friends and I were going to get dressed up, crash the hottest Halloween party, and see how much trouble we could get into.

But, as a father, Halloween is mostly about making sure Taj has a good time. It’s still fun, but the fun now comes from watching him enjoy the day (and not from me doing the Smurf while dancin’ to U.T.F.O.’s rap hit ”Roxanne, Roxanne.” Google it, Young’uns! Man, I miss the ‘80s!)

Last year, I took him to his first haunted house. It didn’t go so well. I was going to try again this year, but I’m deployed. So, Muna will have to make sure he gets his annual does of scary and sugar this year. I’m sure the Airmen at Misawa are having a haunted house fundraiser of some sort. Hopefully, Taj will convince his mother to take him.

Meanwhile, here in the Philippines, today was just another day. I spent most of the day in the office, not even knowing that today was Halloween. I was reminded when I went to the chow hall for dinner, and saw this picture (below.)

The dining facility has some great fruit carvers working there, but I guess I’ve never really noticed before.

Feeling all warm-n-fuzzy after seeing this watermelon-turned-zombie, I decided to let one of the Filipino employees know that I liked the carving.

I went back through the food line, where the workers were concentrated on serving the chow. Their aprons and hats were on, and their plastic-glove-wrapped hands were wielding industrial-sized metal spoons. Their faces were void of any emotion ... Not sad, nor happy. They were just doing their job (and had probably been at it for a while before I came in.)

“Can you please tell the person who does the carvings that I really liked them? They’re very nice ... Thanks a lot!” I said to the guy serving the fish.

His face lit up.

“Thank you very much, sir,” he enthusiastically replied.

Judging by his smile, I think HE was the one who actually carved the melon. He stopped me before I walked away.

“Would you mind filling out a comment card, sir?” He put down his ladle and handed me a pen.

“Sure.”

I jotted down some notes about how cool the Halloween carvings were, then dropped it into the comment box on the way out of the chow hall.

I assume the employees earn rewards/recognition anytime someone leaves positive comment cards in the drop box. Understanding that average daily wage in the Philippines is less than 290 Pesos (less than seven U.S. dollars,) maybe my comments are worth more than I thought.

This reinforces an age-old lesson I learned in the military: If you REALLY want to show your appreciation, put it in writing.

Next time I go to chow, I’m bringing a pen.

Apl.De.Ap, Lumpia, and Manny Pacquiao

Fri, 7 Oct 2011 20:16:17 +0800

Thanks for continuing to read my rantings on this blog. I see that few people actually blog anymore. Now-a-days, most of us just choose to say what we want on Facebook (or, Google Plus, as I’m slowly starting to gravitate to it.) Still, I appreciate your surfing here.

But, I’ve invested so much energy trying to get my family members to check this site, that I’m not ready to convince them to switch to another site. Can you imagine me trying to tell my 85-year-old Grandmother to “inbox me,” so I can “add” her and then she can “see my status?” Not happenin’. So, until Apple discontinues iWeb (which, from what I hear, is going to happen really soon,) I’ll keep posting here.

During my last post, I shared with you my anxiety as Muna bravely traveled to her homeland, Somaliland. (I was worried about her, but everything was fine and she made it back, safe and sound.)

Since then, I received deployment orders (again.) But, since the last ones to Afghanistan didn’t stick, this time they switched locations.

I’ve been in the Philippines for about a month now. Zamboanga, to be precise. I added a map to the website so you can get a better sense of where Zamboanga is in relation to Manila.

You may be thinking: “What are you doing deployed to the Philippines? Shouldn’t you be with the rest of our service members in Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Global War on Terror” wasn’t just a cool catchphrase. Afghanistan gets most of the media’s terrorism spotlight, but U.S. service members are serving in multiple countries around the world in support of the effort. With such large numbers of troops moving in and out of the ‘Stan or Iraq, it’s natural for folks to assume that when someone says they’re getting deployed, they must be going to one of those two places.

But, every now and then, Lady Luck throws us a bone. The Filipinos are doing their own fighting here, but a small group of U.S. forces provides advice and assistance (but no fighting troops) to help out. I’m lucky to be one of them.

I was happy to hear that I was going to the Philippines, but admit that I didn’t know much about the country. In typical American fashion, my knowledge of the country was limited to whatever mass media told me. This means that I can tell you who Apl.de.ap is; Lumpia are the Filipino version of egg rolls, and Floyd Mayweather is hiding from Manny Pacquiao like babysitters running from Nadya Suleman.

Now that I’m here, I’m learning a little more about Filipinos and their country every day. The first thing I learned is that the COUNTRY is called The Philippines, but the PEOPLE are called Filipinos (with no PH, and only one “P” in the middle.) That little tidbit will come in handy as I write stories.

I’ll share more as I learn it (and I find time to write. I’m also busy studying the Air Command & Staff College course by correspondence.) You can find pics of my Philippine journey here.

O, sige, aalis na ako ... Paalam!

From Tokyo to Somaliland

Tue, 19 Jul 2011 21:23:49 +0800

Muna was born in Hargeisa, in Northern Somalia. (It’s now called SomaliLAND, as the Northern and Southern parts of the country have separated.)

She and her siblings left the country when she was very young, leaving some of her family behind. She spent most of her youth in Kuwait, and later went to college in India (where she met a very handsome, extremely talented young Marine who swept her off her feet with his mack-tastical game. At least, that’s what I’m told.)

Although she hasn’t been to Somaliland in decades, there’s no mistaking the fact that Muna is a Somali. Somali women are among the most beautiful in the world, and they have distinct features that make them easily recognizable. High cheekbones and perfectly-round foreheads are the main give-aways.

So, anytime she meets someone, the conversation eventually turns to tales of Somaliland. If she’s talking with someone who’s not from there, they ask: “What’s it like?”

And, when talking with another Somali-American, the question is usually: “When’s the last time you were there?”

But, having not been there in decades, her replies have been awkward, and she is then reminded that she hasn’t been “connected” to her homeland.

With my only knowledge of Somalia coming from movies and video games (neither of which are accurate sources of information,) I admit I’ve been discouraging her from returning. I know that the international community doesn’t recognize the Somaliland government, and the U.S. doesn’t have an embassy/consular presence there. Knowing this, I was concerned about her safety.

She always counters with the same argument: “I’m from Hargeisa, not Mogadishu. It’s safe in Hargeisa. My family is there ... If I keep waiting for things to get better, I’ll never be able to go visit my family.”

I have heard that it’s safer in Hargeisa than in Mogadishu, and she’s right about the timing ... Somaliland isn’t going to magically get better overnight. So, now is just as good a time as any if the goal is for her to return for a visit.

Over the years, Muna’s brothers and sisters have made occasional visits to Somaliland, leaving Muna as the only one who hasn’t returned. When Muna convinced her sister and mother to escort her on her journey, I had little choice but accept the fact that she was going (with or without my approval.)

We bought the tickets, and Taj and I went with her to Tokyo to see Muna off on her adventure. We went a couple of days early, so we could visit Tokyo Disneyland. (That’s a whole ‘nother blog post ... stay tuned.)

Tokyo is the most expensive city in the world. It is also the most crowded city in the world. (These are facts, people. Google it, young’ uns!) I didn’t feel comfortable driving in the city, and it was too expensive to take a cab to the airport. So, public transportation was the best option for us to move around.

Luckily, Japan has a GREAT public transportation system ... But it can be a bit intimidating for first-timers. With me as her guide (albeit an equally clueless guide,) Muna began her journey to Somalia via the Tokyo subway/monorail system. (Turns out it looks a lot worse than it is. With English ticket machines, and English signs, it’s manageable.) We successfully made it to the airport to wish her the best on her journey.

After seeing Muna off, Taj and I were faced with the dilemma of being in a big city with lots to do, but no way to do it other than to brave the subway/monorail system.

Determined not to let fear keep us caged in our hotel, the next day Taj and I braved the elements to go visit Sega’s Joyopolis (a mega-arcade near the Tokyo waterfront.) We had a great time, and I later considered myself qualified to get around Tokyo via subway.

Taj and I are now back in Misawa, where I’m playing Mr. Mom while we wait to hear word from Muna about her adventures in Somaliland. We’re really excited for her, and can’t wait for her to return ... Hopefully feeling fulfilled and more in touch with her homeland.

My Earthquake Story (Or: Afghanistan on Hold)

Sat, 2 Apr 2011 15:57:25 +0800

The 2011 Japan earthquake/tsunami is one of those “Where-were-you?”-type incidents. It’ll always be in my hip pocket as a quick short-story to use during random conversation or small talk at parties. We’ve all got “Where-were-you?” stories ...

I’ll remember where I was September 11, 2001.

I’ll remember where we were when our son was born.

I’ll remember where I was when President Obama was elected, and I’ll remember where I was when the “big one” hit Japan.

What’s that? You’re confused? Afghanistan? Oh, yeah . Uh, about that ... Read on.

When we last left our hero, (hey, write your own blog and you can call yourself whatever you want) he was heading to Fort Dix for Combat Skills training, in preparation for another tour in Afghanistan. (I was notified of orders to return less than a year from returning from my last year-long trip.)

On March 11, I kissed my family goodbye at the Misawa Airport and boarded a flight for Tokyo. I arrived at Tokyo and had to catch a shuttle bus to catch my connecting flight to the United States.

The bus arrived at my terminal, and I felt it shaking. At first, I thought it was just the bus’s hydraulics system. (Some busses can raise or lower the frame to make it easier to accept disabled passengers.)

I remember thinking to myself: “Man, this bus has a really crappy hydraulics system.”

Then, I saw massive people running out of the airport, screaming. That’s when I realized we were experiencing an earthquake. I held on tight as the bus rocked violently back-n-forth.

Once the shaking stopped, I tried to go back inside to catch my flight ... and THAT’S when I realized that the earthquake I experienced was a lot more serious than I thought.

With all flights cancelled, I called back to Misawa, to see if I could return to Misawa to help out. But, orders are orders ... The war doesn’t stop because of an earthquake. I had to wait it out at the Tokyo airport until I could report to Fort Dix for training.

Travelers were stuck outside for hours. Those hours turned into the whole night, and into the next day. I slept on the floor in the airport, begging a new-found friend to occasionally use his cell phone so I could try to reach Muna & Taj. (It was a relief to know they were okay.)

Two nights later, I was finally able to make it on a flight to New Jersey. I began combat training at Fort Dix while I wondered about Muna and Taj surviving in Japan without me.

In between training, I watched the news. Misawa was busy shuffling cargo in and out; searching for bodies, dealing with the public ... It was a Public Affairs crisis, and I wasn’t there for it.

But, while I was in training, I received a phone call from a General I had never met or talked with before. 10 days after leaving Japan, I received orders to return to Misawa to help out with the earthquake relief efforts.

My deployment to Afghanistan will have to wait. (And, so will this blog.)

Afghanistan, part DEUX ... Now with AUTO-TUNE!

Sat, 5 Mar 2011 04:00:41 +0800

It’s no secret that our military is going full throttle lately. We’re busy in Afghanistan, and we’re still serving in Iraq (you didn’t forget about Iraq, did you?)

We still train for contingencies around the globe, and we still maintain military installations in several countries. Throw in the occasional national disaster or two, and the U.S. military is still just as busy as we’ve always been.

As is the case during times of war, retention can be an issue. It’s just how it is sometimes ... People don’t join the military as much during wartime. Scratch that ... People ARE still joining the military ... Many just don’t STAY after their first term.

While it’s true the military is still meeting it’s recruiting goals, it’s possible that behind the scenes, military separations help the Department of Defense meet those goals. I don’t know the official stats, but I do know that the Air Force is currently reducing it’s numbers as part of what it calls “Force Management.”

So, as people separate, the mission goes on. But, when the new people come in, they’re usually too low-ranking or too inexperienced to be assigned the jobs that require higher ranks or more experience.

So where does that leave us “older, more experienced” service members? It means we have to do more, more often. People who choose to remain in the military know that staying in the military means remaining available for repeated deployments.

After my last deployment, I was kind of hoping I would finally get a chance to do what my mother sometimes told me to do when I was a kid. (After driving her crazy with my rippin’ and runnin’ around, she used to her blow her top and yell: “Boy, TAKE your @s$ somewhere and just SIT DOWN!”) Don’t judge. Parenting comes in all sorts of different flavors.

I was hoping that when my family received orders to Misawa I would have my chance to “sit down” for a while. I could focus on handling public affairs for the best F-16 base in the Pacific, and just enjoy Japan.

Yeah, uh ... So much for that.

Less than a year after I returned from my first stint in the ‘stan, I’ve been tapped on the shoulder to return. This’ll be my second tour ... Others have done more. Some have even served in both the ‘stan and Iraq.

I’d be lying if I said I wanted to go ... I still remember how much I missed of Muna and Taj’s lives last year. But you know the cliche’: Duty calls.

So, I’ll get another chance to help shape “security, governance and development” in the ‘stan. I’ll also get another opportunity to share more occasional rants with you through this online forum. (I know, I know ... nobody really blogs anymore. But, it’s therapy for me, okay?)

On Ice for a While

Fri, 31 Dec 2010 02:39:15 +0800

A Lesson Learned at the Chow Hall (or, What did you REALLY eat?)

Thu, 25 Nov 2010 02:33:25 +0800