Naval Support Facility, Bethesda, Maryland: Sherry and I had arrived the previous day at the academic home of the Uniformed Services University of Health Sciences (USUHS). Today would be graduation ceremonies of Army, Navy, and Air Force officers who had completed advanced degrees in various programs of the armed forces university.
Early morning, I take daughter Kara and two other female officers, another major and a captain, to the shuttle that will take them to D.C. for the ceremony.
My kids' mother, Arlin, Sherry, son Johnny and I pile into my GMC, Johnny doing the driving, and head across the Potomac to D.C. and Daughters of American Revolution Hall.
The USUHS trains physicians and other health professionals of the armed forces. Newly graduated physicians for the Army and Air Force receive the rank of Captain, and Navy physicians the rank of Lieutenant.
So where are the Marines in all this? The Marines rely on the Navy for health services, but their presence is there - as the "President's Own," United States Marine Corps band.
With the exception of the martial music provided by the U.S. Marine Corps band, and more orderly comportment of the graduates, the military graduation ceremonies resemble civilian university graduation ceremonies: Excited graduates having successfully completed arduous training and looking forward to the next stage of their careers, proud parents and family members, recognition of dignitaries, honorary awards and degrees, and the commencement address, this delivered by Lt. General Thomas Travis, Surgeon General of the Air Force.
After the ceremony there are the inevitable pictures, with Kara holding her degree of psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner.
The five of us cram into my GMC and drive around the District, past the Mall, crowded with tourists, including hordes of students on spring field trips. The open space on the Mall is becoming limited, as more museums and monuments are packed into that space. If any open space is to be retained on the Mall, there will soon have to be a moratorium on new additions.
When I was on that temporary assignment of Economic Advisor to the Office of Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works back in 1981-82, I lived in a small apartment on Capitol Hill. We drive past my old apartment and find that the neighborhood is indeed becoming more upscale.
We decide to have an early dinner at a restaurant in that neighborhood that I used to frequent on occasion. Normally, it is filled with congressional staffers, lobbyists and folks of that ilk. But it's Saturday and away from the Mall, and nearly deserted at this hour.
As it had been a long several days, we head back to the base. Later that evening, Kara and I take a walk and she shows me around the base. More than resembling a military base, it resembles a university campus, which it essentially is, in addition to being home of Walter Reed Hospital, named for the Army major who led the team that discovered the cause of yellow fever.
In view of the heightened security alert in force, and the difficulty of getting onto that base without a military member as escort, we need to address an upcoming problem. I will be taking Kara to the airport tomorrow, but the rest of us are not leaving for another day. I need to get off, and then back on to the base.
Kara and I walk up to the gate, explain the situation to the Navy guard. He writes me out a pass that will get me back onto the base if I temporarily leave it. With that, he renders Kara a snappy salute that she returns and, problem solved, more or less, anyway.
The next morning I take Kara to National Airport from where she flies back to El Paso, Texas and Ft. Bliss where she had completed the practical part of her degree. Arlin, Johnny, and I have breakfast in Bethesda and return to the base.
I show the Navy guard my ID and the pass.
Rats. I'm familiar enough with the military mode of operation that I should have anticipated this. That pass is for me only - it does not include my passengers. The guard insists that we have a military escort to verify our legitimacy. I explain that I have just taken my daughter to the airport, and we are staying at our rooms on the base for another day. He asks if we have proof of that. No, not on us, but we can call the hotel to verify it.
The guard notes that the word "veteran" is on my Wisconsin driver's license. He respectively acknowledges that, and it gives him the latitude with which to exercise his strict orders with some discretion. With that he says, "Its OK this time." But from now on, I can only leave and return without my other civilian passengers.
Fair enough. I respect the fact that he's following strict orders.
That afternoon I take Johnny out to BWI Airport. The traffic that Sunday afternoon coming into suburban D.C. is horrendous, but going out to BWI is no problem. I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that every day. When I lived in D.C. decades ago, I was able to walk to work.
I had no trouble getting back on to the base. But Arlin and Sherry are "trapped" for that evening and we can't get them off the base for dinner and back on. But no problem - Kara had pointed out that Walter Reed Hospital has a cafeteria.
Sherry, Arlin, and I walk up to Walter Reed Hospital and have dinner in their excellent cafeteria, nearly deserted this Sunday afternoon.
Next morning, we leave the base, drop Arlin off at BWI, and head back east across Maryland. It's sunny spring day and it was an enjoyable time with family and military graduation ceremonies.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
Early morning, I take daughter Kara and two other female officers, another major and a captain, to the shuttle that will take them to D.C. for the ceremony.
My kids' mother, Arlin, Sherry, son Johnny and I pile into my GMC, Johnny doing the driving, and head across the Potomac to D.C. and Daughters of American Revolution Hall.
The USUHS trains physicians and other health professionals of the armed forces. Newly graduated physicians for the Army and Air Force receive the rank of Captain, and Navy physicians the rank of Lieutenant.
So where are the Marines in all this? The Marines rely on the Navy for health services, but their presence is there - as the "President's Own," United States Marine Corps band.
With the exception of the martial music provided by the U.S. Marine Corps band, and more orderly comportment of the graduates, the military graduation ceremonies resemble civilian university graduation ceremonies: Excited graduates having successfully completed arduous training and looking forward to the next stage of their careers, proud parents and family members, recognition of dignitaries, honorary awards and degrees, and the commencement address, this delivered by Lt. General Thomas Travis, Surgeon General of the Air Force.
After the ceremony there are the inevitable pictures, with Kara holding her degree of psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner.
The five of us cram into my GMC and drive around the District, past the Mall, crowded with tourists, including hordes of students on spring field trips. The open space on the Mall is becoming limited, as more museums and monuments are packed into that space. If any open space is to be retained on the Mall, there will soon have to be a moratorium on new additions.
When I was on that temporary assignment of Economic Advisor to the Office of Assistant Secretary of the Army for Civil Works back in 1981-82, I lived in a small apartment on Capitol Hill. We drive past my old apartment and find that the neighborhood is indeed becoming more upscale.
We decide to have an early dinner at a restaurant in that neighborhood that I used to frequent on occasion. Normally, it is filled with congressional staffers, lobbyists and folks of that ilk. But it's Saturday and away from the Mall, and nearly deserted at this hour.
As it had been a long several days, we head back to the base. Later that evening, Kara and I take a walk and she shows me around the base. More than resembling a military base, it resembles a university campus, which it essentially is, in addition to being home of Walter Reed Hospital, named for the Army major who led the team that discovered the cause of yellow fever.
In view of the heightened security alert in force, and the difficulty of getting onto that base without a military member as escort, we need to address an upcoming problem. I will be taking Kara to the airport tomorrow, but the rest of us are not leaving for another day. I need to get off, and then back on to the base.
Kara and I walk up to the gate, explain the situation to the Navy guard. He writes me out a pass that will get me back onto the base if I temporarily leave it. With that, he renders Kara a snappy salute that she returns and, problem solved, more or less, anyway.
The next morning I take Kara to National Airport from where she flies back to El Paso, Texas and Ft. Bliss where she had completed the practical part of her degree. Arlin, Johnny, and I have breakfast in Bethesda and return to the base.
I show the Navy guard my ID and the pass.
Rats. I'm familiar enough with the military mode of operation that I should have anticipated this. That pass is for me only - it does not include my passengers. The guard insists that we have a military escort to verify our legitimacy. I explain that I have just taken my daughter to the airport, and we are staying at our rooms on the base for another day. He asks if we have proof of that. No, not on us, but we can call the hotel to verify it.
The guard notes that the word "veteran" is on my Wisconsin driver's license. He respectively acknowledges that, and it gives him the latitude with which to exercise his strict orders with some discretion. With that he says, "Its OK this time." But from now on, I can only leave and return without my other civilian passengers.
Fair enough. I respect the fact that he's following strict orders.
That afternoon I take Johnny out to BWI Airport. The traffic that Sunday afternoon coming into suburban D.C. is horrendous, but going out to BWI is no problem. I'm sure glad I don't have to deal with that every day. When I lived in D.C. decades ago, I was able to walk to work.
I had no trouble getting back on to the base. But Arlin and Sherry are "trapped" for that evening and we can't get them off the base for dinner and back on. But no problem - Kara had pointed out that Walter Reed Hospital has a cafeteria.
Sherry, Arlin, and I walk up to Walter Reed Hospital and have dinner in their excellent cafeteria, nearly deserted this Sunday afternoon.
Next morning, we leave the base, drop Arlin off at BWI, and head back east across Maryland. It's sunny spring day and it was an enjoyable time with family and military graduation ceremonies.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
