Returning to West Point after Christmas
This has been one helluva week.
For such a short week.
It was the first time in my life I felt like I did when I had to go back to West Point after Christmas Leave. Which I think was one of the most heavy, awful, depressing feelings I have ever had. I experienced it four times at West Point.
I promised myself: Never again!
I am not sure why I experienced it this year. I LOVE my job. I was NOT dreading returning to work, to my job
Yet, still, on Tuesday morning as I scooted my tired, reluctant children off to school again, I found myself equally – if not more – tired and reluctant. I felt that horrible, palpable heaviness that I always felt when I had to return to the bitter, cold gray of West Point in winter.
West Point in winter is depressing. Cadets call it the “Gloom Period.” EVERYTHING is gray. The buildings, the river, the ground, the sky, the uniforms. Everything. I have never felt that same feeling of dread that I used to feel upon returning to West Point after Christmas until this week. It was worst as a Plebe. I mean, being a Plebe period sucks. But having a small, holiday respite at Christmas made returning to being a Plebe all that much worse. And we hadn’t beaten Navy. We had tied, granted, thanks to a field goal by an upperclassman in my very own company. But we had not WON. Being a Plebe sucked. And being a Plebe for even longer, during the cold, gray, depressing months of winter was even worse. It’s dark, it’s cold, you’re still getting hazed. Not a lot of fun.
I think the reason it was so hard to return to West Point after Christmas, why it filled your entire body, heart, mind, and soul with DREAD was because West Point was such an isolated and insular place. While you were there, going through all of the bull shit on a day-to-day basis, it started to feel “normal.” Even as a Plebe, even though you knew being a Plebe sucked, all of your other classmates, your friends, were going through the same things you were. That was a real bonding tool, believe me! Why? Because we were going through something really hard, really challenging, but we were going through it together. We were helping each other through it.
“Cooperate and graduate!” That was a mantra the upperclassmen were always hurling our way. It was true, too. If we worked together and if we helped each other out whenever someone needed it, we all did better as a group. We were like a team. And Plebe year was one giant, seemingly endless Confidence Obstacle Course.
West Point is its own little world. West Point, although its purpose, ostensibly, is to train you to become an officer and a leader in the Army, is NOT the Army. West Point is a parallel – or unparallel! -- universe. With its own language, its own rules and regulations, its own geography, its own traditions, its own uniforms, its own operational tempo, its own code, its own traditions, its own aura. Its own just about everything.
When you are there as a cadet, you get sucked into the whole vortex that is West Point. And as weird as life there might be, it seems somehow “normal” to you while you are in it. But if you LEAVE West Point – to go on Christmas break or Christmas leave or whatever – that is a whole different story.
(In the military, you don’t ever have vacation or a break; you have “leave.” And you acquire days of leave and have only so many days of leave a year and you use up your leave. Or not. In which case, you just “lose” it. Numbers of days of leave are based on rank and seniority. At West Point, the ability to “leave” West Point was also based on seniority. As a Plebe, you hardly ever get to leave West Point. When I was there, we had Christmas Leave, and that was about it. We didn’t have Spring Break. We weren’t even allowed to take weekends or long weekends or go off post even, except for the Army/Navy game, which was down in Philadelphia. Nowadays, cadets have a lot more freedom to “leave.” I am pretty sure Plebes get Spring Break. They may even get a certain number of weekends. And cadets have “walking privileges.” Where they can go off post into the town of Highland Falls and go to a restaurant or whatever. I think upperclassmen may even be allowed to leave post during the week, after classes or even in the evenings, but don’t quote me on that.)
I am not sure if being able to leave more would make life at West Point easier. Or harder. It certainly would make life more “realistic.” But that could be a bad thing. If you are living, breathing, eating, sleeping West Point 24 hours a day, that might actually be easier. It is the transitioning, I think, back and forth, that makes things more difficult to handle. Not only is Christmas Break a period of leave and vacation, it is also a very festive, important, charged holiday time of year. You are returning home for Christmas! You are going to do all of the Christmassy things you always did as a family. You are going to see family and friends. You are going to run into friends from high school, back home from their respective colleges, which are likely FAR, FAR different from West Point. You are going to celebrate your freedom by going wild. You are going to sleep in. You are going to stay up late. You are going to eat tons of food. You are going to go out and party and do things with your friends. And try to fit in as much wild, crazy college kid crap as you can. In a very short period of time.
And then before you know it, you have to… go back.
It is the going back that is so hard. The dreading going back. The fear, the anxiety. The reluctance.
Once you are back in the groove, though, back in the routine, back in the shit – even if it is as a Plebe, where life REALLY sucks – it is not really so bad. It is the transitioning that is so hard. The back and forth. The to and fro.
Cadets call the winter months at West Point the “Gloom Period.” It is hard to transition back into West Point after the Christmas holiday. The fact that the weather is so cold and dreary does not help matters any. Sure, it snows at West Point. I had a roommate as a Plebe who had never seen snow before. We took her outside. We threw snowballs, we made snow angels. Hell, we even encouraged her to eat snow, as disgusting as that may sound. She loved it!
I have cross-country skied across the Plain at West Point. I used to take the shuttle bus out to the golf course, which was near the Victor Constant Ski Slopes and cross country ski there. West Point gets snow.
But it is not the snow I remember from winters there.
It is the cold.
And the harsh wind that blows off the Hudson and makes everything ten times colder.
And the gray.
It is the gray, bitter cold of winter at West Point that so closely parallels one’s feelings and engenders the term: Gloom Period.
So, WHY did I feel that same feeling of dread this past Tuesday when I had to return to work?
I did not dread returning to work. I love my job. I was looking forward to returning to my job and the new semester and teaching a new course.
I think it was the sudden, rapid transition from a week off, total vacation, to suddenly being back at work again. No responsibilities, no kids to: Having to get up at 6:15 again. When it is dark. And cold. Having to rouse sleepy children (a.k.a. - recalcitrant teenagers) from their beds and become the Drill Sergeant personified, which is NOT a natural role for me, in order to get them all off to school on time. The commute. Morning rush hour. Traffic. Rush, rush, rush. Ugh.
My kids were at their dad’s for the entire break. Which was fine. Great for them. We celebrated Christmas here a week early, so I genuinely “felt” Christmas was over when it had not even come. I drove them halfway to their dad’s the day after they got out of school for Christmas break, and then I had a whole week of no work, no kids. Which was nice. I missed my sons terribly, but we have to make the most of what we have. On New Year’s Day I had to drive halfway to pick them up and then back. It is a ten hour drive. First thing the next morning, they had to get up for school and I had to get up for work.
That was a hard, hard, hard transition.
No wonder I felt that same horrible, awful feeling I felt when returning to West Point! Only this time it wasn’t about returning to West Point. It was just about the sudden, rapid transition back to reality.
I don’t feel so bad any more. The week, albeit a short one, felt like a very, very long one. I was dog-tired at the end of each day and exhausted by the end of the week. I needed a weekend to recuperate before the Spring Term starts on Monday.
I did not like West Point. I did not “enjoy” West Point. But it is so ingrained in my being I cannot imagine my life without it. My experience there shades just about everything I do. It is a – if not, the -- major reference point for everything else I do in life. Whether I want it to be or not. I do not think I am unusual in this respect. I think this is so for most West Pointers. It is why any two West Pointers, regardless of what year they graduated, what gender they are, and what they ended up doing with their lives, can meet and have a common bond, a common language, a common reference point. The West Point.
For such a short week.
It was the first time in my life I felt like I did when I had to go back to West Point after Christmas Leave. Which I think was one of the most heavy, awful, depressing feelings I have ever had. I experienced it four times at West Point.
I promised myself: Never again!
I am not sure why I experienced it this year. I LOVE my job. I was NOT dreading returning to work, to my job
Yet, still, on Tuesday morning as I scooted my tired, reluctant children off to school again, I found myself equally – if not more – tired and reluctant. I felt that horrible, palpable heaviness that I always felt when I had to return to the bitter, cold gray of West Point in winter.
West Point in winter is depressing. Cadets call it the “Gloom Period.” EVERYTHING is gray. The buildings, the river, the ground, the sky, the uniforms. Everything. I have never felt that same feeling of dread that I used to feel upon returning to West Point after Christmas until this week. It was worst as a Plebe. I mean, being a Plebe period sucks. But having a small, holiday respite at Christmas made returning to being a Plebe all that much worse. And we hadn’t beaten Navy. We had tied, granted, thanks to a field goal by an upperclassman in my very own company. But we had not WON. Being a Plebe sucked. And being a Plebe for even longer, during the cold, gray, depressing months of winter was even worse. It’s dark, it’s cold, you’re still getting hazed. Not a lot of fun.
I think the reason it was so hard to return to West Point after Christmas, why it filled your entire body, heart, mind, and soul with DREAD was because West Point was such an isolated and insular place. While you were there, going through all of the bull shit on a day-to-day basis, it started to feel “normal.” Even as a Plebe, even though you knew being a Plebe sucked, all of your other classmates, your friends, were going through the same things you were. That was a real bonding tool, believe me! Why? Because we were going through something really hard, really challenging, but we were going through it together. We were helping each other through it.
“Cooperate and graduate!” That was a mantra the upperclassmen were always hurling our way. It was true, too. If we worked together and if we helped each other out whenever someone needed it, we all did better as a group. We were like a team. And Plebe year was one giant, seemingly endless Confidence Obstacle Course.
West Point is its own little world. West Point, although its purpose, ostensibly, is to train you to become an officer and a leader in the Army, is NOT the Army. West Point is a parallel – or unparallel! -- universe. With its own language, its own rules and regulations, its own geography, its own traditions, its own uniforms, its own operational tempo, its own code, its own traditions, its own aura. Its own just about everything.
When you are there as a cadet, you get sucked into the whole vortex that is West Point. And as weird as life there might be, it seems somehow “normal” to you while you are in it. But if you LEAVE West Point – to go on Christmas break or Christmas leave or whatever – that is a whole different story.
(In the military, you don’t ever have vacation or a break; you have “leave.” And you acquire days of leave and have only so many days of leave a year and you use up your leave. Or not. In which case, you just “lose” it. Numbers of days of leave are based on rank and seniority. At West Point, the ability to “leave” West Point was also based on seniority. As a Plebe, you hardly ever get to leave West Point. When I was there, we had Christmas Leave, and that was about it. We didn’t have Spring Break. We weren’t even allowed to take weekends or long weekends or go off post even, except for the Army/Navy game, which was down in Philadelphia. Nowadays, cadets have a lot more freedom to “leave.” I am pretty sure Plebes get Spring Break. They may even get a certain number of weekends. And cadets have “walking privileges.” Where they can go off post into the town of Highland Falls and go to a restaurant or whatever. I think upperclassmen may even be allowed to leave post during the week, after classes or even in the evenings, but don’t quote me on that.)
I am not sure if being able to leave more would make life at West Point easier. Or harder. It certainly would make life more “realistic.” But that could be a bad thing. If you are living, breathing, eating, sleeping West Point 24 hours a day, that might actually be easier. It is the transitioning, I think, back and forth, that makes things more difficult to handle. Not only is Christmas Break a period of leave and vacation, it is also a very festive, important, charged holiday time of year. You are returning home for Christmas! You are going to do all of the Christmassy things you always did as a family. You are going to see family and friends. You are going to run into friends from high school, back home from their respective colleges, which are likely FAR, FAR different from West Point. You are going to celebrate your freedom by going wild. You are going to sleep in. You are going to stay up late. You are going to eat tons of food. You are going to go out and party and do things with your friends. And try to fit in as much wild, crazy college kid crap as you can. In a very short period of time.
And then before you know it, you have to… go back.
It is the going back that is so hard. The dreading going back. The fear, the anxiety. The reluctance.
Once you are back in the groove, though, back in the routine, back in the shit – even if it is as a Plebe, where life REALLY sucks – it is not really so bad. It is the transitioning that is so hard. The back and forth. The to and fro.
Cadets call the winter months at West Point the “Gloom Period.” It is hard to transition back into West Point after the Christmas holiday. The fact that the weather is so cold and dreary does not help matters any. Sure, it snows at West Point. I had a roommate as a Plebe who had never seen snow before. We took her outside. We threw snowballs, we made snow angels. Hell, we even encouraged her to eat snow, as disgusting as that may sound. She loved it!
I have cross-country skied across the Plain at West Point. I used to take the shuttle bus out to the golf course, which was near the Victor Constant Ski Slopes and cross country ski there. West Point gets snow.
But it is not the snow I remember from winters there.
It is the cold.
And the harsh wind that blows off the Hudson and makes everything ten times colder.
And the gray.
It is the gray, bitter cold of winter at West Point that so closely parallels one’s feelings and engenders the term: Gloom Period.
So, WHY did I feel that same feeling of dread this past Tuesday when I had to return to work?
I did not dread returning to work. I love my job. I was looking forward to returning to my job and the new semester and teaching a new course.
I think it was the sudden, rapid transition from a week off, total vacation, to suddenly being back at work again. No responsibilities, no kids to: Having to get up at 6:15 again. When it is dark. And cold. Having to rouse sleepy children (a.k.a. - recalcitrant teenagers) from their beds and become the Drill Sergeant personified, which is NOT a natural role for me, in order to get them all off to school on time. The commute. Morning rush hour. Traffic. Rush, rush, rush. Ugh.
My kids were at their dad’s for the entire break. Which was fine. Great for them. We celebrated Christmas here a week early, so I genuinely “felt” Christmas was over when it had not even come. I drove them halfway to their dad’s the day after they got out of school for Christmas break, and then I had a whole week of no work, no kids. Which was nice. I missed my sons terribly, but we have to make the most of what we have. On New Year’s Day I had to drive halfway to pick them up and then back. It is a ten hour drive. First thing the next morning, they had to get up for school and I had to get up for work.
That was a hard, hard, hard transition.
No wonder I felt that same horrible, awful feeling I felt when returning to West Point! Only this time it wasn’t about returning to West Point. It was just about the sudden, rapid transition back to reality.
I don’t feel so bad any more. The week, albeit a short one, felt like a very, very long one. I was dog-tired at the end of each day and exhausted by the end of the week. I needed a weekend to recuperate before the Spring Term starts on Monday.
I did not like West Point. I did not “enjoy” West Point. But it is so ingrained in my being I cannot imagine my life without it. My experience there shades just about everything I do. It is a – if not, the -- major reference point for everything else I do in life. Whether I want it to be or not. I do not think I am unusual in this respect. I think this is so for most West Pointers. It is why any two West Pointers, regardless of what year they graduated, what gender they are, and what they ended up doing with their lives, can meet and have a common bond, a common language, a common reference point. The West Point.
posted by delta at 11:24 AM
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