USF Personal Log
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Letter From Home

Outpost Phoenix: Personal Com-Net

by Lieutenant J. G. Patricia Yancy
[Stardate ]


Stardate: 201804.14

I received a letter from home this morning. Dad got his clock and he loves it. Mom complained as she helped him hang it in the living room, but she loves it as well, especially the traditional Swiss farm scene I carved into the façade. They both also loved the tune I used for the chimes, instead of the traditional “Dance of the Hours” I chose “Fur Elise.” It was the song they danced to at their wedding.
Dad was enchanted by the differing hues the local plant life I used to create it brought out in the clock. The slightly orangey tones to the wood and the almost purple hues to the plants I used to stain the wood with to protect it against time and elements. He made the comments to me that he never would have thought purple and orange would ever look that good together and that it was a combination he would have to try. Wow, I got to teach my dad a new trick.
Mom loved the recipe I sent home. It was a gift from Bobby Joe for his special apple, pecan, and caramel and bourbon pie. Mom always loves trying new foods and we both know that Dad loves apples and nuts together, so this is one that he will request often if she makes it. She was still looking for right sugar for the caramel sauce. She said she ordered it from New Orleans to make sure it was perfect and was just waiting for it to arrive.
It’s always nice to get letters from home. The only problem is that it reminds me how isolated I am here. If you aren’t in a couple, then you are pretty much on the outside of everything. No one wants to cross from couple hood to a possible friendship with anyone. It’s rather sad how polarized everything is. The only ones who aren’t that way are the CO and XO, but those are other lines that are even harder to cross. At least I still have my parents back home and I’m making friends with Bobby Joe, which is nice. But I feel for those who need social interaction and aren’t getting it. Oh well, not my venue, I’m not the counselor, I’m just the handy man.

Pat Yancy

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