Noelle - That Time I was a Vandal

I...
I don't even have a good intro for this.  * sigh *

So I've wanted to share this story for a long time, but literally every time I think of it, I get so mortified that I shove it down into the depths of my memory to be forgotten for another few months.  BUT NOT THIS TIME, OH NO.  This time I put up a reminder on my computer, so I could be reminded about it every day until my stubborn side snapped and I write this potentially embarrassing post.

So yeah, here we are.

I don't know if any of you remember, but at one point my dad went on a 365 Days deployment to Honduras (that means a long deployment that we couldn't accompany him on, but we could visit).

If you don't know what Honduras is, well, it's south of Mexico (the base there is called the Gateway to Central America).  It's really hot and humid, and there's leaf cutter ants making super long trains that you could probably follow for miles, and there's mountains that scrape the sky.  It's also the murder capitol of the world, in case you were wondering.

He lived in these houses called Redroofs, which I assumed was all the air-force people (they were apartment buildings with red roofs, much nicer than the other housing.)  During one of our visits, Dad was all like, "Here have some chalk, knock yourself out."

Or something like that.  I dunno, this was a while ago.  I was eleven or twelve, so cut me some slack.

Somehow, the idea popped into my little eleven year old head - I was going to support Dad's troops with my chalk art and draw their logos and their mascot on the sides of the Redroofs surrounding Dad's apartment.  Which, of course I did*.



*This has been a source of debate in our household for several years.  I remember telling my parents about my plans; they remember nothing of the sort.  As they were drinking wine and I have fuzzy memory at best, we're pretty much as a stalemate.

Anywho, I executed my brilliant plan as the sun set over the crimson roofs of the "air force" housing.  As you might have guessed, my parents were...not happy with this sort of crime and gave me a stern talking to (after their utter horror wore off.)  And we thought that was the end of it - it's chalk.  It'd wear off.  (This wasn't exactly the best art work either...but it was semi good, I guess, considering I did it in pitch black and that I was eleven)

(this is the air force squadron's mascot, Max)

But it wasn't over, oh no.

Later that day, we were at some kind of party (I forget what it was exactly, I stayed in the corner and drew in my book), and the army colonel comes marching up to my dad.  I was sitting in a golf cart near by, and I only heard half of the conversation, by apparently it went something like this:

Dad:  sup, sir

Fancy colonel person:  Didja see those drawings on my Redroof?

Dad:  haha yeah

F.C.P.:  haha.  Who in your squadron did this?

Dad:  Sir...that was my daughter

F.C.P.:  ...

Dad: ...

Me:  ...

Max: ...

Trump: ...

Thanos: ...

F.C.P.:  get your daughter right now

Dad:  yessiry right away sir

So I come scrambling over, absolutely terrified.  I don't remember what he looked like, just that he was really tall and really overbearing, and that I, in my little eleven year old brain, was sure that I was about to be arrested.  Or have my knees broken.  Or maybe squashed like a bug under those desert combat army boots.

And then he coined me.

Yup, you heard that right.  An army colonel coined me.  For those of you who don't know what that means, a coin is basically an unofficial sign of respect or honor, given by commanding officers.  I've got a small collection, including the one from the colonel.  And if you're a #PicsOrItDidn'tHappen sort of person...

So yeah, the colonel coined me for supporting my Dad's troops and for artistic ability...which...when looking back at these pictures, only makes me cringe because...ewww.

And so we thought that must be the end of it.

But no.

It wasn't.

Mom and I flew back to Texas, since our trip was now over, and Dad had to set about washing off my chalk drawings, because the Redroofs had overhanging roofs where water could never reach the walls.  After lots and lots and lots of scrubbing, he called up Mom to give us the horrible news.

The chalk would not come off.

Maybe it was the paint used on the Redroofs, or maybe it was the constant hot moisture in the air.  Whatever it was, that chalk would not come off.  As the months past, Dad's remote eventually drew to a close and the chalk had faded, but it was still there, an outline of my legacy.

It's been years since Dad left Honduras, and maybe it's faded enough that you can no longer see the drawings of Max, the squadron symbol, and the two other drawings that I did.  Perhaps they have disappeared completely, even from the memories of the people who liked them the most.  But I like to think that they are still there - my thumbprint on the past, saying 'Noelle was here', in a distant way.  It's a reminder, perhaps, of that time I was a vandal.