Carrie and I put our son, Jarrett, on a plane this afternoon at Louisville, Kentucky’s Standiford Field.  As I type these words he is probably on a tarmac at Hartsfield International in Atlanta.  His Delta  Jet….”FLY DELTA JETS” is on a sign near a hangar you can see as you speed down runway at Hartsfield (I suppose it is still there)…is going to take off at 10:17 PM.  He is flying from Atlanta, Georgia to Dubai, United Arab Emirates.  He will from there find a mode of transportation…probably a crappy plane that needs its oil changed…to the US Military Airfield in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

Jarrett is no longer in the military.  He is working there as a civilian.

He did spend many years in the Army.  He finished as a Staff Sargent…I think.

Jarrett, I mentioned in another post, did one stint in Iraq and served two deployments in Afghanistan.  You want to talk about a couple proud parents.  You want to talk about a couple relieved parents.  Well, Carrie and I probably don’t want to talk about it.

The times Jarrett was in harm’s way to the extreme during his deployments were difficult on us.

I remember one time we were talking to him on the telephone and it was like listening to one of those hairy episodes of M*A*S*H….we heard a big old KAA-BOOOOM in the background.  That night was one of the rare times in my life that I ever lost sleep.

Those days are gone, Thank God.

Still…it was so so hard this afternoon to let him go.  To watch him go out of sight knowing he will be so far from any help we can offer him in the here and now.  Oh yes, we pray for him.  We pray for him fiercely.  I believe in my heart this is a great and wonderful thing; I still wish I was closer to him in case he needs me.

On the way to airport, our car was kinda heavy with the task at hand.  We had to say good-bye to him.  It is never easy.  I tried to cut through the thick mental fog we were all travelling through by asking Jarrett about the helicopters he helps to maintain in the civil job he now has.

We had good speaks.  I tried to impress him with some verbiage that was uncommonly spot-on.  I got lucky, I guess.  I don’t know anything about transmission housings or stress problems in casings…but I talked like I did and he never felt like he had to explain anything to me in great depth.  Heck, I actually felt pretty smart for a change.

I am evading why I sat down here to write this.

Between deployments and leave and back again and this new job and back again, I have lost count on how many times Jarrett has gotten on a plane to fly to the other side of this big blue marble while we are left to hear word that he is safe and sound and made it to his destination in one piece.

This does not get easier for his mother and me.  It is not routine.  We are still waiting for the phone call from Jarrett that lets us know he made it to his destination and he tell us it is 112 degrees there.  Only then will we breathe deep again and wait for the next phone call and count the days, weeks, and months until he is back with us here in the U.S. of A.

Jarrett has a job to do.  He is good at it.  If he wasn’t…he wouldn’t be there.

Do me a favor and keep him in your prayers.

In times like these, flying to Afghanistan is not routine travel.

Speak the rights.

Danny Johnson

Our sons, Cody and Jarrett, fishing on Blue River a couple weeks ago.