So my daughter's Navy Recruiter used my camera to take pics of her swearing in and e-mailed it to us. Those pics are somewhere I think the wifey has them. Well anyway we had forgotten to get my camera back until today. I checked the memory card for any pics laying around and nothing.
Except for this.
How cool is that?
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My daughter is joining so she can get a free ride in College. Without it she's only good for a year and I failed as a father by not getting my kids a college fund.
She's gonna be with the air crew and maybe flying. She's way smart so she'll probably move up the ranks in no time.
I guess there's a policy that discourages women from actual combat. I would actually be more worried if my son joins how fucked up is that?
I'll stay optimistic. Proud is not even the word here.
I was never really close with my older brother growing up but he's actually okay now but Tow and my youngest I absolutely cherished.
Here's me and my youngest brother. I got to almost regular weight then because I rode my bicycle on a daily basis. I'm gunning to be this way again.
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True that and you gotta have major smarts and she has that but she thinks even though it's at sea,it has to be a bit safer than on land where most of the fightings at.
Either way I hope by next year things aren't as fucked up as it is now.
Here's a couple of scanned in shots from the old days.
Spring break-up on the Marias River in Montana where we used to ranch. When the ice would go out it sounded like cannon fire booming. That's my boy, squatted - he's, like, 26 now and living as a hippy in Bellingham. My daughter, whom I'm holding, just had her second baby a week ago.
The gun is a very beat-up old Savage .22-20 ga over-and-under that used to go everywhere with me. The shotgun was chambered for 3-inch mags and was stout enough to go goose hunting with, and there's not an animal on the prairie you can't kill with a single .22 long rifle if you take your time and place your shot right.
The dog was called "Muffy." She was alright as dogs go.
Me and my boy cutting up dead cottonwood logs for firewood. Cottonwood sucks: it doesn't burn all that hot and makes shitloads of ashes and corrodes your chimney, but other than old cedar fenceposts, it was all we had for heat in country where you could expect at least 2 weeks of -50 F and colder every winter. We would hang quilts to cordon off the upstairs of the house and sleep on the foldout couch in the livingroom all winter.
My daughter watching make a coyote set. I don't remember this particular time, but all the white fuzz tells me that a jackrabbit got caught in this set and was subsequently torn up and eaten by a coyote.
At the time I didn't know it, but the fox urine I was fogging my sets with to mask the human scent actually attracts jackrabbits. Go figure.
The Navy deploys to the desert for longer periods of time than we do, is exposed to more shit than we are and has way too many fucking uniforms for their own god damn good. It's like they have an outfit for every occasion which would certainly explain squee. Also, if she's flight crew she may very well be right next to us. The Navy cats were right next door to us in the desert, pretty cool people.