Elaine Albertson's Blog

  The events of the past couple of years have left me (on the one hand) incredibly sad, but (on the other) almost equally angry over the human tendency to make certain “bad” things seem normal. Then there’s the “WTF do I do now that I’m retired from something like four careers, and disabled, at 77?” So, after much deliberation (born of the forced introspection after shattering my hip a couple of years ago, and the surfacing of previously unknown family history), I figure I just need to hammer my keyboard into submission, for the purpose of at least making it clear as to my position re the situation in general. It also saves me (or VA, depending on how you look at it) hours of counseling support. I’m not going to waste electrons on politics. What hit me harder were the revelations about my parents’ relationship, what they were involved in, and why they may have wanted to “protect” me in the early years by making me seem “normal” to others. No laughing, there, bunkies...i...

  Well, I’m gonna have to suck it up and just write, I think. If I’m at some higher risk of going end of watch earlier than later, I’d just as soon make the best of it by adding to the verbal salad we’re seeing today. A number of folks have told me to write a biography; I won’t, because (1) no one would believe it, and (2) it would be insanely long. So...it’s gonna be me sitting down each evening and trying to sort out the ton of new info dumped on me last year (family stuff), along with whatever seems relevant to the day, and tell the stories of those parts of the 77 years (at this time) I can still remember. Semper paratus. -30-  

 I meet once a week (or so) with a therapy group consisting of a half dozen combat veterans dealing with PTSD. Two Marines, two Army, one Navy, one Air Force, and myself. The psych running the group is sharp, knowledgeable, and dedicated. There are three of us who come from the ‘Nam era,  and the rest from the Gulf wars. We’re like...no, we are...a functional “unit,” a squad of brothers and sisters with a common objective, and an unshakable faith in each other. I made a promise today to the group, that I was not going to surrender to the insanity going on in our reality. We don’t discuss politics in group. We do, however, talk about how we are/aren’t handling the triggering that inevitably comes as a result.  I will not stop writing (hold the laughter...or cheers...please). After today’s perverse display at Quantico, I cannot in good conscience hunker down and just try to stay invisible. I have to take a position, whether it has any effect on others or not, but only becau...

Crossing the Rubicon...Again. Why, you might say? That is, if you’re awake and understand the basic meaning of the phrase. I published a small essay a few months ago about crossing the Rubicon, as it was really appropriate to the situation at large at that time. Therefore (LOL), I should not be attempting to “go for broke” more than once. There’s an extensive philosophical meaning to that phrase as well, from the Korean War. After these few weeks of meditation, introspection, and hard work toward finding a level of relative peace for whatever time I have left, the decision (or, lack of choices…) is to write until I can’t write anymore. I really don’t know if what I’ve got to say is worth the read for any particular person, and unless the reader makes a comment, I won’t know if they’ve even visited the site. There is zero monetization in my work, and I don’t share any info about who may (or may not) be reading my high-level tripe. My blog site does not collect any ...

   The following is from a social media post from this day, ten years ago. It is a quote in its entirety. Crossing the Rubicon... This is the article I had mentioned a day or two ago. Wanted to release it by Memorial Day. Peace be with us all. Long Day's Journey... Early in the morning local time...around 0200 hours...on 11 August 1966, the Coast Guard Cutter Point Welcome was on routine patrol off the coast of Viet Nam near the northern border. The 82-foot, dual supercharged V-12 diesel vessel was distinctive...except on radar, where to a relatively untrained eye it could resemble a small tramp steamer. Night patrols were usually done without running lights. The Welcome was running at a slow cruise when an airborne surveillance aircraft/targeting center “painted” them as hostile. What followed was a friendly fire attack by a US Navy A4, and an Air Force Crusader that almost blew the gunboat out of the water, instantly killing the skipper, Lt. Brostrom, and Engineman Phillips...

  Tues 13 May 2025 11:30 We have a group of a half dozen or so combat veterans who meet weekly to go over how we’re managing (or not) our PTSD. It’s a fine bunch of people. The subject came up of a veteran, retired, who changed gender and has lost his benefits only because he is trans . It was shared that the info was legit. One of us (no disrespect intended) said, “Well...there’s always two sides…” Well, no, unless you’re in court and trying to prove your case point. The truth is the truth, no subject to interpretation. My buddy’s statement is what we call an “apologist,” or taking a position attempting to make an unpleasant fact tolerable, by offering an alternate argument. I’ve shared for a couple of years now, with persons I’m close to, my precognitive feeling of not having much time left, with no discernment of how, just when, or whatever. I’ve also written previously about one or two of the life experiences that validated such a feeling at tho...