UHBlackhawk
5-Year Member
- Joined
- Sep 22, 2015
- Messages
- 2,342
“When the feet go down, the warrior soon follows. My number one prescription back in the day: Motrin and change your socks.
“Army candy”.
“When the feet go down, the warrior soon follows. My number one prescription back in the day: Motrin and change your socks.
Marine's M&Ms“When the feet go down, the warrior soon follows. My number one prescription back in the day: Motrin and change your socks.
“Army candy”.
You're right of course. My opinion is no better than anyone's. I should learn to keep some of them to myself. Thank you.
Outstanding. I tip my hat to you Sir.I'm going to skip all the rhetoric about "who's a what kind of father/mother/parent..."
I entered USAFA in 1979. I went to prep school in the late summer of 1978; and that November I received a HUGE box in the mail. All my classmates wondered "What did Steve get?"
So I opened it in my room with my roomates (Northwestern Prep, six of us in that room). It was a lawn/leaf bag filled with fresh (okay a week old) popcorn; salted to perfection, just like my dad used to make when we'd watch football together. In the popcorn (enough to feed a room of six for a week) was a note that said "dig deep." So I did and found an aluminum foil wrapped bundt cake. It was my mothers pound cake; an entire one, and it had a birthday card attached.
From that year (1978) until November 2008 (three months before my mother lost her battle with cancer) I received a cake for my birthday; wherever I was in the world: Guam, Saudi Arabia, Alaska, Kuwait, Egypt, CONUS locations by the grouping...it didn't matter, that cake always arrived and I always was transported back to my youth. When I received my cake in November 2008, my mom had a note attached: "I almost didn't make this, the pain is so bad, but I've done it for you since you were a small boy...and I wanted to do it one last time."
I froze each piece and it lasted three years.
Don't listen to folks that say "oh, it's silly, it won't mean much" and "it's no big deal..." FIND something that relates to their youth, their family, and closeness...and go with that, even if its only once per year. Mom taught me to make that cake when I was a kid...I've done it for decades; and I do it each year for my birthday.
But it never tastes as good as hers.
Steve
USAFA ALO
USAFA '83
What an amazing story. I wish I had read this a year ago when my daughter was just starting at NWP and I would have done the same for her birthday dec 7. She had 20 roommates in the girls NWP dorm but I could have worked it out. I will be starting the tradition this year for her plebe year at usma and for all her years forward! Thank you for sharing!I'm going to skip all the rhetoric about "who's a what kind of father/mother/parent..."
I entered USAFA in 1979. I went to prep school in the late summer of 1978; and that November I received a HUGE box in the mail. All my classmates wondered "What did Steve get?"
So I opened it in my room with my roomates (Northwestern Prep, six of us in that room). It was a lawn/leaf bag filled with fresh (okay a week old) popcorn; salted to perfection, just like my dad used to make when we'd watch football together. In the popcorn (enough to feed a room of six for a week) was a note that said "dig deep." So I did and found an aluminum foil wrapped bundt cake. It was my mothers pound cake; an entire one, and it had a birthday card attached.
From that year (1978) until November 2008 (three months before my mother lost her battle with cancer) I received a cake for my birthday; wherever I was in the world: Guam, Saudi Arabia, Alaska, Kuwait, Egypt, CONUS locations by the grouping...it didn't matter, that cake always arrived and I always was transported back to my youth. When I received my cake in November 2008, my mom had a note attached: "I almost didn't make this, the pain is so bad, but I've done it for you since you were a small boy...and I wanted to do it one last time."
I froze each piece and it lasted three years.
Don't listen to folks that say "oh, it's silly, it won't mean much" and "it's no big deal..." FIND something that relates to their youth, their family, and closeness...and go with that, even if its only once per year. Mom taught me to make that cake when I was a kid...I've done it for decades; and I do it each year for my birthday.
But it never tastes as good as hers.
Steve
USAFA ALO
USAFA '83
I'm going to skip all the rhetoric about "who's a what kind of father/mother/parent..."
I entered USAFA in 1979. I went to prep school in the late summer of 1978; and that November I received a HUGE box in the mail. All my classmates wondered "What did Steve get?"
So I opened it in my room with my roomates (Northwestern Prep, six of us in that room). It was a lawn/leaf bag filled with fresh (okay a week old) popcorn; salted to perfection, just like my dad used to make when we'd watch football together. In the popcorn (enough to feed a room of six for a week) was a note that said "dig deep." So I did and found an aluminum foil wrapped bundt cake. It was my mothers pound cake; an entire one, and it had a birthday card attached.
From that year (1978) until November 2008 (three months before my mother lost her battle with cancer) I received a cake for my birthday; wherever I was in the world: Guam, Saudi Arabia, Alaska, Kuwait, Egypt, CONUS locations by the grouping...it didn't matter, that cake always arrived and I always was transported back to my youth. When I received my cake in November 2008, my mom had a note attached: "I almost didn't make this, the pain is so bad, but I've done it for you since you were a small boy...and I wanted to do it one last time."
I froze each piece and it lasted three years.
Don't listen to folks that say "oh, it's silly, it won't mean much" and "it's no big deal..." FIND something that relates to their youth, their family, and closeness...and go with that, even if its only once per year. Mom taught me to make that cake when I was a kid...I've done it for decades; and I do it each year for my birthday.
But it never tastes as good as hers.
Steve
USAFA ALO
USAFA '83