Souvenirs from NORAD and USNORTHCOM

What do the following items have in common with each other?

A really cute little-girl carry-on bag with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it




A hand-crafted necklace with the words NORAD and USNORTHCOM discreetly worked in

 

A proof copy of the NORAD Jubilee book, Guarding What You Value Most

A supersized paper "coin" to commemorate NORAD and USNORTHCOM

 Answer: they were just some of the gag gifts given to me at the farewell party thrown for me today. There is a story to go with each item.

[Aside: The layout function for pictures in Blogger is seriously frustrating!]

The luggage is symbolic of the several Civic Leader Tours I carried out with my colleagues. These trips are killers from a logistical perspective. First, they are hosted by a four-star general officer. That means: high-profile, no-fail. Second, the guests are very senior community leaders. Think CEOs, directors. That means: high expectations, accustomed to having an admin assistant taking care of their every need. Third, they last five days and visit 10-12 military destinations across the United States (and sometimes Canada, but none did during my tenure). That means: coordination of a kazillion moving parts - with no allowance for a missed hand-off. These trips were exhilarating and exhausting, and helped me build real relationships with my colleagues: there was laughter and tears, panic and passing out. And occasionally a glass of wine.

The necklace is, in my opinion, the most artful way one could incorporate those command names into a piece of jewelry. Click on the picture to enlarge it and check out how she incorporated the letters! (Apology: I took the picture in a mirror so the letters are all inverse.) Kathleen created the necklace as a joke (because I'm always so well put together, or so they say), but I quite like it. Though I might remove the Mona Lisa pendant, I think, and the non sequitur turtle that doesn't show in the picture. :-)

The NORAD Jubilee Book was one of the key products to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the signing of the NORAD agreement. The year-long celebration was a huge project, and the book was just one small part of it. Most of my role on the book was just keeping the project moving. But I did have one critical part: I alphabetized the list of contributors to the Jubilee celebration. In so doing I accidentally deleted the name of one of the key contributors - he's the one who presented me with this gift. [I tried to insert a picture of the offending page here, but Blogger insisted on placing it perpendicular to the text. Grrr. I give up.]


The supersized paper coin represents the prestigious command coins, usually given to recognize a significant contribution or effort. The coins are usually small enough to slip into the palm of the hand and given as part of a handshake. (The real coins were out of stock, but the sentiment is still delivered.)

These were just a few of the humorous and meaningful gifts given to me today by a group of people who work hard together, respect each other and find fun every day in some goodhearted ribbing.

I once wrote that the military, by virtue of its transient lifestyle and its constant awareness of the sacrifice of human life, excels at saying goodbye. People don't just fade into the woodwork, they are celebrated and their contributions are honoured. Sometimes, as with the change of command at NORAD and USNORTHCOM this week, the pomp and ceremony are truly impressive. Other times, like today, the ritual is very personal and well considered, but it is part of the culture nevertheless. One of many, many things I will miss when I leave here.

P.S. I still have four more working days before I leave the job but, since my last day is the day before a 4-day weekend, we opted to do my send-off today. Otherwise no one would've shown up!

Dawning realization

I just realized that when my niece has her baby (sometime in the next 30 days or so), I will be a great-aunt. Good grief. This will be the first grandchild amongst all my six siblings. My first great-niece or great-nephew.

I'm kind of stunned because "great-aunt" is a term reserved for, well, for my aunts, in relation to my children. Not to ME. And great-aunts are, frankly, old. Always have been. I've loved my aunts (my kids' great-aunts) to bits, but they've always been the older generation.

To make things worse, as hubby pointed out, my brother will be a GRANDFATHER. An old man, I tell you.

As I was lamenting all of this out loud, my 13-year-old chimed in, "But Mom, you've always been great!"

I think he should get an increase in his allowance, just for that.

Uh-huh?

Or, "What ever happened to, 'You're welcome.'?"

I do realize that fancy manners and civility are going the way of the pogo stick. No one knows how to set a table properly or which side plate to use anymore. No one writes thank-you notes anymore. (Which raises a question I'd love to ask Miss Manners: When are e-mail thank-yous sufficient?)

But in my prematurely curmudgeonly way, I have to speak out. Or blog out, as it were. I am annoyed when, after I thank someone for a service he or she has rendered, I get an, "Uh-huh?" as a response. I hear this most often in stores, after I thank the cashier for ringing up my sale. (What can I say? I'm Canadian; we either apologize or thank everyone we meet.) The salesperson absentmindedly grunts, "Uh-huh?" with an upward inflection that makes it a question.

It feels so dismissive. It's just a small step better than, "Whatever." (An admittedly huge step better than, "Whatevs.")

And here's the worst part: I've actually caught myself doing the uh-huh grunt. I know! It's shameful. I know better, and yet I'm absorbing the vernacular. It just ... happens.

So I'm consciously trying to force myself to pause that millisecond so I can remember to say, "You're welcome," instead of grunting dismissively and questioningly. I don't expect to stem the uh-huh tide, but I look forward one day to being that sweet, little, old curmudgeon who still says, "You're welcome," perhaps with a "dearie" appended.

Thanks for letting me vent.

Uh-huh?

GAAAAAH! Trying not to panic.

And failing miserably.

While our house-hunting trip in April was a success - we did find a house, after all - it was all so down-to-the-wire that there was no time left over to do anything about lining up services at the new house prior to our move. So now I'm trying to do them from here, and I'm finding it rather daunting.

There are SO MANY options! Too many. And so many opportunities to feel ripped off.

Home phone - Do we want to switch to something like Vonage? (Although we had a truly horrific experience with them here in Colorado Springs, I hope it would be better if we went with Vonage right from the get-go.) Should we all just have individual cell phones? But then, how would we send/receive faxes? (You'd be surprised how often we use our fax machine. I know I am.)

Internet - there are now something like six different service options - and that's if we go the phone-provider route! If I choose one of the cheaper options, will the family rebel against me and lament about dial-up speed? "I have to go to my friend's house, Mom. Our internet is too slow, and I have homework to do."

TV as well... cable vs. digital vs. satellite. And don't even get me started on cell phones. And school registration. And university registration. Oh, yeah, and finding a job - which I will need if we're going to pay for all those services.

I remember the good old days, way back in 1984. All we had to do was contact the utilities (and there was only one service provider) and Bell Canada (another monopoly). The biggest stress then was facing all the astronomical hook-up charges. And all that was stressful enough.

Reflecting on all this, I'm glad I've quit my job early. It's going to take me several weeks, I think, to sort it out. In the meantime, I think I'll just curl up into a little ball here.

Whimper.

Or I'll make a table. Yeah. Spreadsheets and tables are always reassuring as they break things down into manageable parts. So clean, so organized, so discrete. Each element with its own line. All the information in one place. This SO appeals to the OCD in me. There. Even just thinking about organizing the information has calmed me. Sigh.

Poor me.

[Update: I think I managed to get the picture where I wanted it...]

Yesterday I was in a black mood all day. Why? Because I don't love the house we're moving into in Ottawa.

All day long, all I could think about was what's wrong with it: it's significantly smaller than what we're used to; the master ensuite is dinky; the dining room is too small for a table AND a hutch; the living room is too small for our big comfy chairs; the windows are all small (except in the living room and sun room); and the kitchen won't have enough cupboards, even after we add more.

Actually, my whine list went even longer than that, but I'll spare you.

Why, you may rightly ask, did we buy the house then? That's what I tried to keep reminding myself. Location was the biggy - biking distance for Steve to get to work. We saw much more beautiful houses (some downright huge) but they were further out or in neighbourhoods where bicycling would be taking your life into your hands. So it was a compromise. It was as much house as we could afford in the location we wanted. And it IS in really excellent condition, and has beautiful hardwood floors in the living room, dining room and bedrooms. And there's a tiny forest right across the street.

And we can make it beautiful, as Steve keeps promising me.

So all this has been going through my mind. Then this morning, I read my cousin's blog.

My cousin, Steve Bramer, is on a mission trip to Hungary and Romania, through his church. He posted some pictures, including this one of "a typical house out here in the rural areas" of Romania.

And it hit me like a brick in the head: we are SO blessed. I am so spoiled. So caught up in Western consumerism and materialism. And I don't like that about myself.

So, I will recover from this well-timed concussion and begin to be grateful for the very cushy life I have. And I'll stop whining.