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Honoring Our Veterans at National Memorial Cemetery of Arizona

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I don’t know about you, but I sometimes forget to really focus on what Memorial Day is all about. This year, I did a lot better at dedicating time to remembering fallen American heroes. The Tuesday after Memorial Day, I visited our local sanctuary of honor: National Memorial Cemetery of Arizona.

 

 

 

What is Memorial Day?

If you’re not American and you’re reading this (or you’re any of interviewees featured on Watter’s World last week), Memorial Day is a national holiday in which we take a day off work in order to remember the many American soldiers who have died to protect our nation. From the first casualties of the Revolutionary War to the most recent war tragedy, each life is honored and remembered with gratitude.

 

 

What is National Memorial Cemetery in Arizona? 

This is the final resting place of many of Arizona’s veterans who have passed since the 1970s. My grandfather was a Korean War veteran, and although he had the option to be buried here, he chose to be taken back home to Iowa. Even though I don’t have anyone to visit here, it is still a wonderful place to go and think and be thankful. Here, you’ll find the endless neat rows of well-kept headstones, each representing a service member who gave their all for their fellow countrymen. The cemetery also has some beautiful memorials tucked away in to the far corner, including the flagpole from the U.S.S. Arizona.

 

 

 

My Experience 

Nobody was able to go to National Memorial Cemetery with me, so I ended up driving over to Cave Creek, Arizona by myself. It ended up being the perfect solo excursion for a thoughtful afternoon. I can’t quite describe the emotions I felt when I stepped out of my car in a remote area of the cemetery. I suppose “poignant” would be an appropriate word. I have to admit that I haven’t been to many cemeteries; I expected this one to be filled of creepy, moss-covered, chipping headstones with bizarre epitaphs. I guess that Boston graveyard tour got to me! However, nothing could be further from opposite of creepy or ghostly. In fact, I don’t think I’ve found a more pleasantly peaceful place in the entire Phoenix metro area.

 

 

It wouldn’t be bad to lay at rest here, where the warm sun shines perpetually, casting its light over long, neat rows of memorial headstones. The only sound here is an occasional bird and the smart snapping of an American flag in the wind. An occasional visitor sits quietly beside the engraved name of a loved one, and the militarily-neat rows are interrupted by the bright colors of flowers and flags.

 

I’m not so sure where one should or should not step near a grave, so I was careful to be respectful and just stroll along the perimeter. Many of the headstones were sprinkled with coins. According to Snopes, a penny on a grave means you visited to pay your respects. A nickel means you were at boot camp with the soldier. A dime means you served with him or her, and a quarter means you were there when the veteran died. The coins are a nice way to honor the military members and tell their loved ones that someone cares, and they usually go to pay for an honorable burial for military members without family and financial means.

 

 

As I surveyed the countless rows of headstones, I felt tears spring to my eyes. An engraved sign at the cemetery paraphrased the words of John Maxwell Edmonds:

 

When you go home,

Tell them of us and say,

For your tomorrow

They gave their today.

That struck a chord with me and I couldn’t help but let the tears flow. For all the countless graves at National Memorial Cemetery, this is just a sampling of the Arizona men and women who have sacrificed, if not their lives, at least their years for me. I just can’t quite wrap my brain around the idea of someone else sacrificing themselves for other people, including those they have never met, all in the name of patriotism and freedom. I think it’s just about as close as you can come to giving yourself the way Jesus did.

 

No matter what time of year you’re reading this, I challenge you to clear your schedule for a couple hours and head to the nearest military cemetery. Even if you’re not a U.S. citizen, this still applies; honor the people who fought and died for your country’s freedom.

 

You’ll never feel more patriotic than you do when standing beside the graves of thousands who gave everything for your nation. It’s an indescribable feeling.

The International Move from the Black Lagoon

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The good news: we made it back to Arizona!

The bad news: it took 24 hours and about half my remaining sanity.

If you’ve ever moved internationally, you know it’s not exactly a piece of cake. Actually, it’s pretty tough, emotionally and logistically. It’s like I was being ripped in half, because I was so sad to leave St. Maarten, but at the same time so excited to see my family and my hometown. And while I was trying to deal with those emotions, I had to be getting rid of all my stuff and cramming the few things I was keeping into our suitcases.

 

 

Fact: You can only drag so many pieces of luggage through the airport.

Also fact: Suitcases hold less than you expect them to.

 

 

As we were going through all our stuff, I was wondering where the heck all that crap came from. We only lived in St. Maarten for a couple of years, and I was intentionally trying not to amass copious amounts of things. So even after selling, donating, giving away and throwing out the large majority of what was in our apartment, we still had three suitcases, two gigantic backpacks, and a couple of small backpacks. Plus the dog. And by the way, getting the dog back was incredibly stressful. But I don’t want to even think about that right now. She’s here, and that’s all that matters.

 

 

The first thing that happened when we got to the airport, as we were struggling to get our luggage to the counter, was a cranky security guard stopping us and demanding to see our paperwork for the dog. Not only was it bad timing, but she actually has no authority over whether or not a dog goes on the plane. We have to show it to the lady at the baggage counter and the people a customs. I took this total waste of time as a bad sign about the way the trip would go, and boy, was that accurate.

 

Kenny driving us to the airport

 

Kito was thoroughly freaking out by the time we made it through customs, but the hour wait to get on the plane calmed her down. We planned to get on the place last of all, so that Kito wouldn’t get in anyone’s way, but they actually let us get on the plane first. That was really nice, and it gave us a chance to get settled. Kito was so worn out that she lay down at my feet and fell asleep.

 

As soon as the engine started, she shot straight up in the air and landed on our laps! Ben comforted her while I watched my beautiful St. Martin disappear beneath the clouds. I had thought I would cry at this moment, but I was already too exhausted for any tears. The last thing I saw was Pond Island growing smaller and smaller beneath us. It was strange to think that my Little League team was practicing right then and I was not there to help.

 

Kito literally shook with terror for the entire three hour flight to Miami. Poor dog! The good news was that she was so quiet that I don’t think anyone noticed her.

 

 

We had booked a flight with a 1.75 hour layover so that it would be easier on the dog. Here’s a piece of advice: never book a short layover when going through customs in Miami. We had intended to use the really cool new customs app (Guys, it’s really cool. You have to use it next time you fly internationally!) but it doesn’t work if you have an “x” on your customs form. Kito is technically an imported animal, so we still had to wait in the long line.

After the long line, we were taken to another special customs area for people who are importing stuff. We were the only ones waiting in the room, and we waited for fifteen minutes while the staff slowly stacked papers, watched basketball on TV, had a conversation about illegally imported mangoes, and complained about having to multitask when they finally decided to get around to seeing us.

Even through we were slowly watching our chances of catching our connection slip away, I was more concerned about Kito’s rabies shot. I had called my vet to set up Kito’s health certificate appointment, and she told me not to worry about making a separate, earlier appointment for the rabies shot. So I got it a week early, along with the health certificate. St. Maarten is a rabies-free country, so it technically doesn’t matter, according to the CDC. A lot of my dog-savvy friends, however, told me that I might not get Kito through customs if her shot was less than a month old. So I was really worried about that. As it turned out, though, the customs people looked the shot record over, smiled, and handed it back without a comment. Of course, seeing that they didn’t appear to take their job very seriously, I wouldn’t count on that being the norm.

 

 

We left customs and realized that we had just missed our flight. We were directed to customer service, where we waited in another long line to get a new flight. When we finally got to the front, the representative told us that the next flight was at 7 AM– twelve hours after we had landed in Miami. Since the delay was not the airline’s fault, we didn’t get a room or even a meal voucher. I could tell that the manager felt bad, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Another woman who was on our flight was MAD. She was incredibly mad, and she really wanted us to be as mad as she was. Honestly, though, we weren’t that upset. Maybe it’s because we were too exhausted to feel anything other than tired, but I think it was because we were just thankful to be through customs and in Florida. There’s nothing like getting your newly-stamped passport back and hearing, “Welcome to the United States.”

 

 

The airport wouldn’t let us through security a “day early,” and when we got our new tickets it was 11:00 PM. So we had to wait an hour just inside the door and get overpriced Pizza Hut, which was all that was open. Boy, did that Pizza Hut taste good just then. At midnight, we went through security. It was actually nice to be doing the TSA thing so early, when there were only five people in line ahead of us. We just had to slide on through, and we were done in ten minutes. Phew. We still had six and a half hours before boarding, so we found a quiet terminal and tried to sleep.

 

 

We actually did manage to sleep a little bit. It’s amazing how easy it is to fall asleep in odd places when you’re so exhausted! Even the dog just dropped off to sleep, all curled up on an airport chair.

Of course, we couldn’t sleep the whole time. I was worried about Kito peeing on the carpet, so we took to her to the special doggy bathroom a few times to make sure to avoid a mess. Thank goodness for the doggie bathroom!

Also, Ben made a new friend named Leo. Leo works at the airport, and he didn’t have any assigned duties for a couple hours during the especially slow parts of the night, so he talked to Ben for a while and found out our predicament. He helped us get seats together on the plane, and then drove us an all our stuff to our terminal on his cart.

 

 

When it was finally time to get on the plane, I was surprised at how quickly the night had gone. The plane ride didn’t seem so short. I slept for a while, and tried to do a crossword puzzle with my fuzzy sleep-deprived brain. Mostly, I held Kito, who was really not enjoying the whole experience. The upside to the early morning plane ride was that my parents didn’t have to pick us up at midnight, which I was happy about.

Finally, we touched down in dusty Phoenix! I have never been so happy to see the familiar outline of Camelback Mountain. We were so excited to see my family, and Kito was excited about the new kennel they bought her. Seriously– I have never seen a dog who loved a kennel so much. How wonderful to be a dog and have a grassy yard for the first time ever, and a cozy kennel to sleep in at night!

 

 

After the whole experience, I can safely say I will never fly with a dog again. At least not for that long of a flight! It was the worst flight experience I’ve ever had, but we got through it with pretty good attitudes and made it home just fine. Now that we’ve recovered a bit, I’m looking forward to seeing family and friends and re-integrating into the United States. This is just the first chapter of a whole new life.

 

 

Day at the Museum (of Natural History)

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Night at the Museum is possibly one of the best family movies of all time. I know we loved it, at least, and were super excited when my parents, sister and I got to visit the Museum of Natural History in New York again and look for all our favorite characters.

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I was surprised to find that all the displays aren’t exactly like the scenes from the movie. I guess I had mingled my real-life experiences from ten years ago with the footage from the film. We did find a few of the characters, though, and the rest of the museum was way better and bigger than I recall.

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It’s amazing how much you think you know until you come into a museum like this. I’ve spent so much time in my life reading about different location and cultures, and still I learn tons of new and novel things every time I visit a museum.

african animals

It was especially interesting to me to learn about the history and culture of the Masai and other Nilotic or Bantu tribes in the Tanzania/Burundi/Kenya area of Africa, since that is where Ben grew up.

african instruments

Africa

The South American exhibit was also fun to walk through. There were so many terra cotta statues, like this dog. It’s pretty cute…. for a chihuahua.IMG_4151chihuahua

The ocean exhibit was also cool. Last time we were here, we missed it because we ran out of time. This time, we took our time through it. Even though I took marine biology in high school, I’ve become so much more educated on ocean life since I live near one. I recognized a lot of the creatures in the exhibits.

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It’s tough for me to pick and choose which photos to feature and which displays to highlight; I guess if you want to see them, you’ll have to go check it out for yourself! It’s well worth spending a few hours at the Museum of Natural History.

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Ellis Island: Stories of Our Past and Present

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What is more representative of America than New York City? I was going to write that a trip to New York is the quintessential American experience, but the United States of America is too broad and too mulita-faceted for me to make that statement. Still, the diversity within New York is a fantastic sampling of the cultures and subcultures with the U.S. as a whole, and the city’s history and modern status makes it the perfect place for one to begin a journey through the States.

tower

Appropriately, just as my journey home from the Caribbean begins in New York, my ancestors’ journey from Europe also began here.

Statue of LibertyThe sight of the Statue of Liberty inspires me. It inspires me because it is a timeless representation of what the United States is supposed to be. No matter what political trends rise and fall, Lady Liberty stands at the edge of sea, beaconing the traveler and lighting the way to a place of hope. She inspires me because she is what America is, and the hope that America embodies. This is the first sight of our nations shores that my ancestors saw those many decades ago, and she still stands to welcome the immigrants of today. I hope that we never forget that most of our families came to these shores as immigrants and refugees from other places. I hope we won’t forget that it was once our great-grandparents who arrived, footsore and travel weary, hoping for a better life. Maybe the memory of our own narrative will help us to see the humanity in the great crowds who stand knocking at our gates and give us hearts of compassion.

trunks

Those of us who have ancestors who arrived in the United States before 1954 have likely had at least one family member come through the processing center on Ellis Island. For me, the trip to the Ellis Island Museum was significant because I have many ancestors who came through this location. Although I know only a few names, it was amazing to me to stand in the same places that my first American family members stood. After learning about everything it took for people to make it to America and get through Ellis Island, I am in awe of how brave these men and women were. Today, although processes have changed, the people who have the tenacity and drive to make it here and thrive in an unfamiliar culture still must overcome a lot. I have a lot of respect for people who are brave enough to do that, and I’m thankful for my ancestors who made that leap for their children, grandchildren, and me. ellis island family

Two of my ancestors who traveled from Europe through Ellis Island are my great great great grandpa Nicholas Kocina and his wife,  Anna Kocina. Nicholas was Austrian and Anna was Czech. They arrived in the United States in the late 1800s and lived in Chicago before they settled in a Czech community in Nebraska. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for them to climb these stairs and enter the registry room. Although it was fairly empty when we visited, it was absolutely bursting with people when they arrived. IMG_4033 IMG_4036

Besides the Kocinas, my family arrived in the United States from Germany, Ireland, Norway, and England. Most of them came through Ellis Island,  I assume.

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Even more than the history of Ellis Island, I was very interested in the modern refugee and immigration exhibit. I’m working on a master’s in Refugee Protection and Forced Migration Studies, so I was able to glean a lot of useful information from the museum. The issues of refugee asylum and immigration are hot-button topics in the U.S. right now, and I found that the Ellis Island Museum did an excellent job at presenting an informative and well-balanced look at the aspects. There are so many facets to these issues and it’s valuable to be able to hear a variety of voices on the matters, just as the museum presented.American FLag NYCIf you’re ever in New York City, I’d highly recommend a stop at the Ellis Island Museum. A short ferry ride past the Statue of Liberty will take you there. If you’re short on time, bypassing a tour of the statue and opting for Ellis Island is well worth it. Come discover our nation’s past, our present, and our hope for the future.

ellis island
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A Garden in the Desert

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Ironically, I had to go back to the desert to find the garden.

One strange thing about living on Saint Martin is the lack of cultivation. You’d think that a tropical paradise would be dripping with succulent fruit, but this one’s not. And I can’t try to grow anything myself, because the only dirt I can call my own in the soil in the dustpan.

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Early this morning, I landed in Phoenix, Arizona, where I grew up and where my family still lives. When the sun rose, my mom took me on a tour of her garden.

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I have never been able to coax more than a sad cactus to grow in the hard clay we Arizonans like to call dirt. My mom, however, has a true green thumb. She and my dad have conquered the bugs, rats, birds, hard soil, and lack of rain by building two beautiful raised gardens near their citrus trees.

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The sunflowers are recovering from a storm

The first raised garden is full of vegetables and a row of giant sunflowers. We picked some carrots and lettuce. Fresh carrots hold some many good memories for me. We planted them in our garden when I was small, and I remember feeding the root to my cousins’ horses and the greens to their rabbits. Horses thought carrots were treats, so I was convinced that they were basically candy.

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We enjoyed the fresh lettuce and tomatoes in our sandwiches at lunch. In Saint Martin, lettuce is expensive and goes bad more quickly than we can eat it. I never buy it, so it was a treat. Especially since it was fresh picked.

 

 

 

The flower garden is beautiful. Can you tell what my mom’s favorite colors are? She grows daisies, poppies, and other bright blossoms. The hollyhocks, sadly, did not decide to grace us with their presence this year.

Last but not least is the little orchard. My parents have an orange tree, a lemon tree, a grapefruit tree, and a tiny lime tree with one baby lime. They’ve recently planted a peach tree. They also have a strange lemon tree with an orange branch grafted in. The fruit looks like an orange but is bitter like a lemon. It makes interesting lemonade but is not very good eating. Citrus actually grows very well in Arizona. It’s one of the state’s five main sources of income, along with cattle, copper, cotton and Grand Canyon tourism.

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Here, in the middle of the desert, good and beautiful things grow. I left behind a land of lush greenery and little produce, and found myself in a dry place with much fruit.

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I think that our Christian lives are like that at times. Sometimes, we find ourselves in an oasis in life, but we discover that we bear very little fruit in that rich season. Then, we may find ourselves in a desert place. We don’t expect to find growth in our lives in those seasons, because they’re so dry. But when we look at ourselves and our lives, we suddenly realize that the very place that promised so little is the place that cultivated the most growth and fruit.

Are you in a dry season? Don’t slip into discouragement, dear friend. You may not realize what great things God is doing in your life until you come to the end of the wilderness.

 

“The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad;
the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus.”

-Isaiah 35:1