Pachadermy Alchemy

See, he had two choices. The boy helps me swap out the rank on my flight cap, and we revert back to his favorite book, "Go Dog Go." You're thinking fifty-fifty shot, but it takes three meetings such as this

Before random yeller chapeau critic dog actually approves of pink floozie poodle's choice of headgear.

Still. I was hoping for the latter.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Went in to work Friday, actually doing some real work while tying up the loose ends for the promotion ceremony. Besides being confronted with a ladle emergency and the cake box getting squooshed onto the lettering, all went fairly smoothly. My gang showed up about 1:30, meeting an old SOPSC colleague and his wife in the parking lot, so there was quite an entourage walking through together (we took up two elevators!). While Ainsley and our mothers made the refreshment tables look pretty, Dad, Gareth and Ryan stuck programs on chairs, while Tim dutifully rocked Erin back and forth in her car seat, keeping her happy. Around 2 pm we met the presiding official in his office, where pleasantries were shared and stories told. The popular one being after I left to get my service coat, as it was relayed that earlier in the day Grandpa had informed Ryan that Daddy was getting promoted to "Colonel" (figured it was an easier word than "Lieutenant" Colonel). Ryan thought... "Like Colonel Haithi!" (The Elephant on "The Jungle Book.")

"That's right! Can you say, "Daddy's going to be a Colonel?"

"Daddy's going to be a Elephant!"

I had an Army guy in my office be the narrator to get a true multi-service flavor to the proceedings, held in a handsome semi-circle of a room overlooking the rear of the building with a pond and fountain in the center, the American flag, Army, Air Force, Navy, Marine, and DTRA flags situated behind us. Nice words were said about me, then the order was published, and it was semi-official -- I was a Lieutenant Colonel (so declared, but didn't take effect until 1 March). Ainsley and my Dad took off the Major rank and pinned on the silver oak leaves, with my Dad unfortunately ripping the button of my left epaulet. My mom and brother then put the Lt Col sleeves over my shoulder epaulets on my shirt, and then Ryan, as we rehearsed all week, came forward, and took care of my hat with the words, "Gold Off...Silver On!"

"Do you like my hat?" I asked.

"I do not!"

"Rats. Well, whaddaya think of mommy?"
"Hubba hubba."

At least he got one thing right.

I then took the oath of office, then fumbled my way through a thank-you speech, forgetting a bunch of things I wanted to say (like thanking my current boss, for pete's sake), but everyone was very gracious and said they liked the speech. I started out by saying this was a daunting task, quoting Army General Creighton Abrams (who, coincidentally, appeared on the cover of TIME the day I was born), who said, "The higher you get up the flag pole, the more your rear-end shows."
All told, a little less than forty folks showed up, mostly from the building, as I knew it would be hard for others to leave there jobs mid-afternoon to come down to Fort Belvoir, though several did, including some civilian friends and one girl who drove all the way down from New York City. Seemed like less than half stayed for cake and punch, which was a blur of people congratulating me while I tried to stick forkfulls into my son's mouth and not getting any icing on his dapper blazer.

A few guests, but mostly family, met over at the Officer's Club, a beautiful brick building overlooking the Potomac, for a couple rounds of drinks on me, before we migrated over to the seafood buffet in the main ballroom that had a fair lounge band and a dancing floor where Ryan cut a mean rug with his grandparents. The food wasn't great, but the atmosphere -- my friends and family surrounding me on the biggest night of my career thus far -- was all I could have hoped for. It was an absolutely perfect day. Frozen crab legs be damned.