Eat My His Dust

M is waaaay ahead of me when it comes to....well, pretty much everything.

• He has met a famous person or two in this last year: H. Ross Perot, the president of Tanzania (or someplace like that), Frankie Valli, President Dubya. And while not exactly meeting current President Obummer, he had the privilege and honor of being ignored marching in his inaugural parade.
  
• He has participated in debate tournaments against Harvard and Princeton and any number of other Ivy League bastions of liberalism, as well as the Model United Nations conference in Washington D.C.
• He has become an international traveler. Israel over the summer...Oxford, England coming up in a couple of weeks...hints of exotic promises for next summer...and, of course, "The City."
• He is learning all sorts of new skills: Riding the trains, figuring out the shuttle bus schedules, driving 15-passenger vans in wintry weather, organizing trips, hacking into secret computers, becoming a nationally and New York state certified EMT.
• As of yesterday, he is an academically-recognized, star-studded cadet.

Anything else? Probably. But right now I can't think of another thing. Maybe after I get through choking on his dust...

What's The Problem?

West Point is a college like no other. One basic difference is that at West Point, no matter what your degree plan or major might be, Military Science is a required course.

One morning in said Military Science class, the teacher rounded up a few volunteers, each of which was outfitted with an M-16 and instructed to go outside.

While the cadets sat by the side of the road awaiting further orders, people were going by on their early morning way to work. Picture driving down the road, suddenly coming across five young men sitting on a pile of rocks, armed with M-16's. Hmmm...no one showed the slightest concern, until a Major happened along and inquired, "What are you guys doing?"

"It's for MS, Sir," they replied.

"Oh, ok. Carry on, then."

And that was that.

Unlike at any other school, where the mere suggestion of a weapon calls for wholesale fear and instant chaos, this morning, at this school, no cops were called. No *lockdown* was initiated. And nothing untoward happened.

Kinda makes one wonder, doesn't it...? Could it just possibly be, that guns aren't really the problem???

WP Fans

One month ago I was a visitor in a singing class. I was going to my seat when this cute little old man enthusiastically addressed me, "You have a son in his second year at West Point!"

Never having set eyes on this man before I was slightly taken aback, but M is Personality personified, and having spent two years on the local college debate circle, he has all sorts of friends in all sorts of places, and it was entirely likely that this little grandpa might be one of them.

"Do you know him?" I gasped in surprise.

"No," he replied, pointing at me, "I read it on your shirt." I looked down to see I was wearing my West Point Mom, Class of 2012 t-shirt. Well, duh...

You just never know where you are going to meet a West Point fan. . .

WAAAAAH Burger and French Cries, Part 2

I am finally used to this West Point Mom thing. Or so I keep telling myself.

I'm ok with my baby off at the nation's #1 college, pursuing his calling. I'm ok with him adventuring not only halfway across the country, but halfway across the world, in Israel, of all places, safe in the company of the IDF. I'm ok with only occasional phone calls. Or so I keep telling myself.

But this weekend I was feeling bereft. Bereft-er than usual. It was like Beast again. Incommunicado, and with lots to worry about. He normally rents quite a bit of space in my head, but the combination of several things had rather caused me to worry this time.

M was sick this weekend, all alone, all by himself up there at West Point, though thanks to the Stalker Mom, he was well-equipped with chicken rice soup, which he pronounced "glorious."

M had swine flu, they said. After two days in his bed, he made it to the doctor where he was medicated and masked and isolated/quarantined in a place with no internet and no phone service. But I was thankful he would be watched and fed. After a few days in there, he was released and now, a couple of days later, he is back in business.

Just in time to have surgery tomorrow for a deviated septum, caused by the broken nose suffered in his evil boxing class last year. Well, at least the hospital has internet access.

This long-distance mothering is for the birds. But thank God for IM-ing and txt-ing, and email . And thank God for the West Point Moms (and Dads) support system.