Posted by Marna (Ashburn) Krajeski on June 21, 2005:

While reading a novel by Elizabeth Buchan last week, I was struck by this passage: ?Once acquired, the habit of someone does not go away entirely. It goes underground. You may not see them again, or you may, but they are there in situ.? Not knowing what in situ meant, I foraged through three dictionaries in our house looking for a definition, but met with no success. I finally found my answer on Dictionary.com-- in situ: in the original position. I must consider Doug in situ, since I have not seen him since Aviation OBC and Flight School. Almost two decades have passed, and I haven?t spoken with him, or heard news of him. How can that be? The days at Fort Rucker were so intense, so memorable, that I couldn?t help but believe ?These friendships will always be this close.? In truth, they didn?t remain at that level, but they are as cherished as ever, perhaps more. In my last memory of Doug, he was sitting in his Celica, puzzling over his assignment to the 101st. The prospect of Ft. Campbell, Kentucky, felt like banishment to him. I was going to Hunter Army Airfield in Savannah. ?At least that?s off I-95,? he commented dryly. He wanted to be on the artery, plugged in, socializing. Knowing him, however, his bad attitude probably lasted thirty seconds before he made the best of things. Doug was dependably upbeat. His charisma was not so much in gusto and bravado, but in a warm and vibrant presence that was always welcome. In short, Doug was someone we all regarded as a caring and fun friend. Doug?s personality and spirit were irrepressible. You couldn?t be around him and not get in a good mood. He had a devastating wit, but it was never rooted in hostility, just cleverness. I was recently reminded of Doug as my husband and I walked through our village of Peace Dale, Rhode Island. Some school children had made a mosaic of painted tiles near the bike trail. The only stipulation to their artistry was that each tile had to have the word ?peace? on it somewhere. I told Paul about the time in flight school when Matt Shaffer and Doug sent out photo Christmas cards. They took pictures of each other standing in front of a Cobra attack helicopter, holding a banner that said ?Peace.? Then at the bottom of the card, they had imprinted ?Through Superior Fire Power.? Then there was the time during OBC when we all had to show up at oh-dark-thirty for a Brigade ?Fun Run.? As we stood in formation waiting, Doug slowly snuck away to ask a buddy from West Point what the words to a particular cadence were. Doug came back swaggering and singing it for us: ?We?re back on the block now / I said we?re back on the block now / We?re back on the block now / We?re razor sharp HUAH! (the last syllable was punctuated by hitching his right knee up in a bent leg kick and leaning way back, showman-style.) He was so tickled with himself. We went from miserably shivering in our PT clothes to collapsing with laughter at his performance. His enthusiasm and cheerfulness were infectious. The word ?unflappable? comes to mind to describe Doug. While others frayed or frazzled, he flowed. But for someone whose mantras were ?fun? and ?ease,? he was amazingly competent. He sailed through the pressures and testing and check rides of flight school, often getting higher scores than those of us who stressed constantly. He never took himself too seriously, never had time for pettiness, never engaged in a personal war with reality. Doug was the original ?Life is Good? guy. He had perspective and a center of balance. As his wife Jenny wrote in her memorial tribute to him, ?He said to me as I worried about tedium that day / ?Just love the kids, Jen.?? Doug was a master of what mattered. With a heavy heart, I consider Doug?s passing. It feels like the world has lost a little of its joy and spirit. Yet, if he saw these words, he would say, ?Snap out of it!? He?d sing a goofy cadence, he?d make a funny comment. That habit of him will always be there, in situ, that vibration in our hearts when we think of him or speak his name. Then perhaps we will choose to live a bit more like he did--taking life as it comes, rolling with the punches, smiling, enjoying the ride. We are all, I think, better people because of his influence. Last week, an image of Doug visited my dreams. He was wearing his flight suit, and he told me he had to leave for his ?transition.? Fare forward and Godspeed, Doug. Marna (Ashburn) Krajeski mkrajeski@juno.com

admin