Well, the word "meet" may be a little strong for our encounter with the next President of the United States, but regardless, we got to shake his hand and wish him luck. He seemed to like Cara. He gave her a big smile and, as he was leaving, he waved at her a second time. He's a charmer! Check out the video:
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Friday Mornings at the Pentagon
I can only take the word of the author that this is a true story, but I hope that it is.
By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY
McClatchy Newspapers
Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force
personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war. Thousands
more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or
years in military hospitals.
This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate,
Army Lt Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty
in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon.
Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the
halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many
tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of
media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America
Website.
It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This
section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is
broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the
corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all
crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. There are thousands
here.
This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices
line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate
conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each other
for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew.
Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air
conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area.
The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares. "10:36 hours: The clapping
starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the
Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is
low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it
moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.
A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in
the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the
first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are
still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a
private first class.
Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and
nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described
one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The
applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in
the burden .. yet.
Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheel-chair,
also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the
sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, I
believe, a full colonel. "Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E
to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted
as need be by a field grade officer.
11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I
laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands hurt.
Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has
come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come with them, and
perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts..
They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a
private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the
generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their
chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this
hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and
smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of
them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.
There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her
19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband
is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never
shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps
more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given
on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is
ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger
wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd
have themselves been a part of this parade in the past.
These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our
brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every single
Friday, all year long, for more than four years.
Did you know that?
The media hasn't yet told the story. [and never will]"
By JOSEPH L. GALLOWAY
McClatchy Newspapers
Over the last 12 months, 1,042 soldiers, Marines, sailors and Air Force
personnel have given their lives in the terrible duty that is war. Thousands
more have come home on stretchers, horribly wounded and facing months or
years in military hospitals.
This week, I'm turning my space over to a good friend and former roommate,
Army Lt Col. Robert Bateman, who recently completed a yearlong tour of duty
in Iraq and is now back at the Pentagon.
Here's Lt. Col. Bateman's account of a little-known ceremony that fills the
halls of the Army corridor of the Pentagon with cheers, applause and many
tears every Friday morning. It first appeared on May 17 on the Weblog of
media critic and pundit Eric Alterman at the Media Matters for America
Website.
It is 110 yards from the "E" ring to the "A" ring of the Pentagon. This
section of the Pentagon is newly renovated; the floors shine, the hallway is
broad, and the lighting is bright. At this instant the entire length of the
corridor is packed with officers, a few sergeants and some civilians, all
crammed tightly three and four deep against the walls. There are thousands
here.
This hallway, more than any other, is the `Army' hallway. The G3 offices
line one side, G2 the other, G8 is around the corner. All Army. Moderate
conversations flow in a low buzz. Friends who may not have seen each other
for a few weeks, or a few years, spot each other, cross the way and renew.
Everyone shifts to ensure an open path remains down the center. The air
conditioning system was not designed for this press of bodies in this area.
The temperature is rising already. Nobody cares. "10:36 hours: The clapping
starts at the E-Ring. That is the outermost of the five rings of the
Pentagon and it is closest to the entrance to the building. This clapping is
low, sustained, hearty. It is applause with a deep emotion behind it as it
moves forward in a wave down the length of the hallway.
A steady rolling wave of sound it is, moving at the pace of the soldier in
the wheelchair who marks the forward edge with his presence. He is the
first. He is missing the greater part of one leg, and some of his wounds are
still suppurating. By his age I expect that he is a private, or perhaps a
private first class.
Captains, majors, lieutenant colonels and colonels meet his gaze and
nod as they applaud, soldier to soldier. Three years ago when I described
one of these events, those lining the hallways were somewhat different. The
applause a little wilder, perhaps in private guilt for not having shared in
the burden .. yet.
Now almost everyone lining the hallway is, like the man in the wheel-chair,
also a combat veteran. This steadies the applause, but I think deepens the
sentiment. We have all been there now. The soldier's chair is pushed by, I
believe, a full colonel. "Behind him, and stretching the length from Rings E
to A, come more of his peers, each private, corporal, or sergeant assisted
as need be by a field grade officer.
11:00 hours: Twenty-four minutes of steady applause. My hands hurt, and I
laugh to myself at how stupid that sounds in my own head. My hands hurt.
Please! Shut up and clap. For twenty-four minutes, soldier after soldier has
come down this hallway - 20, 25, 30. Fifty-three legs come with them, and
perhaps only 52 hands or arms, but down this hall came 30 solid hearts..
They pass down this corridor of officers and applause, and then meet for a
private lunch, at which they are the guests of honor, hosted by the
generals. Some are wheeled along. Some insist upon getting out of their
chairs, to march as best they can with their chin held up, down this
hallway, through this most unique audience. Some are catching handshakes and
smiling like a politician at a Fourth of July parade. More than a couple of
them seem amazed and are smiling shyly.
There are families with them as well: the 18-year-old war-bride pushing her
19-year-old husband's wheelchair and not quite understanding why her husband
is so affected by this, the boy she grew up with, now a man, who had never
shed a tear is crying; the older immigrant Latino parents who have, perhaps
more than their wounded mid-20s son, an appreciation for the emotion given
on their son's behalf. No man in that hallway, walking or clapping, is
ashamed by the silent tears on more than a few cheeks. An Airborne Ranger
wipes his eyes only to better see. A couple of the officers in this crowd
have themselves been a part of this parade in the past.
These are our men, broken in body they may be, but they are our
brothers, and we welcome them home. This parade has gone on, every single
Friday, all year long, for more than four years.
Did you know that?
The media hasn't yet told the story. [and never will]"
Monday, November 12, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Spooky!
Tonight, as I was walking to my car at the Park N Ride, I felt an ominous sense that I was being watched. It was very dark and as I passed from beneath the street lights, I was temporarily blinded until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I had no idea why I had this feeling of being watched until I looked up and noticed that something was staring at me from the bushes. Below is a picture that I snapped of the spooky parking lot stalker.
Jim Lehrer Speaks at UT Austin
Monday night, I went to a lecture by Jim Lehrer. Yep, that's Jim Lehrer from the PBS Broadcast: The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer. I expected to hear some interesting commentary on current events in politics, economics or the war. Unfortunately, the lecture was written for journalists. It was an effort to reassure journalists that journalism is not in eminent danger. I would argue the opposite. Unless the media changes their tactics from profit seeking to ethical presentation of the news, the media will be facing extinction. Citizen journalism is taking hold of America and offers a bonified threat to the Mass Media. If you doubt this, go to any of the media conglomerate websites and you will see CNN has iReport, MSNBC has FirstPerson and ABC News has iCaught. All of these are citizen journalist divisions of the large news corporations. Anyway, here's the first of 4 parts of Jim Lehrer's lecture.
My new diggs!
Recently, I decided that I needed a change. I wasn't having much luck at my old research bench, so I decided to move. After Junhua graduated, she left some prime lab real estate to be claimed. So, I asked Alan if I could move into some new diggs. He agreed and I am now the resident of a much needed upgraded bench. Check out the easy access to the Speed-vac and microcentrifuges, not to mention multiple heat blocks and a 55 degree waterbath. I even have generous space to setup my own personal electrophoresis bench. And, at least for now, I can put my computer on the bench next to me and I never have to leave to check my email. Not too shabby, if I must say so myself.
There's even a comfy place for the dogs to sleep while I work.
There's even a comfy place for the dogs to sleep while I work.
So Long, ESB
This is the Experimental Science Building. Rumor has it that it will soon be history. I thought I'd take a second to memorialize it. During my first year of graduate school, I taught in this building. I had my first grad school office here and took several classes in this building. I won't say that I'm gonna miss it, but when it's gone, a piece of my past will be gone, too.
This is the balcony from my first graduate school office.
This is the balcony from my first graduate school office.
Halloweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen!
This year Halloween fell right-smack-dab in the middle of the week...a highly inconvenient day to dress up and go to parties, so Cara and I decided to stay in, cook dinner and invite some friends over to watch scary movies. We weren't sure that anyone would be interested, but we had a really good turn out. We had friends from school, work and our neighbors. Cara cooked her delicious chili and everyone had seconds and thirds. We had hot apple cider and pumpkin pie, not to mention the desserts from our guests. One of my favorites was Dede's cake balls. After stuffing ourselves with all the good eats, we started the first movie, "Friday the 13th." Some couldn't make it through the movie and had to leave early, but a few brave souls stuck it out and watched the entire movie. It was a pretty cool night and we didn't even have to put on our costumes. Maybe this will become our Halloween tradition.
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