A rash decision

By Ben Gildehaus

Did you ever think how many factors went into getting you exactly to the point where you are today? How every little detail had to be timed just perfectly so you yourself could be sitting here reading this column at just this particular moment?

Why, if things hadn’t been aligned right down to the nano second, if your parents had merely decided to watch one more sitcom or clean up the dinner dishes first before turning in for the night, you wouldn’t be sitting here at all—there would be a completely different parental offspring occupying your chair right now. I am continually amazed that if not for a huge combination of little events, the “me” I’ve come to know so well would never have existed.

Remember the 80’s mega hit movie Back to the Future when Marty McFly’s time warp in Doc’s DeLorean landed him back in his parents’ high school days? When Marty’s mom fell for him instead of his father (What a dweeb!), Marty found himself fading out of future existence and hastily doing damage control.

There’s no time machine, no flux capacitor in 2005 to go backwards and alter one’s personal history. We’ve got to deal with the results of all the little things that come together to make or break us.

Little insignificant (or so you think at the time) details can change your whole life. Sometimes, you make conscious choices that chart your course—friends, a college or no college, a life partner or the single life, which career path to follow. Often, though, other little things just pop up from obscurity and your destiny hangs a hard right. Little do you realize at the time how profound the effects might be.

Thinking about Veteran’s Day this week got me contemplating how one of those little unexpected occurrences altered my own existence. Without it, I might very well have found myself fading out of the picture just like Marty McFly.

Midway through the second semester of my freshman year, I decided that college was possibly not for me. An I.D. number at a big state university, I had chosen this institution for its basketball team and the preponderance of lovely Midwestern girls rather than for any academic purpose. (Mature decisions came later in life.) Since out-of-state tuition was hefty, I decided I would help the folks out with the cost by joining the service and return to school later with my military compensation package in hand.

That was 2000—pre-9/11, pre-Iraq, pre-thoughts of any kind of American involvement in any type of international conflict. Joining a branch of the service was noble and patriotic, a good way to bolster the coffers for education, and a place where my drill sergeant would “encourage” me to grow up. Accepted into my father’s Air Force, I signed the papers and packed my bag for basics in Texas.

One final physical was required before I would ship out. The night before, sequestered with other recruits in a downtown hotel, I started questioning what I had done. Had I made the right decision? It would be six years before I could get back to school—suddenly, that seemed like an eternity. I went to sleep conflicted but resolute to follow through. Not only was I legally bound, but I needed to honor the commitment I had made.

The next morning, the “little thing” happened. During his examination, the military physician found a tiny rash on the back of my calf—eczema. It couldn’t have been more than a half-inch in diameter, but it was a disqualifier of the first degree. Reject—goodbye, go home. For some reason, all my instincts told me I should feel good not to be good enough. Suddenly, I was looking at college in a whole new light.

That tiny little rash changed the course of my life. Most assuredly without it, I would have been on active duty in the middle of Iraq or Afghanistan, deeply involved in waging a war with which I take issue. Or as more than 2000 of our fine young men and women, I might not be anywhere at all.

On this Veteran’s Day, I think of all those individuals and their families who have made this commitment and all the little things in their lives that brought them to that decision. The choice to serve is often the result of courage and patriotism, but it is often also the product of need and circumstance—and when in the past there was a draft, choice wasn’t a factor at all. How many of the recruits that I shared hotel space with that night are facing danger every day? How many never came home?

However compelled, however one feels about the current conflict and the manner in which America became involved, the men and women who serve in the military deserve only the highest honor and respect. November 11 is one day set aside to honor them, but the commitment they have given to all of us should compel us to think of them every day of the year.

I have had four glasses of wine, so I am slightly goofy, but I wanted to post another one of my f'ed up columns for all of my distant friends on this blog-fest dealie.. Keep writing, I enjoy reading all of your updates. Life in Idaho is going well. I just got back from a benefit for the Pakistan earthquake put on by the climbing community. All the proceeds are going to the Central Asian Institute. Anyway, Jimmy Chin, a renowned photographer who does spreads for National Geographics put on one of the most inspiring slideshows I've ever seen. This cat's been to Pakistan, Tibet, Africa, all over the world. I want to get into mountaineering now, actually I've wanted to for awhile but haven't had any connections, b/c I am a bum. I interviewed Jimmy and told him I was an aspiring photographer, mostly b/c I was drunk. Oh, and then they served hot chai. Hot chai after four glasses of wine is wonderous.
Anyway, check out the dude's website, http://www.jimmychinphotography.com/
Here's my most recent column. I liked it, you might not, you sorta have to have read another article I wrote to really appreciate it. Let me know what you think--this is my life.

Slightly Bent. Can I make an appointment for a hearing test?

by Ben Gildehaus

Call off the social workers in Teton Valley. No babies are flipping here.

If you read last week’s article, Cooke Appointed Sheriff, you may have noted County Commissioner Mark Truppe was quoted as saying that weighing his decision on the three candidates was like “trying to figure out how to flip the baby three times.”

Okay, I admit it. I apparently need a review of Sunday School 101. I knew I had heard that phrase, or something like it, somewhere before but couldn’t exactly put my finger on it. “Flipping the baby” must be an Idaho colloquialism, I reasoned. After all, I am somewhat new to the area and there’s a lot I do not yet understand. Since “flip” is what I heard (or thought I heard), “flip the baby” made the paper.

I am certain Commissioner Truppe has never even considered flipping a baby, either literally or figuratively speaking. A baby’s large head makes it somewhat top heavy. Assuredly, flipping one would end badly. No, Commissioner Truppe was merely likening his dilemma in selecting the right candidate to an Old Testament lesson in First Kings, chapter three. So pull your chairs up in a circle, boys and girls, for the tale of wise King Solomon.

Solomon faced a quandary himself when charged with resolving a dispute between two women who claimed custody of the same infant. Since both women were insistent that the boy was theirs and DNA tests were not yet available in 10^th century B.C. Israel, Solomon called for his sword and offered to divide the baby in half so both women could be satisfied. Split not flip—Solomon was going to split the baby.

Now splitting is a little more radical than flipping. Flipping would not benefit anyone—there would still be two disagreeable, dissatisfied women and one dizzy baby. Not a happy kingdom. No, Solomon needed something a bit more dramatic, and splitting fit the bill. Since there were no overworked, underpaid social workers available to keep a sometimes watchful eye on the situation, one might reasonably assume that King Solomon could have gotten away with this little display of short division. However, wise Solomon was well aware that his proposal to the two women was over the top and had no intention of implementing such a drastic compromise.

When the suggestion was made to split the baby, the real mother of the child begged King Solomon to let the other woman take the baby and raise him in order to spare his life. Solomon then knew immediately to whom custody should be awarded. By using his wit and knowledge of the situation, the wise king successfully mediated the conflict and handed down the correct judgment.

And that’s just what good Commissioner Truppe was struggling with in his deliberations—it was like “trying to figure out how to split the baby three times.” In the end, no sword was used, no split was required. After hours of questioning and thoughtful consideration of the candidates’ qualifications and visions, Truppe and the other commissioners, fully engaged with the process and the participants, used their knowledge, wisdom, and imagination to find the best candidate possible for Teton County sheriff. King Solomon would have been proud.

Next week, children, we'll revisit the story of Jonah's Ark. Just kidding.

Thanks a bunch Rachel, you are a real class act.

Christina, I've been told that the first year is a tool to weed out the people who aren't sure they want to go through all of this. After this, there is much, much less stress (although they still keep us busy). I'd guess it's like that in a lot of places. I'm still working on the community-building, but I think you'd have to do that no matter what you decided to do next.

One of these papers is bad enough that my prof is having me photocopy it and give it to her. She's going to use it as an example of the worst paper ever. Seriously, I wish I could show it to you guys. Wow.

Oh Christina, don't have to fret. Sure grad school is a lot of work but I for one am having a great time and I've met a lot of amazing people. If you can go to another country and find friends then surely you can find them anywhere. Of course they won't be like the one's you've known for 4 years but they don't have to be.

I once heard that physics is like riding a bicycle. Well, maybe it was that riding a bicycle invovles physics. Either way, you are Stan and thus you rock and can do anything. The end.

Now I have to go spread knowledge to the less than intelligent undergraduates here. Yes Rachel, I know exactly what you mean.

TOTAL ELECTRON REVERSAL So adam doesn't have to look it up.

yesterday I was walking to the mailroom and I saw a gator partially hidden by a tree and for a split seccond I wondered if it was Pete. I felt sad after I realized there was no way it could be him as he doesn't live here anymore. So many people are not around. I thought about going back to the Peterson house and then I remembered that there is currently a GIANT beer can shaped keg on the porch and that there are constantly beer cans and bottles strewn on the grass surrounding the house. I am still to scared to go in and actually look at what they have ruined in our once happy home.
It's weird to still be in college but it's nice at the same time. Comfortable. Do I really want to go to graduate school and start this whole community building all over again? every single person who went to grad school seems all busy and stressed out. Adam keeps talking about how I have to learn the bass and the Drums so that when the Hoot Hoots tour next year I can go with them.... It sounds really nice honestly. can we organize it? I just worry that I would forget everything physics and I wouldn't be able to do it in the future if I wanted to. who knows. Just thoughts.

Best of luck, Drew. Keep up the hard work; persistence will pay off. (Someone said to me the other day that you get into these schools because you're qualified and you get the degree because you're stubborn. Sounds about right!) I'm a bit worried about a take-home midterm that I'm getting tomorrow. I have to grade 60 undergraduate midterms at the same time I write mine. Ah well.

Speaking of grading, I started grading these essays tonight. I can't believe the idiots that are in the class. I hope it's just that they don't care and not that they are really this dense. It's as if they just decided the question wasn't interesting enough and chose to answer their own, completely unrelated question. I don't know, maybe I really was just that intelligent ... (perhaps we all are--we're a smart bunch of people!)

Well, I'm diving back into this mess. I hope to surface at the end of the quarter. I figure that if I can make it through this year--and especially this quarter--I'll be set. It's a tough ride, though.