In this very evening, December 25, 1776, George Washington led his somewhat ragtag band of soldiers across the Delaware River and surprised the Hessian mercenaries, beating them soundly at the Battle of Trenton for one of the earliest victories in the war for independence.
“The weather when George Washington crossed the Delaware River in 1776 was horrible, with temperatures ranging from the 20s to just above freezing, about 33 degrees, and a strong wind from the northeast making it much colder for the men. A blinding snowstorm and sleet also made the conditions almost impossible.”**
It’s been chronicled that many soldiers of the Continental Army that night were without boots or their feet were wrapped in straw, whatever was available. When I think of them, I’m both awed and grateful for their fortitude, bravery and the leadership of General Washington.
For any soldier who put on government issue white boxer shorts or had his head shaved to the skin in the first few days of Basic Training, these words are forever etched in your mind…
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, TRAINEE!”
Whether inches from your face or in front of the assembled company, be it a Drill Sergeant or Officer, regardless if we were already at the high end of a decibel scale, our replies were never loud enough, hence…
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, TRAINEE!”
Why? Harassment? No, the military trains young men and women to be soldiers, and soldiers need to respond with certainty, confidence and INTENT.
Following months of training, we became soldiers, found our voices and took on our missions with INTENT
Fast forward decades later, and the drill sergeant has been replaced with a speech pathologist who sends the same message but with a softer tone…
“I can’t hear you, Steve.”
I have Parkinson’s Disease and one mark of many Parkinson’s patients is a softening of the voice associated with an expressionless face. Thankfully, there’s help, speech therapy.
I suspected there was an issue with my voice and it festered until I found the right people to help me. After a month of therapy sessions, I’m happy to report that I’m on the right track to returning my voice to appropriate audible levels. I understand the importance of ‘speaking with INTENT’ and, if I waiver, I have a ‘toolbox’ to correct myself.
Just as I exercised my body in Basic Training to build strength and endurance, now I’m exercising my voice box to strengthen my speech. Instead of daily runs, countless push-ups, jumping jacks and the rest of the army’s ‘daily dozen’, I’m exercising my voice with ‘speak out exercises’ and reaching decibel levels that heretofore were routine and automatic
It’s challenging
And, like the physical military exercise, if I don’t make my vocal exercises a regular routine, the voice will soften, again. The program is ‘SPEAK OUT, Speaking With Intent’ and the local effort is part of a nationwide practice to teach Parkinson patients how to fight back.
The challenge is to be aware of my speech and apply vocal exercises on a daily basis to improve and maintain voice quality.
Parkinson is a slowly progressive neurological disease that afflicts each patient differently. It can impact speech, motor skills and memory over time. Other than a pill, a recommended course of action is to ‘fight back’ with rigorous physical exercise for the body and voice.
Big movements! Big voices! Big rewards!
And there’s no need to yell, “YES, DRILL SERGEANT”, a simple “thank you, Jaime and Heather” will suffice.
Steve
080124
To my two speech pathologists, Heather and Jaime (URMC), who guided me without intimidation, just INTENT.
Ahhh, army training, army messaging, army discipline. Some memories just stay with you, forever.
For instance, the corporal (could have been a general for all we raw recruits knew) who swore he couldn’t hear us as we screamed answers inches from his face. Does alcohol make you deaf and dumb?
Being called a dummy by the sergeant because my ‘steel pot’ (helmet) was backwards (excuse me, inexperienced and nervous), it stuck with me all these years as a reminder to check myself with one last glance in the mirror before leaving the house. Getting noticed by sergeants now.
But being told by the Senior Drill Sergeant that I ‘didn’t have a f****** thing to say about it’, after I was asked my opinion, well, that still brings a chuckle as I recall the exact moment.
That Senior Drill Sergeant’s assertion, that I ‘didn’t have an effin thing to say about anything’, just shut up and do as I’m told, is seared in my memory. He didn’t say that last part, but I was good at reading between the lines. i knew what he meant and took his ‘advice’ seriously.
And it worked well, army training, with that understanding. The military wasn’t built for opinions. It was built for action. There’s no time to debate. All discussions about any and every issue had gone on years before I came along. The rules work best when people react instantly to appropriate orders.
Strangely, when the training portion of my military service was completed, I realized, begrudgingly maybe, that it’s probably not a bad idea for a young man to have a brief period in his life when he has nothin’ to say about nothin’. Just do as you’re told. I think it fits into the broad category the army would call ‘discipline’.
Growing up and getting older teaches some of the same lessons but the army was kind enough to teach the condensed version.
I still check my appearance before leaving the house each day, making sure my ‘gig line’ conforms. The edge of my shirt, belt buckle and pant zipper must all be in alignment with each other: APPEARANCE! The corners of my bed sheets need to be tight and tucked, daily: ORDER! The area around my house is clean of any piece of scrap: CLEANLINESS! My shoe laces are still laid ‘left over right: UNIFORMITY! Above all, follow the rules:.CONFORMITY!
Yes, a substantial dose of discipline at an early age can have a positive effect for a lifetime. I just never understood, ‘hurry up and wait’*…
S'amusing 