You’re in the Army now

Davidson’s son, Braeden.

The day that bassist, composer and founding member of The Grateful Dead, Phil Lesh, died, I grabbed my phone to text my son Braeden. We share a love of music, but The Grateful Dead is “our band.” Then, I realized: I shouldn’t send this text. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news while my son was away from home, with very limited talk/text time.

While Braeden, or B, was at basic combat training for the U.S. Army, our communication was reduced to “old school” methods. Phone calls, letters and waiting. Waiting a week to hear from anyone is a rarity in the modern ways of constant contact. As B transformed from a volunteer civilian into a soldier, every element of his new life would be structured.

Sending B to “boot camp” meant letting go on an entirely different level than when my first two children left the nest. It’s feelings that all parents must feel when they send their child off into the world. It’s confusion, pride, excitement, emotional turmoil and, at times, it’s grief. Different versions of this scene have played out for centuries, millennia; across battlefields, homelands and borders. Mothers, sending their sons off to defend as trained warriors. Even across Ocala and Maron County, there are approximately 178 families that are likely feeling a similar pang, as we watch the news or not watch the news, worrying about the wars that may lie ahead for our soldiers. It’s living in a keen sense of time. Everything just feels heavier in every moment: the good, the sad, the reality checks, the time checks.

Just a week before Lesh died, I hugged B for the first time in 10 weeks at his BCT Family Day. When we “tapped out” our soldier in training (SIT) on Hilton Field, the relief flushed through my body. Crying, I cupped his face in my hands. The face of a young man still—but changed with the disciplined physical training and Army diet. He had filled into his features, and into the role he seemed to be preparing for most of his life.

In 2013, at 7 years old, B listed his New Year’s resolution as “To be a better citizen.” His favorite president during that era was George Washington. And when the same child traveled with me for my photography work at Civil War re-enactments, he’d visit the booths, trying on hats, fumbling through baskets of war memorabilia. Ten years later, when he enlisted, our lives became intertwined with the United States Army.

These are the ways I connect while being “disconnected” from my SIT:

Letter writing: Write no matter what. Cathartic process. It’s physical, using a pen and paper.  The physical act of walking to the mailbox and pulling up the red flag. The conscious act of buying stamps—and understanding that this simple stamp is a lifeline.

Others’ letter writing: Letters are a SIT’s connection to the world outside. Friends and family sending letters is a reminder that there is good in the world. Even one letter can make all the difference when all of your comforts from home are on the backburner.

Digital connection:

I joined Facebook groups devoted to basic training at his specific base, with many in his own company. Connecting with other parents who understand the sense of urgency to get the facts was helpful especially as we planned our trip to Family Day/Graduation Day.

By leaning into family and friends: It takes a village. Acts of kindness were shown in a friend printing address labels so mail wouldn’t be returned to sender. Sharing information, letters, some details of phone calls with B’s siblings, father, stepmom and stepbrother, his Kanga (grandmother) and extended family, friends. Them sharing the same with me. The hugs from surrogate mothers and besties; neighbors; my children.

By listening to music/reading:  

I’ve been reading “The Complete Annotated Grateful Dead Lyrics” book, a gift from a dear friend, that I then gifted to B. A few of my favorite songs during this time have been “Standing on the Moon,” “Ripple” and “Box of Rain.”

The program from B’s graduation highlights that this is the “only army in the world that defends an idea, not the mother or fatherland, not a dictator, monarch or other potentate, but an idea where the people are sovereign.” Each year, Fort Jackson “generates over 40,000 new soldiers” who will move on to “their respective miliary specialties.” Once graduated, soldiers go to their advanced individual training and then they report to the first duty station. Granted, we won’t always be waiting for scheduled phone calls, but we’ll always be waiting for good news.

On Oct. 26 B’s father and stepmom were married in a beautiful ceremony at Licciardello Farms. We couldn’t help but miss those who were not with us that day. But we celebrated the merging of two families who, together, look forward to the holidays in December when our soldier will be home for two weeks.

In the meantime, we’re all wearing B’s favorite clothing that he left behind, traded for army fatigues and “pinks and greens.” His big brother has his red Thrasher hoodie; his big sister, his gray Thrasher hoodie; and I, the black Grateful Dead hoodie. His little brother, five years younger, has always worn B’s hand-me-downs, but they look so much cozier now. Let there be songs, and phone calls, letters and comfy clothes, to fill the air.