Skip to main content

That's the Sound of Freedom

Florida is home to six Air Force bases, and three of them are in the Panhandle—Eglin, Hurlburt, and Tyndall.

Pilots stationed at these bases do regular flights back and forth across the Gulf, on some days seemingly all day long. There are days when they fly low so they sound as if they are intent on dive bombing civilians sitting out in their back yards with their dogs, and there are days when they are pretty high over head. You can still hear them in that case. Some fighter jets will be moved to a base in Virginia for training after severe hurricane damage to one of the Florida bases, so maybe things will quiet down a bit.

I don't have the full skinny on this other bit of military noise yet, and it may be unrelated to the Air Force, but some military installation nearby does regular bomb testing, or in civilian terms, "they blow up shit," a phrase I have heard more than once here. Or maybe I have just said it—maybe it's just my own interpretation of what's going on. 

This happens on a weekly basis, and although these tests are conducted miles away, here on 30A, it can sound like thunder. It can also shake your house and the windows in it, and it can rattle the garage doors like someone has picked up your house and shaken it. On these days, it almost feels like the tests have affected the air pressure because you may not hear an explosion, but you definitely feel it.

I support the concept of a well-developed military within reason, and I believe a strong and ready defense leads to a safer nation. I am even willing to send in my annual taxes knowing 25% of my money is going to feed this military machine.

There are no "buts" to follow that statement. I will say, however, that I believe we have become hyper-militarized, not so much because we have a massive military system but because civilians have begun to equate being super supportive of the military with being patriotic. You can't just accept we need the military and all the machinery and noise that comes with it, and it's not enough to appreciate the service of our volunteers. You now also have to cheer wholeheartedly in their direction, waving every American flag you can get your hands on and say trite things like, "That's the sound of freedom!"

I argue that isn't the sound of freedom. It's the sound of a necessary evil because human beings are dangerous apes. If we weren't, all of us, our country could funnel our vast wealth into better schools, a better health care system, and a sustainable infrastructure. It's because we're vicious and not to be trusted that we have to spend so much on defense, held captive by human aggression.

Imagine not having to do that. Imagine the glorious noise we could make with a society in complete peace. Now THAT would be the sound of freedom.

So, answering the question of what it's like to live here—it can be noisy and sometimes alarming, and you will likely feel safe knowing such well-trained military personnel are close by. If you are of the hyper persuasion, you will feel right at home. If you are more restrained in your support, you might occasionally feel uneasy when you hear someone declare, "That's the sound of freedom."

#Panhandle #EmeraldCoast #30A


Comments

dive said…
"The sound of a necessary evil" … Well put, Robyn. Have you tried FlightRadar24.com? Whenever I hear the military overhead I flick it on and it tells me the plane, the callsign, the altitude and speed and gives a cool wiggly rainbow line showing its flightpath. Some of the RAF planes over here have the most ludicrously OTT callsigns. I was just watching some Typhoons out of RAF Coningsby practicing dogfights over Norfolk. Noisy, but kinda reassuring to know they're there.

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Birthday...

to me! Update: Since you have asked, I only got one actual packaged gift, a beautiful hand-made bracelet from a friend, but both girls were home for the weekend, and we had dinner at the lake and a relaxing weekend. Thanks to all of you for your lovely wishes!

My Sitemeter is All Bloated and Not Quite Itself

I'm tempted to let it sit on the couch with its feet curled up under a blanket, a hot cup of coffee in hand, a block of cherry almond bark Chocolove within reach, and An Affair to Remember spinning in the DVD player. I'm one of those obsessive bloggers, the kind who checks her sitemeter as often as possible throughout the day, the kind who gauges the quality of her writing by the number of readers who regularly stop by. I've become less interested in the overall number of hits and more interested in the number of repeat hits. The return visitors are the ones I long for. When my sitemeter reads forty at the end of the day, and the majority of those hits are webpals who have conversed, I'm happy. Forty may seem low to many of you, but I've only been at this since August. To me, forty is a jackpot. A few days ago, I sat down at my laptop and discovered a number somewhere in the eighties. Eighties! Yippee! Yeeha ! Hoo-rah ! I've been discovered by the webworld , o...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...