A New World Perspective From An Ancient Source

I'd set my sights set on joining the Army since my early childhood. My father, a World War I Veteran, would recount stories to about his experiences during his days as a Soldier. He'd prepare by licking his yellowed, calloused fingers meticulously just before rolling his "Buglar" filterless cigarette. Well in his sixties by then, he was able to roll his cigarette while hardly looking and never missed a beat. Within seconds it was lit up and his war stories began. The stories were never glamorous or romantic: quite the opposite. But, they were intriguing and caused a reaction in anyone listening: sometimes gagging, sometimes a grimace or two, and always a sense of awe in what the man had endured. It was a kind of "superman" survival story telling in my young eyes. I wanted to experience some of that amazing life for myself.

So, as soon as I could get into some semblence of a military uniform, I joined up. My first military experience was the Junior R.O.T.C. in high school. I dawned my olive green fatigues; capped it off with the green baseball cap and leather boots and rushed to my father's room to proudly model for him. He was in his mid seventies by this time. As a result of his years of Buglar smokes, he had developed a severe case of emphysema. All he could manage to do was sit up from his bed and say, "Entrele, Mija! No tenga miedo!" Roughly translated in English, "Go for it, my girl! Don't be afraid!" This is one of the last things I recall of my father and I connecting. He died not too long after this.

In spite of my high school counselor's advice not to...I later decided to pursue a college degree in nursing. This led to an R.O.T.C. scholarship and then active duty as an Army Nurse Corps officer. My travels took to me to the middle east twice during my career. My first trip to the desert was during Gulf War I: Desert Shield/Desert Storm. What a magnificent experience. It had its pros and cons, of course: the sweltering heat, the harsh tent living conditions, and never mind the scuds. However, when my mind was not engaged in the war, I was fascinated by how Saudi Arabia was "frozen in time." And what a marvel of a time in world history: biblical history. Sometimes I would simply stop and look out into the wilderness near our camp enjoy the bedouins in their biblical garb, riding camels, herding sheep to who knows where. The beautiful, colorful tents and rugs set against the drab sand scapes were awe inspiring. The white of the men's robes was almost blinding at times. And, of course, the language and customs which had not changed since the time of their biblical heroes.

This time and space adventure, for me, caused me to reflect on my mundane American life-style. That which I held in great esteem or gave any sense of import to was all being called to question now. While others among my military family looked upon this ancient world as "backwards" or "out of touch" I rather thought of it as more profoundly rooted to what G-d intended for us as human beings on this earthly plain...