Home

For the last month, Angie has been riding me like a kick-n-go to write a new post for this blog. (Anyone else ever have a kick-n-go?) She keeps saying how everyone asks, "When is Ryan gonna fill us in on his life." So I finally sat down, but as usual, I had writer's block on the title.

Then after five minutes of staring at the screen, I heard Angie say, "Write about being home. It doesn't happen very often." For some reason that simple statement broke my writer's block. She is such a muse.

Anyway, isn't it funny how at different stages of your life, being home means something totally different. I mean, at one point in your life, home my be your parents' house. At another, it may mean your ratty room at the fraternity house, which for me at one time, was the attic of the fraternity house or in the back of a three bedroom condemned shack with Corby Moore and Michal Beran. (I lived in the attic until Jason Funderburk kicked me out, citing a fire hazard.....he was such a politician, even in college.) During another time at college, home for me was my Ford Bronco II, enjoying a nice warm bowl of potato buds and a cold beer that I stole from Tophie and Funderburk's fridge. Later in life, home became various forms of a Navy bunk room either at boot camp, A-school, BUD/S, Guam, Okinawa, or the forward hold of the USS Germantown. Sometimes, much to Angie's envy, these Navy bunkrooms were replaced by five-star resort rooms in Thailand, Japan, Australia, Palau, and Hawaii. (Those times were nice.) And then finally home came to be any place Angie, the girls, and I could be together. We've lived in some pretty small "homes", but thankfully they've all been pretty nice (at least in a good location) and big enough for our family at that point. The common denominator for every home we've made for ourselves is the memories they produce. And I always seem to have to strain to remember the bad times at each place, because the good memories seem to overshadow the bad.

On another Deep Thoughts tangent, throughout my life, home has taken on different meanings for me in a psychological sense. When I was little, home was where I couldn't wait to be, because I was the new kid, at a new school, with a funny name that always seemed to get me in fights, and my best friends were my Mom and Dad. Then came high school when home was what I wanted to be because Bearcat Football was my life and being the home team meant playing in front of devoted fans and getting to go to the Rec dance afterwards. Then came college when home took on a less than appealling meaning. At that point in my life, I didn't want to be home because now I was at a school I grew up with, where everybody else was the new kid, and I could BLOSSOM into the fine upstanding frat guy that I had always admired.....Ha, Ha, Ha!

And now I feel like home has taken on a brand new meaning. Sure, for me home literally is here in Slidell, with Angie, Laney, Maddy, and No-Name Chick. But in my heart home is anywhere that I am surrounded by family, whether it be my immediate F.O.F. (family of females), my inlaws, Mom and Dad, the Prices, Kerri and David, Aunts and Uncles, Grandparents, or any combination of the above. And that's the home I have been searching for and really want more of. I've been all over the globe and experienced a lot in 32 years, but home, as I imagine it has been with me the whole time.

Pretty deep, huh?

So, since I've exhausted all creative writing ability, I better tell you guys what's going on, before my motivation runs out.

As far as my house goes, the effects of Katrina are pretty much gone, unless your standing in my back yard and notice my limp chimney. I'm waiting for matching shingles to come in so I can repair it. Michael, our duct tape job is blowing in the wind a little, but holding like a redneck champ.

Work has been busy. We returned to our regular training schedule, but some guys are still repairing or salvaging what's left of their house. One of those is our LPO (leading petty officer), so they have made me LPO until he gets on his feet. It just means more responsibility and longer hours, with no more pay for ole Dick. That's OK though; it's been nice being home with Ang and the girls.

We're off to Ft. Chaffee again next month. We're leaving before Halloween, which means I have to wait ANOTHER year to join Ricky and Chad in the festivities. (Sucks!) Jennifer, it figures we would wait to go back to Chaffee after you moved, doesn't it?

Anyway, I gotta go play with my new TV you heard about in Angie's Blog.

Later