CAUGHT

Today we had one of those “Daddy’s Away” Fridays, when the kids and I follow a different tune. Our daily rhythms vary when we’re not trying to stay in sync with the usual goings and comings of my Air Force husband, and sometimes we just make it up as we go along, especially when the kids were younger and didn’t have so much going on. There was no school today, so the hours floated, as they do when schedules are for not.

We were walking out of the library when I heard the base speakers pipe up. This tune I knew.

I thought, “CAUGHT!” And for a moment my thoughts and memories crashed into each other.  

It reminded me of a solo piece by David Parsons of the same name. It was one of my favorites. He choreographed it on himself. It required great athleticism of the dancer (for me, Michael Cornell at BalletMet Columbus), who was strobed at intervals, caught in different positions, both on the ground and in the air. That was a different time in my life. But for an instant my then self and now self merged. I saw the shape of the dance in my mind, and I felt strobed in action.

I always wondered what it felt like… but this time I was caught in the parking lot on RAF Mildenhall.

The girls were already inside the truck. Without speaking, Tres and I, as if we were choreographed, immediately stood at attention and faced the sound of our National Anthem. It has become automatic, this movement; a natural extension of our life.  We know this beat.

After my initial, “DOH!” moment. I tipped my head back, looked at the sky and listened. I heard birdsong, sort of backing up the rhythm. Instead of feeling resentful for being held up (and for what? Like 3-5 minutes?) I let go and allowed the moment and the music to wash over me. It was nice.

The anthem is played in three parts at precisely 4:30pm on United States military installations world over. This is a daily occurrence. Most days it doesn’t give such pause. But today, I looked over and wondered if moments like this one will resonate with my son as they sometimes do with me. My relationship with our national anthem has evolved into something quite profound over the years.

On other days, when I’m more alert and conscious of the time, I often observe people running into buildings when they know it’s 4:29. You don’t have to stand at attention when you’re inside of a building. Anywhere, outside, you must stop and face the music — literally.

I looked around after the completion of the music and noticed no one else was outside.

My reflexes didn’t always snap into attention at the first sound of the drums. I remember years ago in San Antonio, I was doing laps in the base pool. I was new to active duty life (and married life) and wasn’t aware of the protocol.  It took me a minute to realize everyone else was halted in their lanes. I stopped swimming, heard the music, then realized I’d missed my cue. I stood at attention mid-lane. Luckily it was shallow enough for me to stand.

While this particular rhythm didn’t always feel natural to me, it does now. It is this culture in which my children have grown up. This tune they know. I wonder if I can continue to introduce them to the other pieces of my life, as well. Here is CAUGHT by David Parsons: