Subtle Coolness

Perhaps you can imagine this scenario:

I am standing at a crosswalk waiting for the Red Hand to be replaced by the Walking Man, waiting alongside two dozen other students. I just got off the bus outside the University Co-op and it is 7:35 in the morning.

The cars begin to thin, as they always do just before the traffic light turns amber. Already several people have stepped off the curb. The light turns amber, and two-thirds of the herd of Longhorns are almost into the first lane of traffic. The light turns read, and everyone but me and one other girl are in the street.

Then, and only then, does the Walking Man appear. Then, and only then, do I step off the curb and cross the street.

Then, and only then (except for right now), do I think about how I must be a member of a secret club of people who wait for the appropriate time to cross the street. Actually, I am probably the president of that club.

Other secret clubs of which I am probably the president include:

• People Who Dress Up Instead of Dress Down on Friday
• The League of Wearers of Thick-rimmed Glasses (this one is quite large)

I was recently kicked out of one secret club: IT Consultants Who Tell You to Back Up Your Data but Do Not Back Up Their Own.

On Sunday my roommate left for the summer. On Sunday night I went to sleep in the top bunk for the first time in several years.

I, having been appointed a second lieutenant in the United States Air Force, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter, so help me God.

Today my best friend was commissioned a second lieutenant in the United States Air Force. He invited me to the ceremony. It was really cool. His father, a retired Air Force Major, commissioned him.

That got me to thinking. If I had done ROTC and been commissioned today, could my father have commissioned me?

I always feel something stirring within me when I listen to the National Anthem with my hand over my heart, facing the flag.

Although I didn’t know it, in the summer of 1999 I began writing for this website. I had set up my very first email address not long before then, and I was a bored high school student between semesters. I thought Dave Barry had the best job in the world: write something funny once a week. So I invented a weekly column called Turtle’s Thoughts and emailed funny little essays I wrote to most of my extended family — the ones with email addresses, anyway.

As part of the joke, I included a mock “legal disclaimer” at the end of each email. I would change and add to the disclaimer each week. For example,

Any person wishing to reproduce this article must have a dang good reason and must say, “Pretty please with a cherry on top!”

After a few weeks, I began to employ inappropriate comments and insults in the name of humor. I didn’t think much before I wrote and I didn’t understand what good humor was. Thankfully, a kind reader stepped in and taught me some things about appropriate humor, writing, life and myself.

My grandfather wrote me, and without criticism showed me where I had gone wrong. He suggested that instead of shunning responsibility with a legal disclaimer, I make my motivations clear with a mission statement.

My grandfather was a man that always lived with a purpose. In everything he did he worked towards a worthy goal. He raised an amazing, loving family; researched lifetimes worth of genealogy; saved countless lives in the service of his country; and had the time to teach an important lesson to me, one of his 43 grandchildren.

In memory of Calvin W. Jackson
8 Jan 1925 ~ 27 Apr 2006