Basic Training and My European Vacation

The day after Shane left for Basic, I left for Europe. I flew alone to The Netherlands and I could barely say "hello" in Dutch. I went to visit a dear friend. I went to runaway from something I could not escape. I went to prove something to myself. 

So I drank too much on a couple occasions, came down with a terrible cold, had my first energy drink, made some good/bad decisions, fought with my friend, spent a day walking around Amsterdam by myself, saw a woman touch one of VanGogh's self portraits, was moved to tears at the sight of a Rembrant I never imagined I would see anywhere but in a book, listened to conversations that I didn't understand, was left alone with my thoughts, took the wrong bus multiple times, ate a raw beef sandwich, bought European clothing and shoes, had the Dutch tell me their thoughts on President Obama and America, watched baseball games, and learned a lot about myself. 

It was everything I needed and didn't need all at the same time. I was selfish. I left my parents alone. I left myself, too, in a way. I wanted to avoid who I was and what Shane joining the Army would make me. I realize that now. I didn't realize any of it at the time. 

And while I was doing all of those things, while I was dancing in a nightclub, sweaty and intoxicated from too many bodies around me and too many draft Heinekens, the beat of the music pulsating through my body, Shane was going through his own version of hell. He told me about the first night at Basic. How they were all on a bus and driven into Fort Benning in the dead of night and how the drill sergeants stood at all exits of the bus with bright lights, screaming for the recruits to get off of the bus. But the problem, of course, was that they were blocking all of the exits. So none of the recruits could move. They just got screamed at. When they finally were allowed to get off of the bus, they had to sit on cold metal benches, with their feet both even on the ground and their hands on their laps with their backs straight. For hours. And I got to dance and have a hangover in the morning. I think about that often and I find myself feeling guilty because of it. I also know that it's because Shane and so many other men sat on a bus and were screamed at and deprived of sleep and had to sit on a cold metal bench in silence for hours on end that I was allowed to dance and have a hangover the next morning. 


At the time, I was angry at Shane for being one of those men. For making me run away to Europe and try to avoid the unavoidable. Now, I couldn't be more proud and more grateful that he was.

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I am still trying to figure out how that could be."

- Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being of a Wallflower

I took this photograph during Family Day when Shane was going through Basic. At the time, it perfectly described our lives without saying a word. Back then, I was so sure about my life. And now I question everything. I want to metaphorically be back in those shoes but am unsure if that is even possible.

Oh, Dear Sister, Trouble Weighs a Ton

We sat in a room that was decorated in order to make its occupants feel as welcomed and relaxed as possible. The lighting was soothing. The colors were neutral. It made me want to vomit. We were at the funeral home, beginning to make arrangements for Shane's viewing. There are so many details that need to be worked out - picking a prayer card, listing the names of survivorship for an obituary, deciding viewing times. I wanted the boulder on my back to be lifted off. I didn't want to think about any of these things. I wanted to be melt down and be absorbed into the carpeting.


As we waited for the funeral director to enter, a man with an army hat entered the room. His face looked familiar but I could not place him. The man shook my father's hand. Dad turned to me, saying "this is Sergeant Williams." I thanked Sgt. Williams for his service, but it didn't click in my head who he was until he sat down. 

Click "read more" for my experience with Sgt. Williams and the day that my family dropped Shane off for BCT. 

Birds Seen Flying Around, You Never See Them Too Long on the Ground

"Mr. Rager, Tell me where you're going, Tell me where you're headed."
"I'm on my way to heaven."
"Mr. Rager, Can we tag along, Can we take that journey?"
--Kid Cudi's "Mr Rager"

My brother loved music more than anyone I know. He was a talented guitar player and has piles and piles of CDs. Even though MP3s are now the most common way we obtain our music, Shane still much preferred owning CDs. Maybe it was the physicality of it all --  the anticipation involved in opening the plastic wrapper, the sound of releasing the disk from its case, flipping through liner notes. But there were many times when I would take him to Record Time and we would wander aimlessly around the store until we had collected our treasures, arguing about which CD would be played first. 

I am much more impatient than Shane, so I would always want to skip ahead. But Shane always insisted on listening to the whole album through, from track one until the end. It was sacred. A ritual for him. 


Kid Cudi's sophomore album "Man on the Moon II: The Legend of Mr. Rager" came out today. Kid Cudi was one of the few artists that I got to tell Shane about. He was usually slightly ahead of the pack when it came to music. The first time that Shane listened to Kid Cudi was on family weekend during Basic. We were driving somewhere in Georgia, sitting in the backseat with my parents in the front, just like when we were kids on road trips. He was so very quiet and not sure how to act around human beings who weren't in uniforms. He had a hard time being in a civilian vehicle and not being told what to do. I didn't quite know who he was. So I handed him my ipod, telling him to just listen. And he did, to "Pursuit of Happiness." And Cudi's lyrics were something that touched him deeply. He reached over and squeezed my hand, and I knew that he was still my brother. 

I'm not yet able to listen to "Pursuit of Happiness" because it's too much of a close memory for me of Shane. I know it will be a long while before I can hear that song. Before he was killed, "Pursuit of Happiness" was one of the songs that gave me comfort. I would turn it on as loudly as possible in my car and drive to no where in particular, always with the memory of Shane listening to the song in Georgia.  I look forward to the day that I will be able to hear the familiar beat and take comfort in the lyrics again. 

Today though, in Shane's memory, I listened to "Man on the Moon II" from start to finish, without skipping a single track.