In these here parts, we’re a flutter with a birthday present of greatness. Of surprise, of intrigue, of compilation, of photos and words and wisdom and fortune cookie fortunes for scrapbooking, of STEALTH. (The Marine is currently on a 3-week FEX out in 29 Palms so there’s no risk of him seeing this. So, yes, still stealth.)
For those of you who are unawares, I’m hook, line, and sinker sold to an officer in the United States Marine Corps. It’s the kind of story that would make you sick, and my friends hate hearing about what I love about him, how he says the word “important” in such a way that I’ll never want to hear it anyway else, how he pretends to be all big and tough (and is) but how he’s just a sweetheart of a guy underneath, how holding hands in the car is my absolute favorite thing while we argue over which Johnny Cash song is best (I vote for Sea of Heartbreak, he votes incorrectly for his NIN remake) besides lying down to watch airplanes take off at National, how much I hate that he’s not around all the time, but how he’ll call just to make it feel like he’s there anyway, and will remember all the little things like “and I have this thing at noon I’m so nervous about with me luck” and he’ll still find a way to text me just before to make sure I know it’s not about luck, luck’s not needed, and how just now, even though he wasn’t supposed to be able to call me for another month, he just called to say hi.
He is, flat-out, the single best person I’ve ever met.
I’ll spare you the details, but know this: He’s a Columbia alum, smart as a whip, and the 30 enlisted Marines he’s about to take under wing are lucky that they’ve got the brightest, most dedicated, most strategic man I know at the helm.
And it’s about to be his birthday. And what do you do for the best man you know on his birthday?
The best thing you can think of, obviously.
And you know what else is happening around his birthday? He’s checking into Le Sigh, North Carolina, where he’ll get his own Marines. 30 boys he’s going to lead into battle and bring home safely. And needless to say, this is a lot of pressure.
So we’ve wrangled together all his friends. His family. His neighbors. There may even be a teacher or two in there. And they’re all doing an 8.5x11” page that we’re pasting into a scrapbook for him with the broader message: hey you, you’re awesome. What goes on these pages? Anything you want. A few nice words to say “hey, it’ll all be okay.” A picture of a birthday cake. An hoorah. Anything. It’s just a moment for us to say, “Hey kid. I know the world looks really scary right now. And you’re pretty far from home doing this thing. But we’re all out here… rooting for you.” And from me, p.s. I love you. And probably in sparkly princess pink, because that’s the kind of girl I am.
He looks all tough in his dress blues, but don’t be fooled. He’s a total softy. I mean, look.
Do you have any advice for this guy? Words of wisdom? A happy message that has nothing to do with the Marine Corps? Words for birthdays? Because if so, you can send it to me [raleighelizabeth dot smith at gmail] and I’ll print it out and put it in.
I figure, you know, of all the people out there fighting, that’s less than one percent of our American population. You might not know anyone who’s doing it, but I do. And he’s the best of the best. He could have been a fancy New York architect (and he may yet be), but for the moment, this is his job. And he’s doing the best he can. And he deserves the best from us, too.
Do you have anything USMC-related? Snap your picture with it and send it my way too, along with your zipcode, so we can lat/long it for the album cover. I’m sendingout USMC stuff to everyone participating so they can snap the photo and send it back. Matthew will obviously be captured in a USMC t-shirt climbing on construction equipment. A picture that, while not lethal like a Marine, will definitely kill us all with cuteness.
If you want to help, we’d love it.
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10 billion trillion trillion carats.
girlvanized: cuntofdoom: adailyriot: brainguts: vestacha:prominte///bohemianlikeyou
And no, I did not make up that number. I just googled the star.This is fucking awesome. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/3492919.stm
I’ve already got dibs….
finally, an appropriately sized rock for my hand. you listening, marine???
Thunder Over Alabama! I know everyone hates on the air force and pilots, but seriously, this is Great Santini, Top Gun cool. I LOVE air shows. Especially Thunder Over Alabama (the Cleveland Air Show being a very, very close second, but only because my dad firmly believed no childhood was complete without annual visits and seats in pilots’ laps, which was just as fun at 12-in-cute-shorts as it was at 6-and-totally-in-awe. Actually, the “in awe” part never left. Not even now, at 28, which is more like cute-shorts-and-in-awe age.)
Paterson said he sent a letter to the groups today, further explaining his defense of a Sufi Muslim imam’s right to build the mosque and cultural center a couple of blocks from the site of the World Trade Center attacks.
1 in 10 American homeowners is at risk of foreclosure
1 in 10 New Yorkers is waging war on Bed Bugs
1 in 10 Pakistanis has been rendered destitute by the floods
1 in 10 salads is “saltier” than a Big Mac
1 in 10 Americans admits to driving drunk (not just drinking but drunk) in the last year
1 in 10 workers believes they’ll never get to actually retire
1 in 10 single men admits to keeping their beloved teddy bears, elephants (like my brother’s baby Zekephant!), and other stuffies and hiding them when their girlfriends come over
1 in 10 Americans don’t want to be younger, richer, thinner, or smarter. They’re happy just the way they are.
This one’s really, really fabulous. It reminded me a bit of the piece we heard today on Morning Edition and the girls’ madrases.







