Purple State, USA

The Top Guns

Whether it's an indication of my deep love for this country or merely a side-effect of growing up in the Top Gun age, there are few things I find more exhilarating than our country's arsenal of fighter jets. I admit that my earliest affinity was for the F-series planes, but even the B-2 Spirit (aka the Stealth Bomber) has a special place in my heart. I have a model of it sitting next to a model of the U.S.S. Constitution on my bookshelf... symbols of the military strength that has spanned the centuries and generations of this country.

It's true war isn't always the best answer, but there is a reason our police officers carry guns. Unfortunately, words don't always work. Some people and some situations are just wrong, just evil. Words should always be our weapon of choice, but we have a responsibility to ourselves and our allies--to history itself--to be prepared for those situations where words and reasoning fail. There is no one, after all, who believes even the most articulate or pragmatic of speakers could have persuaded Hitler to embrace a different sociological view.

How many of you are familiar with what a 5th generation fighter jet is?

If you aren't, Wikipedia provides the following definition: "The fifth generation was ushered in by the Lockheed Martin/Boeing F-22 Raptor in late 2005. Currently the cutting edge of fighter design, fifth-generation fighters are characterized by being designed from the start to operate in a network-centric combat environment, and to feature extremely low, all-aspect, multi-spectral signatures employing advanced materials and shaping techniques. They have multifunction AESA radars with high-bandwidth, low-probability of intercept (LPI) data transmission capabilities."

To put it simply, they are crazy cool.

They are also costing us a lot of money. By recent estimates, the F-35--the latest fifth generation fighter jet--will come with a 201-million-dollar-per-unit price tag. An estimate that many experts are calling optimistic, given not even 10% of its test flights are complete.

As with most endeavors our government tries to undertake, the F-35 program, also known as the Joint Strike Fighter (JSF) program, has been plagued by overly ambitious deadlines, continuously changing requirements and--quite simply--an abundance of human error. It's not only costing us way more than expected, but there doesn't yet seem to be an end in sight. Some analysts project that the per-unit cost on the F-35 could reach as high as 260 million before all is said and done.

Like I said. A lot of money. Money that could be put toward our children's education; money that would make a nice dent in updating our energy infrastructure; money that might cover at least one visit to an ER.

I'm not against funding our military. Far from it. I am also empathetic about the difficulty associated with planning and budgeting for the kind of R&D associated with these planes. Yet there is little evidence that the cost and pressing urgency associated with the JSF program can be justified, particularly in light of the other challenges facing our country. It is important to keep an edge but--given the caliber and effectiveness of our existing fleet--there is little evidence we are competing with anyone but ourselves on this front.

We would scoff if someone barely able to make their mortgage payments brought home a Saleen S7... no matter how cool it looks, no matter how exhilarating the ride. Quite frankly, we would think they had lost their minds. What about when our government does it?

This Soldier I Know.

When I first met Abby* I was around 22-years-old. I was only a year or two older than she is now. She was a cute, outgoing 12-year-old; the younger cousin of a friend I'd had since the age of 15. We were at her younger brother's baseball game and she begged for a ride in my new sports car. I proudly obliged. 

After the game, she made a point to tell me that she and I should go hang out sometime. With a bit of a shy side myself, I was impressed by her tenacity. I told her we would and I made sure we did. 

When I picked her up for our outing, she was talkative and friendly. However, as we got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant, she got noticeably quiet, obviously worried. I asked what was up. She said, "I don't think I have the money to pay for this."

I was stunned. I had never met a kid who didn't take for granted the adult in the situation was going to take care of them.

I learned a lot about Abby over the years. I learned she had a tough childhood, that she'd had to grow up too fast. I watched her live in uncertainty, instability and near homelessness. I witnessed her struggle to remain positive, and hopeful, and kind despite circumstances that were anything but ideal and far from her control.

Abby is leaving for Afghanistan in the next few weeks. She will be gone a year at a time when we, as citizens, are being warned that we are not going to like the death toll in the fight ahead of us as we struggle to assist that country.

I have shared with you about Abby as a person. There are also things to know about her as a soldier: she's smart, and loyal, and strong. You don't know her, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that she'd have your back if you ever needed it. She strives to improve, to learn, to make her world and the world of those around her better. There isn't a child in our country or another she won't stop to assist, there isn't a man or woman of any nationality she won't listen to, there isn't a fellow soldier who can't count on her for anything they might need.  

Oh, yeah. When she dates, she prefers women to men. But really. Who cares?

*name changed for privacy

Considering the Cost of the Fight.

I had an, "Oh, shit," moment yesterday that I thought only fair to share with you all. I received a text message from a bright, strong young man that I've known since he was about... man, I guess he would have been about 8-years-old when we met. He's 17 now. The text message said that on Monday he's signing papers to join the Army, as a member of the infantry.

I found myself asking him if he'd thought about the police academy. I could totally see him on some department's SWAT team. He said he'd thought of that just the day before. I suggested he not sign the papers just yet, that he's only a high school junior and that the Army will be there once he's had time to be certain he's adequately explored all the other options he's thinking of.

There were perhaps many valid, legitimate points in my suggestions, but I want to admit and take a hard look at the least noble of my motivations... Fear. Beyond my reasonable, logical suggestions of other career paths, part of me was choking on that ugliest of emotions: fear.

What does that fear mean? Am I hypocrite? Do I only believe in our military when its someone else carrying the burden? Why do I suddenly feel contempt for some recruiter who *might* be telling this boy his only way to a better life is this? Am I lying to you and--worse--myself about what I believe in terms of our country and our military?

My twin brother is in the Air Force. I am over-the-top proud of him. I have known fear related to his profession, but I tell myself he's not on the front-lines. His risks, though very real, are mitigated to a degree.

In this boy's case, though, he's pretty much volunteering for the front-lines in any battle this country might undertake in the coming years. His risks, like many others in that role, are enormous. This soon-to-be man who would be the perfect poster boy for an American soldier... I still see him laughing as a child, spilling hot chocolate on a store window (accidentally), passionately singing "Pour some _stupid_ on me" because he misunderstood some Def Leppard lyrics (LOL), looking around a hotel room in Florida for the toothpaste that somehow fell off his toothbrush during his mad dash to the sink (omg... ROFL... you had to be there...)

I don't have a lot of answers to the questions I am asking myself, but I wanted to share the story. I know that it's important to me to know that this boy truly came to the Army decision for the right reasons. My brother, for instance, went through and graduated college before he signed with the USAF. He was older and I know that he arrived at his decision because he felt it was best for him, not because he felt it was the only option he had.

Perhaps that's part of my trouble--I truly do prefer to think of our Armed Forces as a volunteer force. I guess, selfishly, that makes it slightly easier for me to accept that some of them might not come home. I can tell myself that they made an educated, noble decision for their country... but maybe a lot of them don't and that's harder to swallow.

I can tell you one thing. It makes me want to be damn certain we are careful before committing our troops to anyone elses' battle.

These kids. They are our best, our brightest, our strongest. To risk them... It's a reminder that our cause had better be just. Especially if they are trusting us--more than themselves--with making that assessment.

(Purple State, USA, has expanded! You can also check us out on OpinionEditorial.com!)

Don't Ask. But When is it Right to Tell?

Stephanie is scared. She is huddled behind a building with her squadron. They have been surrounded and taking incoming fire for hours that have slowly stretched into an eternity. They are running out of ammunition and--with it--time. The good news is they have a plan that might just turn the tables in their favor. Might. It's far from fool-proof.

In light of that, Stephanie can't help but think of her friends and family back home. In between strategizing to get themselves to safety, she can't help but think that there is so much she would say to those people she loves if they were here with her, for just one more moment. Looking into the eyes of her battle-worn comrades, she can tell they are having similar thoughts.

Stephanie's situation is different though. Her life partner--her significant other--is a female. A fact she has hidden well in order that she would be permitted to serve the country she loves, in order to be afforded the opportunities to advance through its military ranks. The military that said she could die for her country, but only if she betrayed a significant part of her life.

She had accepted the rule without much protest, as just part of a game she had to play. Except now. Now it was a little trickier. She can tell the people around her that last message for the person she loves--as they are doing, should any of them make it while the other doesn't--but the risk to doing so isn't insignificant. If she does make it and these people decide in the light of calmer circumstances to take issue with it, or tell the wrong person... then she would be kicked out of the very military she was willing to risk death to serve in.

It's true that there is plenty to be said for why religion and sexual orientation--or anything else--simply can't be permitted to interfere with the organization of a military that's very success and security depends on its ability to move as a cohesive unit. On the other hand, these people are risking their lives for our country. Shouldn't we be able to find a way to let them at least be true to themselves while doing that?

We Remember.

I remember it was the morning of my 22nd birthday when goofy Brett--my fellow software developer at the engineering company we worked at--popped over the cubicle wall to tell me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I was dismissive at the time, thinking it was some stupid private pilot of a small Cessna. It wasn't ten minutes later, though, that I was walking back from the CIO's office and I saw a bunch of people gathered around the only TV on the floor. As I glanced over simply out of habit, I was brought to a halt by the image of two burning buildings. And the sound of someone saying, "And they say the Pentagon was hit too."

Understand that by the time I was 22, I had benefited greatly from the protection and the opportunities being an American citizen had given me. I was proud to be an American. But, looking back, I was also awfully naive. More naive than I knew before the moment those images burned themselves into my mind.

It wasn't long after the buildings fell that the company said we could all leave early, go be with our families, sit and cry, do whatever we needed to do to cope.

I walked out alone, having had little emotional reaction up to that point. As I crossed in front of the building, headed toward the parking lot, I looked up and noticed that someone had already moved the flag to half-staff. And that's when I cried. Because before that moment, as much as I thought I had loved that flag and honored that flag, I--at 22--had no real life knowledge of what that flag really stood for. And I was only beginning to realize the challenges that lay ahead.

On this morning, we can count the lives lost in those fiery explosions, we can look thankfully at our civil servants who sacrificed themselves, we can reflect proudly on the heroics of the doomed citizens on Flight 93, and we should remember that our military has carried the cross of that day for the past eight years... I hate that it happened. It can bring a tear to my eye, even on this day, so far from that initial moment. But I am also grateful to have received the wake-up call. I hope that we can remember not just the tragedy but the blessings on this day as well. We learned we had weaknesses, but we also realized we were stronger than most of us may have realized prior to that moment.

This thing called America is so much deeper than any building anyone who hates us can blow up or tear down. And it has come so much farther than even our forefathers would have imagined. We have so very much to be proud of and thankful for.

I only heard this song in the past year, but it's a great reflection. It's called Where Were You, by Alan Jackson. Read it and tell us how your life was (or wasn't) altered on Sept 11, 2001.

"Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children;
Working on some stage in LA?
Did you stand there in shock at the site of
That black smoke rising against that blue sky?
Did you shout out in anger;
In fear for your neighbor;
Or did you just sit down and cry?

Did you weep for the children
Who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know?
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below?

Did you burst out in pride
For the red white and blue;
The heroes who died just doing what they do?
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself to what really matters?

Where were you when the world stopped turning that September day?
Teaching a class full of innocent children?
Driving down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty cause you're a survivor;
In a crowded room did you feel alone?
Did you call up your mother and tell her you love her?
Did you dust off that bible at home?
Did you open your eyes and hope it never happened;
Close your eyes and not go to sleep?
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages;
Speak with some stranger on the street?
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow;
Go out and buy you a gun?
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watching
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns?
Did you go to a church and hold hands with some stranger;
Stand in line and give your own blood?
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family;
Thank God you had somebody to love?

I'm just a singer of simple songs,
I'm not a real political man.
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell you
The difference in Iraq and Iran.
But I know Jesus and I talk to God,
And I remember this from when I was young--
Faith, hope, and love are some good things He gave us,
And the greatest is love."

Limitation of Liability

I came across an article this past week about the NEO program at NASA. NEO is an acronym for Near-Earth Object. Two key things were covered in this article: 1) the program needs more money in order to meet its 2005 mandate of tracking 90% of asteroids large enough to pose a risk; and 2) despite the benefits to the entire world, this is an effort the United States is bankrolling almost 100%.

It seems only fair to acknowledge that if, indeed, the odds turn against humanity and an asteroid does come barreling toward our planet, I will be the first to be grateful--at the very least--for the heads up not to mention if--in the best case scenario--our military can somehow save us or any part of this planet. I do believe we are all, as people, bound by something deeper than the borders and oceans that often divide us.

At the same time, it seems impossible not to consider the other side of the picture. Such as that odds are greater social security will fail, the health care crisis will continue, and our risky debt to other countries will continue to grow as we watch for this potentially time ending asteroid. Before the dreaded asteroid ever arrives, odds are greater tens of thousands of innocent lives will be lost to more terrorist attacks, hurricanes, typhoons and tornadoes. As money is poured into a program no one is really certain can prevent the inevitable even if it is detected, scientists are telling us there is evidence that global warming is already destroying our world and security experts are warning against the existing risks associated with our aging energy infrastructure.

You can find the article I reference here: http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/space/08/13/nasa.asteroid.detection/index.html

What are your thoughts on the NEO program at NASA? I don't think anyone will argue that our hearts aren't in the right place, but how broad should our shoulders be?

p.s. If you're freaked out by the image in this blog, rest assured that the collision depicted has been ruled out http://neo.jpl.nasa.gov/news/news133.html. ;-)

Pfc. Bowe R. Bergdahl

It's been twenty days since Pfc. Bowe R. Bergdahl, 23, of Ketchum, Idaho, was captured in Southeastern Afghanistan. The latest information we have is a 28-minute video that the Taliban released showing an understandably emotional Bergdahl.

I don't know him, of course. Odds are good most of us don't. I admit that when I heard of the abduction originally, my first thought was "thank god it's not my brother,"--who just recently returned from that region-- and I didn't have many more thoughts on the subject after that. I felt for his family, but I believe the mind forces detachment where it can simply to permit us to keep functioning. After all, these are the realities of war and today a family in Idaho is bearing that reality, just like a family in another state has had to bear it in the past, just like tomorrow a family in some other state, city, community will have to as well.

My distancing techniques worked until yesterday when I saw the video of Pfc Bergdahl and suddenly it was very personal. Watching him speak, it wasn't far below the surface the American story he shares with me. I can imagine childhood adventures with his friends, holidays with his family, how desperately he just wants to come home again. The last twenty days sped by for most of us, but I can imagine they have ticked by slowly and tediously for him. I can imagine that while we have made new memories, he has clung hard to those memories of all the things we are mostly fortunate to take for granted in this land so far from where he finds himself now.

It turns out that Pfc Bergdahl is my brother too; that I hope against the odds he will someday very soon return to his community in Idaho. It is little consolation to him or his family, but I am an American grateful for his sacrifice. I hope you will take a moment today to consider him and to consider how fortunate our country is to have men and women like him.