![]() Welcome to the first blog installment from Mistletoetom.com and Victory & Valor! I’m told that one of the primary purposes of a business’s blog is to promote its products or services. Well, if you have seen the main page of the website, you may have already seen that Mistletoe Enterprises is “in the business of spreading cheer every day throughout the year,” and Victory & Valor tells “the stories of heroes from all walks of life.” So, this blog space will be another vehicle with which to spread cheer and tell the stories of heroes. But this is the premier installment, so it should be extra special. It certainly is to me, and I hope the readers appreciate it too. (I’ll tell the new readership up front that my style of writing might take some twists and turns, and it might seem I’m straying off topic, but I promise to compose everything I write so it all comes together by the end of the story!) I’ve been around for more than fifty-five years: that’s a lot of time, it covers a lot of history, and it can’t all fit in a single installment. But I should pick a few of those moments to tell you about my journey and the inspiration for Mistletoe Enterprises and Victory & Valor. I’ve had some good times. I’ve travelled quite a bit. And I’ve had some great mentors, role models, and heroes. I was born in Toledo, Ohio. I was the seventh of eight children, although one brother had died before I was born. My Dad was a drafting expert. He created designs of containers and crates suitable for shipping special items such as auto windshields. He was a World War II vet; recipient of the Bronze Star for Valor; active in our school parish; and he was a Scout Master for the parish troop. My Mom was trained in office administration but wasn't employed when I was born. Eventually, she went into the nursing profession. She was forced to go to work after my Dad died in 1964. I was three years old. Dad's death had a profound impact on my upbringing. The informal education of family life meant I learned substantially more from the visits, baby-sitting, and extra attention by my maternal Grandmother, my Aunts & Uncles, older cousins, and my siblings. At the time my Dad died, the ages of my siblings were 16, 12, 10, 7, 5 & 1. Suffice to say, my older siblings grew up quickly, and they had big shoes to fill. They were my first heroes. My older brothers were very influential. They kept me out of trouble & they were always out in the backyard with my younger brother and me: playing football, baseball, basketball or wrestling. They had us help them with their paper routes; took us to Toledo Mud Hens baseball games; and at least once a summer, up to a Tigers game! Our Catholic upbringing was very influential, too. The parish was located in one of the oldest, predominantly Polish neighborhoods in Toledo. Except for my Dad's first couple years in Indiana as a youngster, my parents had lived in that Toledo neighborhood their entire lives. Many relatives, neighbors and friends shared the same history. Everyone knew our family... especially the nuns and priests of Saint Hedwig parish. St. Hedwig’s was a haven in our neighborhood. Still, growing up right there, in that particular era of the 60's and early 70's was challenging. It was a neighborhood inching toward decline, facing rapid social upheaval and racial tumult. One incident, when I was about seven, that turned into a life lesson for me happened a block away from my house. I won’t share the details of what happened, but the incident could have led me into a life of hatred and extreme prejudice. My family did not allow this to happen. My Mom, by that time a nurse, had several black friends from the hospital. Mom often invited them to our house to visit & chat. Likewise, my older brother had a black friend who visited much more often. His friend often joined us in the backyard for our games of football, or basketball. And Mom often reminded me about how my Dad stood up for a black man where he had worked. It took time for me to overcome the incident, but I recognized that my family was teaching me to respect everyone. They were heroes. That teaching was reinforced playing Little League baseball, 8th grade football, and other team sports. I had very good coaches who were more concerned with developing our character than winning games. But for all the backyard practice, and the budding mental toughness, I felt too small to continue playing in high school. However, I did run cross country a couple seasons. I wasn't the fastest, but I learned endurance and perseverance; and the team could rely on me to finish each race with a great kick. Good running shoes, handed down to me by a friend, helped. Otherwise, I was not very involved in school activities, and I did not excel in many studies in high school, with the exception of English composition. Mrs. Best was my English teacher during sophomore year. She was the best teacher I ever had, too. Her assignments were challenging; reading topics were interesting; and it was obvious that she cared about her students' lives. Of course she offered excellent instruction; but she was exceptional in her way of offering encouragement! One unforgettable time, near the end of sophomore year, I surprised friends and faculty alike by running for Student Council. The campaign required a week of posting signs around the school, and ended with each candidate giving a five minute speech to the entire student body, after which those two thousand students voted. I lost the election in a landslide. Mrs. Best congratulated me, anyway. She praised me for my speech and, more importantly, for the courage it took to campaign. Outside of family, and football, I wasn't accustomed to a compliment like that. She was the first person to ever recognize me for courage. That compliment stayed with me for life. Mrs. Best was a hero to many more students after me. For a while after graduating, life was carefree. I had a car, a series of jobs, good friends and a place to stay. I was involved in a charity organization; played softball during the summers; and I bowled during the fall & winters. Then, on January 20, 1981, President Ronald Reagan was sworn in as President. Within minutes, fifty-two American hostages who had been held nearly fifteen months in Iran were released. Just as suddenly, I realized that, even though I didn't want to be in the military... I needed to pitch in. I took the oath of enlistment and entered active duty in the U.S Air Force in 1981. My family was supportive. They all offered congratulations and messages of encouragement. Not surprising, but when I got on the bus to travel to basic training, some of them wept. Sometimes, heroes weep. Basic military training began the instant my feet touched the pavement of Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. Discipline was strict and swift; instructions were clear and simple; and the Training Instructor was large and loud. (Maintaining a sense of humor helped me get through those six weeks of boot camp, but I didn't dare tell the T.I. that I thought he would make a great Catholic nun.) It was my first time away from home, so two things became vital: phone calls and mail. Phone calls were a privilege, and they were always too brief. Thus, writing letters became a way of life, whenever there was time to spare. This practice became a passion, and I discovered how much my letters were cherished by family & friends. I also realized how much I valued writing. And whenever I wrote, I tried to describe my experience so they understood more of what it was like to be in my shoes. Likewise, I tried to balance that with respect for what it was like to be in their shoes receiving a letter from someone who, a few weeks earlier, was sitting at the same kitchen table with them. Most of my core values solidified very clearly and very quickly in the military. Family matters; friends are priceless; humor helps; and faith sustains. Basic training ended and ten months of technical training in electronics began. Assignments soon followed. No matter where I went, or what my duties entailed, those core values did not change, and they stayed with me always. After my electronics training finished in July, 1982, I reported to Grissom Air Force Base, Indiana. I was fortunate to be stationed only four hours from Toledo! I worked on Air Traffic Control Tower radios and communications systems. I learned a lot, and I earned my first two stripes there. But, the Air Force needs come first; and the Air Force told me they needed me in Germany. So, in 1984 I went to Prum Air Station, on the border of Germany and Belgium. The Cold War was at a high point, and I was assigned to a mobile, tactical radar station, watching the skies. When I wasn't deployed to some cold hilltop fixing radios and microphones, I enjoyed travelling throughout Belgium, Holland, Luxembourg, and the vineyards along the Mosel River. For a brief period in 1985, I was sent to Dhahran, Saudi Arabia to help maintain a radar station to observe the airspace to the north and east. The Saudi's asked for U.S. help to monitor the Iran-Iraq war. This experience, for the first time in my life, showed me the extreme difference between cultures. And based on this cultural lesson I must admit, the events of 9/11 that occurred sixteen years later, though tragic and horrific, were not entirely unexpected. In 1986 I got assigned to a small Air Force detachment at Fort Hood, Texas. We provided air support for the 2nd Armored Division. In 1987, I went to Battle Creek, Michigan where I worked on mobile communications, again in a tactical environment. And finally, from 1992 until I retired as a Master Sergeant in 2006, I was assigned to the Alpena Combat Readiness Training Center, and helped operate an Air Force weapons training range at Camp Grayling, Michigan. There were many notable events during my military career, but the one with the greatest impact happened two years before I retired. In early 2004, I deployed to Kirkuk, Iraq with the F-16 unit from Selfridge, Michigan. We provided air support for Army and Marines, particularly in Fallujah. While on the airbase, we endured rocket and mortar attacks on a near-daily basis. But we had it easy compared to the Army and Marines who we protected outside the wire. Amid those conditions, I relied on my core values. But my heroes were the men and women from the 1st, 4th, and 25th Infantry Division who were also deployed to Kirkuk. After retiring from the military in 2006 I used my God given gifts, talents and experiences to realize my dream. For two years I developed and published my own magazine. "The American Journal of Victory and Valor" told the stories of heroes from all walks of life. It was distributed to school kids to teach them about role models. Unfortunately, the economy was collapsing, and the additional financial consequences of divorce compelled me to suspend this venture. Good jobs in Lansing were hard to find in 2008. I took a manager trainee job with a convenience store chain. I enjoyed the customer service aspect, and I learned quickly about retail management, but I was not suited for their sales approach. In 2011, I was lucky to find another job in aviation at the Lansing Airport. The pay and benefits were excellent, and the work was in line with many things I did in the Air Force. I kept the airfield safe for travelers and assisted the public safety office with security. Once, in fact, I was assigned to a Secret Service detail to protect President Obama during his visit to Lansing. I loved the duties, but the unpredictable nature of winter conditions and wildlife management in the airport environment were the primary factors why I decided to leave in 2015. I returned to school. I assessed my strengths and weaknesses; evaluated my goals & dreams; and, again, relied on my core values. Pursuing a path in teacher education was obvious and a natural fit. It fits because I appreciated the many excellent teachers in my life; because I appreciated the family role models, the mentors, and heroes who guided and advised me in the military and elsewhere; because I enjoyed training others during my military career; because I enjoyed being a mentor to kids while working with the Boy Scouts; and because I want kids to be able to read and write. Since 2015, I earned my Associates Degree in Elementary Education and an Associates in Business Administration. Applying what I have learned, I formed Mistletoe Enterprises in October 2017. It’s a vehicle to deliver the message about heroes and role models to young students who need role models and heroes in their lives. That brings us full-circle to where this blog started. But there is a special point to why I am launching this first blog on this particular day. Eighteen years ago, On April 4, 2004, a young man named John D. Amos II died from wounds he sustained when his vehicle was hit with an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) while on patrol in Kirkuk. He was from Valparaiso, Indiana. Assigned to the 25th Infantry Division, he was twenty-two years old. I will always remember his memorial service. His photo. A combat helmet fixed atop an upright M-16. On the ground: the boots worn when he traveled to confront the enemy. Some of my heroes wear combat boots. Mistletoe Enterprises is in the business of spreading cheer every day throughout the year. And Victory & Valor tells the stories of heroes from all walks of life. It’s not cheerful to recall a tragedy of war. But it is fitting to remember their sacrifice, and to remember our heroes. This first blog is dedicated to the life and memory of John D. Amos II of Valparaiso, Indiana. You are not forgotten.
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AuthorTom Davis is the owner of Mistletoe Enterprises LLC. He also publishes and distributes the Victory & Valor Flyer, it tells the stories of heroes from all walks of life. Archives
December 2018
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