Coronavirus Part 2, Day 23- Memorial Day

We got a lot of rain last night and early this morning, so the weather was unusually cool during my run. Now I’m alone at my kitchen table, still, at this late hour in the morning. My night owls are still in bed, Nick is upstairs getting his regular early start on Fortnite. I’m having coffee, listening to the birds outside, and it is grand.

White-winged dove on my front lawn.

Today is Memorial Day, which is a federal holiday honoring the sacrifice of service members who have died while serving in the military. This is not to be confused with Veteran’s Day, which celebrates the service of all military veterans. Later we’ll take a family outing to a war memorial in Asiatown, which is about a 30 minute drive in an area we visited often before the pandemic. The story of Houston’s Vietnam War Memorial is showcases how diverse a city Houston is.

Since it’s Memorial Day, I’m reminded of a mother in Staten Island, New York, who I met during my tour of duty at 6th Communication Battalion in 2011.

As part of the permanent active duty staff, all officers and staff non-commissioned officers were on a rotation to serve as the Casualty Assistance Calls Officer (CACO). In February 2011, a Personnel Casualty Report arrived in my boss’ inbox conveying only the most pertinent details of a Lance Corporal Omar Mendez (not his real name), killed in action as a result of a gunshot wound while on an dismounted patrol in Helmand Province, at time X, date Y.

Our administration section pulled up LCpl Mendez’s record and determined his parents were divorced, which required two sets of CACOs, one set to deliver the news to each parent. I was handed LCpl Mendez’s record, and set off in parallel with my Staff Sergeant assistant and the other set of CACOs, to change into my service dress blue uniform and find LCpl Mendez’ mother.

It was a typical overcast and gloomy February afternoon. As the Staff Sergeant and I drove through a light rain across the Verrazano Bridge, I thought about the Marine’s name, and wondered if his mom preferred Spanish to English. I wrote out a Spanish translation just in case my Spanish deserted me at the critical moment.

I had never been to Staten Island, but like many of New York’s Burroughs that seem worldly, diverse, and interesting in my head, it’s not until I’m there when I realize the urban thing is not for me. We found her apartment on the corner of a dreary street and parked close, but not too close. I got out of the car with a business card and an index card with my notes.

The Staff Sergeant and I waited at the front door of her apartment for what seemed like a while. In the event that she wasn’t home we would have gone back to the car and waited until we saw her. In these circumstances, the Marine Corps wants to notify next of kin first and as soon as possible, with condolences delivered in person. Since we did not know where she worked, if we had to sit there all day and wait for her, that’s what we were going to do.

“Yes?” She said to us as she walked up from behind us standing at her front door.

“Can we go inside?” I said. She let us inside, and there at the foyer, I began, “The commandant of the Marine Corps has entrusted me to inform you that your son, Lance Corporal Omar Mendez has been killed in action…”

I did not get through much the remaining dialogue. She threw herself on the couch and cried and screamed. Her 16-year-old son came out from a room in the house and was soon anguished as well. I left my card with her son and told them both we’d be in touch. What followed over the next seven days or so were several visits back to this mom and coordinating with the other CACO for LCpl Mendez’s dad, to talk through military funeral arrangements and benefits. We spent time in the funeral home hearing the family discuss arrangements and burial preferences, with family intermediaries relaying messages between mom and dad. LCpl Mendez had a big family and three brothers. Two were also Marines, his twin brother had been serving in Afghanistan at the same time he had been killed.

It occurs to me how surreal this must be for the families. LCpl Mendez had probably been in the Marine Corps, maybe two years. He had been in Afghanistan only a couple of months. He got the same send-off as many had before and many would after, but he just never came back. I remember on a separate occasion talking with a Gold Star mother at a community relations events representing 6th Comm. She talked about losing her son a few years back and how she’d come to get involved in the military community in New York.

“It’s hard some days. Some days I tell myself, ‘let’s pretend he’s still on deployment.’”

There’s a lot of other stories out there. These are mine. This is what Memorial Day is about.

Coronavirus Day 24- The USS Roosevelt Debacle

Miniature the Cat (Photo credit, Nicholas)

I think our cat Miniature is approaching the end. This morning I heard her caterwaul in the kitchen right before she threw up her breakfast. The throwing up, plus her weight loss and physical sensitivity leads me to believe one thing: chronic hairballs. Just kidding! Naturally, Nick wanted to snap some photos of her, pre-mortem, just before Googling, “how to adopt a kitten”. Documenting our geriatric pets is a thing we do. A couple of years ago I took some portraits of the kids with our previous cat, Lady. A month later, she died. Lady is survived by her portrait, still hanging in the living room.

Aside from the riveting news of my cat, I have nothing new to share. We’re still here, and still healthy. My kids have no doubt fallen behind academically. I was doing much better with my workbooks before formal homeschool started. With the workbooks we covered the same material (reading and math) without the added work of me trying to figure out what the assignment is, when it’s due, and how to turn it in. I have emailed the teachers today for clarification.

I have also been following the news of the USS Theodore Roosevelt, an aircraft career that is now at port in Guam. At this point in the story, something like 200 sailors have tested positive for Coronavirus, a navy captain has been relieved of command, and the Acting Secretary of the Navy has resigned. The question still lingers: was the captain a martyr for standing up for his crew against “big navy” amidst a Coronavirus outbreak, or did he lack the resolve to command a carrier? I feel like this episode will set a precedent for where the line is drawn between troop welfare and mission accomplishment.

Coronavirus Day 19- USS Theodore Roosevelt

Passing the time making random stuff

We’re bored of being bored today. At the time of this writing it’s 4:31pm and I feel like I’ve been idling around all day. This isn’t true of course. The kids each had school obligations this morning. I spent an hour with Penny teaching her how to count tens and ones saying things like, ‘See if you have 10 of something, it’s 1 ten, not 10 tens.’ I have no idea what Nick has going on for school. This morning he went up to his room, listened to his teacher on Zoom for 30 minutes and complained for another 30 minutes about having to do some reading comprehension assignment. I will have to confront him about this. Which I will do, later.

In Coronavirus news, the captain of a carrier, the USS Theodore Roosevelt, was relieved after a letter he sent his chain of command leaked to the media. In the letter he pleaded his naval superiors to act amid a Coronavirus outbreak on the ship- 25 cases reported last Friday, now 100 cases. Obviously, a Coronavirus outbreak in a closed system like a ship is a very bad thing. I bet the crew and their families back home were freaking out. An investigation is most definitely underway.

I’m loosely reminded of the book The Caine Mutiny, which touches on the dynamics of ship life and the nature of the relationship between the ship’s captain and his crew, and the captain’s constant dilemma between war fighting readiness and crew morale. I wonder what will come of it all in the current situation. I hope the infected sailors make a smooth recovery.