Day 67: Into the Bushes

When I got back from Iraq we flew into Bangor, Maine. Then we flew back to Washington State, to Ft. Lewis, which is where I was stationed. We got there at night. I don't remember when, but I remember it was night time because there were a lot of persons there to greet us with bright lights. These persons were the family members of those in my unit. My family couldn't travel from FL to greet me, and I know I didn't even ask. So as the soldiers in my unit and their loved ones started leaving for home about six of us got on the bus to take us to the barracks. We had just experienced more than hell and came back homeless and without love. We were as quiet on that bus as we were at stand to in Iraq, and just as weary. We got to the barracks, and Wideman left. He came back in about a half an hour with booze--a lot of booze. We got so drunk that I don't even recall the night. I only remember Sgt. Scott coming in to wake us up to debrief. The army really did teach me how to drink hard. Those stories you hear about womanizing, drinking, and fighting. They are real. Now I have to fight the drinking.

Maybe it is because I went to the march this weekend, and I got to be with other veterans. Maybe it was just a lot of emotion to share with 400,000 persons. Maybe it is because my unit deployed to Iraq in October. I'm not sure why, and maybe it is all of this and much more; but I am feeling a a bit mopey. And when I'm mopey I like to drink. But I cannot drink because the army taught me how to do it so well. I did go through a VA program for drinking too well, and I'm doing really great and have been for years. But that fight goes on still.

A once friend of mine helped me to become aware of these mood swings and how I was self-medicating. She also helped me to acknowledge that awareness by exercising. These were two wonderful gifts that she gave to me, and I use them still. Like today. I went for a seven mile run. I think I'm still mopey but I'm so worn out from my run that I'm not sure. This fight is mine!

But I'm missing some friends for sure. Did I tell you about Paul Ray Smith? I went to high school with him. He joined the army, too. And he went to Iraq with the 11th Engineer Battalion, 3rd Infantry Division . He was shot thirteen times, I remember hearing, and it was the thirteenth one, the one through the neck, that killed him. His wife got a fancy medal, the Congressional Medal of Honor that Smith paid for with his life. But I bet her bed is cold sleeping beside the medal while lamenting the loss of her husband, her children's father. I can still close my eyes and see the time we through him into the bushes at school. It was a right of passage to become one of the cool kids. He fought hard but went into the bushes just like the rest of us. He fought hard in Iraq, too, but he died just a bit more than the rest of us.

Okay, so officially still fighting the mopey feeling. But just like my trip into the bushes when I was in high school, I will kick and punch and gnash. But I won't quit. Never that. I'll keep fighting. The weight is lifting even now as I tell you this. But please think of all of those poor souls who are suffering immeasurably at the hands of the US. Think of the US soldiers, sailors, Marines, airmen and others doing the damage in the world. Consider that 22 vets kill themselves a day--that is in one day. That is almost one an hour. Don't thank a vet for his service, find out how you can serve him. And stop the wars. The damage we do in the world is only going to come back on us. The people we're bombing have nothing to loose; we've destroyed it already!

I could go on, really. But I'll take this to bed with me and dream a little dream or two. Maybe about dulcimers.

I'm not making progress nearly as fast as I want because I'm just not ready for progress as fast as I want. What?! Yeah. I've got to slow down and be in the moment. Everyday I learn a lot from Dwain. And these lessons will be invaluable. I've just got my eyes on the prize, as it were. Did I tell you I got my first commission? There is a musician here in Rochester that plays some Indian (as in Asia) drone instruments, and I showed him the one I built. Then we talked about what he wanted, and he ordered this one from me! WooHoo!

Right when I started working this morning I looked out of the window and saw this huge buck standing in the yard by the garden. What a nice way to start the day.

So all of the braces are in and secure and I've cleaned all of the glue that I slopped around out of the machine. It is really pretty on the inside and out. Plus I did the tap test on the bottom, and it is as bassy as I wanted it to be. Now as long as the top has a baritone/bass voice the instrument should sound as I've imagined it. But there is definitely some magic that happens in the building so an outcome is never guaranteed.

I had to finish putting an edge on the plane, and I really struggled with the second stone, which was frustrating because I got an great edge with the first one. So Dwain had to walk me through the process again, and then he let me go. I eventually got a highly and even polished blade back into the plane. And I used it on my fretboard, which was a big mistake!

I created so much tear out because I went the wrong way--uphill Dwain likes to say--with the tool. But there really was no other way to go. Then Dwain said to not limit myself with one tool and that I should consider other tools, and he pulled out the scraper plane, which needed an edge put on it. Dwain probably showed me this before, but neither of us really remember if he did. We just remember the tools and us being together. Whatever. Dwain showed me the process, and then he let me go. No problems with this, though.

There are very specific measurements to achieve when making a fretboard. There must be a gentle curve from the strum hollow to the nut. The measurements at the 5th fret should be .010 of an inch, and at the 8th fret it should be .006 of an inch. So there is a lot of scraping and planing and measuring and redoing all of that. But I broke out one of my favorite tools, the cabinet scraper. I have so much control with that, and the results are obvious.

Of course there is the curve of the feet, too. So the center foot should be .075 of an inch off of the surface. To achieve this the feet have to be planed down, starting with the center one and working out. Again, there is a method specific to the process. So much to learn, really.

Again, I really do like the cabinet scrapers, and I can see that I will do as much work as I can with them. Scrapers in general are great, and now that I understand how they are used and how important they are I will make some more to fit my needs. When I did it before I had no idea what they were for. And there is still a lot that I will learn about when working with them. But I get it now.

After my run I helped Jim the neighbor move some stuff. On my way home I met Bodhi playing with some fallen leaves on the sidewalk. Those are leaves that fell out of the tree. When do leaves do this in September? Oh boy! But what a nice way to end the day.

I was really hungry after my run, so I made some rye toast with lots of salted butter, some pickle spears, a garlic clove, a jalapeño pepper, some sharp cheddar, an apple, and some chopped melon washed down with jasmine tea.