Rant. To write in a noisy, excited or declamatory manner. To scold vehemently. To utter in a bombastic declamatory fashion.
I joined the Navy as a wide eyed, insolvent adolescent. Fairly early in my career, I had to make the difficult decision of whether or not to contribute 25% of my paycheck to pay into the Montgomery GI Bill. As an E-1 serving my Country in the finest Navy in the world, my paychecks came to $250.00 every two weeks, so a 25% hit was not something to be decided without all due and very careful consideration. I believed then, as I do now, that the GI Bill is one of the best programs ever developed by Military minds. By contributing $100 a month of your pay for 12 months (and risking life and limb for God, Country and the Citizens of these United States) you are (upon honorable discharge and at least three years of service) eligible for a good amount of tuition reimbursement at the accredited school of your choice (within 10 years after your honorable discharge and depending on tuition costs)! (Boy, there sure are a lot of these parentheses, huh?)
Fast forward to 2009; having left the Navy in 2002, I need to use my benefit or I will lose the unused portion on February 10, 2012. After some gentle and loving persuasion from my beautiful and ever supportive wife, I enrolled in Greensboro College.
Now, to start receiving your benefit, you will need to complete and submit a 22-1990, your DD-214 and have the school verify your enrollment. Your 22-1990 and DD-214 must be received and processed by the correct regional office before verification occurs or the verification will be sent to the lost records department. I assume the lost records department is exactly what you imagine, a huge warehouse full of stakes and stakes of papers, piles of unopened letters and a small framed, mousey older gentleman sitting at an aluminum table in a hard aluminum chair slowly sorting through the ever mounting heaps.
Shortly after submitting my 22-1990, I decided to instead finish my degree at Excelsior College (my alma mater) since they would accept all of my prior credits allowing me to finish sooner. The school also offered an online degree program which gives me the flexibility I need. Having had the benefit of growing up in the military and serving for 10 years active duty, I had the foresight to research the forms required to make this change and I dutifully filled out and submitted a 22-1995, three months before starting school, again, because I know how unhurriedly the Government operates.
I have been in school now for two months and have not received a dime. Since I am taking accelerated courses I need to enroll for the next semester. After calling the VA representative at my school, she directs me to a 1-800 number and I speak to the first of what will be several happy, pleasant, competent and socially skilled Government workers. Since the Buffalo VA never processed my 20-1995 and the school submitted my claim, my claim was now in sub-basement 35F with Grandpa Stanley in the (scary music) lost records department (screams and horror music)! The school cannot re-submit my claim since the VA system does show the claim as "pending" but they estimate at least 6 weeks for Grandpa Stan to even find it.
Long story short, after much back and forth over the last 5 months, I was told yesterday that I would need to contact my SENATOR or GOVERNOR to get some movement on this!
Let me end by making this relevant to current events. Replace the GI-Bill money above with Cancer Treatment, Heart Surgery, Painful Hip Replacement or any other “elective” (not immediately life threatening is defined as elective in the Canadian and German national health plans) condition. This is what happens when the Government runs anything outside what they are constituently directed to do: bureaucracy, forms, incompetence and apathy.
The Founding Fathers understood that they faced the question of developing a government for humans, who are, as James Madison put it, "prone absolutely to selfishness, jealousy, laziness, weakness of character and, no matter how disguised, a war of all against all." As a result, they gave the Government only four roles:
1) Protect the individual's right to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.
2) Raise an army, when necessary.
3) Regulate interstate commerce.
4) Protect the people from the government.
As modern Americans, we collectively believe that somehow we are above the things that are ingrained in our nature and that we transcend these human weaknesses and fallacies. So, obviously, pride and arrogance are as real and as relevant as they were in 1787, perhaps even more so given our inability to recognize or acknowledge it.
I end this post to begin my letter to my Governor, perhaps she can get the VA to do their job?
The Honorable Beverly Perdue
Governor of North Carolina
State Capitol Building
Office of the Governor
20301 Mail Service Center
Dear Governor:
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Icebreaker
I have started Toastmasters and recently did my icebreaker speech. I found the exercise really interesting since it gave me an opportunity to chronicle my early childhood. It is amazing how much of our experiences we forget until we make a concentrated effort to remember and document our past. Please excuse any misspellings or grammatical errors (especially in German) as I wrote this as notes for my speech instead for print quality!
If someone wrote a book about your life, would you read it?
If someone made a movie about you, would you see it?
Madam Toastmaster, ladies and gentleman, distinguished guests.
The following is an excerpt from my First book Titled:
Air Force Four Reporting for Duty.
Chapter One Ich bin ein Americana. I am an American.
I will never forget that I am an American fighting in the forces that guard my country and our way of life, I am prepared to give my life in their defense.
I was born as Airman Basic Thomas Van Dalsen on February 21, 1974 on Keesler Airforce Base in Biloxi Mississippi. Son of Staff Sergeant Danny Van Dalsen (Air Force One) and German Foreign National Monica Van Dalsen (Air Force Two).
In 1976, knowing that my assignments would send me overseas for years at a time, I was enrolled in a rigorous German language immersion program called Oma’s house, or Grandma’s house. Air Force One was required to fulfill two years of remote duty in Alaska so Air Force Two moved the troops to Grafenwohr Germany where we were trained in the art of foreign linguistics, bed making, using utensils and potty training.
It is important to point out here that the linguistic program was full immersion! Deutch war meine erste sprache, ich konnte nur deutsch sprechen und dan musten wier weider im dein staten vohnenen! Now I was moving back to the States and I could ONLY speak German.
Chapter Two Never surrender
I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command while they still have the means to resist.
In 1978, after Air Force One fulfilled his remote assignment the troops were moved to March AFB California, a strange land of fruits and nuts where children spoke in foreign tongues. Air Force One attended California Polytechnic, pursuing his degree while completing Officer Cadet school and training between California and Lackland Texas. As an operational requirement I would play with the locals and soon leaned the phrase “what did he say”. I would hear this over and over again as I tried to mingle and gather intel (intelligence) on strange phenomenon like Star Wars, Saturday Morning Cartoons and someone called Captain Crunch.
Army One and Army Two (Grandma and Grandpa) quickly learned the phrase “Wo sind dine hosen” which means “where are your pants”. Yeah, don’t ask. Army One was a giant of a man, always quick with a joke and about 5 pounds heavy on the left side where he carried shrapnel from a WWII bomb blast. He had been told that the safest place to be during a bombing raid was in a blast hole, since the chance of a bomb hitting the same place twice where slim to none. My Grandfather always beat the odds.
March Airforce Base was my first experience with death. My dog delivered a litter of puppies still born, which we buried on a hill by our house. My childish innocence wanted to know how the puppies would make it home and it was inconceivable to me that they would not be coming home. March Air Force Base was also the site of the Thunderbird crash; four pilots were killed in the line of duty. I learn that death and sacrifice and danger are a reality of Military life so are honor and glory.
Chapter Three Continue to Resist
If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favors from the enemy.
In 1979 moral was low and dissent was brewing. Air Force One refused to take me and my sister (Air Force 3) to a movie at the local drive in, so the troops conferred and hatched a scheme to go AWOL (Absent without Leave). I packed all of my belongings and made sure to slam the door on my way out only to return 20 minutes later since I was not allowed to cross the street. I learn that dissension among the troops is simply not tolerated and none of the troops ever went AWOL again.
As news of our squadron’s capabilities spread throughout the military and we continued to train together and build military bearing and discipline, our missions came hard and fast. Spangdalehm AFB near Bitburg Germany in 1980, where we lose our next door neighbor in a tragic fighter crash during a training operation. Our family squadron remains intact, another lesson in the high price and the meaning of community. A year at Wright Patterson AFB in Ohio in 1983. Then back to Germany in 1984 to Ramstein Air Base.
Chapter Four Prisoner of War
If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information or take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior, I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will back them up in every way.
Should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability. I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my country and its allies.
Ramestein AFB in 1986 has a profound impact on me. I finally receive my ID Card, a ticket that allows me to enter the bowling alley, gym and arcade without parental escort! Unfortunately, the headquarters is bombed that same year and I am unable to exercise that new freedom. While stationed on Ramstein I watch as the Italian Tri Color team accidentally crashes into the crowd during an airshow and kill 67 people and injures 346 others, including a school mate of mine who is burned over 80% of his body and requires skin graphs on his face, legs and torso.
In 1989, Airforce 3, Christina Van Dalsen transfers to Elmira College in New York where she will begin her career as a doctor.
Chapter Five Dedicated to the Principles
I will never forget that I am an American fighting for freedom, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my country free. I will trust in my God and in the United States of America.
North Carolina 1989. I am stationed on Pope Airforce Base and attached to EE Smith High School. My primary mission is to obtain a degree. However, halfway through I make the command decision to pursue a local hottie who would later become Navy 2 to my Navy 1. Tricia Van Dalsen, my beautiful wife and mother of Navy 3 Christianna Van Dalsen. A school shooting in 1991 forces me to change schools and I actually complete my mission at Pinecrest High School graduating in 1992.
Chapter 6 Anchors Away
In 1992 we are shipped to Maxwell AirForce Base in Montgomery Alabama while AirForce One attends war college. I join the Navy, changing my call sign to Navy 1.
This story continues in my next three books Anchors Away, Navy Blue to Corporate Gray and Computers Byte; they includes danger, adventure, passion, mishaps, mayhem, drunken debauchery and travel to strange and exotic lands. Unfortunately, this is all the time we have and I would like to end the way I opened:
If someone where to write a book about your life. Would you read it?
Write your story!
Thank you.
If someone wrote a book about your life, would you read it?
If someone made a movie about you, would you see it?
Madam Toastmaster, ladies and gentleman, distinguished guests.
The following is an excerpt from my First book Titled:
Air Force Four Reporting for Duty.
Chapter One Ich bin ein Americana. I am an American.
I will never forget that I am an American fighting in the forces that guard my country and our way of life, I am prepared to give my life in their defense.
I was born as Airman Basic Thomas Van Dalsen on February 21, 1974 on Keesler Airforce Base in Biloxi Mississippi. Son of Staff Sergeant Danny Van Dalsen (Air Force One) and German Foreign National Monica Van Dalsen (Air Force Two).
In 1976, knowing that my assignments would send me overseas for years at a time, I was enrolled in a rigorous German language immersion program called Oma’s house, or Grandma’s house. Air Force One was required to fulfill two years of remote duty in Alaska so Air Force Two moved the troops to Grafenwohr Germany where we were trained in the art of foreign linguistics, bed making, using utensils and potty training.
It is important to point out here that the linguistic program was full immersion! Deutch war meine erste sprache, ich konnte nur deutsch sprechen und dan musten wier weider im dein staten vohnenen! Now I was moving back to the States and I could ONLY speak German.
Chapter Two Never surrender
I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command while they still have the means to resist.
In 1978, after Air Force One fulfilled his remote assignment the troops were moved to March AFB California, a strange land of fruits and nuts where children spoke in foreign tongues. Air Force One attended California Polytechnic, pursuing his degree while completing Officer Cadet school and training between California and Lackland Texas. As an operational requirement I would play with the locals and soon leaned the phrase “what did he say”. I would hear this over and over again as I tried to mingle and gather intel (intelligence) on strange phenomenon like Star Wars, Saturday Morning Cartoons and someone called Captain Crunch.
Army One and Army Two (Grandma and Grandpa) quickly learned the phrase “Wo sind dine hosen” which means “where are your pants”. Yeah, don’t ask. Army One was a giant of a man, always quick with a joke and about 5 pounds heavy on the left side where he carried shrapnel from a WWII bomb blast. He had been told that the safest place to be during a bombing raid was in a blast hole, since the chance of a bomb hitting the same place twice where slim to none. My Grandfather always beat the odds.
March Airforce Base was my first experience with death. My dog delivered a litter of puppies still born, which we buried on a hill by our house. My childish innocence wanted to know how the puppies would make it home and it was inconceivable to me that they would not be coming home. March Air Force Base was also the site of the Thunderbird crash; four pilots were killed in the line of duty. I learn that death and sacrifice and danger are a reality of Military life so are honor and glory.
Chapter Three Continue to Resist
If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape and aid others to escape. I will accept neither parole nor special favors from the enemy.
In 1979 moral was low and dissent was brewing. Air Force One refused to take me and my sister (Air Force 3) to a movie at the local drive in, so the troops conferred and hatched a scheme to go AWOL (Absent without Leave). I packed all of my belongings and made sure to slam the door on my way out only to return 20 minutes later since I was not allowed to cross the street. I learn that dissension among the troops is simply not tolerated and none of the troops ever went AWOL again.
As news of our squadron’s capabilities spread throughout the military and we continued to train together and build military bearing and discipline, our missions came hard and fast. Spangdalehm AFB near Bitburg Germany in 1980, where we lose our next door neighbor in a tragic fighter crash during a training operation. Our family squadron remains intact, another lesson in the high price and the meaning of community. A year at Wright Patterson AFB in Ohio in 1983. Then back to Germany in 1984 to Ramstein Air Base.
Chapter Four Prisoner of War
If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information or take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior, I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will back them up in every way.
Should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability. I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my country and its allies.
Ramestein AFB in 1986 has a profound impact on me. I finally receive my ID Card, a ticket that allows me to enter the bowling alley, gym and arcade without parental escort! Unfortunately, the headquarters is bombed that same year and I am unable to exercise that new freedom. While stationed on Ramstein I watch as the Italian Tri Color team accidentally crashes into the crowd during an airshow and kill 67 people and injures 346 others, including a school mate of mine who is burned over 80% of his body and requires skin graphs on his face, legs and torso.
In 1989, Airforce 3, Christina Van Dalsen transfers to Elmira College in New York where she will begin her career as a doctor.
Chapter Five Dedicated to the Principles
I will never forget that I am an American fighting for freedom, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my country free. I will trust in my God and in the United States of America.
North Carolina 1989. I am stationed on Pope Airforce Base and attached to EE Smith High School. My primary mission is to obtain a degree. However, halfway through I make the command decision to pursue a local hottie who would later become Navy 2 to my Navy 1. Tricia Van Dalsen, my beautiful wife and mother of Navy 3 Christianna Van Dalsen. A school shooting in 1991 forces me to change schools and I actually complete my mission at Pinecrest High School graduating in 1992.
Chapter 6 Anchors Away
In 1992 we are shipped to Maxwell AirForce Base in Montgomery Alabama while AirForce One attends war college. I join the Navy, changing my call sign to Navy 1.
This story continues in my next three books Anchors Away, Navy Blue to Corporate Gray and Computers Byte; they includes danger, adventure, passion, mishaps, mayhem, drunken debauchery and travel to strange and exotic lands. Unfortunately, this is all the time we have and I would like to end the way I opened:
If someone where to write a book about your life. Would you read it?
Write your story!
Thank you.
Brat
While trying to figure out what searches will hit my page, I came across this really neat post. All my fellow brats will appreciate this!
@http://mommymotivation.blogspot.com/2009/07/military-brat.html
…all your former very best friends are as long gone as your last move.
…always wish you were back at the last place you were stationed even 20 years later.
…are able to imitate others’ speech patterns easily.
…are amazed at people who have never left their hometown.
…are asked “where did you learn to speak English so well”.
…are brought to tears by military music.
…are initially confused when asked where you are from, but quickly respond everywhere.
…at 22 you are trying to find someone in the military to marry so you can get a new I.D. card.
…can call up actual memories of a country while you’re in Geography class.
…can not speak the language of the country in which you were born.
…didn’t save things so you wouldn’t go over the weight allowance of the next move.
…don’t feel quite right seeing military personnel younger than you.
…every room you’ve ever had was stark white and you couldn’t put nail holes in the walls.
…feel like you should be visiting the states rather than living in them.
…find that you can easily amuse yourself for hours at airports, train or bus stations.
…get nostalgic when seeing O.D. Green.
…get the itch to move every 3-4 years and forever feel like the outsider in the civilian world.
…give someone a break because they are in the military.
…went into culture shock upon returning to the states.
…have been asked just where APO, AE was.
…have USAA as your insurance company.
…know exactly how horrible AFN commercials are.
…knew the rank and name of the kid next door’s father before meeting the kid next door.
…left school frequently for bomb scares.
…munched hot brötchen & gummies on the way to school.
…name schools in three countries on two continents when asked what high school you attended.
…played American Football at the schwim bad to impress the german girls.
…polished your fathers boots and brass for his upcoming inspection.
…remember being able to watch the Super Bowl or World Series live on TV at 2 am.
…start a major portion of your conversations with “when I was in…”
…stand up and recite the national anthem at the start of movies.
…talk to someone with an accent and pick it up yourself.
…tell everyone you are from a town that you haven’t lived in since you were 4 years old.
…try to take out your ID card when you enter a grocery store.
…went to school in a converted POW camp.
…know transfer meant pack your toys and say see ya later.
@http://mommymotivation.blogspot.com/2009/07/military-brat.html
You know you are a military brat if you.....
…all your former very best friends are as long gone as your last move.
…always wish you were back at the last place you were stationed even 20 years later.
…are able to imitate others’ speech patterns easily.
…are amazed at people who have never left their hometown.
…are asked “where did you learn to speak English so well”.
…are brought to tears by military music.
…are initially confused when asked where you are from, but quickly respond everywhere.
…at 22 you are trying to find someone in the military to marry so you can get a new I.D. card.
…can call up actual memories of a country while you’re in Geography class.
…can not speak the language of the country in which you were born.
…didn’t save things so you wouldn’t go over the weight allowance of the next move.
…don’t feel quite right seeing military personnel younger than you.
…every room you’ve ever had was stark white and you couldn’t put nail holes in the walls.
…feel like you should be visiting the states rather than living in them.
…find that you can easily amuse yourself for hours at airports, train or bus stations.
…get nostalgic when seeing O.D. Green.
…get the itch to move every 3-4 years and forever feel like the outsider in the civilian world.
…give someone a break because they are in the military.
…went into culture shock upon returning to the states.
…have been asked just where APO, AE was.
…have USAA as your insurance company.
…know exactly how horrible AFN commercials are.
…knew the rank and name of the kid next door’s father before meeting the kid next door.
…left school frequently for bomb scares.
…munched hot brötchen & gummies on the way to school.
…name schools in three countries on two continents when asked what high school you attended.
…played American Football at the schwim bad to impress the german girls.
…polished your fathers boots and brass for his upcoming inspection.
…remember being able to watch the Super Bowl or World Series live on TV at 2 am.
…start a major portion of your conversations with “when I was in…”
…stand up and recite the national anthem at the start of movies.
…talk to someone with an accent and pick it up yourself.
…tell everyone you are from a town that you haven’t lived in since you were 4 years old.
…try to take out your ID card when you enter a grocery store.
…went to school in a converted POW camp.
…know transfer meant pack your toys and say see ya later.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Solace in Chaos
I have often wondered why I find so much comfort in change, so much solace in chaos. Often times, to my own chagrin and to the discomfort of those around me, I become driven to change something, anything. Sometimes it manifests itself (as it has this year) by going back to school, starting a new workout routine or learning to play guitar. Other times it is packing up the whole family for a new State, a new house and a new job.
By luck, or if you prefer, by blessing, these changes have all proven to be very positive, profitable and beneficial for everyone I am connected to, albeit realized somewhat late, after the shock has worn off and the dust has settled; more to the point, after the boxes are unpacked.
Two years is my magic number. Every two years I get "the itch". I start looking around, anticipating that change is coming and if it does not, I am compelled to force it. There is a frustration and anxiety that grows inside of me until I create that change, that chaos to interrupt my routine life and force the things that spur growth and offer a physical, spiritual or mental challenge. This year I am pursuing my Masters in Information Systems Management and starting Crossfit.
What will it be in two years time?
By luck, or if you prefer, by blessing, these changes have all proven to be very positive, profitable and beneficial for everyone I am connected to, albeit realized somewhat late, after the shock has worn off and the dust has settled; more to the point, after the boxes are unpacked.
Two years is my magic number. Every two years I get "the itch". I start looking around, anticipating that change is coming and if it does not, I am compelled to force it. There is a frustration and anxiety that grows inside of me until I create that change, that chaos to interrupt my routine life and force the things that spur growth and offer a physical, spiritual or mental challenge. This year I am pursuing my Masters in Information Systems Management and starting Crossfit.
What will it be in two years time?
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