The End, and the Beginning.

This actually began as a Christmas letter—but my pre-Christmas was pretty damn busy, so the stack of cards that still sits in a drawer in my room never quite made it… thus, its now a blog. Sad, absolutely. But if you can muster a chuckle at my disorganization, then you’re very welcome, and read on.

‘Rents and extended family—I’m going to try really hard to define any and all acronyms throughout the duration of these ramblings, but if I miss one, just smile and nod as I do whenever a new one pops up, and one day you too will be “Army-fied” (or fried, as it were). 

The End and the Beginning

So here we go… two and a half years of blood, sweat and gears (HA!  Groan!).

When I think back on that day, I still feel as though I'm watching a movie:

Three slightly crazy chics, two of them Army girls-- one of them wondering why the hell her best friend is in the Army-- running from one place to the next attempting to tie up all those lose ends that result from these sorts of things:

Coordinating show times/directions/dress code with family (Mom, Dad, Grandad) and Rucker friends-- running outside to bitch with my neighbor/ Hawk classmate/official best flight-school friend, as to where the hell the army expected us to put all our crap in the dress uniform (ie cell phones)—doing hair, redoing hair -- carpooling -- saving seats -- picture time -- picture time again -- my-face-hurts-from-taking-too-many-pictures-and-the-ceremony-hasn’t-even-started, programs--trying to remember the exact wording of the Soldier’s Creed -- pre-rehearsal, rehearsal, dress rehearsal (Yes! Gay gay gay~!)-- all while attempting not to sweat through our uniforms before the ceremony even began!  Blahhhh! A blur!
A sublimely insane blur of events leading to the culmination of so many dreams, so many sleepless nights, so many aches and pains and desperate stubborness, clinging to the principle that if you just try hard enough you can do it-- no matter what "it" is. We'd done it, and it was time for us to be launched into the world-- like a coming out party for a debutante-- it was finally here. It wasn't a dream anymore, it was a reality.

In the tradition that so many of my heroes had experienced themselves, the echoey halls of the Army Aviation museum were transformed from their vast testements of quiet historical stoicism, to a vital and vociferous birthplace. Surrounded by our peers, who had seen each one of us at our absolute worst, and absolute best, our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, husbands, grandads, grandmas, sons, daughters-- all gathered to bear witness the birth of the newest generation pilots Army pilots.

There I stood, before that stage, shoulder to shoulder with the men and women who had become like family to me, saluting with tears in my eyes as they played the national anthem. My chest swelled with pride every time a member of class 10-20 was called-- recalling in an emotional fog how just a month before this day had seemed so far away.


They're calling my row, we'd better line up-- Oh Lord, its almost my turn, oh my God, its happening, I'm about to get my wings. Oh my God, I'm going to trip over my own feet! There it is! That's me! That's my name! Hurry up Freeman, legs, move already! Oh my God, don't trip! They're smiling at me-- they're so proud of us, they're shaking my hand, no no- my hands are shaking! Get down there, find the "x" and stay put, don't lock your knees... 

Oh my God! Its time, where's my family-- where's Grandad? There they are, oh no, Mom's crying already-- no no, don't cry! You can't cry in uniform, not now-- not yet anyway... Oh no, Grandad's tearing up too, here it comes! Dad too, oh no! Oh my God, they're pinning my wings, wings... wings.... wings... Oh my God, I got my wings. 








Back in my seat-- it was so fast, it seemed so fast.

Then I watched my mom pin K...Oh my God, Mom's pinning K. My dear dear friend K was getting her wings.

All those times we'd giggled, broken down, shared a secret joke at someone's expense, found our own private beach, tried so hard to act like nothing got to us, sharing those moments of utter frustration at the daunting ignorance of men-- and our daunting appreciation of men. Our endless worries, and my daunting insecurities -- she was the only one I could tell-- the only one who'd understand-- and now my mom was pinning her wings. 


Her folks couldn't make the trip, and my family fell in love with her immediately-- a gal with the same dreams-- one of the few girls who will ever truly understand their daughter-- K is an amazing gal. It had taken us so long to get close, to open up to one another -- maybe the nature of this life -- but we had. I was SO proud of her. She did it. We did it.  God I was going to miss her.




I had tears in my eyes again as the realization hit that this meant that K, and all of my new family would soon be leaving this craziness.

No more attempts at meager sleepy smiles on the 0415 bus because at least we had coffee-- no more sharing daily questions, grilling one another on 5&9, or swapping "my IP is meaner than yours" stories, no more "have a great flight!" loaded down with gear on the flight-line, regaling one another with how "great" our landings were, no more awe-filled discovery at the brilliant capabilities of our lady the Black Hawk. No more laughing as your stick-buddy froze to death under the rotor wash while playing fire-guard-- knowing full well you were taking longer on your start-up then you really needed to because he'd done it to you damnit!... No more firsts... no more flight school-- it was done. We were done. We were done. We were done.

Flight school was over. We had become Army Aviators; Above the Best.

UH-60 Class 10-20