My boys

more pics of South Korea

This is a coin that was given to me from the Command Sergeant major for singing the National Anthem. See either you tube, or my facebook for that.

A restuarant called the Drunken Chicken, yeah it was upstairs, and had a neon staircase!! Very cool.

Lastly, you know who this is... umm yeah he came to Camp Walker for a daytime concert. Toby Keith for those of you like me who are not country music fans!

South Korea

Ok, Wow, I cant believe it has been so stinking long since my last post.. Over a year... how time flies.. I will do my best to try to update as often as possible. For now here is the latest...

I am living in South Korea, I work at the Medical Clinic on Camp Walker and enjoy what I do very much. The truth about being a medic is that we work more hours than any other MOS in the army. My standard work shift is 6am to 6pm with PT every morning prior to the shift starting. Besides the long hours I like the interacting part of the job and think if I stay in the medical field it will be for that reason. I like to think I have a passion for people and I do like helping and being able to do something when someone is in trouble.

South Korea, all I can say is wow! The city I live in is call Daegu. Very busy and tons of people. I have been downtown countless times and to date that is my favorite thing to do because of the big city atmosphere! Places like Bili-Bowl, Posha, and the movies are some of the acttivities we do regularly. Also I have been to Soumun Maket, a place to capture some of the Korean Cultre. There I saw chickens, rabbits, cats dogs, and countless ammounts of fish that were being sold for... I'll leave that for you to decide! yucko!! Enjoy some of my pics!

Random fhoto's over Christmas break.

Writing 102 Research Paper

Radicals Among Us: The End of Freedom

I remember September 11, 2001, as if it were yesterday. The shock of that moment was unfathomable. The sense of anger, fear, and confusion overwhelmed my small paradigm of life, and I could not help but question the absolute impossibility of what was happening that horrific day of infamy. Terrorism in the United States of America. We saw a hijacking of planes, a master plan systematically constructed to perfection to destroy a country hated by terrorists. How did this happen? In addition, why did we not see the red flags? The world abroad must be vigilant and ever aware of a likely wolf in sheep’s clothing. We have a responsibility and must protect ourselves. These issues are at the heart of Nadine Gordimers, “Some are Born to Sweet Delight.” Through immigration, racial profiling, and counter-terrorism efforts, I will show there are solutions to the ever-changing problems with the infiltration of Islamic terrorists in society.

There are multiple problems related to how America is susceptible to attacks on our soil. A citizen’s inability to recognize terror threats comes from the fact that we opt just not to see it in the first place. Identified by Evan Thomas’ piece called, “Don’t Bother Me” he writes,
In 1999, a National Security Council staffer was meeting with a pair of F.B.I. officials [….] The N.S.C. man was excited […]to learn from some old press clippings that Ayman al-Za-wahiri, the […] Egyptian terrorist and deputy to Osama bin Laden, had visited the United States on a fundraising trip in the early 1990's. “I couldn't believe it,” he exclaimed to the F.B.I. men. “Did you know that?” The two gumshoes nodded warily. “There are cells here and we need to know about them.” Yeah, yeah, we know. Don't worry about it,’ the F.B.I. officials replied. (10)
This example going back to pre 9-11 is tragic, and as readers, we have the right to be infuriated and astonished. Here there was tangible intelligence, and at the very least, a path of breadcrumbs to follow, yet that is not what happened; they were brushed aside and taken as unsubstantial. We question the intelligence community, or rather conclude a certain arrogance on their side and are left with dissatisfaction. We see by their comment that apparently they know of the terrorist’s comings and goings, but they suggest there is no need to worry about it. Does that statement deal with the bureaucracy of the intelligence fields and the sharing of information from one department to another, or are the two FBI agents suggesting they will take care of it? Regardless of why, we know they did not take care of it. This mentality supports a lack of initiative and a general sense that there is no need to worry. The very comment itself “yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it,” sounds almost as if we could hear a small demeaning chuckle amongst the tone saying we don’t want to be bothered.

Another problem is that terrorists expect our very freedoms and hospitality of our democracy will serve as a buffer to their questionable actions and acquaintances. The terrorists know our stance on personal freedoms, hence take advantage of anonymity. In a book review by Youssef H. Aboul-Enein he suggests, “Islamic militants are living and thriving in the democracy they profess to abhor [....] the Islamic Committee for Palestine associated itself with the University of South Florida and posed as a mainstream religious group. It enjoyed a tax-exempt status, bolstered the university’s multicultural program, and escaped the scrutiny of law enforcement” (71). This is a very big problem. With the talk of racial pro-filing who dares to question something or someone out of the ordinary. Our tendencies for better judgement are squashed, and because of fear, we settle into apathy. Contrary to a majority that believes more freedom is good, in this instance to allow freedom to all indeed shrinks the freedoms of some. Those some are the ones that want to speak up, They are the ones that notice abnormalities and situations that appear to be out of place. If the fear of judgment persists, this problem continues to grow and through living out our routines we become unable to respond until the next horrific tragedy has already taken place. Our hospitality must have limits.
A terrorist attack is precisely calculated and its victims are chosen carefully. We see this aweful truth come to fruition when Gordimer adds what we interpret as dialect and notes, “Because I’ve chosen you” (334). Rad among many other aliases, had placed in the hand –baggage of the daughter [....] an explosive device. Plastic. Vera was Chosen. Vera had taken them all, taken the baby inside her; down along with her happiness” (337). What we read as coincidence and awkward moments in conversation, Gordimer sees as placing emphasis and foreshadowing what was really going on between Rad and Vera. Vera, young and naive thought his blunt forward way of speaking was cultural, but in essence it was his subtle and calculated way of saying what purpose he had for her. Rad’s intentional posturing, and looking as though he had no interest in Vera was all part of his plan to infiltrate this innocent life. The conclusion of this story confirms the aspect that indeed Vera was chosen, selected for a cause and unaware to be sure. Gordimer forces a reflection and within us a desire to look back. There was an obvious sequence of events concluding with a cataclysmic tragedy. Likewise, terrorist preparation goes unnoticed until the time of attack. Coincidence becomes purposeful as we identify unmistakable planning and careful selection of their victims.

Terrorists prey on our innocence engaging in sympathy-based tactics to manipulate their target. Using charisma and intellect, a terrorist’s moves are calculated and the naive unsuspecting person is a perfect entry point into society and his acceptance within that culture. As Nancy Gordimer writes in, “Some Are Born to Sweet Delight,” “They took him in [...] So it was a way of pleasing Upstairs to let the room to this young man, a foreigner who likely had been turned away from othe vacancies [...] He was clean and tidy enough [....] He did’t eye Vera. Vera was seventeen” [...] (327). The introduction of Gordimer’s story feeds right into the idea of manipulation. “They took him in,” alligns us with that of the family signaling the innocence of a most polite gesture. Our sensitivity to someone who needs a place to stay is recognized and we generally feel a sense of closure to the basic need of having a roof over our head. This idea parallels that of imigration in that there are many who try to come to America but are turned away. Many make it through and our sympathy is given freely. Our good nature compels us to believe most come for a better life and in doing so we also allow the terrorists access. Now we have become the manipulated and the innocent. The mention of Rad’s looks, being clean cut and tidy lead us by first impression, to feel that Rad is not that of suspiscious character but rather ssomeone with good intentions and that he is all right. This sentiment is furthered by reading the next line of him not eying Vera. This eloquent and masterful arrangement tells us of nothing to come, but sets us up for interpretation in hindsight wondering of its truth. We as readers are perplexed and wrestle with the final part saying Vera was seventeen. We seem to think Rad has no interest in Vera so why now choose to describe her. All this has left us with is a sense of knowing that Vera is herself young and impressionable. There is no question that Vera was innocent in some respects, and therefore she was a perfect target to carry out this evil plan of terrorism. Regardless of how difficult the problems are, we do know of viable solutions to how terrorists plot the infiltration into our communities.
To secure borders and have a handle on immigration would be a great step in bringing solutions to an ever-changing terrorist threat. The majority of immigrants that come into The United States as well as other countries worldwide are not looking to cause terror, but rather to work, and have a better life for their family and loved ones. With a hope of attaining the American dream , who would not want to come here. However, we cannot overlook the simplistic and minimal effort it takes to come into our great country. From the immigrants, to drug traffickers they all have an ease of entry that any terrorist would be remiss to overlook. Securing the borders is a deterrent to terrorists and a measure that must be perfected to have continued success against terrorists integrating into our communities.
America and the world, must take the fight to the terrorists. We cannot wait for another attack through the air or the latest intelligence that suggests an attack is coming. After the attack on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, America joined for one cause. That cause whether considered in hindsight to be revenge or to be the right maneuver we attacked Iraq. George W. Bush in an address to military personnel and families in August 2003 stated, “America is making great strides in its war against those who hate freedom. Terrorists have been captured all over the world. […] American soldiers freed Iraq and in doing so made the world more secure” (9). We can protect our country by going on the offensive, and ever since September 11, that is what we have done. We engage in counter-terrorism strikes through the air on targeted locations of terrorists and use information to isolate local terrorist cells. By going on the offensive we keep the enemy off guard and instead of planning attacks on us or abroad they are forced to defend the current territories they occupy. Thus far, this method of security has served as a long-term solution to terrorism. Here in the United States we have not had any terrorist attacks since the World Trade Center which was over seven years ago.

Another solution to curb the frequency of terrorism is racial profiling. We currently view racial profiling as being politically incorrect, and tend to over compensate the opposite extreme to appear not to be racist. Shamefully to overlook the obvious is a blunder and a threat to our national security. According to Richard Lowry, author of, “Legacy: Paying the Price for the Clinton Years,” writes, “no one likes to say it loud, but more than half the people on the FBI’s Most Wanted terrorist list are named Mohammed, Ahmed, or both […] Islamic terrorists will necessarily be Muslim [….] Not to profile for those characteristics is simply to ignore the nature of today’s terrorism” (65). Initially we read this excerpt being from a presumptive conservative or at the least clearly from a man who did not like the “Clinton Years.” One could concur with Mr. Lowry based on what they know about terrorism, or not agree based on a perceived political persuasion. Putting those differences aside, the solution clearly is to neglect some idea of political correctness and start paying attention to a real threat coming from a very isolated populous of the world. There is a saying that goes, “If it looks like a dog, and barks like a dog, then it’s a dog.” Taking that same mentality with terrorists regardless of its questionable motives is a matter of common sense and is indeed a practical hands-on solution to worldwide security.

Sudden, unsuspecting and innocent we realize anyone of us can be targets. That reality suggests the end of freedom. The problems of terror will not cease to exist but in our efforts to thwart the loss of life, we will find solutions. These solutions may be a harsh reality, and in appearance be unlawful, but to overcome the ever-changing committment of terrorists we must have clear guidelines and unwavering resolve. That is why these solutions, regardless of the critics, are and will continue work. There are terrorists among us who will maintain a position of hating freedom and all that the USA stands for. Furthermore, our allies, and all that detest this type of violence become targets as well, as witnessed in the recent attacks on Mumbai, India. Looking back, consider what would it take for the countries abroad to be more vigilant. What is our duty and when do we take responsibility to combat this war on humanity? The memories of planes crashing into The World Trade Center must always withstand with a determination that says, “We will fight terror on every front.” Now consider once more this sentiment, Radicals Among us, The End of Freedom.



Works Cited


Aboul-Enein, Youssef H. "AMERICAN JIHAD: The Terrorists Living Among Us (book)." Military Review 84.2 (Mar. 2004): 71-71. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. [Library name], [City], [State abbreviation]. 2 Dec. 2008 .

Bush, George W. “America is Winning the War on Terrorism.” Are Efforts to Reduce Terrorism Successful? Ed. Laurie S. Friedman. Detroit: Thompson Gale, 2005. 9-13

Gordimer, Nadine. “Some are Born to Sweet Delight.” The Story and its Writer. Ed. Ann Charters. 7th ed. Boston: Bedford/St. Martins, 2007. 373-80

Lowry, Richard. “America is Winning the War on Terrorism.” Are Efforts to Reduce Terrorism Successful? Ed. Laurie S. Friedman. Detroit: Thompson Gale, 2005 64-69

Thomas, Evan. "Don't bother me: before 9/11, the F.B.I. didn't want to know from A1 Qaeda's operatives in the United States." The New York Times Book Review. 107.44 (Nov. 3, 2002): Book Review Desk: p10. Literature Resource Center. Gale. PIMA COMMUNITY COLLEGE. 2 Dec. 2008

Facebook

Ok, so finally broke down and joined a social networking site called facebook. I was skeptical at first but I have to say, I love it. You know those priceless comercials, well that is how feel about this site. My comercial would go like this; Registering on Facebook... zero dollars. Getting kidnapped on facebook... zero dollars. reconnecting with old friends... Priceless!!

Wildcat Crack

On Saturday 10/26 I was able to score some free football tickets to the USC/Arizona match-up here in Tucson. To make a long story short, the last two pictures are worth a thousand words. FIGHT ON!!! GO TROJANS

In case you were wondering, this was my view for three and a half quarters.



Thanks Aaron for going with me to the game, I had a great time.

Photoshoot

Last month we went to JC Penny and had these photos taken of the boys. Aren't they precious.

Fists of Regret

The following essay I wrote in my eight week writing class this semester. It is an expressive essay consisting of naration, description, and examples. I hope you enjoy it. I did recieve an A on the essay, and in the class.

Jason White
Writing 101
Fists of Regret
The fight was on, my adrenaline flowed at full speed and I could feel my face hot, a fiery beat red. With fists clenched, I stared at Daniel with a readiness, though with some reluctance to throw the first punch. We waited and angrily glared at each other; seconds felt like minutes and we waited.
Daniel was slender and tall with dark wavy hair. He wore glasses, and on a normal day his usual attire included wearing a pocket protector as if his BIC pens and mehanical pencils were his prized posession. Daniel was not athletic and never wore shorts, just long black straight legged jeans or corduroys, never shorts. He was a typical smart kid, who liked computers, and had smart friends. In those days, we referred to them as “nerds.” He was quiet, kept to himself, and seemingly was a little uncomfortable with most people. In class, he was a better reader than I and frequently he new answers to questions before they could even be considered questions. Personally, I didn’t have a problem with Daniel. My interest in him was for mere social status; he was my in. He was my way to look “cool”, so I could fit in with the “cool kids.” I wnted to look tough and funny, but most of all I wanted to look like I didn’t care about Daniel.
We were mere seventh graders, and I was a bully to one kid--Daniel. I was not a physically overpowering fright to anyone, and on the scales I would have been lucky to reach one hundred pounds. My style of bullying was to be more of pest on Daniels emotional well being. Harassing him and poking fun at his comments often got me a good laugh from the other students in the class. On the outside I looked confident. From time to time the emotional torment I subjected Daniel to was not enough so I would resort to throwing broken pieces of #2 pencils in his direction rarely missing my target. My plan was working and I was fitting in with the cool crowd just like I wanted. But on the inside I didn’t know who I was. The facts are that I was a seventh grader harassing someone I barely knew from my English class.
My bullying was relentless, and finally Daniel had had enough! I can remember that warm fall day as if it was yesterday. Daniel had mustered up the courage to confront me, and in as strong of a voice as I had ever heard from him he said, “We need to fight!” There we stood, school was over and on the wide open grounds of campus with kids and teachers everywhere he began to give me some options. We can do this now, or we can meet at the park in one hour and do it then. He said, “You bring a friend and I will bring a friend so we have witnesses to what really happens here.” In that moment, Daniel sounded as though he was opting for the park option. The reality of what was soon to come hit me hard, but never-the-less I obliged him and said, “I will be there!”
I peddled my KHS Mountain Bike fast that day. I raced home, called my one friend, and prepared for the fight of my life. My first fight. My only fight. I turned on my tape player and rocked out to Def Leopard to help me get pumped. I started replaying scenes from Rocky IV in my head and in my room acted those scenes out step for step as if I was Sly Stallone himself taking on Dolph Lundgren. I also thought of the Karate Kid and how I could use those moves to gain a victory in the fight at the park. Before I left home I ate a Snack Pack and drank a little water. Then I was gone. I could feel my adrenaline pumping through me, and as a result, I remember my KHS rode faster that day. Seemingly, I had arrived at the park much faster than I had anticipated and there I waited. Not far behind me arrived my friend, and Daniel and his friend behind him. Daniel and I had mountain bikes, and the two friends were riding BMXs.
Daniel didn’t fool around with pleasantries; he was ready to do this. Our eyes met, and the fight was on. My adrenaline was flowing full speed and I could feel my face hot, a fiery beat red. With fists clenched, I stared at Daniel with a readiness, and a reluctance to throw the first punch. We waited and glared at each other; seconds felt like minutes and we waited.
Suddenly I felt the first blow hit on my shoulder. I retaliated and punched back landing a good one on his cheek. He flinched, and I knew it was a good hit. The pause was only momentary. He was fighting for pride, honor, and respect. I didn’t let up either. Once I noticed he was hit I moved in on the attack. He squared straight up with, swung, and busted my nose. Seconds later I tasted blood. He looked shocked, happy, and even more scared all at once. I was not done; I would not lose. Angrily, I went for a tackle and put the kid on his back. I was now on top of him and pummeling his body relentlessley. In that moment, I saw pain in his eyes that at that age I wish I never knew. He was crying in defeat, and I had won this fight. I got off of Daniel, told him it was over, and with my friend, made my way back to my bike. Abruptly, Daniel grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the ground. I could feel blades of grass poking me in the face then followed by being smashed into the dirt on my bloody nose. He was now on top of me. Suddenly, I was dodging and moving frantically when, my friend cracked him hard in the side of the head. He went down in a fetal position, and I kicked him twice. I said “Daniel now it is over.”
I walked away, said goodbye to my friend, and wasn’t even on my bike before I started to cry! I thought to myself about how Daniel initiated wanting to fight. Did he suspect that he was going to lose the fight, or did he even care? Daniel had lost again! I mounted my KHS and rode slowly this time taking in all that had happened. My friend had stepped in; I felt sick to my stomach, and wondered to myself, what does that make me? Did I really win? Was Daniel hurt badly? Was my nose hurt badly? And my crying continued. “I was the winner!!” I said to myself, “Stop crying,” but I could not. Wishing that I could stop time, I dreaded getting home. When I finally arrived, I noticed my younger sister outside and tried to wipe away my tears but it was to no avail. Whie I was sobbing, she asked me what had happened so, I told her the story. She ran into the house to get Mom who rushed out with concern. She was inquisistve and caring as my tears were relentless. On that Fall day at home I was a seventh grade bully. As I spilled all the details about Daniel I trembeled with guilt over what I had done.
Now twenty years later and maried with two sons I look back on my fight with Daniel, and can’t help but remember the lack of self confidence I had. I played the snare in marching band and was in drum line. I was athletic, in little league baseball soccer, and basketball. I also hung around the skaters. I was a ninety-pound wuss, who was insecure, and looking to fit in anywhere. So will my son’s be like me? Will they fight to impress other kids, or stand up to the bully trying to look cool? I know that day will come when my sons will have experiences very similar to my own, and whether it is peer-preasure, fear, bullying, or self preservation I will have an ability to relate with them. I will tell my boys to stand up to bullies and never be one. I will make sure they know that bullying has no reward, only regret. When my fears are realized and my sons are telling me about their social struggles in school, I will tell them the story of how their father won a fight and felt deep regret about the pain their father caused. I will never know how long it took Daniel to get over the emotional injuries resulting from my actions. When he looks back on his seventh grade year I often wonder, what does he remember? Does he replay the fight in his mnd to or does his face sting with the memories of the embarassment he must have felt?