I still believe.

It’s always moving to see a big group of soldiers, but especially so at the airport.

I noticed them as I was working my way through security. A large group waiting to board their airplane. They were at gate B29; I was flying out of B30.

The sight was emotional for everyone, although I’m certain the most was felt by the soldiers and their families. Men clutching their wives and kids...Moms and dads embracing their soldier sons & daughters...the USO lined the path to board the plane and handed out gift bags and water as they hugged and shook hands with our soldiers.

I made eye contact with one of the soldiers who stood a few feet from me. I knew the answer, but curiosity made me ask...“Where are you going?” One quiet word came out of his lightly clenched jaw ... “Iraq”. All I could do was thank him and shake his hand. I saw the strain in his face as he turned away to board.

A woman hugged her Army husband as her mom held their brand new baby and watched with tears rolling down her face. One final kiss and a hand holding until the final fingers slipped apart...

A young Sergeant hugged his wife and their 5-ish-year old son until all others had boarded. Grandma and Grandpa were there too. It was time. As this Sergeant walked down the aisle of USO supporters, his son ran after him... “Daddy!”

Everyone cried and solemnly watched this group of volunteers. All of these soldiers making a sacrifice. Restless nights from anxiety and the fear of battle. Missed first words and Baptism. The first T-ball game. And...God forbid...life.

They’re doing it for us...and for our country. Forget about the politics...forget about the mission and whether or not you agree with it. You aren’t going to agree with everything...that’s American and it’s ok. ...it’s better than ok; it’s right.

But our soldiers deserve our respect. All the time. No matter what. Hundreds of thousands of their brothers have sacrificed throughout our history in wars against hostile nations...peacemaking missions...and conflicts against extremist groups. They safeguard our freedom...that’s all there is to it.

But what are you doing? Are you still flying your Flag? Do you even have one that’s in good condition? Have you written an email to a soldier or service family? Is there a yellow ribbon on the tree in your parkway? Do you stand for the Color Guard at a parade? Sing the National Anthem? It really doesn’t take much.

I still believe that we’re a great country. ...the best. I still respect those who protect it. I still want them to feel that. And I still believe in America.

I love Intercourse

I still don't completely understand the Harrisburg airport. Ok, I don't understand it at all.

Here I am sitting in the same massage chair that ended my first ever blog posting at MDT...Harrisburg International Airport. If this is an international airport, then I'm a gospel singing black woman. This place has three terminals and 18 gates. That's 6 gates per terminal for you math geniuses. I only ever see one gate open at a time. ...and it's always the same people/workers.


So I've come to a conclusion. It's a front. The entire airport is a front. A front for what? I'm not sure. It either has something to do with drugs...or Hershey's chocolate. ...which, in my book may very well be one in the same.

Constipation can't be fun. Judging by the look on his face, the guy who just passed by me is most definitely stopped up. I hope he isn't on my flight. It's bad enough having to sit across from the bathroom...which I believe I am. This man's moment of relief could mark my death.

If you're visiting the United States from a different country, don't "do your best" to dress like us. It makes me uncomforable just looking at you...your mother wouldn't approve anyway. The Michael Jackson jacket from the 80's, for example, has been left in the 80's. Feel free to do the moonwalk through security, though...I'd love to see the look on their faces!

Patricia Swanson was just paged. Here is how it sounded... "Patricia Swanson could you come to the information booth for a message?" I think they should have PA response stations for travelers to respond to pages if they're going to be worded that way. "Information desk, I can't make it right now because I'm in the middle of a sandwich at the Capital Cafe. Please deliever your message there."

There is such a thing as "too" tan. I don't think I really need to say anything else about that.

Why do some people over-adjust in the quest for perfect posture? You know the people...the shoulders are thrown back past their heels ...chest is WAY out. There isn't a posture award...plus, you wouldn't get it. "I'd like to thank my parents...friends...family...fans and the academy for making this possible. I never thought I could stand this straight..."

Joop DeJong was just paged. The paging announcer used a French accent for the name. Welcome to Pennsylvania.

Does France add any value at all to the world? Wine? There is better. Food?...if you like a thimble of horse shit. Paris? Landfill. Language? Sounds like they are congested and have a mouth full of marbles.

It's about time to board. Maybe I can stop in the one gift shop they have here and buy one of their "I love Intercourse" t-shirts.