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It was announced today that the remains of Lt Cdr Michael “Scott” Speicher have been located and returned home. He was the first American casualty during the first gulf war when he was shot down over Iraq.

I remember when he was shot down, and the stunning realization that despite our technological prowess and military power, good men and women still die in war. He was mentioned in no less than two state of the union adresses, his status changed from KIA to MIA to captured over the years and now his remains have been found and he can be laid to rest.

I am so godamned proud of the military that kept looking and almost two decades later found him. I hope our young PFC who has recently been taken hostage in afghanistan stays strong long enough for someone to get to him out safely.

Welcome home Lt Cdr Michael “Scott” Speicher, rest in peace.

Four months ago in Chicago I saw mom’s grave. There’s alot to be said about that, but the thing that sticks out most is how hard it was to find. I knew the cemetary it was in, so that was easy but finding the grave itself wasn’t.

At the office in the cemetery I asked for her by the names I thought she would be buried under. First, Linda Borden, her maiden name. Nothing. Next Linda Mole, nothing. Now, you have to keep in mind that this is an older cemetary and maybe newer ones are different but this one had all it’s files in large dusty old tomes. So to look up Borden, the clerk needed to get the “B” book and Molae the “M” book. So the clerk seems pissy already. The other thing to keep in mind that a son who misses his mom and has never seen her grave is trying his best but failing miserably not to cry like a baby the whole time.

So next I ask for Linda Grant. After a snippy comment from the clerk she brought out the “G” book. Lo and behold, there she was. She hadn’t carried the Grant name for at least 8 years before she died. But it was a touching last wish of hers to be buried with the name of two of her children. Tears that have been saved for 20 years went out the window at that point while the clerk showed me on the map where to find the grave.

I followed the map but found no grave. I searched high and low where it was supposed to be to no avail. There was no Linda Grant buried there that I saw. So, I returned to the office to ask again. Another, nicer clerk helped this time while the first one sat in back looking even pissier than before. This clerk explained that there was no gravestone marker for my mom, but showed me how to find it based on nearby gravestones.

I didn’t know that there were unmarked graves in the world, I thought that was something that happened in the old west, not in present day society.

So, I found it.

Goodbye, Albert Perez. I hope you are right.

So a week or so ago I was going to write about my GPS and what losing it meant to me. At the time it did seem like a pretty big deal, as it’s been with me for almost 7 years and had just under a thousand logged miles hiked with it. That thing had been with me from Oregon to the Sierra to Death Valley. I had dozens of sercret camping spots and points of interest stored on it when I sold it. I thought, damn, this thing has been with me everywhere, how can I just blithely give it away for money? But as the week rolled on I realized that it doesn’t care who owns it and the memories I have of it are with me, not with the GPS itself.

I don’t like gear whores, who tend to drool and talk about their gear more than they use the gear they are drooling over. They own things just for the sake of owning them, almost as status symbols, but symbols only a few people who know what that specific piece of gear is worth would understand. If the gear doesn’t get at least slightly abused (though well maintained) it’s not being used enough.

That GPS had tons of use, from single digit temps to the tops of Sierra peaks and passes. I trust that the new owners will continue it’s abuse and make me proud. The more I think about it the less it really matters to me what gear I use or own as long as it does its job adequately. It’s not the gear, it’s what the gear allows you to do.

Well that entire segment made pretty much no sense. On to act II.

Late last year, in November a young man was killed in a car accident not 200 yards from my living room.  I heard the accident inside, a terrible booming sound so I knew it was bad immediately. A few days later there was a makeshift memorial of flowers, cards, candles and letters taped to a nearby signpost to the young man setup near the intersection where he died.

The memorial waxed and waned for a few months and finally started to fade away entirely. Just last week, it appears to have grown in size bigger than it ever was before. His birthday has just passed, which got me to thinking that his most lasting impressions on the world seem to be fading away.

This led me to think about what kind of impression I have left on the world, which led me to the realization that I have left none as of yet. This scares me. It’s time to start making my mark.