I decided to accept Mayor Cory Booker's invite to go see "Land of the Lost," the new film version of the classic Saturday morning, kid's TV show, starring comedian Will Ferrell, at the Newark Screens Friday night. I left the Star-Ledger about 10 minutes before six, and arrived at the theater to find former police chief, now special adviser to the mayor on public safety, Anthony Campos, and a small crowd already there. The chief seems to be a movie-loving guy, like myself. We last saw each other at the mayor's Star Trek outing in May (http://www.flickr.com/photos/hopeful_in_nj/3522381829/).
The screens are a decent place for being the only major movie theater in town (<iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="). The place is clean and well-staffed. But it does look like it was built on the cheap. Plain walls, neon signs and worn carpet. Newark native and basketball pro Shaquille O'Neal (http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2009/02/newark_theater_and_cityowned_l.html) bought the screens earlier this year with some partners, and plans to replace it with a new theater/entertainment complex, which also serves dinner. That should fit nicely on Springfield Avenue, which is one of the best, redeveloped sections of Newark. It already has an Applebee's and Home Depot, Duane Reade pharmacy, and a drive-thru Dunkin' Donuts/Baskin Robbins. Plus, there's a lot of new development in the area too, including an apartment building named after Sharpe James. The former mayor just asked an appellate court have his conviction thrown out (http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2009/06/sharpe_james_lawyer_asks_appea.html).
Mayor Booker arrived in his black SUV, trailed by a Time magazine reporter who said he's writing an update on Booker and Newark. The mayor shook hands and stood for photos with the crowd, which included several young people. Booker said he had some reservations about seeing, "Lost," (http://www.nj.com/movies/index.ssf?/movies/render.do?finder=njo&movieId=63950) when he realized he could have opted for Disney/Pixar's "Up," (http://www.nj.com/entertainment/tv/index.ssf/2009/05/up_movie_review_disney_pixars.html). But it already was too late to change the film selection. He promised the children with us, that if the movie was disappointing, he'd take them all out again. The mayor said he covers the cost of tickets, popcorn and soda through his campaign, and does a fair amount of mingling with constituents while he's there. He sat in the theater with the kids, as he did for Star Trek, and stayed till the last credit, hoping to see one of those surprise add-on endings.
There was one, and it was pretty forgettable, like the movie too. The mayor left somewhat unsatisfied, but the crowd was happy. After all, it was a Will Ferrell film, and not a true remake of the classic TV show. It felt almost like watching one of those Scooby Doo, live action movies, just not as painful.
I told Campos going in, that, "Lost," would be worth the price of admission, if Ferrell sang the show's cheesy theme song. He did, during a disgusting scene with a prehistoric mosquito. Overall, not a bad time.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Reaction to homeless woman who graduated from Essex County College graduation
I wrote about Toni Clark (http://www.nj.com/news/index.ssf/2009/06/newark_woman_graduates_essex_c.html) who attended Essex County College while she was homeless, and graduated with an Associates Degree in education on June 5.
Since then, I've received a lot of feedback, including the following email and poem that captures the sentiment of most folks who were inspired by this woman's story:
Hi Mr. Ortega
I read your article about Ms. Clark and was so touched that I put in up on my office bulletin board for everyone to read. From the CEO to the warehousemen in the company, everyone was inspired from one woman's story of accomplishment. One gentleman @ my job was very moved and touched that he wrote a poem for her:
Homeless not Hopeless
This is story about a woman who had a dream
She felt she had to do it by herself because she didn't have a team
Homeless, jobless, down on her luck.
Instead of giving out, she decided to look up.
Asking her heavenly Father to please help her through it
Without his strength and love, she knew she couldn't do it
Faith, hard work and determination is how she finally made it
Guess what, on June 5th, 2009 she actually graduated
There is a moral to this story
And I hope you will all receive it
Anything is possible if you just believe it.
BY:Arthur deBose
Thank you for your wonderful story.....We all need to read about someone attaining their dreams.
Nicole Dudek
One note to add to this. One of my editors did a great job tightening the focus of this story. He let me sit with him as he read through it and made changes, line by line. This is my favorite kind of edit, because of the opportunity to learn and improve my writing.
Since then, I've received a lot of feedback, including the following email and poem that captures the sentiment of most folks who were inspired by this woman's story:
Hi Mr. Ortega
I read your article about Ms. Clark and was so touched that I put in up on my office bulletin board for everyone to read. From the CEO to the warehousemen in the company, everyone was inspired from one woman's story of accomplishment. One gentleman @ my job was very moved and touched that he wrote a poem for her:
Homeless not Hopeless
This is story about a woman who had a dream
She felt she had to do it by herself because she didn't have a team
Homeless, jobless, down on her luck.
Instead of giving out, she decided to look up.
Asking her heavenly Father to please help her through it
Without his strength and love, she knew she couldn't do it
Faith, hard work and determination is how she finally made it
Guess what, on June 5th, 2009 she actually graduated
There is a moral to this story
And I hope you will all receive it
Anything is possible if you just believe it.
BY:Arthur deBose
Thank you for your wonderful story.....We all need to read about someone attaining their dreams.
Nicole Dudek
One note to add to this. One of my editors did a great job tightening the focus of this story. He let me sit with him as he read through it and made changes, line by line. This is my favorite kind of edit, because of the opportunity to learn and improve my writing.
Crash at Green Street and McCarter Highway
My car was hit by an SUV at Green Street and McCarter Highway last night. The other driver said the light was yellow when she crossed the intersection. But it was clearly green when I was going through. The road was slick, and I slammed on my brakes, which limited the damage to my car's front end. The other driver was really shook up, poor thing. Fortunately, no one was hurt. She insisted we call the cops, which I feared would delay us at the scene for a while. She called her husband too, who came right away and agreed with me that we could resolve this without the police's help. He also agreed that his wife probably was facing a ticket and points on her license. I even had a witness who was saw the lady blow through the light of the intersection.
As much as I denied it to myself, I was still pretty shook up. That witness, who happened to be a friend from work, went with me to get a coffee, before I hit the road from home. My car is still driveable. Thank goodness for that too.
Driving in Newark is a bit risky. There are a lot of careless people behind the wheel, and speeders. We also have sometimes have drag racing. I try to use public transportation as often as I can, and the light rail is truly wonderful. Too bad there's not more of it through out town. So modern, quiet, and definitely safer.
As much as I denied it to myself, I was still pretty shook up. That witness, who happened to be a friend from work, went with me to get a coffee, before I hit the road from home. My car is still driveable. Thank goodness for that too.
Driving in Newark is a bit risky. There are a lot of careless people behind the wheel, and speeders. We also have sometimes have drag racing. I try to use public transportation as often as I can, and the light rail is truly wonderful. Too bad there's not more of it through out town. So modern, quiet, and definitely safer.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Pounding the pavement
Started my day attending a Newark Regional Business Partnership breakfast at the Robert Treat Hotel. Newark's Police Director Garry McCarthy was the keynote speaker. He was complimented by the various business leaders at the meeting, including one man who stood up and personally thanked McCarthy for making the city safer, since he took his job three years ago. McCarthy said his police force deserves the credit for doing the job. "The police work on the ground, where the rubber meets the road, with cops doing this job, is going on at an exceptional level. And the change that's happening in this city, is really a tribute to them," he said.
McCarthy appealed to those at the breakfast, to help him in changing the negative perceptions of Newark. He said it was just as challenging when he worked for the New York Police Department, during an era of similar crime reduction. "It took a while before people felt the change in New York City," he said. McCarthy said people need to actually visit Newark to feel the difference. "I don't know how to change the perception, except to keep staying at it," he said.
When discussing other challenges, McCarthy noted the city's 911 system is overloaded with non-emergency calls. He said 51 percent were low-level calls, that tied up cops from more serious matters. He urged the business leaders to help spread the word on the city's information line, (973) 733-4311, which can take the burden off 911.
From the breakfast, I went walking in downtown. I first headed over to the Newark Art Supply on Halsey Street, where I enjoyed a nice Italian espresso. From there, I stopped at the old Bamberger's which is mostly occupied by companies that use the building for their computer servers. The lobby, however, still has pictures of the old department store. I didn't realize there also was an Ohrbach's at the corner of Halsey and Market Streets.
From there, I went over to a sneaker store, which operates from the lobby of an old theater across from Bamberger's. Now, I'm not talking about the Paramount, which is on the other side of Broad Street. This was one of those "lost" theaters, which no one seems to know the name of. The owner of the store said the city owns the place. I emailed a city official to ask, but haven't heard back from him yet. I continued on down to Beaver Street, which was closed off for a public cafe set up by the Newark Downtown District. It looked very nice on the red bricks of the street, and in front of an vacant, Roman temple-styled building. Scully's, the restaurant around the corner, actually will serve customers at the cafe this year, said the district's executive director, Anthony McMillan. The cafe's open for lunch on Wednesdays and Fridays, and may include entertainment later this summer.
I dashed off to get a shoe shine, and then over to Mi Gente on Central Avenue to get some lunch to take back to the office. Nothing beats their $5 "stimulus special." I recommend the boneless chicken, lightly browned in garlic and served with onions. On the way back to my car, I ran into Clement Price, the Rutgers professor and Newark historian. We chatted about the theater. He too couldn't remember the name. We were approached by Michael Lamont, who just opened a neck wear store on Halsey Street, next to 27Mix. Lamont wore a bow tie he personally made. "I'll be back to learn how to tie a tie like that," Price told him, pointing to an elegant black bow tie, with grayish-blue pokadots Lamont wore. He said it was double-sided too, which means you really get two ties, for the price of one at his place.
One other stop I made was at the Village Hotel. This is what we used to call a hot-sheet hotel, when I worked at New York's Daily News. Most of these places specialize in providing rooms for romantic rendezvous. They charge as little as $35 for a "short stay." I had to check it out, because this place is right in the middle of the so-called "West Village of Newark, at the corner New and Halsey Streets. I wonder if that's where the place gets its name. The clerk was rather nice, and even showed me a couple of rooms. They smelled pretty heavy on the disinfectant. I hate to say, I've stayed in a few commercial places that smell the same. The clerk said the hotel does have overnight guests, and actually sells out sometimes. She was more than happy to take reservations too.
McCarthy appealed to those at the breakfast, to help him in changing the negative perceptions of Newark. He said it was just as challenging when he worked for the New York Police Department, during an era of similar crime reduction. "It took a while before people felt the change in New York City," he said. McCarthy said people need to actually visit Newark to feel the difference. "I don't know how to change the perception, except to keep staying at it," he said.
When discussing other challenges, McCarthy noted the city's 911 system is overloaded with non-emergency calls. He said 51 percent were low-level calls, that tied up cops from more serious matters. He urged the business leaders to help spread the word on the city's information line, (973) 733-4311, which can take the burden off 911.
From the breakfast, I went walking in downtown. I first headed over to the Newark Art Supply on Halsey Street, where I enjoyed a nice Italian espresso. From there, I stopped at the old Bamberger's which is mostly occupied by companies that use the building for their computer servers. The lobby, however, still has pictures of the old department store. I didn't realize there also was an Ohrbach's at the corner of Halsey and Market Streets.
From there, I went over to a sneaker store, which operates from the lobby of an old theater across from Bamberger's. Now, I'm not talking about the Paramount, which is on the other side of Broad Street. This was one of those "lost" theaters, which no one seems to know the name of. The owner of the store said the city owns the place. I emailed a city official to ask, but haven't heard back from him yet. I continued on down to Beaver Street, which was closed off for a public cafe set up by the Newark Downtown District. It looked very nice on the red bricks of the street, and in front of an vacant, Roman temple-styled building. Scully's, the restaurant around the corner, actually will serve customers at the cafe this year, said the district's executive director, Anthony McMillan. The cafe's open for lunch on Wednesdays and Fridays, and may include entertainment later this summer.
I dashed off to get a shoe shine, and then over to Mi Gente on Central Avenue to get some lunch to take back to the office. Nothing beats their $5 "stimulus special." I recommend the boneless chicken, lightly browned in garlic and served with onions. On the way back to my car, I ran into Clement Price, the Rutgers professor and Newark historian. We chatted about the theater. He too couldn't remember the name. We were approached by Michael Lamont, who just opened a neck wear store on Halsey Street, next to 27Mix. Lamont wore a bow tie he personally made. "I'll be back to learn how to tie a tie like that," Price told him, pointing to an elegant black bow tie, with grayish-blue pokadots Lamont wore. He said it was double-sided too, which means you really get two ties, for the price of one at his place.
One other stop I made was at the Village Hotel. This is what we used to call a hot-sheet hotel, when I worked at New York's Daily News. Most of these places specialize in providing rooms for romantic rendezvous. They charge as little as $35 for a "short stay." I had to check it out, because this place is right in the middle of the so-called "West Village of Newark, at the corner New and Halsey Streets. I wonder if that's where the place gets its name. The clerk was rather nice, and even showed me a couple of rooms. They smelled pretty heavy on the disinfectant. I hate to say, I've stayed in a few commercial places that smell the same. The clerk said the hotel does have overnight guests, and actually sells out sometimes. She was more than happy to take reservations too.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Recycle this!
We got several calls at the paper this week from Newarkers who were steamed they received tickets for recycling violations, and that several hundred were on line to pay their fines at the municipal court. Some people even called to complain while they were on line at the payment window.
When I first went down to check it out, I ran into a police aide who wouldn't let me pass with a voice recorder I had in my pocket. There's probably some rule against bringing such devices into the court. I, however, was just going to the payment window.
The police aide didn't want to know anything about it. She insisted I take the recorder back out to my car. I had walked there from the Ledger, so that wasn't an option. When I tried to explain that I was a reporter, and in a hurry to speak to the folks who had called us, the aide again wouldn't hear me out. I tried a third time to explain my case, and was told not to raise my voice. I wasn't raising it.
The aide then left to go get a supervisor. I decided not to wait, and as I turned to leave, the aide thought I was making a move to get passed her. She even threatened to arrest me for trespassing. Having had enough of this overzealous police aide, I just kept going. "I'm leaving the building!" I yelled as I went out the exit.
I stashed my recorder behind a stoop outside, and returned into the building, where the police aide was now deep into discussion with someone. She also was ignoring a line of people waiting to enter the building.
A woman at the front of the line decided to go ahead anyway, and stuck her bag into the security scanner at the entrance. The police aide was too busy talking to notice, and didn't look at the scanner monitor as the bag went through. Three other people in front of me did the same. I went through too, again with no word from the aide.
Once inside, I found 47 people on line for the payment window. Several were charged $147 for multiple violations. They were accused of not flattening their cardboard, or tying it into bundles. Some also were charged with failing to separate their bottles and cans into plastic bags.
A woman pulled out a calculator and did the math, multiplying 47 times $147. She hit the equal sign and showed the total to her husband, "That's more than six Gs," he said.
I left to meet a resident who called me on his cell phone outside. He was a retired cop, who also had been fined. However, the summons notice he received in the mail had no specifics. He had to go to court to find out why he was being ticketed, and insisted he was being charged improperly. The city, he said, needs to say upfront what a person is being fined for. He said that when he worked as a police officer, he couldn't charge anyone without saying what the charge was for. He joined several people insisting the city was just trying to raise its revenues.
Melvin Waldrop, the city administrator in charge of sanitation services, told me that wasn't the case. He had a crew of seven inspectors, recently reassigned from writing tickets for alternate side-of-the-street parking, to recycling compliance, and the crew had written up about 5,000 violations.
The tickets, Waldrop said, were an incentive for people to recycle.
A reader wrote me an email saying she didn't think the city should be writing tickets at all, because it's not even consistent about picking up recycleables. Her recycling had not been picked up for three or four months until she called the city, she said. The call brought sanitation out once to pick up her recycling only once. The city hasn't come back since, she said.
The lady had some harsh words after that.
"If the sanitation dept. can show proven record that they pick up the trash/recycling on the scheduled day then only will i agree with giving out tickets but until then its all a scam and politics at its best, TRASH. Sincerely, ANGRY NEWARK RESIDENT," she wrote in an email.
When I first went down to check it out, I ran into a police aide who wouldn't let me pass with a voice recorder I had in my pocket. There's probably some rule against bringing such devices into the court. I, however, was just going to the payment window.
The police aide didn't want to know anything about it. She insisted I take the recorder back out to my car. I had walked there from the Ledger, so that wasn't an option. When I tried to explain that I was a reporter, and in a hurry to speak to the folks who had called us, the aide again wouldn't hear me out. I tried a third time to explain my case, and was told not to raise my voice. I wasn't raising it.
The aide then left to go get a supervisor. I decided not to wait, and as I turned to leave, the aide thought I was making a move to get passed her. She even threatened to arrest me for trespassing. Having had enough of this overzealous police aide, I just kept going. "I'm leaving the building!" I yelled as I went out the exit.
I stashed my recorder behind a stoop outside, and returned into the building, where the police aide was now deep into discussion with someone. She also was ignoring a line of people waiting to enter the building.
A woman at the front of the line decided to go ahead anyway, and stuck her bag into the security scanner at the entrance. The police aide was too busy talking to notice, and didn't look at the scanner monitor as the bag went through. Three other people in front of me did the same. I went through too, again with no word from the aide.
Once inside, I found 47 people on line for the payment window. Several were charged $147 for multiple violations. They were accused of not flattening their cardboard, or tying it into bundles. Some also were charged with failing to separate their bottles and cans into plastic bags.
A woman pulled out a calculator and did the math, multiplying 47 times $147. She hit the equal sign and showed the total to her husband, "That's more than six Gs," he said.
I left to meet a resident who called me on his cell phone outside. He was a retired cop, who also had been fined. However, the summons notice he received in the mail had no specifics. He had to go to court to find out why he was being ticketed, and insisted he was being charged improperly. The city, he said, needs to say upfront what a person is being fined for. He said that when he worked as a police officer, he couldn't charge anyone without saying what the charge was for. He joined several people insisting the city was just trying to raise its revenues.
Melvin Waldrop, the city administrator in charge of sanitation services, told me that wasn't the case. He had a crew of seven inspectors, recently reassigned from writing tickets for alternate side-of-the-street parking, to recycling compliance, and the crew had written up about 5,000 violations.
The tickets, Waldrop said, were an incentive for people to recycle.
A reader wrote me an email saying she didn't think the city should be writing tickets at all, because it's not even consistent about picking up recycleables. Her recycling had not been picked up for three or four months until she called the city, she said. The call brought sanitation out once to pick up her recycling only once. The city hasn't come back since, she said.
The lady had some harsh words after that.
"If the sanitation dept. can show proven record that they pick up the trash/recycling on the scheduled day then only will i agree with giving out tickets but until then its all a scam and politics at its best, TRASH. Sincerely, ANGRY NEWARK RESIDENT," she wrote in an email.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Ironbound visit on June 10, 2009
I met the great Bernardino Coutinho, founder of Newark's Portugal Day festival, approaching its 30th year this weekend. Coutinho was at his office inside a former, brick firehouse. He was quite gracious, and very European. He offered to send out for coffee, if I wanted. I passed.
What a presence this guy had. Seventy-two-years-old, tall, with a bit of paunch belly, and a lot of charm. A bit of sly devil too. He made fun of his distaste for a local official, suggesting he needs to be fitted for a pair of cement galoshes. I warned him to be careful about saying that as often as he did around me and others, because he might be taken seriously, and bring on the cops. Coutinho just laughed it off.
I went to visit because Coutinho's knee deep in a bunch money problems with the festival. Newark wants him to pay for event-related expenses, which he said brings in a million people from all over the world to the Ironbound, to celebrate Portugal Day on June 10. He's struggling to come up with the money, relying on restaurants, stores and vendors to come up with most of the cash.
But I sensed that he's having a more difficult time adjusting to change. Newark officials are charging for police and sanitation services, to raise revenues for the cash-strapped city. Cortinho's more concerned with putting on the festival. He's the Ironbound's answer to P.T. Barnum, who just wants to entertain everyone who's coming down this weekend, and to celebrate his heritage.
Now, the Ironbound, already a mess with traffic and seriously lacking in parking, is even worse because of a streetscape project on Ferry Street. There are some very annoying detours, which just add to the road rage tendencies I get whenever I drive there.
My suggestion is, take a bus or the light rail over to Newark Penn Station, and walk from there into the Ironbound. After all, pedestrians do get the best experience in this terrific neighborhood.
There's plenty of shopping, and you're supposed to frequent the big restaurants, like Iberia. But my favorite spot is a corner burger place across from the Pathmark Supermarket on Ferry. This is actually a Brazilian burger joint, which serves an awesome sandwich with eggs, mayonnaise lettuce, tomato and those string potato chip fries, all under a fresh baked bun. I don't recall the name, but it's definitely a cholesterol-laden feast. Very tasty. The place serves decent espresso too.
What a presence this guy had. Seventy-two-years-old, tall, with a bit of paunch belly, and a lot of charm. A bit of sly devil too. He made fun of his distaste for a local official, suggesting he needs to be fitted for a pair of cement galoshes. I warned him to be careful about saying that as often as he did around me and others, because he might be taken seriously, and bring on the cops. Coutinho just laughed it off.
I went to visit because Coutinho's knee deep in a bunch money problems with the festival. Newark wants him to pay for event-related expenses, which he said brings in a million people from all over the world to the Ironbound, to celebrate Portugal Day on June 10. He's struggling to come up with the money, relying on restaurants, stores and vendors to come up with most of the cash.
But I sensed that he's having a more difficult time adjusting to change. Newark officials are charging for police and sanitation services, to raise revenues for the cash-strapped city. Cortinho's more concerned with putting on the festival. He's the Ironbound's answer to P.T. Barnum, who just wants to entertain everyone who's coming down this weekend, and to celebrate his heritage.
Now, the Ironbound, already a mess with traffic and seriously lacking in parking, is even worse because of a streetscape project on Ferry Street. There are some very annoying detours, which just add to the road rage tendencies I get whenever I drive there.
My suggestion is, take a bus or the light rail over to Newark Penn Station, and walk from there into the Ironbound. After all, pedestrians do get the best experience in this terrific neighborhood.
There's plenty of shopping, and you're supposed to frequent the big restaurants, like Iberia. But my favorite spot is a corner burger place across from the Pathmark Supermarket on Ferry. This is actually a Brazilian burger joint, which serves an awesome sandwich with eggs, mayonnaise lettuce, tomato and those string potato chip fries, all under a fresh baked bun. I don't recall the name, but it's definitely a cholesterol-laden feast. Very tasty. The place serves decent espresso too.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The most patriotic journalist I know
The following post is from a June 8, 2009 letter sent to several people, including myself, from the most patriotic reporter I've been priviledged to know. His time as a journalist was brief, because he was recalled to service, after two earlier tours of duty.
Those of you who know who I'm talking about, please respect this person's privacy, and decline from naming who it is. I don't know if this person wants everyone knowing where these humble thoughts came from. I also deleted his girlfriend's name too.
Here's the letter:
Hello all,
Four months have passed since I received orders recalling me to the Army; it’s been nine weeks since I first reported back for duty. I’m writing to let you know that my pre-deployment training is finally complete and that this weekend I will board a plane bound for Afghanistan. I’ll spend the next year as part of an infantry battalion training Afghan military and police forces in the mountainous eastern provinces that border Pakistan. I’m falling in on a tough unit, and I believe the mission will be personally very fulfilling.
At this point, I’m just eager to get started. My re-entry into the service has been a whirlwind of activity and travel so exhausting, it almost seems designed to make the thought of deploying desirable. My reintegration kicked off with two long weeks of in-processing and classes at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Once that was complete, the Army bused me 18 hours to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, where I spent three weeks brushing up on critical skills in my branch specialty (I’m a combat engineer). Then on May 9, I flew to Camp Shelby in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, to round out the final training and evaluations that were necessary to make me eligible for deployment.
I’ve readjusted quickly to the rhythm and oddities of Army life: the pre-dawn wakeups, the forfeiture of all privacy and the crude, peculiar lingo that only soldiers can discern. In the absence of reliable Internet access, I’ve spent most of my free time at the gym, buried in a book or tinkering with the gear that will accompany me to the desert. I also have had ample time to get to know the fellow soldiers with whom I’ll be serving. Among the most interesting reservists I’ve met are a former cyclist who at one time competed alongside Tour de France regular George Hincapie, a newspaper editor-turned-winemaker-turned-historian and a young female prison guard with horrific tales from the high-security Missouri prison where she works – all great material for my journal.
The last few months haven’t been all hard work, either. Right before reporting for duty in April, I went on vacation with my girlfriend and our families. We did Mardi Gras in New Orleans (my home) and Spring Break in Boston (my girlfriend’s home). In March, we even managed to squeeze in a two-week, impromptu trip down to Argentina. We stayed in Buenos Aires for a few days, then rented a small car and drove north to the foothills of the Andes and the wine regions.
It was the perfect getaway. Just last week, I was granted a four-day pass to New Orleans to say final goodbyes to my parents, my sister and girlfriend, who flew down from New York amid intense reporting for her book. Their support through all of this has been extraordinary.
Now on the eve of war, I can confidently say that my conscience is clear. After two years studying and working as an aspiring journalist, I’ve come to realize that much good may result from this temporary interruption in my life. As an Iraq veteran, I’ve always considered myself a fortunate, front-line witness to that war during what I believe is a watershed moment in our nation’s history. And given how much I’ve been shaped by it personally, I now feel strongly compelled to see firsthand the unfolding challenges in Afghanistan.
Thank you for your continued support and encouragement throughout this time. I hope to be able to send updates more frequently once I get settled in Afghanistan.
Until then, I will be hoping to hear from you very soon.
I worked with this guy for only six months, and in that brief time came to sincerely admire him. He showed he was very dedicated to journalism, and when the army came calling, how devoted he was to this country.
Those of you who know who I'm talking about, please respect this person's privacy, and decline from naming who it is. I don't know if this person wants everyone knowing where these humble thoughts came from. I also deleted his girlfriend's name too.
Here's the letter:
Hello all,
Four months have passed since I received orders recalling me to the Army; it’s been nine weeks since I first reported back for duty. I’m writing to let you know that my pre-deployment training is finally complete and that this weekend I will board a plane bound for Afghanistan. I’ll spend the next year as part of an infantry battalion training Afghan military and police forces in the mountainous eastern provinces that border Pakistan. I’m falling in on a tough unit, and I believe the mission will be personally very fulfilling.
At this point, I’m just eager to get started. My re-entry into the service has been a whirlwind of activity and travel so exhausting, it almost seems designed to make the thought of deploying desirable. My reintegration kicked off with two long weeks of in-processing and classes at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Once that was complete, the Army bused me 18 hours to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, where I spent three weeks brushing up on critical skills in my branch specialty (I’m a combat engineer). Then on May 9, I flew to Camp Shelby in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, to round out the final training and evaluations that were necessary to make me eligible for deployment.
I’ve readjusted quickly to the rhythm and oddities of Army life: the pre-dawn wakeups, the forfeiture of all privacy and the crude, peculiar lingo that only soldiers can discern. In the absence of reliable Internet access, I’ve spent most of my free time at the gym, buried in a book or tinkering with the gear that will accompany me to the desert. I also have had ample time to get to know the fellow soldiers with whom I’ll be serving. Among the most interesting reservists I’ve met are a former cyclist who at one time competed alongside Tour de France regular George Hincapie, a newspaper editor-turned-winemaker-turned-historian and a young female prison guard with horrific tales from the high-security Missouri prison where she works – all great material for my journal.
The last few months haven’t been all hard work, either. Right before reporting for duty in April, I went on vacation with my girlfriend and our families. We did Mardi Gras in New Orleans (my home) and Spring Break in Boston (my girlfriend’s home). In March, we even managed to squeeze in a two-week, impromptu trip down to Argentina. We stayed in Buenos Aires for a few days, then rented a small car and drove north to the foothills of the Andes and the wine regions.
It was the perfect getaway. Just last week, I was granted a four-day pass to New Orleans to say final goodbyes to my parents, my sister and girlfriend, who flew down from New York amid intense reporting for her book. Their support through all of this has been extraordinary.
Now on the eve of war, I can confidently say that my conscience is clear. After two years studying and working as an aspiring journalist, I’ve come to realize that much good may result from this temporary interruption in my life. As an Iraq veteran, I’ve always considered myself a fortunate, front-line witness to that war during what I believe is a watershed moment in our nation’s history. And given how much I’ve been shaped by it personally, I now feel strongly compelled to see firsthand the unfolding challenges in Afghanistan.
Thank you for your continued support and encouragement throughout this time. I hope to be able to send updates more frequently once I get settled in Afghanistan.
Until then, I will be hoping to hear from you very soon.
I worked with this guy for only six months, and in that brief time came to sincerely admire him. He showed he was very dedicated to journalism, and when the army came calling, how devoted he was to this country.
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